Hani and Ishu's Guide to Fake Dating(35)

She sits down gently on the bed beside me. So gently that the bed barely shifts or makes any noise.

“So … can I ask you a question?” I say, staring up at her.

She glances back—having to crane her neck slightly. It’s funny, because the way she’s sitting, in the corner of her bed, makes her look out of place. In her own room and her own bed. It’s the place where she should fit in the most.

“You already asked me about the God thing,” Ishu points out.

“Okay … can I ask you another question?”

“I guess.” She shrugs.

“Why do you want to be Head Girl so bad?” It’s the question that’s been bothering me ever since this whole thing started. It’s not like Head Girl is a coveted position, really. Sure, it’s impressive to be chosen as the top among the entire year. It also comes with a lot of responsibilities—like having to sort out the debs, the class photos, the graduation ceremony, the class hoodies. All of that can’t be considered fun, especially for Ishu.

Ishu sighs. This time the bed does move. I guess that’s how deep her sigh is. She lies down right beside me, her black hair fanning out around her head.

“My sister wasn’t Head Girl,” she says after a moment.

“And … I want my parents to see that I’m not my sister. That I’m … focused on the goal.”

“What’s the goal?”

Ishu turns so that we’re face-to-face. “To go to the best university I can get into. To become a doctor. To make everything … worth it.”

“Everything?”

Ishu closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “My parents immigrated here with nothing … they have this tiny shop now. When we first came here, my dad used to drive a taxi and we used to live in a tiny one-room apartment. They missed my nana, nani, dada, and dadi’s funerals. They did all of it so that we could be … you know, the best versions of ourselves. So we could have the best life. The lives that they had to sacrifice … we can have that. I don’t want my parents to think that they did it all for nothing.”

“They wouldn’t think that,” I say. I can’t imagine Amma and Abba ever thinking that I’m not worth all of their sacrifices just because my life hasn’t turned out exactly as they pictured it. Especially since Amma already told me that they had to shift their perspective ever since I came out as bisexual.

“I just … don’t want to disappoint them,” Ishu says. She gives one firm nod of her head like that settles that, before yawning so loud that it shatters her veneer of perfection. “Oops.” She covers her mouth and glances over in my direction. I can only grin. I wonder who the people are that Ishu lets herself just be around. Her sister? Her parents? Does she have any friends outside of school? I feel like I can’t ask her any of that though.

“I guess we should get to sleep, huh?”

“I can get you pajamas.” Ishu leaps off the bed and toward her wardrobe, digging around until she withdraws two pairs of PJs. Both of them look to be in such pristine condition that I’m a little afraid of putting them on and getting them all messed up.

Still, we both get changed, and—after one quick text to Amma—I crawl into one side of Ishu’s bed. Ishu, though, just kind of looks at me while rubbing her elbows.

“What?”

“I can sleep on the floor?” she offers, like a total weirdo.

“You know we’re Bengali, right?” I ask. “I’ve slept in a single bed with three other people that I hardly know.”

Ishu cracks a small smile. For a moment, it seems as if she wants to say more. Instead, she crawls into bed beside me, pushing herself so far toward the edge there might as well be an ocean between us.

“Good night, Hani.” She sighs against her pillow.

“Good night, Ishu.”





chapter twenty


ishu


I’M BASICALLY WOKEN UP BY CHOKING ON HANI’S HAIR. As good as her shampoo smells, nobody needs that much hair in their mouth first thing in the morning. Coughing slightly—and trying not to wake Hani—I shift away from her.

My phone reads 5:56 a.m.: four minutes until my alarm is supposed to go off. I turn it off for the day and move to the edge of the bed once more. The bed frame creaks with every movement, and I keep glancing back to see if Hani stirs. But she’s still sleeping like a log. I guess she’s a pretty heavy sleeper.

She’s sleeping almost in the middle of the bed, as if this room and bed belong to her. What an odd position to sleep in, but whatever I guess.

I squeeze my eyes shut and will myself to go back to sleep. After all, we were out late enough yesterday. My routine has been thrown off. I should be able to sleep for longer. But no matter how long I close my eyes for, sleep doesn’t come. I’m wide awake.

So I decide to get up, slip into the bathroom, and get ready for the day ahead.

When I get back into my room twenty minutes later, Hani is already dressed. She’s folding up the pajamas I gave her for the night.

“Hey, good morning!” she says in the kind of cheerful voice nobody should use in the morning. Or ever, really.

“Morning …” I mumble. “You were like dead to the world when I woke up a few minutes ago.”