“He was making fun of Prem, Mom. That kid was teasing him for being . . . different.” Even as she said it, she knew her mother wouldn’t understand. Her parents were not part of the same club.

Her mother glanced in the rearview mirror and changed lanes to make a turn. “You should be proud of your Indian culture. Educate that boy, tell him everything Indians are responsible for—the invention of mathematics and chess, centuries of tradition, poetry, music.”

Sometimes, when her father was traveling, eerie Indian music emanated from her parents’ bedroom, illuminated only with a nightstand lamp. Mom sat with her eyes closed, moving her head in rhythm, looking more peaceful than she did in her daily life with them. This bothered Karina, as if her mom had to go somewhere else to be that happy, somewhere she couldn’t take them.

“You don’t understand,” Karina muttered. “You never do.”

“Excuse me?” Her mother turned around and shot her a piercing glare. “What did you say?” She turned her eyes back to the road. “You know I count on you to be a good sister to Prem, a role model for him. You can’t be violent, Karina. You know better.”

Karina remained silent, staring out the window as the shops and street signs went by. She knew her mother’s approach of proudly defending Indian culture would only have stoked Jake Potash further. If the issue rose to the level that Mom deemed it important enough to share with Karina’s father, he would have a different reaction. He would call up Jake’s parents, tear into them with calmly spoken criticisms of their parenting, and threats to their child if anything similar ever happened again. Then he would meet with the school principal and file a complaint with the police. He would scorch the earth all around Jake Potash and the family from which he came, to isolate him in fear. That strategy could work, and if things got any worse, she might consider telling Dad.

But after that day of the incident on the playground, when Karina felt as if she’d been taken over by some external force, anger and energy coursing through her veins, Jake Potash never bothered her or Prem again.

2 | Jaya

2008

Jaya pulled on her gardening gloves and handed another pair to Karina, who turned them over, exposing the ladybugs embroidered on each one. “Mom, these are . . . they’re for little kids. Can I just use some normal ones?”

“They still fit, don’t they? The other ones will be too big.” Jaya bent down to lift a large bag of potting soil from the garage floor and hoisted it into her arms. “Grab a couple of those, honey.” She nodded to the plant trays and began walking around the side of the house, toward the backyard. “So, how was soccer this morning?” she called over her shoulder.

“Fine.”

“Did you win? Lose? Who did you play against?”

“I don’t know, some school. We tied.”