When Dimple Met Rishi(85)

“So they really don’t care that you’ve dropped out?” Rishi asked, licking his spoon.

“No.” Celia shrugged. “I guess there really isn’t anything they can do about it if I want to waste my money like that. I’m glad they’re letting me stay in the dorms till after the Last Hoorah party.”

The Last Hoorah party was their chance to celebrate and let off some steam after the intensity of the last six weeks. After that it was good-bye, San Francisco. Dimple wondered if Rishi was dreading it as much as she was. They were pretty much avoiding talking about it.

“Too bad they let Evan join Hari and Isabelle’s team though,” Celia continued. “I was sort of hoping they’d make him drop too. Instead, they’re combining their ideas or something. Whatever. Like they can do that in three weeks.”

“Well, I hope it sucks,” Dimple said, more loudly than she’d intended. A few people around the small store looked up at her.

Celia smiled gratefully at her. “Me too.”

Rishi sat up suddenly. He looked pale and sweaty. “Um . . .”

“Are you okay?” Dimple asked, frowning, reaching over to put a hand on his arm. He pushed the chair back and ran to the bathroom.

Dimple jumped up and followed him. When he came out, he looked like he’d been run over by a trolley. “Are you okay?” she asked, rushing up to him.

He clutched his stomach and groaned. “I don’t feel so good.”

“Oh no. I wonder if the gelato was bad.”

Celia raced up to them. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“Might be food poisoning,” Dimple said, her arm around Rishi’s waist. “I’m going to take him back to the dorm.”

“Okay. I’m going to tell the fourteen-year-old behind the counter she might want to throw out her banana chocolate swirl,” Celia said, gesturing at the kid in glitter lip gloss texting behind the counter. “I’ll come up and check on you guys later. Just text me if you need anything in the meantime.”




Rishi was pretty sure he was going to die. His skin was cold and clammy, his stomach kept heaving even though there was nothing left in there to come up, and he was pretty sure he could see the veil of the afterlife lifting. “I’m . . . so . . . sick . . . ,” he whispered.

Dimple rolled her eyes. Actually rolled her eyes. The girl had no sympathy. “You ate too much,” she said, mopping his forehead with a wet paper towel she’d gotten from the dorm bathroom. “Should’ve stopped at one bowl, like normal people.”

“Food . . . poisoning . . . ,” Rishi managed, though just saying the words made him feel like he was going to throw up again.

“I’m not convinced.” Dimple straightened his pillow. “I mean, all I know is you ate like six servings of the stuff. And Celia and I didn’t feel sick.”

“You guys barely ate anything,” Rishi countered. “It wasn’t enough to get sick on.”

“Exactly.” Dimple grinned, victorious. “It’s your own fault.”

Rishi groaned. “Meanie,” he whimpered.

“You’re such a baby.” But Dimple caressed his cheek with a fingertip, smiling. “What can I do for you, oh ye of voracious appetites?”

Rishi looked at her, an eyebrow raised, smiling in what he hoped was a dashingly lascivious manner.

She swatted his chest lightly. “Not that.”

“You said I have a voracious appetite,” he said, laughing, and then groaned again when his stomach spasmed.

“Okay, no more laughing,” Dimple said. “I mean, I love you and all, but if you barf in here, I am not cleaning it up.”

She was smiling, but Rishi could tell by the way her hands were fidgeting with the wet paper towel that she was worked up. “How’re you doing?” he asked, lying on his side to see her face more easily.

Dimple sighed and hung her head. “Ugh, not well. I’m so not good at waiting for things.”

Rishi wheezed a laugh, careful not to upset his sore stomach. “No way. You strike me as such an easygoing person.”

Dimple glared at him. “I am easygoing,” she snapped in the least easygoing way possible, and then they both laughed. “Okay, so I guess you’re right. But this time things feel even more . . . fraught than usual. It’s just so important to me, you know? Jenny Lindt. Changing people’s lives. All of it.”

Rishi sat up, ignoring the lurching of stomach acid and the slow roll of the wave of nausea washing over him, and grabbed her wrists. “You are going to do it. Change lives. Jenny Lindt would be lucky to meet you, Dimple. You’re amazing.”

She laughed and rolled her eyes, and he wished he could make her see it—the way he saw her, the dazzling beauty that was her glittering soul.

Dimple stood. “Okay. I’m going to get some more paper towels and another bottle of water from the good vending machine at the end of the hall.” She pointed at him mock sternly. “No throwing up while I’m gone.”

Rishi lay back, groaning. “Scout’s honor.”





CHAPTER 52




Dimple was attempting to balance two water bottles and a pile of dripping paper towels when Celia ran up to her and took a few things. “Thanks! I really should’ve planned that better.”