Inside, we couldn’t tell if anyone was there. But we didn’t want to make our presence felt either, so we both quietly looked under the tables, feeling around the space with our hands hoping to find it. The tables had been arranged against one side of the clubhouse wall.

I heard Esha’s voice nearby.

‘Did you see how much cake she ate?’

My throat felt tight. She was talking about me. Her voice sounded so sibilant and nasty I thought, as my breathing accelerated.

‘Ya! When Aunty offered her another piece, she took it, even after taking what was on Raghu’s plate!’ another voice piped in. Tara.

I felt something hard and pointy lodge in my throat. I wanted to curl up and die. For a second, I was glad that the lights were off. Maybe I could slink away without anyone noticing. I was too embarrassed to wonder what Raghu must be thinking of this.

‘Such a fat bitch,’ Esha whispered loudly. My eyes widened.

‘She has such thick ankles!’ Tara said.

‘I know! Has she even seen herself in the mirror?’ Esha said.

‘Ugly cow,’ Tara chortled.

‘Ms Piggy,’ Esha added.

It was like a competition between them to rack up the most insults about me. I felt like I had stepped out of my body, listening to them. My scalp was tingling.

Esha’s mother’s querulous voice rang out. ‘Esha, have you got all your presents? Let’s leave!’

Please go, I prayed. I bent my head under the table and shut my eyes tightly.

‘Yes, Mama!’ Esha replied, her tone changing suddenly. Her voice came from nearby.

I wondered where Raghu was. Surely, he would have understood by now that they were talking about me. Or maybe not.

I heard the sound of footsteps leading away from the clubhouse and breathed a sigh of relief. But I was startled when the loud whispers continued.

‘I think the ragpickers I’ve seen on the road wear better clothes,’ Esha said.

I felt something weird happen to my face. It was turning hot and cold alternately.

‘Ragpicker?’ Tara whispered. ‘Have you ever seen any fat ragpickers?’

‘Oh my god, you’re right!’ Esha gurgled. ‘Also, would you believe what she got me?’

‘What?’ Tara asked, breathlessly.

‘Homemade brownies. Like . . . how cheap ya!’ Esha said. ‘My parents got such expensive return gifts for everyone and . . .’

I was holding both the gifts with me right now, even as I had searched for Raghu’s phone.

‘What did Raghu give you?’ Tara asked.

Their voices had become slightly faint and I was relieved that they were leaving. Her parents had already left—those had to be the footsteps going away that I’d heard earlier. This nightmarish day could finally come to an end. I never wanted to think about Esha or remember that I’d hoped to be her friend.