It doesn’t seem like much. But sometimes just being yourself—really, truly yourself—can be the most difficult thing to be.
33
PRITI HAS HER HEAD BURIED IN HER BOOKS WHENIGEThome, but as soon as I catch sight of her through the crack in her door she perks up. Like she’s been waiting for any sign of me to distract herself from studying.
“I heard Chaewon and Jess won!” she exclaims, bouncing on the bed. “I’m sorry it wasn’t you.”
I lean against her doorframe and say, “It’s not a big deal. It wasn’t like I thought I was going to win.” Even though there was that small inkling of hope still inside me. “Something happened … after the awards, though.”
“Oh?” Priti leans so far forward in her bed that I’m surprised she doesn’t fall off the edge. “Something good or bad?”
I shrug because I’m still making up my mind about it. “Flávia says she’s going to come out to Chyna.”
“Whoa.” Priti sits back, eyes wide. Like she’s trying to process and can’t quite make heads or tails of it all.
“Yeah.” I sit down beside her, trying to process as well. What does this mean? What will it mean?
“She must really like you.”
I turn to Priti with a frown. “What? She’s not doing this for me.”
Priti looks at me like she doesn’t quite believe me, but says, “Oh, okay,” in the most unconvincing voice I have ever heard.
“You really think it’s because of me?”
“I think it’s notnotbecause of you.”
“Do you think she’ll be okay?” My heart feels heavy at the thought of Chyna’s reaction.
Priti crawls close to me and leans her head against my shoulder. “I think no matter what happens she’ll have you, and her mom, and her sister.”
I wait anxiously by my phone for the whole evening. It feels strangely like that fateful day when I decided to tell Ammu and Abbu about me, and I realize that now I have to tell them about Flávia too.
When I wake up the next morning with my phone still cradled next to me, I have one new message from Flávia.
Can I come over?
Ammu and Abbu are in the sitting room, their eyes glued to the TV. When I peer around the door, I expect them to be watching a Bollywood film on Star Gold, or an Indian natok on Star Plus. What I don’t expect is for them to be watching theEllen DeGeneres Showas if their lives depend on it.
“You want to watch, Nishat?” Ammu pats the empty seat beside her, but doesn’t take her eyes off the TV. On screen, Ellen DeGeneres is interviewing Ellen Page. It’s probably the gayest thing in this house—and my parents are willingly watching it.
“Um, no …” I mumble, looking from the TV to Ammu and back. “Can I … Ammu …” I’m not sure how to phrase the question. Flávia is on her way over and we only get one chance to make a first impression. “Is it … okay if I have a girlfriend?”
Ammu finally looks away from the TV, her eyebrows furrowed and lips pressed together. She exchanges a glance with Abbu before asking, “Is it the girl from the wedding?”
“What wedding? What girl?”
“You know.” Ammu waves her arms around as if that’s an explanation. “Your sister showed me a picture. From the wedding. The Brazilian girl.”
I have never loved Priti as much as I love her right at this very moment.
“Flávia … yeah. She’s … coming over.”
“Now?” Abbu sits up straight, like he is very unprepared for this.
“Yeah, now. Is that … okay?”
Abbu frowns at me, before turning to Ammu. “What will we feed her?”
