Star Daughter(9)

Longing as deep as the sky—longing to hear the astral melody again, to understand it—lit Sheetal’s cells. “They’re . . . I don’t know. The starsong. It did something to me.”

Minal’s brush paused its careful painting. “What does that mean?”

Sheetal shook her head. “I don’t know.”

“Did what, though?” Minal pressed. “That sounds ominous.”

All the things Sheetal wasn’t saying flashed through her mind, one silver spark at a time. Like how the sidereal music had woken something in her bones, and she’d almost completely lost control and given herself up to it. Like how, desperate to reach it again, she’d gone into her secret room and played her harp until it felt like her fingers would fall off.

How in daylight the starsong was thankfully dormant, but every part of her was freaking out.

Just the thought of trying to explain made her want to take a nap right there in the bathtub. “No, nothing like that,” she said quickly. “It— I had to play a lot last night. Like, my calluses are going to have calluses.”

“Do you think it had something to do with your hair?”

“Maybe.” Sheetal winced. “Radhikafoi’s going to kill me if she finds out about it.”

“So don’t tell her.” Minal put the brush aside and sat down next to Sheetal. “You know, sometimes I think your foi looks at you like one of her clients. Like, she couldn’t save them from getting hurt, but she can still save you.”

Sheetal scoffed. “From what, having a life?” Radhikafoi helped battered women escape terrible situations, but as her auntie knew, Sheetal’s home with Dad couldn’t be safer.

“No, I mean she probably feels like she has to make up for your mom leaving.”

“Yeah, well, I never asked her to,” Sheetal pointed out. “Why can’t I have your family? You guys all get along.”

“Have you met my siblings? Just this morning, Yogesh was whining about how unfair it is I get to have a car, but he doesn’t—uh, because he’s thirteen?—and Soni knocked my dad’s coffee all over his shirt. The one he’d just had dry-cleaned.” Minal snorted. “Ordinary. That’s us. But look at you, star princess out of some fairy tale. You’re magic.”

“I guess,” Sheetal said. She definitely didn’t feel like a star princess. She felt like a weirdo, and weren’t fairy-tale heroines supposed to be free of zits and tangles and general awkwardness? Without even trying, Minal had better skin than she did. No split ends from nonstop dye jobs, either.

“Besides,” Minal asked, wistful, “do you really want to be ordinary? Ordinary’s boring. I always wanted magic, and you actually have it.”

You don’t get it, Sheetal thought. Magic isolates you. You’re this misfit who doesn’t belong anywhere, and you want to make it all go away, but at the same time, you crave it, and you can’t help craving it. You’re just stuck.

Minal stood and picked up the bowl again. “Think about it. My mom yells up the stairs or texts me to check on me. Yours sends you starlight.”

Her mom. Oh, man. Sheetal hadn’t let herself even dance around the question of whether Charumati in particular wanted to tell her something. “Can we not talk about this anymore?”

“Okay. But if you ever decide you want to say hi to her in person,” Minal added, her tone cheeky, “don’t even dream of leaving me behind.”

At least that was something Sheetal could answer. She lifted her head enough for Minal to see her watery smile. “Never.”

“You better not.” Minal changed the subject to her latest work in progress, a mixed-media circus cart made from a cigar box and sea glass, and resumed kneading the dye into Sheetal’s hair.

She’d basically finished when Sheetal’s phone dinged with a message from Dev. Just got your text. I’m not big into running. Maybe a leisurely jog for our lives.

I heard that’s really bad for your knees, she texted back. “Ow!” Minal was folding her hair into the plastic cap with a little too much enthusiasm.

“Sorry,” said Minal, not sounding at all sorry. “It’s supposed to be tight. Read the directions if you don’t believe me.”

“Show me where it says you’re supposed to cut off my circulation!”

Sheetal’s phone dinged again. Then we’ll just stroll. Mosey right along.

What if we wander? You can’t go wrong with a good wander.

Wandering could work. Just no shambling—unless you’re a zombie, Dev went on. Anyway, I had this dream last night. I was eating cookies, and you were guarding me with this seriously kickass sword. It shot lasers whenever anyone got too close.

Sheetal felt like she’d broken into two people, one overlaying the other. The ordinary human girl who flirted with her boyfriend, and the bizarre alien girl hiding in the skin of that ordinary girl, frantically pretending everything was fine. Her skin wasn’t big enough for both of them.

But all she typed was, Excuse me??? As a knight, I can do better than guarding Cookie Monster. All he does is eat cookies! Tell your subconscious I want a promotion.

Excuse ME, Dev replied, but you should be honored to have such an important job. Clearly all those people wanted to steal my cookies. Who’s Cookie Monster without any cookies, huh? HUH?