2. Brown Privilege

maybe sometimes, things happen just because we believe they will

-

Sure, at the Fullers' barbecues, we'd sloshed around with half of the town's police force, but I'd never really met the deputies who dosed on the night shift. From up close, the two were depressing as hell. Last night, the drunk teenagers from the college party next door had awoken Mr. Fuller up and he'd called up his pals at the police station. They'd cruised in in the Volvo, insisting on recording our statement.

In spite of all the drama, Ma marched into my room at 6:30 sharp, adjusting her dupatta over the royal blue salwar-kameez she loved to wear to work, sporting her finest frown. Our relatives often said that I was the spitting image of her, but my nose was much flatter, and whereas her hair was wild, mine was much more tame, albeit curly like hers. Among the things we had in common, my favourite were a pair of arched eyebrows and curious doe-like eyes, both of which were jet black and occasionally erupted bursts of vanity from me.

When I refused to get up for school, she shot me a disappointed look and started lecturing me on the importance of being motivated every single second of my life, which is stupid and impossible. I didn't know what she was ranting about - my grades were literally flawless, I socialised with the aunts and uncles whenever she forced me to, I didn't do crystal meth, and I hadn't shown up at her door pregnant. This girl just wanted to sleep.

Once she left, I locked myself in the washroom and attempted to dose off in the bathtub with a dry towel thrown over my figure. Until, of course, Bapi started pounding on the door ten minutes later. As he was midway between punching the door with his fist again, fuming, I swung it open to find him suppressing a smile at my misery, knotting up his tie with the free hand.

Despite repeatedly trying to drum into their heads that I'd be late anyway and that there was no point in interrupting Mrs. Flaxen's class, they dragged me outside with a mango (sent most enthusiastically by my uncles in Bangladesh) in my grip, locked the door to the house, and hurried off to catch the train to London.

Squirming under Mrs. Flaxen's reprimanding glare and pursed burgundy lips, betting myself on whether she'd let me in or not, I tried not to make the panting from the sprint obvious. With a last pointed look, she let me shuffle into the classroom with a lowered head, my ears burning with embarrassment. I settled down at the back, involuntarily noticing that the new guy was nowhere to be seen although Mrs. Flaxen's English was mandatory for everyone. Well, at least today can't be worse than yesterday.

To put it simply, I was wrong.

-

You'd think that after two years of helplessly running laps around the school field, you'd be stuck doing the same thing in the third year of high school, but the P.E. substitute just had to go and ruin my life. Planting two sprawling feet firmly upon the ground, she announced that this year we'd be graded on swimming, and we had fifteen minutes to change into the swimsuits (which, thankfully, weren't gross hand-me-downs).

I groaned exasperatedly as soon as the sub was out of earshot, mentally listing off all the horrible things I'd done in the last few days to deserve this. If I knew this would happen, I would never lie about watering Ma's casa blancas and let them die.

I accidentally overheard Ruby complaining to the rest of the cheerleaders that it wasn't fair since she hadn't swam against anybody in a year. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry, because I didn't know how to swim. At all.

As if that wasn't enough trouble on its own, even when merely standing beside the pool, I was shuddering at the sight of the chlorinated water from time to time. And the ripe cherry on top - I was completely alone - Lee and Art hadn't come to school today, and Ever and Troy were busy with the other jocks.

Within the next ten minutes, I was the only girl who hadn't changed yet, since I was desperately wracking my brain for a way to escape becoming a high-school laughingstock. I supposed I could pretend that I was having terrible period cramps, but I doubted that with the rumour that she'd had come from a juvenile correctional facility, the substitute would fall for it. Just when I'd reached for the doors after deciding to sneak away, she slammed the doors open, startling me halfway to death.

Looking down at me along the length of her aquiline nose like grim reaper, she marched back into the pool area.

I was beginning to freak out. But then, all the commotion in the pool abruptly dropped to a zero, making me perk up to see why everyone's, and I mean everyone's, eyes were glued to the scene on the patch of mosaicked floor in front of the pool.

I could clearly make out the new guy standing against the sun even from the significant distance, lazily pulling off the school shirt to reveal his smooth, gorgeously tanned, brown-version-of-a-Greek-god chest. It dawned upon me that with everyone so immersed in him (even the substitute), it was the perfect moment to escape from the pool. I crept to the doors as inconspicuously as I could, and the moment before slipping out, I spared his figure another glance just as he dived into the pool.

The sudden hitch in my breath said it - the stupid twins were right about his hotness.

-

"See you at Gorilla's Physics," Ever muttered, the last to get up from the table (we called Mr. Gonzales Gorilla because he's huge and hairy). I wiped the corner of my mouth with the already crumpled tissue, contemplating whether it was a good time for bribing my way to an extra red velvet cupcake from the batch that the lunch lady kept aside for the teacher's lounge.

The speakers screeched for a split second before nearly making me choke on the grape juice as the Principal's voice, unusually stern, reverberated throughout the school from the speakers: "Miss Aditi Rashid, please come to my office at your earliest convenience - within five minutes."

The whole ordeal before lunch had left a disgusting sensation in the pit of my stomach, and the last thing that I wanted to do was confront the Principal. Nevertheless, I needed to know whether or not I'd been crossed off the People to Throw Out of Clubs Hitlist. I rose from the seat.

On my way out, Troy's emerald eyes brightened as he spotted me and jogged over from the group of jocks huddled in the hallway. "Here," he took out two pieces of paper, handing them to me.

"Finals: EA vs. HTS : Gate Pass," I read aloud from the laminated tickets, a rich green in colour. These were much fancier than the typically hot pink passes made out of the cheapest paper in Edelweiss that Ever and Troy usually got me for their matches.

"Be there on Friday, I gotta go practice, shortie," he said, ruffling my hair in an attempt to make me mad, but I was too used to it to be unnerved.

I called out to him as he started jogging back, "But there's two tickets, Holsten!" Looking over his shoulder, Troy winked.

"We've been wanting to go on a triple date for ages, Adi! You better put those tickets to good use!"

Somebody somewhere was going to have a good time tearing the extra ticket to shreds, because if I hadn't found myself a decent date in sixteen years, no miracle was happening in three days. Or was it?

Kneading my forehead with my knuckles in a futile attempt to reduce the throbbing headache, I tossed the empty juice can towards a bin, but I missed and it rolled unceremoniously across the floor. I sighed irritatedly before moving to bend down to pick it up, but Mr. Gonzales appeared there with immaculate timing, his stomach bulging, an apparently heavy lunch threatening to pop open a button or two of his shirt.

He stepped on the can, twisted his ankle with a sharp snap that sounded very painful, and ridiculously crashed to the floor with a frightening scream, sending the papers in his hand flying through the air. I tried to stifle my laugh with a cough like the rest of the students in the hallway as Miss Flaxen came to his rescue, her heels clacking on the tile. Lowering my head to avoid being spotted by Gorilla, I briskly moved to the the staircase, realising that my nerves were eased.

The pleasant smell of a lime-scented disinfectant from the recently mopped floor hovered in the air as the flight of stairs left me across the corridor from the Principal's office. I wiped my clammy hands on my green Edelweiss Academy skirt - custom-made with two pockets against each of my thighs. Exhaling deeply, I rapped my knuckles twice on the particle-board door.

"Come in," Nilima Sen's intelligent voice sounded. Slipping in, I found her comfortably settled in her chair as she greeted me with a kind, suspicious smile. On the other hand, the Mr. Cheekbones sitting across the desk seemed entirely bored with the situation, until his eyes settled on my features. Interestingly, the stain of a certain lovable brand of candy still blotched his white shirt even though he'd visibly tried to wash it off.

I swore to never admit it aloud, but from up close, he was undeniably hotter, with his distractingly sharp cheekbones, a strong, square jaw, a frame that must've stood as tall as Ever, long legs that bumped against the Principal's desk as he slouched on the chair, and a mop of the messiest dark hair. And lips that reminded me of Lee's famous tangy raspberry tarts.

A tiny voice in my head sighed at gotten off to a rocky start with someone so dreamy. But soon enough, the other louder, more reasonable voice squished it under its foot.

It died with a squeak.

-

"Excuse me, ma'am, but-"

"No buts, Aditi," Principal Sen let out a breath, cutting me off with her glaringly Indian accent. I liked it about her - the fact that she wore her accent proudly. "Tell me, why on Earth did you spit on him?"

Never hearing the end of that, am I? The warmth in my cheeks as I chewed my lip must've made something click in her mind, because she reached for my hand resting limply on the table and gave it a motherly squeeze. "Between you and me," she lowered her voice, glancing at the door behind which she'd the boy called West stand, "I can tell that this boy is quite a handful despite his perfect records. Nevertheless, your behaviour is in no way acceptable."

She leaned back in her swivelling chair and shifted her weight from one arm to another before settling into a comfortable position and taking off her blue-tinted glasses, waving it from side to side. "It's quite simple: you show him around, help him adjust to the new environment, so that he doesn't bother me. And I reassign you to the club."

I was a tad biased for Nilima Sen, because she was a tad biased for me. The lunch lady spoke to her airily because she was a vegetarian Brahmin and jeered at me whenever I asked her whether the food was halal*, and over the past few years, the Principal and I had bonded over our silent sympathy for each other and hatred for Mrs. Lunch Lady. Thus, I decided that I owed her some special treatment for being pretty cool (and even though I liked to be fair, for being just as brown as I was). Letting out a small sigh, I nodded defeatedly. "I'll try my best, ma'am."

As I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob to leave, the Principal beckoned me to stop and bit her lip, tapping her index finger against the edge of her table in thought. "I want you to know something, Aditi, the fact that he's reckless and insensitive is barely his fault. I'm not sure why, but I really do believe that you will be able to bring out the better in him. An educator's instict, if you will."

Belief is a marvellous thing, I thought, stepping out of the small room. Maybe sometimes, things happen just because we believe that they will.

My thoughts screeched to a halt the moment my eyes settled on West's, who was casually leaning against the wall with his gaze trailed on the latest iPhone in his hand. I sighed, pursing my lips before approaching him.

"So this is whom they've chosen to be my 'tour guide'?" He laughed an amazingly small yet cynical laugh as I stood before him, his eyes travelling condescendingly down my figure. While I defiantly crossed my arms over my chest, he tucked the phone into the back pocket of his trousers.

"Okay, look. I'm a nice person, so I won't punch your face. Seriously, I don't want this any more than you do, because it's not even fair. You ruined my painting and now I have to babysit you to get back in the club. How the fuck does that add up?"

West rolled his eyes, pushing himself off the cheesecake-coloured wall. "Whatever, midget. Just do both of us a favour, and leave me alone," he spat, turned around and headed to the left.

"Wait, asshole," I called out, amused. He looked at me over his shoulder and emitted a low growl.

"What. Do. You. Want?"

"Unless you wanna cuddle with the janitor, the stairwell is this way," pointing to the right, I sighed dramatically. "Edelweiss is a huge place - you sure you can manage on your own? I'm not-" I was cut off when he abruptly stepped close to me.

The sort of close that makes your heart beat louder.

"Wha- p-personal space, dude." I crossed my arms again, craning my neck to look up at him. I discovered that the eyes glaring at me were fiercely brown, but the soft warmth that comes with brown eyes was stabbed by contemptuous flecks of gold, while the lashes framing them delicately were almost feminine in their length. Something lingered behind the haughtiness in them, but I couldn't tell what it was.

He leaned in next to my ear, and I tried to not let the unsteadiness in my breath show as I caught a whiff of his ambrosial, surprisingly vanilla-dominated cologne. His breath made an unpleasant feeling grow at my neck as he whispered against it, "I'm asking you nicely, don't push it. You don't know a thing about me. Leave. Me. Alone."

"You know what? Whatever, dude. Just don't go telling on me to the Principal for-"

Without letting me finish, he sauntered down the stairs, bringing his arm over his head and shoving his middle finger at me. It was rather ironic of him, because the very next afternoon, I found him diving into water for me.

-

*Halal - permissible for Muslims