Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(26)

Hani’s Instagram post is a hit. By the time I wake up the next morning, it has over three hundred likes, and I’m not even sure who all the likes are from. There are people from our school, people from surrounding schools, and people that I don’t recognize at all.

She even has a story up of our “date. “Pictures of the restaurant that I don’t even remember her taking. Pictures of all the food. There’s even a picture of me where I’m looking off into the distance contemplatively while sticking a forkful of rice into my mouth.

Hani has even put up all of the photos into our “guide,” under a heading that reads Hani and Ishu’s First Real Date, and I have to wonder about the irony of using the word real. Each of the photos has a little caption underneath it, like Seven Wonders restaurant! Our food—it was delicious!

Our plan is working. It will probably succeed with Hani’s help.

But for some reason, that thought doesn’t fill me with the happiness that it should. Instead, I just feel a strange emptiness as I lie in bed, looking at the pictures. We could pass for a real couple. We look happy. We look like we could be in love. But the whole thing is staged. I don’t know why that sends a jolt of hurt through me.

I wonder for a moment if Nik is already back home in London with her fiancé. Or maybe she’s just getting on her plane now.

I don’t even know where she’s living. I don’t even know her fiancé’s last name, or what he’s like. I don’t know when they’re getting married, or where, or if I’ll even be invited to their wedding.

None of that should matter, because I’m on my way to winning this popularity contest. To becoming Head Girl. To becoming the golden girl for my parents, and to achieving my dreams.

My phone pings with a text. It’s a message from Hani.

Filled in my prefect application—our plan is a go!





chapter fifteen


hani


PEOPLE AT SCHOOL ARE WEIRD ABOUT ME AND ISHU. I guess, technically, we’re the only “out” couple here, though I’m sure there are at least a few closeted ones.

I can hear people whispering as I walk into school, and they shoot me looks as I walk toward my locker. I wonder if our plan is doomed by the fact that we’re in a queer relationship. We are, after all, in an all-girls’ Catholic school. Despite the fact that we got marriage equality a few years ago, there’s something uncomfortable about being queer here. The same way there’s something uncomfortable about being Muslim here.

But when I check my Instagram later that day, there are comments from girls at school sending heart eye emojis and telling us what a cute couple we are. I can’t help the smile on my lips as I scroll through the comments.

Ishu and I do look like a cute couple in the picture. She somehow managed to set aside her resting bitch face for one smile where she looks genuinely happy. And so do I. If I didn’t know any better, I think I would full-on believe we were a real couple from this picture.

During lunchtime, Amanda Byrne comes over to our table.

“I didn’t know you were dating Ishita!” She’s smiling really wide, like she really loves talking about my dating life. “You guys are the cutest couple!”

“Thanks.” I’ve never been told I’m part of a cute couple before, so I’m not sure if “thank you” is the appropriate reply. But it’s the only one I have. Amanda looks pleased, anyway, as she moves on to her group of friends at the table across from us.




“Bethany Walsh actually asked me how the two of us started dating today,” Ishu informs me by my locker at the end of the day. “Like … she actually wanted to have a conversation with me about it.”

“And … are you pleased by that or annoyed?” I ask, because Ishu’s expression and voice aren’t giving anything away.

She heaves a deep sigh, and leans against the stack of lockers next to mine. “You know, it’ll be hard to give up the reputation I’ve worked so hard to cultivate here, but …”

“I’m sure you can get it back once you’re Head Girl,” I assure her.

“Oh, I’m planning to.” She grins.

“By the way, it’s Dee’s birthday on Saturday. She’s having a party and she invited you.”

“Really?” Ishu stands up straight, her grin broadening.

“I didn’t think you’d be excited about a party.” I raise an eyebrow at her.

“I’m not really,” she says in a voice that I don’t quite believe. “It just means … this is working.”

“There’s still time for us to mess it up so let’s not get cocky. The party is your time to shine. Schmooze some people and … act pleasant.”

“I can do that,” she says in the least convincing voice ever. Still, if she managed a full conversation with Bethany Walsh, one of the bubbliest girls in our year, maybe she can schmooze everyone at the party.




When I get home from school on Friday afternoon, Abba is in the sitting room wearing his best panjabi.

I peer in through the door. “Are you going to the mosque again?”

Abba turns the volume down on the Bangladeshi news on the TV screen and turns to me with a small smile. “Just to pray Maghrib later.”