I have to laugh. “You see the irony in that, right?”
Ishu looks at me with that smile again. “You do?”
“Obviously.”
“I don’t really get it,” she says. “The whole believing-in-God thing … my parents have never been big believers. I think my nana, nani, dada, dadi … they all used to be big believers. We would always celebrate the big holidays with pooja when I was younger. Since we came here, though …” Ishu shrugs.
“It’s not for everyone,” I say.
“You can talk to me about it if you want …” Ishu trails off, like she’s not really sure about making me this offer. “I mean …” She glances at me quickly. “Since you can’t talk to your friends about it … yet.”
The idea of talking to anyone who isn’t Muslim about religion feels strange, but Ishu’s offer still sends a bloom of warmth through me.
“Thanks, I guess.”
I have never been to Ishu’s house before. It’s a narrow terrace house that feels sparse. The walls are a dull beige color, and there are very few things inside, other than the absolutely necessary furniture.
“This is … nice.” I walk around the place, peeking around the corners. I expect to see Aunty and Uncle pop out at any moment, but they’re nowhere to be seen. Inside the house is even quieter than the outside.
“Ammu and Abbu aren’t home,” Ishu says, watching me with amusement flickering in her eyes. I feel a flush working up my body at the way she’s watching me. “They’re at their own party.”
“Oh … there’s a dawat?”
“Yeah … it’s an Indian party, actually. Not a Bengali one. They don’t go to those as often but …” Ishu shrugs. “Come on, my room’s this way.”
Ishu leads me upstairs to her bedroom, and I’m not surprised to see that it is the image of perfection. There isn’t a single thing out of place. No clothes on the bed or the floor. No books that aren’t on the shelves. Her bed is perfectly made.
“Wow,” is all I can say as I take it in. “I knew you were a perfectionist but this is …”
“I’m not a perfectionist,” Ishu says defensively. She looks around the room like she’s seeing it for the first time. “I just … like things … organized.”
“Right.” I smile, stepping forward and flopping down on her bed with a thud. I actually see Ishu wince at that, and it makes me smile even wider. It’s actually kind of adorable how much of a sucker for perfection Ishu is. How meticulous she is. I mean, adorable when I’m not actually dating her, or her actual friend, I guess. I can imagine it gets tiring fast.
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.”