When Dimple Met Rishi
Page 54
Dimple walked up to him and took the bottles of water. She spoke quietly, looking at him, though his eyes never left Celia. “She’s just doing this because she wants to finally have that high school experience she never had. It means nothing.”
Ashish swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. He looked down at her. “That just makes it worse,” he said, and walked out just as Evan picked up Celia with one arm and she began squealing.
Dimple walked back to Rishi and handed him one of the bottles. “That sucks,” she said, sighing. “I think he really likes her.”
Rishi hadn’t opened the bottle. He was looking out toward the hallway where Ashish had disappeared. “Yeah,” he said, sort of wonderingly. “I think he really does.”
“What?” Dimple asked. “Why do you have that look?”
Rishi turned to her after a long pause, as if just realizing she’d asked a question. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “I need to go talk to Ashish for a second.”
CHAPTER 50
Rishi found Ashish sitting by a huge stack of folding chairs in a dark, dusty corner of the backstage area. He had his hands between his knees, fingers laced together, and was staring out into the middle distance. Rishi cleared his throat softly, and Ashish looked up at him. It struck Rishi how soft and vulnerable and hurt his little brother looked in the instant before his defensiveness came back. I did that, Rishi thought, and the idea stung like nettle. I’ve made him defensive by constantly judging his choices because they aren’t the ones I’d make.
He pulled out a folding chair from the pile and sat next to Ashish. “You really like her.”
“Yep.” Ashish shifted. “And I don’t need a lecture about how she’s not ‘suitable’ or whatever.”
Rishi raised a hand. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Well, that’s a change,” Ashish mumbled sarcastically.
They were quiet for a moment, watching a small group of guys talk excitedly about their chances. The guys didn’t seem to notice them, sitting in the dark about ten feet away. When they disappeared into the dressing room, Rishi turned to Ashish. “I’m sorry.”
Ashish’s eyebrows shot up. “For?”
“You’ve been really supportive with this whole talent show thing. You’ve really helped Dimple—and me—a lot. And I appreciate it. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”
Ashish nodded and looked away. “Yeah, no problem.”
“But also . . .” Rishi looked down at his hands and then up again, waiting till Ashish met his eye. “I’m sorry I haven’t always supported you. I’ve judged you instead of just being there for you. You’re different from the rest of us, and I was always trying to get you to change to be more like us. That wasn’t fair.” Rishi paused and looked out into the dark before continuing. “The truth is . . . I’ve always been slightly envious of you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself, of what you want, even if it wasn’t anything Ma or Pappa ever encouraged. Even when they—or I—actively discouraged you from doing something you really wanted to do, you did it anyway. I’ve always envied that courage.” He smiled. “I see it in Dimple, too. That’s probably why you guys get along so well.”
Ashish stared at him and rubbed his jaw. “Wow. I, uh, don’t know what to say.”
Rishi shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that. And this girl? Celia? If you really like her, you should fight for her. Because I don’t think she and Evan are going to last. I don’t think she even really likes him.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure she even likes me. ”
“So what are you going to do?” Rishi asked. “Just sit back and do nothing? That doesn’t sound like you.” He waited a few seconds and, when Ashish didn’t say anything else, stood. “I guess I’ll get back to Dimple.”
“Rishi?”
He turned.
“Thanks.” Ashish smiled a little, and for the first time since he’d come to SFSU , his jaw was relaxed. “For what it’s worth, I really like Dimple. I was wrong about her.”
Rishi grinned. “I know.” And then he walked back to the dressing room.
Max looked concerned. Even his beard and mustache were aquiver. “You guys can’t perform like this.”
Dimple was sipping her water, trying not to look like she was eavesdropping, but it was hard to do when the conversation was taking place literally two feet from where she sat.
“We’re fine,” Evan said, looking right at him. “There’s nothing wrong.”
Max leveled a look at Isabelle, who was trying hard not to laugh. She had both hands pressed up to her mouth. Beside her, Celia was grinning loosely, like her jaw muscles had all liquefied. “Really.”
“Really.” Hari crossed his arms and waited till Max looked at him. “We’re cool. I mean, I could get my parents on the phone, but I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?”
There was a tense moment when Dimple didn’t know which way this would go. Who were Hari’s parents? It was clear he’d just pulled rank with Max, but Dimple had no idea what it really meant.
Finally, Max let out a slow breath. “Fine,” he said, in that übercalm voice older adults used when they were trying not to lose their cool. “I’m going to announce your teams, then.”
Evan and Hari fist-bumped, and Evan said, “Bro, that was epic. That wing your parents donated to the computer science department must be something else.”
Oh. Max’s reaction made more sense now.
Hari shrugged nonchalantly at Evan’s comment, but his chest was puffed out, like being rich was something he’d built with his own two manicured hands. The Aberzombies began to make their way out of the dressing room. At the last minute Dimple pulled Celia aside, which wasn’t hard to do because she was trailing behind the three of them. Her skin had taken on an unhealthy pale green cast.
“You don’t have to do this,” Dimple said quickly. She could hear Max introducing them onstage. “You can still back out.”
Celia’s bloodshot hazel eyes met hers. For a second she looked like she might cry or throw her arms around Dimple’s neck or ask to be taken home. But then she wrenched her arm out of Dimple’s hand and stalked out behind the others.
Rishi walked in, looking over his shoulder at the group. “They smell like armpits and rubbing alcohol.” Then, catching her expression, he said, “You okay?”
Dimple nodded. “I want to go out where we can watch their performance.”
“Yeah, sure.”
They walked out together to the wings. Ashish was there too. The stage was dark, but the four of them had already gone out to take their places.
The spotlights came on, and the guys in the crowd began cheering Celia and Isabelle, both of whom were at center stage, their arms around each other, gyrating to “Sexy Heat.” There were some hoots from the women in the crowd too, especially when Evan and Hari began their bit, slapping the girl’s butts and mouthing the lyrics.
“This is awful,” Rishi said. Dimple noticed that, like her, he was having trouble looking away from the unfolding train wreck.
She glanced at Ashish, who looked pale. The corners of his mouth were tight, and a muscle jumped in his jaw when Evan pretended to yank on Celia’s hair.
“Maybe you shouldn’t watch this,” Rishi said, looking at his little brother in concern.
“No,” Ashish said, taking a deep breath. “I want to see.”
Celia and Isabelle were getting closer and closer onstage, and Dimple knew the part where they were supposed to dance close together must be coming up. But when Isabelle put her arms around Celia’s neck and pulled her close—to the thunderous applause of most of the guys in the audience—Celia stepped back.
Dimple’s heart stuttered. A look of confusion passed over Isabelle’s face. She stopped and blinked, as if she were wondering how she’d ended up on that stage. Evan jogged forward and whispered something to her and Celia, his face tight and furious. Hari crossed his arms. The crowd fell silent, watching.
Ashish swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing slowly. He looked down at her. “That just makes it worse,” he said, and walked out just as Evan picked up Celia with one arm and she began squealing.
Dimple walked back to Rishi and handed him one of the bottles. “That sucks,” she said, sighing. “I think he really likes her.”
Rishi hadn’t opened the bottle. He was looking out toward the hallway where Ashish had disappeared. “Yeah,” he said, sort of wonderingly. “I think he really does.”
“What?” Dimple asked. “Why do you have that look?”
Rishi turned to her after a long pause, as if just realizing she’d asked a question. He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it. “I need to go talk to Ashish for a second.”
CHAPTER 50
Rishi found Ashish sitting by a huge stack of folding chairs in a dark, dusty corner of the backstage area. He had his hands between his knees, fingers laced together, and was staring out into the middle distance. Rishi cleared his throat softly, and Ashish looked up at him. It struck Rishi how soft and vulnerable and hurt his little brother looked in the instant before his defensiveness came back. I did that, Rishi thought, and the idea stung like nettle. I’ve made him defensive by constantly judging his choices because they aren’t the ones I’d make.
He pulled out a folding chair from the pile and sat next to Ashish. “You really like her.”
“Yep.” Ashish shifted. “And I don’t need a lecture about how she’s not ‘suitable’ or whatever.”
Rishi raised a hand. “I wasn’t going to say that.”
“Well, that’s a change,” Ashish mumbled sarcastically.
They were quiet for a moment, watching a small group of guys talk excitedly about their chances. The guys didn’t seem to notice them, sitting in the dark about ten feet away. When they disappeared into the dressing room, Rishi turned to Ashish. “I’m sorry.”
Ashish’s eyebrows shot up. “For?”
“You’ve been really supportive with this whole talent show thing. You’ve really helped Dimple—and me—a lot. And I appreciate it. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything before.”
Ashish nodded and looked away. “Yeah, no problem.”
“But also . . .” Rishi looked down at his hands and then up again, waiting till Ashish met his eye. “I’m sorry I haven’t always supported you. I’ve judged you instead of just being there for you. You’re different from the rest of us, and I was always trying to get you to change to be more like us. That wasn’t fair.” Rishi paused and looked out into the dark before continuing. “The truth is . . . I’ve always been slightly envious of you. You’ve always been so sure of yourself, of what you want, even if it wasn’t anything Ma or Pappa ever encouraged. Even when they—or I—actively discouraged you from doing something you really wanted to do, you did it anyway. I’ve always envied that courage.” He smiled. “I see it in Dimple, too. That’s probably why you guys get along so well.”
Ashish stared at him and rubbed his jaw. “Wow. I, uh, don’t know what to say.”
Rishi shrugged. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that. And this girl? Celia? If you really like her, you should fight for her. Because I don’t think she and Evan are going to last. I don’t think she even really likes him.”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure she even likes me. ”
“So what are you going to do?” Rishi asked. “Just sit back and do nothing? That doesn’t sound like you.” He waited a few seconds and, when Ashish didn’t say anything else, stood. “I guess I’ll get back to Dimple.”
“Rishi?”
He turned.
“Thanks.” Ashish smiled a little, and for the first time since he’d come to SFSU , his jaw was relaxed. “For what it’s worth, I really like Dimple. I was wrong about her.”
Rishi grinned. “I know.” And then he walked back to the dressing room.
Max looked concerned. Even his beard and mustache were aquiver. “You guys can’t perform like this.”
Dimple was sipping her water, trying not to look like she was eavesdropping, but it was hard to do when the conversation was taking place literally two feet from where she sat.
“We’re fine,” Evan said, looking right at him. “There’s nothing wrong.”
Max leveled a look at Isabelle, who was trying hard not to laugh. She had both hands pressed up to her mouth. Beside her, Celia was grinning loosely, like her jaw muscles had all liquefied. “Really.”
“Really.” Hari crossed his arms and waited till Max looked at him. “We’re cool. I mean, I could get my parents on the phone, but I don’t think that’s necessary, do you?”
There was a tense moment when Dimple didn’t know which way this would go. Who were Hari’s parents? It was clear he’d just pulled rank with Max, but Dimple had no idea what it really meant.
Finally, Max let out a slow breath. “Fine,” he said, in that übercalm voice older adults used when they were trying not to lose their cool. “I’m going to announce your teams, then.”
Evan and Hari fist-bumped, and Evan said, “Bro, that was epic. That wing your parents donated to the computer science department must be something else.”
Oh. Max’s reaction made more sense now.
Hari shrugged nonchalantly at Evan’s comment, but his chest was puffed out, like being rich was something he’d built with his own two manicured hands. The Aberzombies began to make their way out of the dressing room. At the last minute Dimple pulled Celia aside, which wasn’t hard to do because she was trailing behind the three of them. Her skin had taken on an unhealthy pale green cast.
“You don’t have to do this,” Dimple said quickly. She could hear Max introducing them onstage. “You can still back out.”
Celia’s bloodshot hazel eyes met hers. For a second she looked like she might cry or throw her arms around Dimple’s neck or ask to be taken home. But then she wrenched her arm out of Dimple’s hand and stalked out behind the others.
Rishi walked in, looking over his shoulder at the group. “They smell like armpits and rubbing alcohol.” Then, catching her expression, he said, “You okay?”
Dimple nodded. “I want to go out where we can watch their performance.”
“Yeah, sure.”
They walked out together to the wings. Ashish was there too. The stage was dark, but the four of them had already gone out to take their places.
The spotlights came on, and the guys in the crowd began cheering Celia and Isabelle, both of whom were at center stage, their arms around each other, gyrating to “Sexy Heat.” There were some hoots from the women in the crowd too, especially when Evan and Hari began their bit, slapping the girl’s butts and mouthing the lyrics.
“This is awful,” Rishi said. Dimple noticed that, like her, he was having trouble looking away from the unfolding train wreck.
She glanced at Ashish, who looked pale. The corners of his mouth were tight, and a muscle jumped in his jaw when Evan pretended to yank on Celia’s hair.
“Maybe you shouldn’t watch this,” Rishi said, looking at his little brother in concern.
“No,” Ashish said, taking a deep breath. “I want to see.”
Celia and Isabelle were getting closer and closer onstage, and Dimple knew the part where they were supposed to dance close together must be coming up. But when Isabelle put her arms around Celia’s neck and pulled her close—to the thunderous applause of most of the guys in the audience—Celia stepped back.
Dimple’s heart stuttered. A look of confusion passed over Isabelle’s face. She stopped and blinked, as if she were wondering how she’d ended up on that stage. Evan jogged forward and whispered something to her and Celia, his face tight and furious. Hari crossed his arms. The crowd fell silent, watching.
