Fifteen Lanes (2 page)

I feel I ought to give this day a dramatic name, like in a murder mystery. I could call it
Before the Apocalypse
or
The Beginning
. More than anything I’d like to give it a soundtrack. The shark’s music from
Jaws
would capture it nicely, except that would imply that I had a sense of foreboding, and honestly I hadn’t a clue.

I knew I wasn’t in for a great school year. We’d been back in class only three weeks but that had been long enough to get a pretty good idea of what I was in for. I’d been trying desperately to ingratiate myself with a group of girls who’d made it very clear I wasn’t welcome. Madison, the queen bee, questioned my motives. According to her, I was a snob who, in the three years we’d all been together at Mumbai International School, had never shown the slightest interest in being friends until I had no other options. She wasn’t completely wrong.

I was never under the illusion that I was too good for
Madison, or anyone else for that matter, but it was true that for the first time in my fifteen years I was out of options. The summer break had seen not only the departure of my über-popular brother Kyle to university but the move of my best and only friend, Tina, back to her home in Singapore.

Tina and I had been inseparable since our very first day of school, when we’d met at orientation three years earlier. Ours was by far the longest friendship I’d ever had. To be perfectly honest, it was the only friendship I’d ever had. Losing Tina had been a painful and unexpected blow. I’d had time to get used to the idea that Kyle would be leaving, but Tina and I had always talked of graduating together. In fact, we’d made a lot more plans than that. This year, for example, we were going to start dating. I wasn’t entirely sure how we were going to find boys to date, since none had ever shown the slightest interest, but that didn’t faze Tina. She said the only thing we had to worry about was finding boys who got along well with each other since we weren’t going to sacrifice our own time together just because we had boyfriends. We also had to find boys who were serious about school. Both of us were in the International Baccalaureate program, which was mega-challenging, and Tina said we only wanted boys who would not hinder our studies. She was mainly talking about me when she said that because Tina could pull straight As standing on her head. Tina was determined I was going to get good enough grades that I could apply to the same universities as her. We were going to apply only to the top schools. Like I said, we made a lot of plans.

The one thing we never planned on was the possibility of her moving away. It never occurred to us, though I don’t know
why. Before Mumbai, my family had moved every couple of years. I’d gone to four different schools on three continents by the time I was twelve. I was so used to the idea that relationships, like schools and homes, were at best temporary that when we first arrived in Mumbai and Dad announced we wouldn’t move again until I graduated I thought he was joking. And I was not amused.

To my mind, spending five years in one place was unbelievably risky. What if I didn’t like the school? What if no one liked me? The latter was a distinct possibility. At my previous schools I’d always hung on the fringes of groups, never really fitting in. No one ever picked on me; it was more like I was invisible, which at the time I thought was almost as bad as being bullied. I knew it was my own fault I had no friends, especially since Kyle slid into every new school like he’d been there his whole life, proving it could be done. I was just too shy.

The one thing that kept me from giving up completely was the chance that things would be better at the next school, that I’d hit the right combination of kids, or I’d figure out the secret to fitting in. Moving gave me hope. Dad’s decision to stay in Mumbai meant the end of hope. Perhaps that’s what gave me the unprecedented courage to make the first move with Tina.

I liked the look of her immediately long black hair tied in a messy knot on top of her head and cherry-red, horn-rimmed glasses. She looked dorky and bold at the same time. I didn’t approach her immediately, though. I waited through the tour of the ground floor (gym, pool and playing field), the second floor (offices, cafeteria and library), the third floor (humanities classrooms), the fourth floor (foreign languages and arts classrooms) and the fifth floor (science labs). Only when we got to
the top floor, Fine Arts and Theatre, did I finally work up the nerve.

By this time I’d had more than ninety minutes to prepare my opening line. I was convinced it was the perfect combination of witty, yet sincere. I sidled over to her and waited until I caught her eye.

“Rockin’ goggles.”

That’s what I said. You can see why I wasn’t more popular, right?

She burst out laughing.

I couldn’t believe it. It was like a solar eclipse or a meteor shower. Not only had she understood my humor but she’d laughed out loud. No one had ever done that before, unless you counted my parents’ dutiful fake laughs or my brother’s bemused groans. But this was different. Tina laughed for real.

So Madison was right when she said I wasn’t interested in being her friend until I had no other options. There was even a grain of truth to her accusation that I thought I was superior. I did feel elevated. But I never thought I was better, just luckier. I didn’t care that Tina and I weren’t part of any particular group, or that some kids probably considered us losers. I never even thought about it. I had a friend, a best friend. I never wanted another.

Uppermost in my mind, as I dragged myself to the cafeteria on a Friday, the day after saying good-bye to my brother at the airport, was how much I wished Dad would get transferred again. I wanted to leave this school, these girls and this country. I wanted another do-over. I could see Madison and her posse at the usual table. There wasn’t a chair for me, though there was room for one. This wasn’t the first time this had happened. I suspected they got rid of empty chairs before my arrival, to
discourage me. It worked. I was discouraged. I almost walked right past them to the library, but then I remembered Kyle.

My brother loves to give advice. It’s partly an inherited trait, being my mom’s favorite pastime as well, and partly his conviction that, with guidance, I, too, could become popular. It’s irritating and flattering at the same time. The night before, as we drove to the airport, he’d given me a final pep talk. Though I was mired in my own misery, one thing he said stuck.

“You don’t try hard enough, Gracie. You assume people aren’t going to like you. You’ve got to take more risks, put yourself out there.”

I didn’t state the obvious—that it’s a lot easier to put yourself out there when you’re smart, good-looking and athletic, like Kyle—because I knew he was partly right. My heart pounded with anxiety even when I was called upon in class to answer a question I knew the answer to. I hated being the center of attention, at any time, for any reason. Even at home I was happy to let Kyle monopolize our parents. He cast a long shadow, and I was content to hide in it.

With Kyle in mind, I dragged a chair from a neighboring table, dropped my schoolbag on the floor next to it and sat down. For the past week, Todd Baker, a boy in the year ahead of us, had been the subject of lunchtime conversation. Today was no exception. I did my best to look interested.

“He pretty much asked me out,” said Madison. “I’m just not sure I want to go.”

“What did he say—exactly?” asked Kelsey. You could tell she was trying not to sound skeptical. While Madison was undeniably the queen of our little group, her popularity quotient
was nowhere near Todd’s. Not to mention the fact that he was a senior. I also thought he had a girlfriend.

“Isn’t he going out with Anoosha Kapur?” I asked, immediately wishing I’d kept quiet. Despite Kyle’s advice, it was rarely a good idea to join in their conversations.

“Are you saying I’m trying to steal someone else’s boyfriend?” Madison glared at me.

“No, I—”

“Or maybe you think I’m not in the same league as a girl like Anoosha?”

I hesitated. I’d never thought about it till she brought it up. Anoosha was really gorgeous, and nice as well. She and my brother had dated, only for a short time, but even after they broke up she always said hi to me in the hallways.

I shouldn’t have hesitated.

“Really?” Madison broke into my thoughts. “Well, thank you very much! Perhaps you’d like to sit with girls who are more worthy of you. I don’t know why you even waste your time with us.”

“As if she could get any guy, much less a guy like Todd,” added Kelsey.

“I’m sorry,” I said. Madison was blowing this way out of proportion.

“I suppose you think because you hung out with the popular kids when your brother was here that you were one of them,” said Madison venomously.

I stared at her in shock. I didn’t know where she was getting her information. The only person I hung out with was Tina. Sure, I might have said hello to my brother’s friends, but it never went further than that.

“You’ve got it all wrong—”

“No, you’ve got it wrong,” Madison cut in. “Just because Todd was your brother’s friend doesn’t mean he’d ever be interested in you.”

This conversation had spiraled so far out of control that I was speechless, though Madison’s comment about Todd and Kyle got me thinking. They definitely weren’t friends, which was a little strange since they played on all the same teams and hung out in the same crowd. In fact, I’d always had the feeling that Kyle didn’t like Todd, but ours was a tiny school, less than two hundred kids, so Kyle was savvy enough not to be openly hostile.

Madison startled me by jumping to her feet. The rest of the girls stood up with her.

“In future, we’d appreciate it if you ate lunch somewhere else,” she said.

Tears sprang to my eyes. I knew they hadn’t welcomed me, but I’d thought, at least I’d hoped, that over time they’d warm up. Before Tina, I might have expected to be shunned, but hadn’t our friendship proven that I wasn’t a complete freak?

I was grateful when the lot of them flounced out. Reaching for my bag, I dug out my Math book and buried my face in it. Equations swam across the page in front of me. I’d really thought I had a shot with Madison’s group. They weren’t populars, or braniacs, or socialites. They were just ordinary, in a nice way, like me. Why wouldn’t they give me a chance?

I missed Tina and Kyle so badly I wanted to scream or hurl something. The effort of holding back tears was suffocating. Grabbing up my books, I ran for the nearest bathroom. I just made it inside a cubicle before the tears spilled out. I shoved my
fist into my mouth so I wouldn’t make a sound. How was I going to get through two more years of this?

Perhaps you’re thinking this was the terrible event that warranted the sinister theme music.

Not even close.

Starting school …

I could barely contain my excitement the first time I put on my school uniform. It was a light-brown shirt with a darker skirt, white kneesocks and black leather shoes. I’d never worn shoes before. They pinched. I kept catching my reflection in their gleam. If I twisted my feet the light danced across them. Deepa-Auntie and I laughed to see it.

Ma fixed my hair into two braids. They were very short and stuck straight out on either side of my head. I was happy my hair was long enough to braid at all. The year before, Ma had shaved off every inch of it because of lice.

“Easier to keep you bald than bug free, dirty girl,” she said.

“It’s not her fault, Ashmita-Auntie,” argued Deepa-Auntie.

Deepa-Auntie always called Ma “auntie” rather than “sister,” so Ma knew she respected her greater age and wisdom. Ma called Deepa-Auntie “foolish hen” when she wasn’t angry with her and much worse things when she was.

When Deepa-Auntie corrected Ma about the lice, Ma’s face turned purple. I worried she might shave off my hair again just to teach Deepa-Auntie a lesson. Instead she told Deepa-Auntie to mind her own business. I went to school, braids and all.

Ma walked with me but stopped when we were still half a block away.