‘We were just hanging out,’ Eric says, grabbing a spoon and dipping it into the simmering soup stock.
Oliver James looks up from the carrots he’s dicing. ‘From what I hear, you were snogging her, mate.’
‘She threw herself at me,’ Eric says, turning to the Sweet Tooth audience and shrugging. ‘All I did was say yes.’
There are more than a few embarrassed smiles, including one on Oliver’s face.
‘I did not throw myself at him,’ I call to the audience. ‘He said I was his girl!’
‘Only after you cooked me that fancy dinner,’ Eric says. ‘What’d you call it, Oliver? The Get Naked menu?’
The audience cackles. I turn to Oliver, who shakes his head. ‘I told you to keep it casual. You asked for this.’
‘No,’ I protest. ‘You don’t understand. He was into me. I know he was.’
Oliver faces the audience. ‘Poor thing’s eaten a bad mushroom – she’s delusional.’
‘This is MY show,’ I say. ‘You’re MY guest. And those are MY fans.’
Eric is laughing so hard he has to hold the counter for support.
‘Stop it,’ I shout. ‘Stop it!’
‘Zahra.’ Dad’s voice filters through the laughter. ‘You asked me to wake you up early. Aren’t you meeting your friends at nine?’
I open my eyes and stare at the water stain on the ceiling over my bed. Dad twists open the ugly venetian blinds that came with the apartment, and thousands of dust motes appear in the shafts of sunlight. I’d planned on painting, but so far the only decorating I’ve managed is to tape up a poster of Yosemite National Park, the last place we went for a family vacation. Doing anything more would feel like admitting that my parents are never getting back together.
‘Are you OK?’ Dad asks. ‘It looks like you’ve been crying.’
I touch my cheek and find it damp. ‘I’m fine. I just had a nightmare.’
‘I’ll make you some toast,’ Dad says.
As he leaves, I pull the sheets up over my head. It’s become my new morning ritual.
Since I found out about Eric, it’s a lot harder to face the world.
I beckon to Syd and Kali from behind a display of wooden blinds at Home Depot. ‘This is a bad idea. I can’t believe we let Lauren talk us into it.’
‘It was her big fat check that did the talking,’ Syd says, peeking around the blinds in search of our target.
Lauren asked us to think about her offer overnight. After carefully weighing the pros and the cons, we decided to take the job. With our families splitting, we’re all on tight budgets, and the extra cash couldn’t come at a better time.
In exchange for four hundred dollars, all we have to do is watch Trey’s every move over the weekend, starting tonight at his part-time job. I wouldn’t have expected a society girl like Lauren to date a working-class guy, but she’s hung up on Trey, and lately Trey’s disappeared for blocks of time, and has been evasive about what he’s been doing.
It seemed like easy money, but now that we’re here, I’m nervous. It was hard enough playing secret agent with Eric when I was highly motivated by humiliation. Trey Fuller might be scamming Lauren, but he hasn’t done anything to me.
‘We’re not doing anything illegal,’ Kali says, reading my mind. ‘Fancy pastry classes and good guitars don’t come cheap.’
‘Or college,’ Syd adds, having recently learnt that her dad dumped most of her education fund into the Albany Hotel.
‘It’s not just about money,’ Kali says. ‘We’re in it to help someone who’s at risk of being destroyed by love, like us. You’d feel worse right now if we hadn’t shown Eric exactly how we feel.’
‘Showing is so much better than telling,’ I agree.
I know I won’t get over what happened with Eric quickly, but I believe doing something about it helped. Messing with Miss Daisy, his number one girl, was as close as we could get to breaking his heart.
‘We’re helping someone who’s suffering,’ Kali says. ‘It’s like community service, only with a paycheck.’
‘Exactly,’ Syd says. ‘By supporting someone from group, we’re sort of building on the work Dieter’s doing.’
‘It’s like an enrichment class,’ I add, laughing. ‘Anyway, it beats sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves.’
‘Let’s get to work,’ Syd says, pulling some photos of Trey out of the back pocket of her jeans. ‘We’ve got to identify this traitor.’
‘He’s innocent until proven guilty,’ I remind her. At the moment, I believe all guys are jerks and cheaters. But this is a paying job, and we have to keep an open mind.
Syd pinches her nose. ‘When something smells this bad, there’s usually a reason.’
The difference between me and Syd is that while neither of us trusts guys anymore, deep down I want to be proven wrong, whereas I think Syd wants to be proven right. Now that she’s tasted revenge, she wants another hit. But she’ll have to wait because so far we’re just investigating.
Kali examines the photos of Trey before raising camouflage binoculars to scan the store.
Syd pushes down the binoculars. ‘Try using your eyes.’
From our position in the Window Coverings section, we have an unobstructed view of Paints and Wallpapers, where Trey works.
‘Target at three o’clock,’ Kali announces. She points to a guy stocking a shelf with paint rollers. ‘Confirming: Tango, Romeo, Echo, Yankee.
Mocking Kali’s use of the military alphabet, Syd says, ‘Loony Oddball Screwy Eccentric Ridiculous.’
‘Don’t call me a loser,’ Kali says, not the least bit insulted. She’s upbeat and animated again this morning – far from destroyed. ‘Military precision is what this job requires.’ She slicks on her favorite lip gloss, fluffs her curls, and adjusts her halter top for maximum cleavage. ‘Cover me, chiquitas; I’m going in.’
She sashays across the store in a short, ruffled skirt that matches her top, and wedge-heeled espadrilles. Her tanned legs seem endless, and several guys turn to admire them as she passes.
Watching her, I feel mousy in my khaki shorts and T-shirt. I could never pull off an outfit like Kali’s. I mean, I’d probably look OK in it, but I don’t have her confidence.
Syd probably doesn’t have Kali’s confidence either, despite her funky style. Her clothes seem like her graffiti – a bold statement to the public – while the girl inside remains anonymous.
‘Excuse me,’ Kali calls to Trey. Syd and I take our positions in the next aisle, where we can see and hear the action without being noticed. ‘I’m thinking about repainting my room, but I’m not sure about what color to go for.’ She twirls a blond curl around her index finger and gives Lauren’s boyfriend the once-over. ‘You look like you have great taste. Do you think you could help me?’
‘Sure,’ Trey says. He smiles at Kali, keeping his eyes on her face instead of her cleavage. ‘What kind of mood are you trying to create? Restful or bold?’
Kali giggles. ‘Something in between, I guess. I want to create a vibe that will inspire my songwriting, the same way people do.’ She’s leaning against the shelf now, casually spinning her web. ‘So what’s your story? What drew you to help people decorate?’
‘I needed a job,’ Trey says. He smiles again and backs down the aisle. ‘I’ll collect some samples for you and be right back.’
‘Make sure it’s nontoxic paint,’ Kali calls after him. ‘I’m an environmentalist.’
Syd and I collapse in laughter when Trey is out of earshot.
‘Dial it back a bit, would you?’ Syd says. ‘You’re scaring the guy.’
Kali rolls her eyes. ‘If I can’t get this guy to crack, he’s either in love with Lauren, or he’s gay.’
Syd and I exchange a glance. Although I envy Kali’s confidence, it can be a bit jarring. I suppose she’s just matterof-fact. Guys are attracted to her, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise.
‘If you guys wanted subtle,’ Kali adds, ‘you picked the wrong girl for the job.’
Syd and I are on the bus, heading to the last event in a full weekend of Trey surveillance. Since he passed Kali’s experiment with flying colors, we’ve spent two solid days tracking him. On Saturday night, Lauren pretended to be busy so that we could see how he’d fill ‘date night.’ He went to a movie with his pals, which meant Syd, Kali, and I sat through a slasher flick.
This morning, we were up early to make sure Trey really went to church (he did), and now while Kali goes to her guitar lesson, Syd and I are checking out his touch football game. If he shows up without some girl to cheer him on, we’ll have to give him the all clear as far as cheating is concerned.
The bus skirts the Albany Hotel, and Syd points to a stack of modern condos built on top of an old library. ‘That’s where I do my time with Dad. He says he has to live in a condo before he designs one. Meanwhile, Mom’s renting a basement apartment until she figures out what she wants to do with her life. I miss our old house.’
Syd sounds like a wistful kid, and today she looks like one too. She skipped her signature red lipstick and is wearing jeans, a white T-shirt, and a baseball cap. I guess it’s her stakeout attire.
If she weren’t such a good artist, Syd would have a future as a detective. She’s planned every outing carefully, down to the last detail. In fact, both Kali and Syd have given this their best effort, whereas I haven’t offered much more than moral support. As usual, with Kali out there at one end of the spectrum and Syd on the other, I’m the gray in the middle.
We get off the bus and circle Trey’s school, half an hour before the game. Syd did an advance run yesterday to check out cover options and found dense bushes at the edge of the field. We set up there now, on a fleece blanket Syd pulls out of her backpack. She opens her notepad to record our observations and starts sketching in pencil to kill time. ‘So tell me,’ she says. ‘How serious were you and Eric?’
‘I liked him a lot,’ I say. ‘Too much. I sort of lost track of what was real and what was in my head. The Rico I made up was perfect.’
Her eyes flash up at me for a second, but she doesn’t say anything. And after a few more minutes she holds up the pad. It’s me, on the best hair day imaginable, which definitely isn’t today. The eyes are too intense, but I like the way it makes me look aloof and mysterious.
‘I love it,’ I say. ‘Can I have it?’
She rips the page out of the notepad and hands it to me. ‘I gotta be honest, Z, your hair’s a problem.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘No, I mean for surveillance,’ Syd says. ‘People can ID you. Ever consider dyeing?’
‘Every day.’ I’m not someone who wants to stand out in a crowd. ‘But this is our last stakeout anyway.’
‘I guess.’ She sounds sorrier about that than I am. I’ve been tense all weekend, but Syd seems energized. Peeking through the bushes, she says, ‘Showtime.’
Eight guys have gathered on the field, and they’re moving into position. Trey doesn’t seem to be with them.
‘Finally,’ Syd says. ‘Evidence.’
‘We only know where he isn’t,’ I point out. ‘Not where he is.’
Syd sticks her hand out for the camera, and I hand it to her. She snaps a few stills of the team. ‘We know he’s lying. He said he’d be here and he isn’t. If he’ll lie about that, he’ll lie about anything.’
‘You’re sure he’s not there?’ I get on my hands and knees and stick my head into the bushes for a better look. ‘Wow. Some of those guys are hot!’
‘If you think so,’ a male voice says, ‘why don’t you come out and join us?’
Twigs snag my hair as I withdraw my head from the bushes. Looking up, I see a guy who’s over six feet tall – a blond giant with golden fuzz on his legs. I’m close enough to get a good look.
‘Oh hi,’ I say. My voice is squeaky, not undercover-cool at all. This is exactly what I was worried about. We should have run scenarios. ‘How’s it going?’
He raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re spying on us and that’s the best you got?’
Syd pulls down the brim of her cap. ‘We’re bird-watching,’ she says. ‘There’s a spectacular woodpecker midfield.’
The guy snorts. ‘I’ll tell him you said so. Better yet, I’ll call Woody over.’
‘No,’ I say, desperately trying to come up with a believable excuse for our being here. It shouldn’t be that hard. After all, I’m the master of casual banter on The Sweet Tooth. Sure, that’s all in my head and it’s easier when you’re handling both ends of the conversation, but ad-libbing lines for two or even three people has to count for something. The question I have to ask myself is, What would Oliver James do?
He’d bluff, that’s what he’d do.
I smile up at the blond giant and start improvising. ‘Keri’s just protecting me, uh … What’s your name?’
He answers reluctantly. ‘Andrew. Protecting you from what?’
‘Humiliation.’ I aim for Oliver’s cocky – yet charming – style. ‘I have a thing for a guy on your team. I thought I could casually run into him after the game.’
Andrew rolls his eyes. ‘What century is this? Just talk to him. I’ll bring him over right now and you’ll know – badda bing, badda boom.’ Andrew plucks a twig from my hair.
Easy-peasy. The guy is putty in my hands.
‘I bet he’ll like you,’ he continues. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Oliver.’ Oops. ‘I mean, Olivia. And the guy is Trey Fuller.’
‘Fuller?’ He shakes his head. ‘Bad news, Olivia: he’s taken. The girl’s hot, and she’s rich too.’
‘He never mentioned a girlfriend. Maybe they’re on the rocks?’
‘Doubt it,’ Andrew says. ‘He talks about her all the time.’
I offer what I hope is a cheeky grin. ‘You mean he’s always faithful?’
Andrew grins back. ‘Like I’d rat out a friend. Not that I have to cover for Fuller. The guy’s a straight arrow, and probably too boring for someone like you. Do you know he actually skipped today’s game to volunteer at a retirement home? His granddad roped him into being a dance partner for some of the old girls.’
Laughing at the image, Andrew helps me to my feet. Then he grabs Syd’s pad and pencil and scrawls a number on it. ‘You came down here to meet a guy. I’d hate to see you leave disappointed.’
Syd wastes no time filling Kali in when we arrive at Kevin’s trailer. ‘Zahra tackled some dude’s heart this afternoon. Got his number and everything.’
‘He was just a flirt,’ I say, though I can’t help smiling as I slide into my place. It was nice to have a guy pay attention to me. After all that’s happened, my confidence is in the Dumpster. Well, I have Oliver James to thank for that little pick-me-up. Maybe, just maybe, I will live to love again. But the lucky guy won’t be Andrew. He might be cute, but a guy that slick has a roster of girls.
‘I can tell you’re buzzed,’ Kali says. ‘What did I say about getting back on the horse?’
‘I’m buzzed about the stakeout,’ I say. Which is also true. It topped up my adrenaline tank quite nicely.
Syd helps herself to a soda and stakes her usual claim on the bench. ‘Zahra BS’d like a pro.’
It makes me proud to hear her say that because she’s so fearless. So is Kali in a different way. I hope they’re rubbing off on me a little.
Taping two paint chips to the wall of the trailer, Kali says, ‘If we’re going to hang out here, the place could use sprucing up. Sonoma Sunset or Swamp Moss?’
‘Neither,’ Syd says. ‘Our trailer time is over anyway. Lauren’s guy may be going dark on her, but we can’t prove it’s another relationship.’
It’s not for lack of digging. Even Kali struck out after interviewing a bunch of people, from an old soccer coach to Trey’s brother, telling them she was gathering tidbits for a ‘roast’ at work. From all accounts, Trey is kind, loyal, and trustworthy. He must also be a heck of a salesman, judging by the paintbrushes, rollers, trays, and turpentine cluttering the trailer.
I pluck the orange paint chip off the wall to inspect it. ‘Hey, there’s a phone number on this one.’
‘It’s Paolo’s,’ Kali says. ‘The wallpaper guy at Home Depot. I’ve already started a song about him.’
‘Let me guess,’ Syd says. ‘Paolo, Paolo, I’m so shallow, I fall for a new guy every day.’
Kali strikes back. ‘Well, at least I’m not stupid enough to think one guy’s going to stick around forever.’
Going for the jugular, Syd says, ‘No, you’re just stupid enough to think every guy will disappear like your dads.’
‘Don’t take your frustration out on me because you’re still hung up on Eric.’
‘I am not hung up on Eric.’ Syd’s voice is so loud that Banksy whines.
‘Even your dog can see you’re freaking out.’
I step in. ‘Syd went out with Eric for a long time. She can’t get over him in a week.’
‘Exactly,’ Syd says, glaring at Kali.
‘Similarly, it’s not surprising that someone could move on faster if she didn’t invest as much in the first place,’ I say.
‘Right,’ Kali says.
They lower their weapons and settle back into their seats.
‘Who needs group when we’ve got Z?’ Syd says.
I have more respect for Dieter now. Refereeing is tough work. Using his technique of redirecting the conversation, I say, ‘Wouldn’t it be great if there were some sort of formula for figuring out if a guy’s going to stick around?’
‘It helps if you find a good match in the first place,’ Kali says. ‘Some of the people I’ve set up are doing great. My questionnaire about lifestyle and personality seems to be working, so I’m developing a computer program to formalize it.’
‘A matchmaking program?’ Syd scoffs. ‘Exactly how many people have you set up?’
‘Maybe twenty since junior high,’ Kali says, flipping open her laptop.
‘That’s a lot for a girl who doesn’t believe love can last,’ Syd says.
‘It lasts,’ Kali says, ‘Just not forever. That’s why I like to focus on start-ups. Nothing beats the thrill of that first spark.’
She turns the screen so we can see a flowchart mapping the character traits and personalities of two individuals. I point to the long stretch of purple where a pink line and a blue line intersect. ‘This looks like a happy match. Who’s the lucky couple?’
‘Lauren and Trey,’ Kali says. ‘I plugged in everything we know about them, and they seem to be perfect together. For now, at least.’ Smiling, she adds, ‘And now is what counts.’
Lauren bursts into tears when we present our findings.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ Syd asks, with her trademark diplomacy.
We’re standing outside St. Joe’s after group, and we weren’t expecting the drama.
‘This is good news,’ Kali says, handing Lauren some tissue. ‘Trey isn’t cheating.’
Lauren collapses onto the steps, sobbing. ‘If our personalities are so compatible, and Trey hasn’t met anyone else, then it can only mean he’s not into me anymore.’
I look at Syd as I pass Lauren another tissue. It’s a possibility we considered, but even Syd, the skeptic, doesn’t think that’s the case.
‘Lauren, you paid us well to give you the truth,’ I say. ‘If we thought Trey was opting out, we’d say so.’
‘Opting out of what?’ Simon is standing in the doorway of the church with Evan. He sees Lauren and says, ‘What the hell did you guys do to her?’
‘Girls are vicious,’ Evan says, sauntering down the stairs. ‘Especially this one.’ He stops in front of Syd. ‘Though, personally, I like vicious.’ Running his eyes over her peasant top, he adds, ‘I could get into that whole taming-of-the-shrew thing.’
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Syd says, making a quick hand signal at Banksy. The big dog stands and bares pointy yellow teeth at Evan.
Evan takes a quick step back.
Another signal and Banksy lets out a series of loud barks that send Evan flying up the stairs and stumbling into Dieter. He might be stoned, but he can move when he has to.
‘The dog was attacking me,’ he says. ‘Call animal control.’
Banksy is now sitting with one paw on Lauren’s shoulder, trying to lick away her tears. Lauren is wailing, and Simon takes his baseball cap off for the first time to beg Dieter, ‘Can’t you do something for her?’
Dieter comes down the stairs and pauses beside Lauren. ‘Do you want to come back inside and talk, Lauren?’
She shakes her head, her hair still perfect despite the hysterics. ‘No … I’m fine.’
He lingers a moment, but Kali says, ‘We got it covered, Dieter. It’s a girl thing.’
Dieter heads down the walk with Simon on his heels, looking relieved to be off the hook. Evan edges down the far side of the stairs and runs to the sidewalk, afro bobbing. Then he slows to a deliberate amble.
When they’re gone, Kali sits beside Lauren and pats her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, honey. You and Trey just need to spend some time with our mediator.’
I look from Kali to Syd. The three of us have never discussed a mediator.
‘A mediator is exactly what you need,’ Syd confirms.
OK, so two of us have discussed a mediator. I missed the meeting.
Syd and Kali are staring at me like I’m the last burger at a Carnivores Anonymous meeting.
Something tells me I’m about to put the ‘me’ in mediator.
I make a spontaneous Sunday night visit to my mom’s, hoping to make a goodwill deposit in the family bank. Although I’ve demoted Mom to mere custodian, if she doesn’t see enough of me she starts asking too many questions. The key to keeping her calm is to volunteer face time. That’s especially tough during Ramadan, with the prayer ramp-up, and food and drink off-limits between sunrise and sunset.
The pressure sends me sneaking into the kitchen for a snack, not long after I arrive. It bothers me that Mom’s observing Ramadan for the first time in my memory.
Mom catches me in the act, but instead of giving me grief, she opens a box of rice crackers and hands them to me. If seeing me eat is better than not seeing me at all, she can’t be that far gone.
‘What’s with all the takeout?’ I ask, doing inventory. ‘I got a part-time job at Whole Foods,’ she says. ‘I want to support myself now that you and your sister don’t need me at home anymore.’
I reach for the eggplant purée. ‘How about selling your beauty products? My friends love them, and you used to talk about making it a business.’
‘I was dreaming.’ She dismisses the idea with a wave. ‘That’s just a hobby.’
Saliyah descends upon us before I can argue. ‘Excuse me. We’re supposed to be fasting.’
I nearly choke on my rice cracker. In addition to my salwar kameez, my sister is wearing an orange-and-gold veil over her nearly waist-length brown hair. ‘Oh hi, Nani,’ I say. ‘I barely recognised you without the facial hair.’
My mother shushes us and starts putting the food away, but the damage is done.
‘Zahra,’ Nani says, coming into the kitchen. ‘You’re eating.’ She checks out my jeans and T-shirt, and purses her lips. They’re not modest enough, I suppose. ‘I have something to discuss with you. Come with me.’
‘I can’t. Saliyah and I are going out.’
‘We are?’ Saliyah says, her dark eyes lighting up as she smiles. ‘Just give me five.’ Without any encouragement from me, she runs for the stairs to change, tearing off the veil as she goes.
‘Zahra,’ Mom says.
‘You want Saliyah and me to spend time together, and we need to go over our options for her school bake sale. Nani and I can chat next time.’
Mom lets me off the hook again. I get away with so much more since taking over my own upbringing. I should have climbed into the driver’s seat long ago.
I rush my sister out of the house and up the street to the Taco Shack. The sun still hasn’t set when Saliyah, in yoga pants and a sweatshirt, tucks into her chicken burrito. It’s a small victory over my grandparents, and I savor it.
‘What about Ramadan?’ I ask. ‘Is your soul going to take a beating for this?’
‘It’s my first fast,’ she says, wiping guacamole off her chin. ‘I consider it a practice round.’
‘Let’s hope Allah agrees.’
Making a face at me, she changes the subject. ‘How’s Dad?’
‘If he isn’t working, he’s in front of his computer, or listening to jazz and staring into space. I think he’s depressed.’
‘Mom too,’ Saliyah says. ‘She always in the basement mixing stuff up.’
‘Avoiding Nani and Nana, I guess.’
‘They’re not that bad.’
‘You’re getting brainwashed and you don’t even know it. Pretty soon they’ll have you wrapped up in a sari and on a plane to Karachi. They’ll marry you off to the first old guy who offers a decent dowry.’
‘Zahra! You’re like a racist or something.’
‘It’s not racism when you’re mocking your own culture.’
‘Let’s hope Allah agrees,’ she says, smirking.
My phone rings, and I step outside to take it so that Saliyah can’t hear Kali and me discuss my upcoming meeting with Lauren and Trey. I’ve tried to weasel out of it, but Kali and Syd insist I’m the best girl for the job. My so-called mediation skills have never paid off at home, but I’ll have to give it my best shot.
Back inside, I find Nani at our table, her fuchsia salwar kameez glowing like a beacon in the dim room. Why can’t she just wear regular old lady street clothes? Unless it’s a formal occasion, Nana wears pants and a dress shirt.
‘Hello again,’ Nani says cheerfully, as if I didn’t blow her off twenty minutes ago. ‘I was out for a walk and saw your sister sitting alone.’
Saliyah’s sheepish expression tells me Nani was tipped off. ‘So what did you want to talk about?’ I ask.
Nani takes the burrito and moves it out of Saliyah’s reach. ‘Boys. I didn’t want your Nana to hear.’
There is no angle on this subject I could possibly want to explore with her. ‘Nani, don’t worry, I’ve given up on boys. It’s not a problem.’
‘Boys are always a problem until you find the right one,’ she says. ‘And even then …’
She sounds almost nice, which means I have to be extra vigilant. A master brainwasher tries to get you off your home turf and win you over.
‘I want to give you one piece of advice,’ she says. ‘It will make all the difference: Marry a man who cherishes you and accepts you for all that you are.’
It’s hard to argue with something so corny and mundane. ‘Fine, but I’m not planning on getting married.’
‘Take your time,’ she says. ‘Your mother married too young. Which brings me to my second piece of advice.’ She opens her bag, pulls out a few sheets of paper, and slides them across the table. ‘Marry your own kind.’
I glare at my sister. These are printouts from Facebook, and Nani doesn’t know how to turn on the computer. Saliyah gives me the helpless shrug of the brainwashed.
‘Nice handsome boys, all of them,’ Nani continues. ‘I know their parents. I know where they come from. I know their values. And I know they’ll treat you like a queen. Look at this one.’ I slap my hand down on the page and pull it in front of me. To my surprise, the guy is hot. His hazel eyes stand out against mocha skin, and his hair and clothes are cutting-edge cool. The guy has style. Or a stylist.
‘Flip it over,’ Nani says.
On the back, she’s noted specifics in her loopy handwriting, in order of her priorities.
- Name: Riaz Dar
- Age: 16
- Religion: Sunni Islam.
- Pedigree: Mother, father, and grandfather all medical doctors, originally from Karachi
- Education: Straight-A student, aiming for pre-med at Yale
- Future Prospects: Excellent
- Romantic Status: Single (recently broke up with a Shi’ite - no surprise it didn’t work out)
- Interests: Soccer, music, volunteering with Big Brothers
- Available: Immediately (but probably not for long)
‘What do you think?’ she asks.
‘I think if it seems too good to be true, it is. He’s probably the president of the Star Trek fan club and enjoys ant farming.’
‘No Star Trek, no ants,’ Nani says. ‘I talked to him for an hour last week when I joined the Eid carnival planning committee. Will you think about it?’
The best way to fight someone as manipulative as my grandmother is to let her believe she’s won. ‘Sure, Nani. I’ll think about it. Why not?’
Smiling, she glances out the window and sees the sun has set, meaning the fast is officially broken. She pushes the burrito toward my sister and takes her wallet out of her purse. ‘Order me one of those, Zahra. Extra jalapeños.’