Counting Down with You(78)

“I don’t see why not,” Pooja Auntie says, smiling widely. “You’re such a bright young boy. It’s nice to see someone in this family take initiative.”

When she glances our way, I know she’s looking at Fatima, but I can’t help but feel like her dark gaze is aimed at me.

“I’m proud of you,” I whisper to Fatima when her mother finally looks away.

Fatima gives me a hug so tight that it’s almost difficult to breathe. “Thank you,” she murmurs.

I squeeze back. “You’re so inspiring,” I say, low enough that it doesn’t reach past her ears. “Thank you.”

Little things are starting to add up. Nandini and Cora’s encouragement. Ace’s kinship. Dadu’s support. Fatima’s bravery. I’m not alone.

Hours later, after Fatima and her family leave, Dadu and I are cleaning up the dining room and she says, “What you said today was very kind.”

I glance at her as I wipe down the glass table. “What did I say?”

“To Fatima,” Dadu says, analyzing me. Her expression is more withdrawn than usual. “That you’re proud of her.”

I bite my bottom lip. “She has so much courage.”

Dadu sighs, looking down. “So do you, Myra,” she says. “I wish I could do more to help you kids. All of you have such big hopes and dreams and I want you to accomplish all of them. I’m starting to realize it’s not as easy as I thought.”

I blink in surprise. “What do you mean, Dadu?”

Dadu shakes her head gravely. “Our family. There’s so much wrong here. I wish I knew what to do.”

For the first time, I’m at a loss when it comes to my grandmother. All my life, she’s been this confident, strong figure I’ve looked up to. I’ve never seen her this dejected before.

I don’t know how to help.

“You’re everything right with our family,” I say. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.

“No, Myra.” Dadu smiles weakly. “You are. I can’t wait for the day you realize it, too.”



36


T-MINUS 11 DAYS

Midland High has a different energy when school is out. It’s calmer, somehow. I didn’t expect to find myself here on the Wednesday of spring break, but when Samir knocked on my door this morning, asking if I was still coming to his robotics competition, I couldn’t bring myself to say no.

Maybe it was because of the way he was fidgeting awkwardly in my doorway, or maybe it’s because I’ve never missed one of his competitions before. Even now, sitting in the bleachers, the thought of missing one leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

The competitions are year-round, and this is the fourth one. Our school is hosting, and twelve different high schools have crammed into our gym. The judges are near the bleachers, handing out points for visuals, presentation, functionality, team spirit, and whatever else.

My brother’s team is gunning for first place, trying to snag as many points as possible.

In a minor act of defiance, I keep my earphones in and listen to Ace’s playlist on repeat instead of paying attention to the student commentator’s play-by-play of the competition on the overhead speakers. Dadu and I are squeezed between two families who are far too enthusiastic.

I cringe away from the cheering mother on my left and hunch toward my grandma as she fiddles with her misbaha. The bleachers are far from comfortable, but Dadu isn’t complaining, so I won’t either. I distract myself by texting Nandini and Cora until Samir’s group comes forward.

My brother is in his element, our school’s colors painted across his cheeks. He spends a third of his time controlling the robot, another third cheering on his teammates, and the last third discreetly looking at the bleachers. His gaze is focused far above me and Dadu, where a lone girl is sitting with a book in her lap, toying with a cross necklace.

I squint, trying to figure out why she looks familiar before it clicks. She’s one of the students that I used to tutor in English after school. What was her name...?

Leah.

I look back at my brother, but he’s paying attention to the competition again. I barely understand what he’s doing, but there’s a huge smile on his face.

Something painful twists inside me. I wish I was that comfortable with my own passions.

After a while it becomes hard to look at Samir’s beaming face, so I direct my attention back to my phone. As the minutes pass, I resist the urge to text Ace. It’s hard. Harder than it’s ever been to ignore someone’s texts.

I miss him. A lot.

Sitting in the bleachers gives me a lot of time to think. About who I am, who I want to be, and who I can be. The choices I want to make. The sacrifices those choices will require.

My friends are right. I like Ace. Being around him makes me happy in ways I didn’t know I could be. I want more than three weeks, and I don’t want our relationship to be a pretense we put on for other people. I want it to be real.

But no matter what, it’s something I’ll have to hide from my parents. They’ll never approve of him, no matter what I say, no matter what I do. It’s not a fight worth attempting, not because I don’t want to fight for Ace, but because it’ll be pointless. They’ll force me to stop seeing him, and I’ll lose their trust forever.