Star Daughter(2)

At each note, her skin prickled in recognition.

She forgot the party, forgot the annoying guests, forgot everything but a yearning to step outside and greet the late June night sky, to twirl under the endless open expanse of the stars. She would drink it all down in huge, thirsty gulps while their music washed over her and echoed within. . . .

Ring-clad brown fingers snapped in front of her face, followed by a crunchy samosa.

Just like that, the vision evaporated, and Sheetal was back in the banquet hall. Her mouth watered at the scent of the samosa, all spice and fried dough, but the rest of her still ached for the lost starsong.

“There you are.” Minal looked amused beneath winged liner and blue-green eye shadow the same shade as her heavily beaded satin salwar kameez. “Your auntie just asked me if I’m signing up for that PSAT course with you. Does no one understand school let out two days ago?”

“I heard it.” Sheetal reached for the numinous feeling, for the way her veins had lit up, but it was gone. “The song. You know.” She gestured to the ceiling and the open doors at the back of the hall.

It took Minal a second, but then she frowned. “That song? Are you sure?”

“I don’t know.” Sheetal took the samosa and bit into it. “I mean, I think so.”

“How long has it been?”

Trying to remember, Sheetal munched on the spicy potato-and-pea filling. “Good question. Not since last summer?” The sidereal melody had never been so loud before. If anything, she’d always had to focus to hear its strains.

It already felt unreal, like the wisps of dreams left behind upon waking.

She couldn’t blame herself for imagining it, because honestly, who wouldn’t want a distraction from Radhikafoi’s family parties? As always, Dad’s sister had invited everyone she knew. Her neighbors. The stylist who threaded her eyebrows. Even the mailman, like he was ever going to show up. Family, of course, had no choice but to stay the whole time.

Sheetal wiped her oily fingers with a napkin. “Yeah, it probably wasn’t anything.”

“Admit it,” Minal said lightly, “the only song you really care about is Dev’s.”

“Maybe.” Sheetal laughed. Just thinking about Dev still made her all go mushy inside, like a toasted marshmallow.

“You’re doing that dorky smile thing again,” Minal said. She made a face. “How are you two not sick of each other yet?”

The bass-packed music abruptly shut off, and Radhikafoi’s voice boomed from the speakers. A microphone squealed, making everyone jump. “And now for your listening pleasure, a live number from Edison’s own Kishore Kumar, Dev Merai!”

Dev Merai, who was, for lack of a better word, really, really hot, with his longish hair and model’s cheekbones. Dev Merai, who’d only moved from Toronto at the beginning of sophomore year but always had one girlfriend or another—until the Tuesday in March he’d offered Sheetal a cordial cherry and asked if she read any webcomics, because he’d just finished a really good one.

She knew people like Bijal and Vaibhav wondered what he saw in her. But as Dev winked at her from the stage, she couldn’t care less.

He grinned at the crowd, then stepped close to the mike and launched into a Hindi song from a classic movie. It was a little unnerving how much he really did sound like Kishore Kumar, one of the old-time icons of Bollywood music. His voice was rich and melancholy, perfect for romantic lyrics about despondent poets and doomed lovers.

Sheetal closed her eyes and let herself slip into the song. Gods, his voice. It serenaded her, enfolding her until she started to melt like warm chocolate.

She fought to keep her expression neutral, in case Dad was watching—Dikri, no boys until you’re thirty-five! Or, gods forbid, Radhikafoi—Beta, I need to check his astrological chart and his family background and . . .

Dev sailed into the refrain.

It felt like starlight. . . .

No, that was the astral melody trilling in her ears again, beckoning her toward other wishes, other worlds.

Sheetal’s grin wilted. So much for having imagined it. The starsong was back.

It was hard keeping secrets when yours was much bigger than anyone else’s, with their latest crush or the test they’d cheated on or the party they’d sneaked out to or the weed they’d furtively smoked in the park. When your secret was as vast as the constellation you couldn’t help but stare at every night before you went to sleep.

Especially, Sheetal thought bitterly, her eyes open now as the distant strains of starsong grew louder, when that secret was you.

No one in the entire hall said a word, only listened to Dev, enrapt. Even Minal looked impressed. They were probably all pretending he was singing right to them, that his gaze sweeping the crowd saw something special in them everyone else had missed. His eyes were almost dark enough to be black, and if Sheetal hadn’t been trying so hard to ignore the starsong, she might have thought silly things about falling into them. Maybe even about kisses and stealing some.

But the starry melody remained, an undeniable undertone, and her thumb smarted where she’d ripped at the cuticle.

She had to get outside. Had to find out what was going on.

Even before Dev’s last note had died away, the party exploded into applause and cheers and calls for an encore. He shook his head and hopped off the stage, right into an adoring swarm of aunties and uncles.