BooksBarbecue
Back The Henna Wars
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

“Is this supposed to be an apology?” Because it was sounding like a defense of Jess instead.

Chaewon sighs and the sound reverberates around the phone line. “I am sorry but I just want you to understand that—”

“I have to go, Chaewon. I have a lot of things to do.”

“Oh … well. Okay. I’ll see you at school tomorrow?” I’m not sure if that’s an invitation to sit with them at lunch and in the classes we share together; I’m not sure if I want it to be.

“Sure, see you.”

16

WEDNESDAY MORNING, DESPITE REASSURING MYSELF THAT the Junior Cert means next to nothing, I feel anxiety clawing away at my insides. Today is the day we get our results.

For once, Priti doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t even try to lean on me and do ghesha gheshi—which roughly translates to invading my personal space. Her favorite hobby.

Instead, she smiles at me brightly when we board the bus and makes pleasant conversation about nothing.

“Can you stop being so weird?” I burst out, interrupting Priti in the midst of a tirade about her English teacher that I’d only been half listening to.

“I’m not being weird. This is called having a con-ver-sa-tion.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “Yes, but you’re not being your usual annoying self and that’s weird.”

“Hey!” She lightly punches my shoulder. I barely feel it. “I take offense to being called annoying.”

“Would you rather I called you irritating? Like an itch I can’t scratch? A—”

“Delightfully quirky company.” Priti breaks out into a smile. “Or, just delightful is fine.”

“Yeah, okay, dream on,” I say dryly, but at least this is more the Priti I know.

“You are nervous though, right?” She narrows her eyes like if I wasn’t, that would be committing treason against our Asian heritage. I think it kind of would be.

“I am a little nervous,” I admit after a moment’s hesitation. Ammu didn’t say anything as I left the house this morning, but I noticed she had taken out the jainamaz, or prayer rug, and actually said a few prayers last night.

I can’t quite shake the hypocrisy of that—but I guess we’re all hypocrites about one thing or the other. I feel like her silence spoke volumes. It always does.