Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(13)

“And the most important thing is keeping your eyes set on your future goals,” Abbu says firmly. He holds my gaze with a hardness in his eyes. “Do you understand?”

I nod my head. “Yes … I mean, I’m on track! I have good results, and I’m sure I’ll get into a good medical course in university …”

“Yes …” Ammu nods, though my good standing in school doesn’t seem to be bringing her much satisfaction. “Your sister was getting good results too. She was prefect, remember?”

Abbu nods fondly, his face softening. It’s like he’s remembering a memory from a long time ago, even though Nik is only three years older than me. “She should have been Head Girl. Maybe she would have got into a better university then. Cambridge, Oxford … Maybe then she would be …”

I’m not sure that being Head Girl would have changed the trajectory of Nik’s life. Then again, I guess you never know, do you?

Ammu and Abbu look so devastated, like they’re mourning something as they chew their chicken curry and rice slowly.

I don’t know why I say it; the words just tumble out of me: “I’m going to be Head Girl.”

They both snap to attention at that. Ammu with bright eyes, Abbu with a flicker of suspicion.

“They don’t choose Head Girls until later in the year,” Abbu says.

“Yes …” I say slowly. “But … I’m pretty sure I will be. I mean … because I have the best results and everyone likes me? I’m definitely a top contender.”

Ammu smiles wider than I’ve seen her smile in a long time. “Why didn’t you tell us before?” She leans forward and squeezes my hands for a moment, before glancing at Abbu. “We don’t have to worry about our Ishu. I told you.”

My heart fills up with a mixture of pride and guilt. Pride that Ammu is finally seeing me as the daughter that can succeed—that can fulfill her hopes and dreams. But the guilt? It grows deeper with every passing moment. Because I’m pretty sure I could never be Head Girl.




There are prefect and Head Girl applications at the office. They’ve been there since last week, and I haven’t even thought to pick one up. Why would I?

Being Head Girl is not about results or studies, it’s basically a popularity contest. I don’t think I’m about to win one of those anytime soon.

But if I’m not Head Girl—if I’m not even prefect—that’ll be another blow to Ammu and Abbu’s expectations. Another thing that we couldn’t do for them, despite everything they’ve done—they’re still doing—for us.

I pick up both the prefect and Head Girl applications from the office during lunch. The school secretary—Anna—gives me a curious look as she hands them over to me. Like she already knows that I’m not winning any favors with my classmates.

Maybe I can turn things around? It can’t be that difficult. If Aisling Mahoney can be popular, why not me? I just have to put on a smile and turn on the charm.

I can do that.

I think.

I try it as I walk into our base classroom with the applications tucked into my backpack. I paste a smile on my lips, as bright as can be, and stroll in.

Nobody notices me. Since we don’t have a dedicated cafeteria for the school, most of the girls from our year gather in this base classroom during lunch and breaks. The classroom is split into different groups of friends, each of them crowded around desks. The mixture of their laughter and talk fills the air. It’s already giving me a headache, but I’m determined to try this being sociable thing.

I approach a group of girls who are sitting at the front of the room: Hannah Flannigan, Sinéad McNamara, and Yasmin Gilani. I’ve never spoken to Sinéad or Yasmin before, but Hannah has been sitting beside me in economics all year.

“Hey!” I put on the brightest voice I can. It comes out a little too high pitched. I try to ignore that. The three of them turn almost simultaneously, questions marks on their faces.

“Um, hey,” Yasmin says in a tone that isn’t exactly oozing friendliness. But I’m willing to look past that.

“That economics homework was really hard, right, Hannah?” I ask, leaning against the desk in what I hope is a casual gesture.

Hannah shares a look with Yasmin and Sinéad. “Yeah … I guess,” she squeaks.

“So um … can I join you guys for lunch?”

They share another look with each other.

“We don’t really have any space.” Sinéad says, even though there’s an empty chair right beside her. When I look at it pointedly, Hannah adds, “We’re saving that for someone. Sorry, Ishita.”

“Okay, whatever.” I roll my eyes, before remembering that I’m trying to be popular so I probably shouldn’t do that. “Um. Maybe another day?” I smile, even though I hate how desperate my voice sounds.

“Yeah, maybe,” Yasmin says in a voice that tells me there will definitely not be a day when I’m sitting next to them for lunch.

I turn away and look over the rest of the classroom, broken up into cliques: I belong in none of them, and I can’t see that changing in the future either.

I’m about to turn around and go back to my usual lunch spot at a dark corner by the lockers when I spot the group at the back of the room: Humaira, Aisling, and Deirdre are joined in a hushed discussion.