Boundless, p.9
Boundless, page 9
Also, she liked him.
“Dinner,” her mother called, and Rani burst out of her room. She was suddenly starving.
They sat on the end of the long table meant for a bigger family—she and her father always across from each other and her mother on the end. She bit into one of the vegan cauliflower tacos, another new recipe her father made because he was on a healthy cooking kick. As she chewed, she studied her parents.
Her parents were like business partners. She rarely saw them being romantic or flirty. They were so organized and ran the house like a well-oiled machine. They alternated cooking and cleaning up. They both worked full-time, her mother as a high school English teacher and her father as a graphic designer. They seemed happy, she guessed, but they were always talking about work, or what was coming up for Rani in school, or other planning-for-the-future type things.
“Don’t forget,” her father said, “we have to drop off the Subaru for service next week.”
“On the calendar,” her mother said. “Rani, can you get a ride home from bowling next Wednesday?”
“Sure,” she said and nodded.
“How are the tacos?” her father asked.
“Weird. And by weird, I mean really good,” she said and smiled.
“Ha, ha,” her father replied. “But you’re right, maybe more salt. Red onions could be nice.”
She observed them as they started talking about the grocery list and the plumber coming on Friday. What had they been like when they first fell in love? Had her mother ever felt about her dad what she felt about Reed? Her parents had met in college. Her mother was born in Mumbai but came to Connecticut with her family when she was five. Her father was Jewish and grew up in Westchester where he had mostly Jewish friends. He was used to fitting in. She was used to feeling like an outsider. Rani wondered if that’s what attracted her mother to her father, a way in. Was that what she was doing with Reed? The lines felt blurry, like they usually did—her sense of fitting in or being an outsider.
* * *
The next day, she watched Reed closely at lunch, waiting for some kind of sign. She took a big bite of her kaiser roll spread unevenly with little pats of butter, the only thing she could stomach in the cafeteria, and poked Asher who was absorbed in tying the laces of his left black boot. He once told her he hadn’t learned how to tie his shoelaces until a year ago. It was still hard for him.
“Look,” she said. “He’s talking to Claire McDonnell.”
She saw Claire lean closer to Reed. She flipped her hair from one side of her shoulder to the other and laughed, flashing her straight white teeth. Then she touched his arm. As Rani and Asher watched, Reed looked right at Rani and shrugged. Then he went back to focusing on Claire.
“Did he just shrug at me?” Rani said, her face heating up.
“Shrug, he did,” said Asher. “You weren’t kidding. I’m getting some major vibes.”
Rani decided if she were a girl like Claire, she would look away, pretend she and Asher were in an extremely important conversation, and make Reed feel both seen and ignored. So she forced herself to keep staring right at him and took another huge bite of roll.
“I’m not sure if having a face full of bread crumbs counts as flirting,” Asher said.
“What? Oh,” she said and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “I’m not flirting.”
“Well, maybe you should be,” he said.
“I’m still deciding,” she said, “on whether or not to do it.”
“Well if you don’t, I think Claire will beat you to it. Okay, off to History.” He started packing up his stuff.
“You seem annoyed.”
He looked up. “Me? I never get annoyed. Or I’m always annoyed, not sure which.”
“So should I ask him?”
“Whatever you want, Rani. Gotta go.”
She swallowed. Asher wrestled with his overstuffed backpack, papers falling out through the openings. His bootlaces were still untied. So maybe Asher wasn’t actually on board with the Reed thing? Was he really worried for her or just jealous about the fact that she had a new crush since he had just gotten dumped? Maybe both? She wanted to say something, but then decided to let it go and watched him walk down the long hallway and out through the swinging cafeteria doors. She had a study hall close by, so she sat, finishing her roll. As she saw the last of Asher disappear down the hallway, she heard a voice on her other side.
“Hey,” he said.
She looked to her right and there was Reed, standing over her.
“Whoa, that was quick,” she said. “You were just over there,” she said, pointing to where he had just been. Then she laughed nervously and flipped her hair from one side of her shoulder to the other. Dammit. She hadn’t even meant to.
“I’m actually a shape-shifter,” he said.
“So what did you shift into?” she said, laughing a little again.
“Hmm, maybe I’ve got my supernatural powers confused.”
“Maybe,” she said. If anyone was a shape-shifter, she was.
“Uh, so. Do you have the notes for Precalc? Ms. Granger?” he said.
“Oh, you have Granger, too?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“How did you know I did?” She really wanted to know. They weren’t in the same class.
“Because I saw you come out of her room once.”
“And why don’t you have the notes?” she said, squinting.
“You ask a lot of questions,” he said.
She wasn’t sure what to say. Did he not like girls who asked questions? She bit her lip. Then the bell rang.
“Oh no, I’m late,” she said, startled by the noise, and grabbed her backpack.
“So can I get the notes?”
“Sure, now?” she said, not wanting to go through her backpack.
“I’ll come by your locker after school,” he said and then turned and walked off.
She stood there alone and nodded even though he wasn’t there anymore. Her eyes fixed on his solid shoulders ahead of her. She hoisted up her backpack and started toward the same swinging doors, not even sure of what had just happened. She noticed Claire McDonnell give her some side-eye as she walked past, and felt a jolt of excited energy travel through her body.
* * *
She couldn’t concentrate for the rest of the day and kept thinking of Reed, just standing right there, talking to her like it was no big deal. Had they ever even spoken before? At her locker, she started packing up her stuff extra slow, using her peripheral vision to look out for Reed so she wouldn’t look like she was actually waiting for him, but he never came. Then she had to run to make her bus.
She texted Asher that night.
Did you know your name means happy?
I had kind of hoped it meant something else, he replied.
Like what?
I don’t know, maybe Mysterious Handsome Genius. Happy is a silly word.
Why? she asked.
Is anyone really happy?
Oh, don’t be such a cynic. But also, Reed sucks, she texted.
Uh-oh. What happened?
She told him about the encounter and then the missed locker appearance.
Well maybe he had a good reason, Asher said.
Whose side are you on?
Mine, lol, he texted back.
She texted him a rolling-eye emoji and told him she had to run for dinner, though she didn’t have to just yet. Did Asher really see Reed as a threat to their friendship? Or was it just that if he didn’t have a boyfriend, she couldn’t, either?
She sat cross-legged on her bed for a long time, wondering what she had done to scare Reed off so soon. Maybe what she feared was correct, that her lines were too blurry for him. Perhaps he did want someone who fit more clearly into whatever box he was looking for, someone who flirted properly, someone who didn’t ask so many questions, someone who actually wanted to flip her hair for him, someone as clear as Claire.
Another day went by, but Reed was nowhere to be found. She decided when she did see him again, she would be extremely friendly and then dismiss him as fast as she could. But she didn’t see him for the rest of the week.
“Should I call him?” she asked Asher as they sat on the green couch and plowed through a box of Triscuits and hunks of cheddar cheese.
“Call him? What is this, 1992? Do you even have his number?”
“No, but I’m worried. He’s been out for days. I could DM him.”
“Let it go, Rani. If you want to go to Homecoming so bad, we’ll go together.”
“That’s not the point,” she said, stung.
“I’m sorry. I just hate the way these dances stir up drama. It’s stupid.”
“Yeah, I know,” she said, but she wasn’t sure what drama he meant exactly. Maybe the friendship she and Asher had wasn’t so special after all, just two outcasts clinging to each other.
That Monday, as she tried to stuff too many books in her locker while placing her coffee mug on the floor, a sneakered foot crossed her line of sight.
“I was sick. Strep throat,” a voice said. She looked up, knowing it was Reed before she saw him. Her eyes traveled up his body and landed on his eyes, which almost made her gasp. She stood up and promptly kicked her drink over. The top popped off, and it spilled everywhere.
“Oh, man, my coffee!” she called out. It was her mother’s fault. She made the best French press coffee in the mornings and had turned Rani into an addict. Reed left and she wondered if she really scared him off now, but after a few seconds he returned with a wad of paper towels. They mopped up the coffee together.
“Thank you,” she said, blowing a long strand of hair out of her face.
“Sure. Now I won’t feel bad asking you again for the Precalc notes.”
“You know, I’m not a math wizard. Like my notes are maybe not the notes you want.”
“You’re probably better than me. I’m carrying a perfect seventy-five.”
“Oh, well, then I guess so,” she said and smiled.
“Want to study for the test together this weekend?” he asked her.
She stared at him. “Is this all a ploy to get me to tutor you for free?”
“No, I’ll pay you. In fresh coffee,” he said, grinning.
Stay strong, she thought. “I’ll think about it.”
She did think about it and when he asked again later in the day, she said yes before he could finish the question. They studied at her house, and he brought coffee just like he’d promised. They sat at her desk, an extra chair pulled over for him. After an hour of pretending to study, he reached over and closed her book, very slowly. Then she watched his hand gently touch her wrist, and she let him slide the pencil out of her fingers. She looked up into his eyes and moved closer. They fell into each other easily as if they had kissed many times before. The door was halfway open, as her parents requested, but Rani knew they were absorbed in their weekend gardening, bill paying, emailing, or whatever they were doing.
It was only Rani’s second kiss, but miles better than her first, a bumbled attempt with Asher’s cousin at a party last summer. She told Asher how awkward it was, and they had laughed about it. But Reed had a confidence that thrilled her. His arms were even stronger and more comforting than she had imagined. He said that she was unique. She didn’t even ask him how or why, just moved in for another kiss.
Oh boy, Asher said when she texted him later that day. You’re toast.
I am.
Toast, she thought, light and crispy. Was that what she wanted to be?
She came down to breakfast that Sunday to a huge bowl of fruit salad her father made.
“All your favorites,” he said and pointed to the bowl overflowing with cubed papayas, mangoes, pineapple, watermelon, and starfruit. She had a taste for tropical fruits, inspired by her mother’s love for her childhood favorites. Her grandparents had given them a gift of a fruit club subscription for her mother’s birthday, and each month they received a bounty that had to be eaten quickly. Usually it was apples, pears, bananas, or oranges. In the summer, there had been peaches, apricots, and cherries, but this one was her favorite haul.
“Yum,” she said and piled several heaping spoonfuls onto her plate. She sank her teeth into a large piece of ripe sunset-colored papaya, her favorite of them all.
“Can I see the chart?” she asked. Her father pointed at the printed description on the counter that every fruit box came with. It was labeled Our Exotic Fruit Collection. She thought it was an odd title for a box of fruit, as she scanned the facts about each fruit’s origin while she took bite after bite, losing herself in the tangy sweetness and thoughts of kissing Reed. This is what it’s like to be happy, she thought, and made a mental note to tell Asher.
It was only two weeks before the dance. Now that Reed was hanging around her locker every morning and they walked down the hall together, even stealing a kiss every now and then, she didn’t want to ask him. She wanted him to ask her. Somehow, in this releasing of her power, she felt more powerful. Asher had said boys like Reed were the askers, meaning popular boys. She noticed people watching them in the hallways and couldn’t help feeling like she wanted to turn and yell out, “Ha! See?” but she wasn’t sure exactly to whom.
Two days went by and still no ask.
“At this point, it would be insulting to me if I asked him,” Rani said to Asher, this time at her house, eating more fruit.
“I was worried about this,” he said, picking at his piece of pineapple. He didn’t really like raw fruit, something she couldn’t comprehend.
“About what exactly, though?”
“About him. Hurting you.”
“Or maybe you were worried that he wouldn’t,” she said. “I just think you could be happier for me.”
He opened his mouth to say something, but didn’t. He got up and tossed his plate of fruit in the garbage. “I’m not sure why Reed is messing with us, but ever since you’ve been hanging out with him, you seem to think you’re better than me,” he finally said.
She looked at the fruit in the garbage and then back at him, surprised that he was confronting her so directly. “That’s not what I think at all. I think you’re jealous that I’m with a hot guy and you’re not.”
A moment of hurt flashed in his eyes, but then he just shook his head, mumbling something about homework, and left before she could say anything else. She had worried from the beginning that Reed might alter something between them, but it seemed like the truth wasn’t either of those things, her thinking she was better, Asher being jealous. Perhaps it was just what people like Reed did, directed the energy toward them until everyone else felt left out. But was that Reed’s fault?
Reed asked her the next day, by her locker. He whispered it in her ear.
“Will you go to Homecoming with me?”
She took in his blue eyes, his lips near her neck, the warmth of a sunbeam from the nearest window falling on them, and dove.
“Sure,” she whispered back, pulling him close.
At the dance, she wore a wine-colored sleeveless sheath with an armful of silver bangles from her Aunty Meena, black boots, her hair loose and wavy—a look she knew would be different from most of the girls there in their pastel mini-dresses. Asher didn’t even help her get ready or at least text her to have a good time. They hadn’t spoken in days.
She caught Claire staring at them during a slow dance, whispering to her friends. Reed wore his dark blue suit well. It was everything she had imagined it would be and she wondered if anything had ever felt quite that way for her.
After dancing, they sat together in the back of the gym, drinking punch, playing with each other’s fingers, kissing a little. Then he pulled her back on the dance floor when another slow song came on. She pressed her head against his chest as they swayed to the music.
“I wanted to ask you out for so long, but I was afraid,” he said after a minute. She looked up.
“Why?” she asked. “Am I so scary?” she joked and made a claw out of her hand.
“No,” he said, “but you know, you’re different.”
She remembered how he said she was unique before, and her heart started beating faster, like she had lived this exact moment in a previous life and her body knew the future. She looked up at the huge disco ball on the gym ceiling, the fractured light spinning everywhere. “Watermelon Sugar” by Harry Styles played in the background.
“How am I different?” she said, moving away, just an inch.
“You’re exotic,” he said.
She stiffened and stopped dancing.
“It’s a good thing. I like it,” he said and tried to pull her back to him.
Exotic, she thought. Did that mean different in a good way? Wasn’t he just saying she was hot? But then the shiny list of fruits from the gift box popped into her mind—Our Exotic Fruit Collection. Fruits were meant to be consumed and easily replaced. Fruits didn’t have feelings. There was a whooshing sound in her ears. She knew she was supposed to be okay with this and yet, or perhaps because of it, she couldn’t stop herself.
“I am not a papaya, Reed,” she told him.
“A what?” he asked, his face becoming serious.
“A papaya, you know, a fruit. An exotic fruit.”
“Oh, hey, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant it as a compliment.”
“I know,” she said, but she let go of him and dropped her arms by her side. “But I think...” and then she trailed off.
