Lovetorn (18 page)

“You are. You’re just naturally cute. There’s nothing phony about you.”

I was overcome with embarrassment now. I didn’t know how to respond. If it had come from anybody else, I would have sworn I was being made fun of.

“You’re a great girl, Shalini,” he said, putting down his sandwich and picking up a bottle of water. He was looking straight into my eyes with a directness that took me by surprise. “You care about people. You are who you are. I think that’s pretty hot.”

I stopped breathing. I didn’t know where this was going, why he was telling me this. But I loved it. Deep down inside, way beneath the dim view I held of myself, I loved hearing his words. I could tell he meant what he said. As wrong as I knew it was—that I was in love with this gorgeous boy with the dark wavy hair and the silver flute pressed to his lips—I loved what he was saying. I stared at my ruby ring and denied the guilt that was forming around my heart.

At home, my mother looked a little better. She had showered, and there was a pinkness to her cheeks. She was mopping, and humming. I wondered how long she would be like this.

“Vikram called this morning after you left for school,” she said. She stood upright, leaning against the handle of the mop. “Is everything okay between you two?” she asked.

“Of course, Ma,” I said. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

That night, after everyone had gone to bed, I called him back. He was done with college for the summer and planned to do some traveling with his parents. He was hosting a party with some friends. There was a new dance club in town he wanted to check out. He sounded busy and happy. Someone had sent him a silly video.

“Oh, I know that one,” I said excitedly. “Toby sent it to me.”

He paused.

“Who?” he asked.

“Oh, nobody. Nothing.” I was flustered. “Toby. He’s just a guy at my school. He plays the flute.”

“You haven’t mentioned him before. Is he a new friend?”

“Kind of,” I said. “I met him during the big concert.”

“Oh,” said Vikram. “It’s just that you told me everything about that concert, and you didn’t mention him.”

There was silence. My mind raced. What was I hiding? The truth was, we
were
just friends. We sat on springy fresh grass and ate sandwiches, and sometimes he played the flute for me. He told me I was cute, and I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I didn’t tell Vikram anything because I didn’t know what to tell him.

“Vikram, please, it is nothing. He’s just a guy. Let’s talk about something else. How’s your mother?”

Right before the last week of summer camp, there was an all-school outing, a hike along a popular trail in Malibu. I had never been hiking before. My father signed the permission slip, although he felt the need to point out that he didn’t see what hiking had to do with mathematics and was he paying for me to learn or was he paying for me to be out in nature?

I packed a bag with bottled water, bags of trail mix, and fresh red apples. I imagined myself walking alongside Toby as our feet crunched against the leaves on the ground, how he would point out medicinal plants and edible berries on the way. My brand-new bright white sneakers, bought just for this, pinched my toes. I couldn’t wait.

My father dropped me off at the meeting place. Everyone was already there, Toby standing tall among them. He waved when he saw me. The group leader handed out maps and brochures. We walked half a mile up a gravelly incline, me pulling at weeds and grabbing on to rocks to avoid falling over backward. It was more strenuous than I had thought it was going to be. Toby grabbed my hand at one point, and even after I steadied myself, he clung onto it. I wiggled my fingers and he released my hand, his eyes fleetingly meeting mine.

After a couple of hours I was relieved to be told we were taking a break for lunch. We found a resting spot on an embankment that sloped down gently to a creek. It was remarkably quiet, a stillness settling on the vastness of the land around us. Everyone got comfortable, unzipping backpacks and opening Tupperware containers. I placed my bag between my legs and reached in for my lunch. Toby, next to me, held up a McDonald’s bag.

“Drive-through,” he said. “Yup, first class all the way.”

I giggled and stretched out my legs, forgetting that my backpack was resting between them. The bag went tumbling down the embankment toward the creek. I squealed and put my hand over my mouth. Toby leaped up and went racing down after it. Everyone turned to look, laughing and pointing. By the time Toby reached the creek, the bag was already steeped in the stagnant waters, the apples bobbing around on top, the bags of raisins and walnuts soaked through, my plastic water bottle floating off down the creek. He picked up my drenched backpack, shook it off, and came clambering back up.

“Sorry I couldn’t get to it fast enough,” he said, handing it back to me.

“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him. We looked at each other and both burst into laughter. I laughed so hard that I didn’t care about the sun glinting off my braces or the guttural sound I made when I took a breath between chortles, the one that my cousins always teased me about. I couldn’t remember the last time I had laughed like that.

Toby sat back down next to me and teasingly rubbed his shoulder against mine.

“Goofball,” he said. From his McDonald’s bag, he pulled out a small fries, now cold and droopy, and handed it to me. Some of the other people in our group came up to me, each handing me something from their lunch: yogurt, chips, a granola bar, sweet orange wedges. I was moved by their generosity, and noticed that my shoulder was still touching Toby’s, neither one of us moving away.

Full and rested, we began hiking again. Our leader said we would make a loop toward the end of the trail, near a waterfall, and head back. We splintered off into smaller groups, a few couples here and there, some people walking on their own. Toby and I somehow kept in step with each other; occasionally we were joined by some of the others, sometimes it was just the two of us. He was slowing down so I could keep up with him. Over some especially tough terrain—tough for me, anyway—he offered to hold my bag.

The waterfall was set in a forestlike grove: leafy, verdant, and green. It was shaded and tranquil, a wonderful respite from the sun-exposed trail we had just been on. The waters fell into a dark pool, creating calm ripples. Some kids had come prepared and stripped down to their bathing suits for a quick swim. I sat on the edge of the cool water and watched, marveling at the natural beauty of the place. Toby eased down onto a spot next to me and picked up a dry twig. He broke it into tiny pieces and tossed them into the water.

“I was eight the first time I came here,” he said, watching his friends jump from a tree into the water. “My dad brought me. I thought it was a magical grotto or something. I couldn’t believe such a mysterious place existed almost in our backyard.”

“It is something,” I said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He was staring at me. I looked away to avoid his gaze. I was barely breathing. He felt so close, so touchable. The air between us felt heavy, unmoving.

“Come here,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

He gave me his hand. I grabbed it, and he helped me up. We walked through tall pine and cedar trees to the far end of the waterfall, away from the crowd. Down another short, shadowy trail we ran into the remnants of a small stone building, its surface badly eroded, pockmarked with tiny crevices. There was no ceiling, just three broken walls and large holes where windows might once have been.

“What is this place?” I asked.

“I don’t really know for sure,” he said. “But I had lots of theories about it. When I first saw it as a little kid, I pretended I was an adventurer sent here to find a buried treasure. I used to pick up a branch and sword fight nobody. It was pretty sad.”

I imagined him at eight, a little boy clutching his father’s hand, swept up by this fantastical, exotic place. My heart warmed.

“But my dad told me to knock it off. It was time to go home and practice the flute.”

We both laughed.

“It’d be cool to go back in time, huh?” he said.

I closed my eyes for a second and thought of my house in Bangalore, its patios curtained with clothes hung out to dry; my grandma scolding the vegetable man for trying to off-load his wilted coriander on her; Vikram and me playing cards under a slowly whirring fan, our feet barely touching under the table. Those images used to be crystal clear, precise. But today they were faded and remote, like scenes from a movie I had seen long ago, scenes from someone else’s life.

Yes, sometimes I did wish to go back in time. But right now, today, I didn’t want to be anywhere else than where I was.

“We’d better go,” I said to Toby, who was rubbing his hand over one of the stone bricks. He nodded and let his hand drop. He followed me, walking so close behind me I could feel his breath on my neck.

“Wait,” he suddenly whispered.

I spun around.

“What?” I said. I thought that maybe he had seen a wild animal. We were up by a hefty oak tree now. A bird landed on a branch overhead, then flew off again. Toby was right up against me, so close that I could see the stubble on his chin. I was frozen, mesmerized. Before I knew what was happening, could even try to stop it, he had encircled my waist with one arm, his other arm pressed up against the tree. He bent down, and his lips touched mine, brushing against them gently. His body was strong and warm. My heart felt as if it was going to catapult out of my chest. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I let them hang limply by my sides.

So this was what a kiss felt like. I was a sixteen-year-old girl engaged to a boy for thirteen of those years; and this, here and now, in this shady forest, was my first kiss. It was soft and beautiful, and I wanted it to never end.

I pulled back, looked down, felt dizzy.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, still whispering. His forehead was touching mine now. I felt sinfully close to him.

“I’m so sorry, Toby,” I said, tears gathering in my eyes.

He stepped back from me.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “Did I get the vibe wrong? I thought you wanted me to kiss you.”

“I did. I do,” I said. I scratched my palms. “You have no idea how much I like you. I think about you all the time. You’re the only reason I signed up for summer camp. I just wanted to see you every day.”

His shoulders relaxed a little.

“So what then?” he asked, his voice softer now.

I held up my hand with the ring on it.

“It’s this,” I said.

Chapter Twenty-four

ALL THE WAY BACK DOWN
the trail to the entrance to the park, Toby and I barely spoke to each other. He didn’t offer to carry my backpack and walked a few steps ahead of me, one hand shoved into his jeans pocket.

My father was already waiting for me, reading the paper as he sat behind the wheel. I said a quick good-bye to the group. I looked at Toby and waved weakly, pathetically. His hand was still in his pocket. He bit his bottom lip and nodded, expressionless.

At home, all I wanted to do was shower and go to bed. The hike had left me dirty and exhausted, my conversation with Toby depleting me. My father had been in a cheerful mood all the way home, actually whistling. I had never heard my father whistle before. My mother was probably still feeling okay.

All I could think about was the look on Toby’s face when I had told him about Vikram as we stood in that cool, quiet, green grotto. He had raised his eyebrows a few times, but otherwise his face had been cold, unmoving. He didn’t say anything for a long time. He let me tell my story. Halfway through, I’d begun hearing it through his ears, and I’d begun seeing myself the way he most likely saw me: a downtrodden girl whose parents had made every major decision for her, whose very future was decided on her third birthday. I’d felt like a freak.

“Engaged at three, huh?” he had said. “Unbelievable.”

“Are you mad?” I’d asked nervously.

“Nah, I’m not pissed,” he’d said. “We were just messing around, right? It’s cool that you’re engaged. Really. Look, let’s head back. The others will be waiting for us.”

“Toby, please.” I had been crying. I’d wanted him to be upset, to show some feelings. I’d hated how he was freezing me out like this.

“I didn’t tell you because I was embarrassed,” I had said through tears. “I thought I just had a little crush on you, something that would go away. I figured you would never feel that way about me.”

But he had simply turned around and walked back to the group, leaving me following in his wake.

Showered and in bed, I looked through my diary, chewing a pen. I had texted Toby four times and got no response. Now I was trying to come up with the right word for what I was feeling. I had filled countless pages in my book of firsts; and, looking back through them now, I was struck by how silly some of the firsts were, as if vitamin water was going to be something I would always remember. Sangita, reading in the bed next to mine, turned to look at me.

“What is the matter,
didi
?” she asked, the light from the bedside lamp reflecting off her tiny glasses. “You are upset tonight. Did something happen on your hike today?”

She was still a child, innocent. She still sometimes crawled into bed with my parents at night. I was her smart and sensible older sister, the girl who never made mistakes, the one who always did the right thing.

“Come on,
didi
, you can tell me,” she said, putting down her book. “You know you can tell me anything.”

“Really, Sangita, it’s nothing,” I said. “I’m just missing Vikram. I’m thinking about him a lot.”

I couldn’t tell her the truth, that it wasn’t Vikram I was missing but Toby. I couldn’t shatter the illusion she had of me of being the perfectly behaved older sister.

I closed my eyes, and a stray tear rolled down my right cheek, landing on the lace frill of my nightgown. I opened my eyes again, went to a blank page in my diary, and wrote the word I had been seeking: “Heartbroken.”

Sangita took off her glasses, laid them down carefully on the bedside table, and snuggled under the covers.