I’d just resigned myself to making a korma or something and serving it with defrosted naan like a barbarian when my phone rang. I was driving and I didn’t recognize the number, so I shouldn’t have answered it. Not sure why I did. Maybe that’ll be the title of my autobiography: I Don’t Know Why I Did That.
“Hello?”
A deep voice replied, “As-salamu alaykum.”
And just like that, the chances of it being a wrong number went down to nearly zero.
“Wa’alaykum,” I said as I pulled out of the BART station and onto the street. “This is Danyal.”
“Yes, Danyal, this is Jaleel Akram.”
I raised my eyebrows. Bisma Akram’s father. Why was he calling me? “Uh...yes, sir.”
“We came over to your parents’ place a couple of weeks ago. About my daughter’s hand in marriage.”
“Of course.”
Silence.
“Mr. Akram? Are you still there?”
“I’m here,” he said. “Bisma made you aware of her... situation?”
“Umm...yes, sir.”
“I got your number from your mother. I...just wanted to thank you. After you met with her was the only time we’ve come back from one of these rishta meetings and I haven’t had to watch my daughter weep.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that.
“You’re a very decent young man. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate it.”
“Thank you.”
There was another pause. Then he said, “I was wondering if you could come over to our place to talk.”
I let out a deep breath. “Mr. Akram, Bisma seems wonderful, but I’m not...This is really something you should discuss with my mother and—”
“I have a business proposition for you,” he interrupted. “I think you’ll find it interesting.”
“What kind of business?”
“You’re into cookery. Let’s say it is about the cookery business.”
“Okay.” I tried to keep the skepticism out of my voice but...well, I was skeptical.
“We’ll expect you after school on Friday, if that works. I’ll text you the address.”
He hung up.
I stared at the stylized H on the van’s wheel and shook my head.
“Okay,” I told the aging machine, since there was no one else around to talk to, “that’s going to super suck.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Kaval walked up to me in chem. She somehow managed to look glamorous in the protective goggles we had to wear that day. “Hey, partner,” she said.
“Part...where’s Aaron?”
Our chemistry teacher had assigned lab partners at the beginning of the year, and I was supposed to work with Aaron Mendes. We got along fine, mostly because he actually knew what he was doing, and I tried my best not to touch anything that looked like it might explode.
“We switched for today.” A little smirk played on Kaval’s lips. “You’re not complaining, are you?”
Me? Complain about working with her? Impossible. “Of course not. I thought we weren’t allowed to switch, though.”
“I asked nicely. Mr. Jang said it was fine. He was very sweet about it.”
I frowned. Our chemistry teacher had never been sweet to me. I looked around the classroom, and sure enough, Aaron was clear on the other side of the room, and Mr. Jang didn’t seem like he had a problem with it. In fact, he didn’t seem to care about anything but his plans for Renaissance Man, which he was discussing intently with Trinity Selassie, whom he’d picked to represent chemistry.
I let Kaval take the lead as we set up the experiment. She was a better partner than Aaron, in that she didn’t hesitate to order me to do things. Aaron usually did everything, even though I was happy to help. I wasn’t lazy. It was just that I usually only had a vague idea of what I was supposed to do. Today I lit the Bunsen burner when Kaval told me and fetched the test tubes we needed.
“So,” Kaval said, her voice totally casual, “we didn’t get to finish our conversation last night.”
“When I was showing you up on the basketball court, you mean.”
She raised her eyebrows at me.
“What?” I asked. “That’s how I remember it.”
Kaval shook her head. “Whatever. I never got to say what I wanted to say to you.”
“Say it now.”
“I’m getting to it.”
I raised my hands by way of apology and almost spilled the purple liquid in the test tube I was holding. What was this stuff, anyway? Boron? No. Potassium? Sodium, maybe? It looked like it might taste like lavender, but taking a sip was probably inadvisable.
“I heard you had a visitor recently.”
I carefully placed the tube on a rack before I could mess up. “Visitor?”
“I heard some aunties gossiping. Apparently, some girl came over to your place. You know, a marriage prospect.”
She’d heard about Bisma Akram, obviously. “Yeah, you know, parents...”
“I heard your family liked her. Did you?” Kaval’s eyes were locked on mine, and her gaze was very intense.
“Um...I mean, you know, she seemed nice, but—”
“Not for you.”
“Right,” I said. “Exactly. It’s not happening.”
“I’m glad,” Kaval said, and then she giggled at my surprised expression. “I’m just saying, you know, it would be a shame if you made a decision like that without talking to me first.” She brushed her hand up against mine as she reached for the test tube full of purple.
I tried and failed to keep my expression neutral as my heart danced with the knowledge that Kaval Sabsvari was flirting. With me. We had chemistry together. I stood up straighter and a huge grin spread over my face. This. Was. Awesome.
“Are you saying—” I started with hope.
“I’m not saying anything, except that it’s a big decision....
Just don’t jump into anything without talking to your friends. I mean”—her smile got playful—“you’re not the best prospect in the world or anything, but...”
“Very funny. I guess I deserved that.” “Yes. You definitely did.”
What Kaval had said made me so weightless that it was impossible to concentrate during history. She hadn’t said that she liked me, of course, but she’d totally hinted at it. Right? Yes. Definitely. I wasn’t wrong about this.
Why hadn’t she just come out and said it, though? Saying “don’t jump into anything” seemed a long way off from what I wanted to hear.
I was reaching into my pocket as stealthily as possible to text Zar to ask his opinion, when I realized Mr. Tippett had stopped talking in the middle of his lecture. I looked up, wondering if he’d seen what I was doing.
He hadn’t. Kaval had raised her hand. This wasn’t really done in Tippett’s class. He didn’t like questions.
“What is it, Ms. Sabsvari?”
“We’re all wondering if you’ve picked someone for the Renaissance Man.”
“Be precise, Ms. Sabsvari. Who is ‘we’?”
“Like.. .everyone.”