The Henna Wars(50)

My heart twists again. Ammu is afraid of everyone finding out about me, not worried about me at all.

“I’ll talk to Sunny, maybe she can give us some suggestions, nah?” Abbu says. Ammu nods enthusiastically, like this is the best idea.

I drift out of the room as the two of them continue to discuss their options. They don’t even notice as I stumble out of sight and up the stairs, rubbing at my eyes, trying to keep the tears at bay. Why did I expect more, even for a moment?

Priti is waiting on my bed when I open the door. She looks up, her eyes filled with concern.

“Apujan, what did they say?”

I shrug. “They’re trying to stop more people from finding out.”

“Oh.” Her lips downturn into a frown. “That’s good, right? You don’t want more people to know?”

What I want more than anything else in the world is to feel like being myself isn’t something that should be hidden and a secret. What I want is for my parents to be outraged that someone betrayed me, not ashamed of my identity.

But I just shrug and collapse onto my bed, looking up at the ceiling and wishing this day would end.





20

I BARELY SLEEP ALL NIGHT. I DON’T KNOW HOW I’M GOING to deal with going to school and facing everyone the next day. It was bad enough during the showcase, with everybody asking questions that were none of their business, staring at me like I was a thing of curiosity and not the same person they’d gone to school with for the past four years.

Priti obviously catches onto my nervousness, because when she comes into my room that morning, she looks me straight in the eye and says, “Are you feeling okay, Apujan?”

“I’m fine, Priti,” I say.

“But … are you sure you aren’t feeling a little sick? Because I’m sure Ammu and Abbu will let you stay at home if you are.” She gives me a toothy grin, like she’s thought up the best idea possible. Like I haven’t considered staying home today instead of facing school.

But I’m not sure which is worse—staying home with Ammu and everything she said yesterday, or going to school with judgmental Catholic schoolgirls. I suppose Catholic schoolgirls are better than dealing with Ammu alone in our house.

“I’ll be okay, Priti,” I reassure her. I try to give her a grin of my own, but it must come off as more of a grimace because Priti doesn’t look like she believes me.

Still, the two of us change into our school uniforms and pile onto the bus, Priti casting wary glances at me the entire time like she’s afraid I’m going to have a breakdown at any moment. Inside, I am having something of a breakdown. There’s panic bubbling in my stomach at the very thought of stepping into the school again, but I try to bite it down. There’s nothing to be done about it, and I don’t want to hide myself away. I don’t want anyone to think I’m ashamed. I’m definitely not.

“Do you want me to come with you?” Priti asks me at the entrance of the school, edging close like she’d attach herself to me if she could.

“You want me to ask my teachers if I can have my little sister tag along with me all day?”

“You can say that I’m like your emotional support … sister,” Priti says.

“That’s not a thing.”

“If people can have emotional support dogs, why can’t you have an emotional support sister? Bengali culture doesn’t like dogs so that’s just discrimination!”

“Priti … I’ll be okay. I can take care of myself.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince Priti or me, but saying it out loud gives it some solidity.

“Okay,” Priti finally concedes. “Come find me if you need me, okay?”

“Okay,” I promise.

Priti leans over and gives me a quick hug before disappearing into the school.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can hear the chatter of girls milling around the entrance and hanging around their locker doors, getting ready for class.

“Hey.”

I almost jump from surprise. When I turn around, Jess and Chaewon are looking at me with wide eyes.

“We were waiting at your locker yesterday after school. We … wanted to talk to you,” Jess says.

“But you never showed up?” Chaewon says it like it’s a question. One that I don’t want to answer.

I cross my arms over my chest, trying to ignore the fact that my heart has picked up speed, like it’s putting itself into defensive mode without my permission. “I had to rush home.”

“We just …” Jess and Chaewon share a look. Then, Jess murmurs, “Nishat …” at the same time that Chaewon asks, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I say, trying not to let my voice waver.

“I’m sorry we didn’t come to you when … when the text went out,” Chaewon says, avoiding my gaze and looking at Jess instead. “We weren’t … we weren’t sure about …” She shakes her head, like it’s not important.

“Look, whoever sent that out, they’re awful,” adds Jess. “Whether it’s true or not.” There’s a question hanging there, but I try to ignore it. “If you decide to go to a teacher, Chaewon and I have your back, right?”

“I’m not going to a teacher,” I say. “I’m not … I’m not ashamed of it. It’s who I am. I’m comfortable being a lesbian. I’m just … I’m not a spectacle.”