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Back The Henna Wars Save as PDF
Chapters (43)
  1. Cover
  2. TheHennaWars
  3. Copyright Notice
  4. Dedication
  5. Content Warning
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. 19
  25. 20
  26. 21
  27. 22
  28. 23
  29. 24
  30. 25
  31. 26
  32. 27
  33. 28
  34. 29
  35. 30
  36. 31
  37. 32
  38. 33
  39. 34
  40. acknowledgments
  41. about the author
  42. Newsletter Sign-up
  43. Copyright

“Only a few.” Priti’s head is buried in her phone once more.

“Can you send them to me?”

Priti looks up at this, a frown on her lips.

“Okay, what’s with you today?” she asks. “And with this girl, Flávia?”

“Nothing. I don’t know what you’re on about,” I say. “Look! They’re cutting cake!”

I cry it out loud enough for a few people in front of us to turn their heads and look at me. I don’t care because Priti does look ahead at where Sunny Apu and Dulabhai have come off the stage to cut a cake that looks to have at least eight different layers.

“Oooh, what kind of cake do you think it is?” she asks.

4

FLÁVIA IS FORGOTTEN UNTIL WE PILE INTO THE CAR LATER on. It feels strange that the wedding is over and done with; all those months of planning resulted in an event that lasted only a few hours.

Ammu and Abbu are in the front of the car discussing someone they ran into at the wedding. The intricacies of the conversation are more or less drowned out by the loud music blaring from the radio.

My phone pings in my purse. I root around for it only to find a WhatsApp message from Priti. I turn to give her a questioning look. She smiles cheekily and gestures that I should read it.

For a moment I think she’s being nice, though that’s obviously more than I should expect from my little sister. Three photos load from the wedding, all of me and Flávia on stage with Sunny Apu and Dulabhai. I smile, until I scroll to the bottom.

So what’s the deal with you and Flávia?

I frown. I really did think Priti would forget about it after the cake. I suppose the cake was lackluster; if it had been better, maybe …

Nothing, I type quickly. I pause for a moment before adding, can we leave it?

I can see Priti reading the text. She doesn’t type anything back, or say anything, so I think that’s that. But later, as I’m unclipping my dangly earrings and nose ring, Priti slips in through the door. She’s already changed into her pajamas and stripped her face of makeup. She’s fast.

“I just didn’t think we kept secrets from each other,” she says, like we left off in the middle of a conversation and she’s just picking it up. “I mean, we haven’t before.”

“There’s no secret.” I catch her eye in the mirror of my dressing table.

“Well, then, tell me.”

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I know that look on your face, you know?”