There's Something About Sweetie(17)

Sweetie tried a different tack. She could actually kind of see herself dating him. That picture of his that Suki had shown them … that kind-of sadness in his eyes … how athletic he was … She had a feeling Ashish Patel might be an interesting guy. And, to be honest, if their parents were setting them up, it was a lot less scary than her approaching a guy she liked. Which she’d never done. Because what was the point? She saw the way guys at her school looked at her. At first it had just been disdain and mockery because of her weight. And then, as she beat record after record, it was respect. Platonic respect. The kind of platonic respect that made them laugh when anyone even suggested that they might take her to the prom, as Izzy had suggested to Brett Perkins once. Sweetie had been sitting across the cafeteria, but she’d heard him say something along the lines of, “Aw, man, I love Sweetie like a sister. Or actually, like a brother. She’s just not the kind of girl you take to the prom, you know? I mean, I don’t even really think of her as a girl.” That had been a year ago, but you didn’t forget that stuff easily.

“I thought you and Achchan would be happy—an Indian boy for my first date. Plus, if his parents are setting it up, you know he’s going to be on his best behavior. Not to mention he’s from a good family.” Sweetie personally didn’t give a crap what kind of family he was from, but she knew it was important to Amma and Achchan. She was totally cheating, but whatever. Amma wasn’t sharing everything with her, and she was going to get to the bottom of it.

Amma darted a glance at her and then focused back on the road. “No, Sweetie.”

No, Sweetie. There really wasn’t much else to say about it, was there?

Sweetie slumped in her seat and rested her head against the window, watching the world go by.





CHAPTER 6





Ashish sat on the terrace in the gloom of dusk, watching the sun set in the distance. He was alone again. It was Saturday evening, and he was alone. Hello, Loser Territory, may I please plant my flag here? I think I am your new king. He took a dejected swig of his Coke. Pinky had hooked up with some guy at the protest. She’d taken a picture with Mr. Hippie White Boy Dreads and texted it to him with devil horns drawn on her own head. Ugh. Ashish didn’t want to know what she had planned. Oliver and Elijah were on their romantic date. And here he was on the terrace, sipping a Coke, watching the sunset. By himself. Even his parents were off doing more interesting things. He was like some forty-five-year-old dude, minus the wife and kids. This had happened more often than he cared to admit over the past three months, ever since he and Celia had broken up. And now that there was zero hope for reconciliation thanks to some douche with overzealous thumbs, Ashish supposed this was what he could expect for the foreseeable future. “Depressing” didn’t even begin to cover it.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel had him looking down over the thick, ornate railing. Ma’s car had pulled up, and Rajat got out to open her door. He brought her many bags of shopping to the door. Ashish turned and walked downstairs, feeling just the slightest tingle of anticipation in spite of himself. Do not get excited, he reminded himself. This is a girl your parents want you to go out with. But still. Didn’t it beat sitting on the terrace by himself Saturday night after Saturday night? At least going out on a date with her would be something to do.

Ma had set her bags down in the den and was pulling out her cell phone when she looked up and saw him enter. “Beta,” she said, a warm smile on her face. She walked across the room and kissed him on the forehead. (He bent down to make it easier.) “Where’s Pappa?”

“He’s at that golf and dinner thing, remember? With the Apple people?”

“Oh, yes.” She slapped her forehead with an open hand. “I’m sorry you were alone. I thought Pappa would be here to keep you company.”

Ashish scoffed. “Ma, please. I’m not a kid anymore; I don’t need you guys at home with me.” Even though it had sucked to be alone. “So, um … how was your day?” He tried to say it nonchalantly, but his voice got all squeaky at the end. Dang it.

Ma sighed and shook her head. “It did not go as planned. Vidya Nair was strangely opposed.”

Ashish felt his face fall, and then rallied by putting on his usual nonchalant expression. So what? He didn’t care at all. Sweetie Nair was probably some awful Goody Two-shoes much more suited for Rishi than him.

Ma reached out and squeezed his arm. “Fikr mat karo, beta. I will get to the bottom of it.”

“I’m not worried,” Ashish said, making his voice extra scoffy for her benefit. “I knew it wasn’t going to work.” The thought of endless Saturday nights spooling out before him made him feel a little physically ill, so he injected even more bravado into his voice. “I’m just glad we can put this silly idea of yours to rest.”

It was a monument to Ma’s patience that she didn’t remind him that the idea had been his. Her eyes, soft and kind, told him she knew exactly what he was thinking. “Well, I’m still going to find out what happened. Because I’m curious,” she added when he opened his mouth to object. “I know you don’t care.”

She dialed a number on her phone and sat on the chaise lounge. Ashish sat on the couch across from her and picked up one of Pappa’s tech magazines. He held the magazine up so the bridge of his nose was covered, but kept his eyes on Ma over the top.