The Serpent's Secret (Kiranmala and the Kingdom Beyond #1)(2)
But like any Dorothy at the beginning of her adventure, I was pretty clueless back then. I had no idea that soon I wouldn’t be in Kansas anymore (okay, New Jersey, but you get where I’m going with the metaphor).
The morning of my twelfth birthday, I totally slept through my alarm. It was Zuzu’s phone call that woke me up.
“Feliz cumplea?os! Joyeux anniversaire! Most felicitous of birthdays, Princess Kiran!” The voice shouting over the house phone was way too chipper for that early in the morning. Not to mention the extra chipperness of her shouting in multiple languages.
I made a little gagging sound. Zuzu knew perfectly well that I was allergic to anything remotely princess-y. It was probably because of my parents’ obsession, but I couldn’t stand princesses of any culture. Whether in saris and bangles or tutus and tiaras, the thing that really got to me about princesses was all that self-righteous, Pepto-Bismol-pink-coated prettiness. And of course all that waiting: waiting for princes to come, waiting for fate to change, waiting for rescue to swoop in. Just thinking about it made my throat feel like it was closing up.
“It’s my birthday, and you’re going to make me choke on my own bile.” I squinted my eyes against the morning sun, wishing for the quadrillionth time that my mother would let me have curtains on my windows. But she’d somehow gotten it into her head that it was healthier for young people to sleep in the moonlight.
“Oh, I think you’ll survive that, Princess Pretty Pants.” I imagined Zuzu pushing her hipster-red glasses up her pert nose. “But Ms. Valdez might impale you with her protractor if you miss the math test today.”
Gah. I finally registered the time. “Oh, man, I’m totally late!”
“Ahde! Schnell! You better hurry, babe!” Zuzu chirped. “But don’t you fret, this is going to be the wildest birthday ever!”
I had no idea then just how right she would be.
Forget a special birthday outfit; I threw on my favorite pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, and quickly braided my dark hair so that it covered the weird scar I had on the back of my neck—one of the two that my parents swore were nothing more than big birthmarks. I tied a bandanna over the even uglier scar, the one on my upper arm that looks like a pair of saggy glasses, and then, for double protection, threw on my favorite black hoodie. I ran down the stairs, ignoring the odd expressions on my parents’ faces, their strained birthday greetings, even the elaborate breakfast of puffed luchi bread and potatoes Ma had made for me.
“Kiranmala—” Baba began, but I cut him off.
“You know …” I snuck a few chocolate cookies from the pantry into my pocket. “I was thinking, tonight, for trick-or-treating, I might go as a vampire.”
“There is not enough fiber in that, darling.” Baba’s sharp eyes hadn’t missed my contraband breakfast. “Roughage is very necessary for good digestion.”
Ignoring Baba’s worries about my digestive system, I shoved a cookie in my mouth, then slipped on my favorite shoes—bright purple combat boots Zuzu and I had found at the thrift store. I threw my backpack on my shoulder and hoped Ma wouldn’t yell at me too much about not eating the food she’d made.
“You don’t have to buy me a vampire outfit, maybe just some fake plastic teeth?”
My mouth was all thick with chocolate, and I wished I had time to pour myself something to drink.
“What is this vampire-shmampire?”
Ma handed me a glass of lactose-free milk as she asked this. I was expecting the milk to be accompanied by a “you better eat a proper breakfast” death-glare, but Ma seemed too tired to scold. There were circles under her caramel-colored eyes, and the normally tidy bouffant on her head was a bit lopsided.
“Oh, you know what a vampire is.” I bared my teeth, doing a bad impression of an old movie monster. “I vant to suck your blood.”
Baba shook his finger in mock jocularity. “A vampire is a second-rate monster, if you ask me. Now, a rakkhosh—that’s a monster with some chutzpah!” My father loved using expressions he learned from his customers. “Suck your blood? A rakkhosh will suck the very marrow from your bones and then use your finger as a toothpick!”
His laugh, which jiggled his paunchy belly as usual, seemed a little forced. While this all struck me as weird at the time, I just chalked it up to my parents’ baseline weirdness.
“My piece of the moon, my garland of moonbeams,” Ma began as she took my empty glass. “There is something …”
She was going to start in on the whole Indian princess routine, I knew it.
“Don’t worry about the vampire thing, Ma, it was just an idea.” I turned the front door handle, ready to jet. “I’m going to be late for school.”
“Kiranmala, wait,” a voice called, but I didn’t respond.
I stood on our porch, looking out over our totally bare front yard. The contrast between our rickety fixer-upper and all our neighbors’ McMansions hit me. Everyone else on the street had manicured lawns with pruned hedges and flower beds. Us? Barely skeletal hedges and raggedy trees. I blushed, remembering how Jovi had once asked if lawn maintenance was against our religion.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the school bus turn onto the street.
“Princess …” Baba called.
“In the name of the Garden State Parkway, how many times do I have to tell you guys?” I jogged down the front steps. “For the last time already, I am not a princess!”