Page 21 of Reasons We Break

And her mind drifts. She imagines typing back,I am planning to come to Vancouver, and I would love to work in your lab!She imagines moving schools and taking all the niche classes she can and rejoining debate and meeting high school friends at tournaments and andand...

Leaving her parents all alone to deal with this.

Simran opens her eyes. This time, when she opens the email she’d drafted to decline the offer, she doesn’t hesitate. She hits send.

And it goes. Without fanfare. When she sees it in her sent folder, she feels very little. Relief, maybe. That she doesn’t have to make this decision anymore. Now she can focus on the real task—showing her parents all their sacrifices were worth it. She can still fulfill some of their hopes. She doesn’t know how yet, but she’ll do it. After the struggles of her mom and dad’s lives, the least Simran can do is make them happy.

There’s a knock on her door. Simran swivels around immediately. If it’s her mother, Simran will be ready to offer to make chah, to do the laundry, or just sit and listen to her cry. If it’s her father, she’ll be ready to sound upbeat, to share her mother’s upcoming appointments and the research she’s done, to act as strong as he thinks she is.

But when the door creaks open, it’s not either of her parents.

Instead, a tall young woman leans against the doorframe, running her fingers through pixie-cut black hair. Her eyes land on Simran. A lopsided smile curves her mouth, achingly familiar. And yet not familiar at all—because Simran hasn’t seen it in over a year.

“Kiran?” Simran manages.

“Nice to see you, too, Simmi,” her sister replies.

THE MORNING AFTERhis disastrous Hillway volunteering, Rajan takes the bus to work.

Today they’re starting a big project: redoing the roofs of buildings at the university. His bus is filled with UBCO students hoisting laptop bags and Starbucks cups. With his hood up, as he listens to them complain about exams and deadlines, he can almost pretend he’s one of them. Yeah, Rajan knows a thing or two about deadlines. He’s got thirty-two hours until his.

Nick’s words swirl through his head as the bus screeches to a stop. The UBCO students head to campus, while he alone walks toward the dorms and the construction site. He nods at Trevor, one of the friendlier roofers who handled his orientation, before joining their task of ripping out the old roof. He works quickly, all the while scanning the ground far below. As if Nick might show up here, too, as anotherreminder.

He wants to believe Nick’s threats were bluffs. They’ve spent a lot of time together—collecting debts and, in between, shooting the shit. But did Rajan ever really know him?

The first time they met, Rajan was wasted. It was July, high school had just ended, and he was in Surrey with his mom. Except, he wasn’twithhis mom right then. He was at a party, trying to forget the latest doctor’s grim news: His mom’s body was rejecting the transplant.

While he was staring into space, some dude sat next to him. He tapped the empty bottles next to Rajan.

“Want something better than this?”

The guy wore a leather jacket, diamond studs in his ears. An LS tattoo crawled up his neck. Rajan looked down to see he was being offered a bag of white powder. “I don’t have money.”

“This one’s on the house. You look like you need it.” He patted Rajan’s shoulder. “I’m Nick.”

Rajan took it without further questions and did a line right there. His face instantly went pleasantly numb. Nick watched, and then: “What would you say if I told you that you could make money to buy more?”

Despite the euphoric feeling now spreading to his mind, Rajan shook his head. Dealing lost its appeal in high school. “Not interested.”

“You sure?” Nick pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. “I made this in one night.Onenight.”

Rajan stared at the cash helplessly. It was alot.

Nick went on. “I collect debts. Take a little interest, too.” A flash of white teeth. “Call it my commission.”

“And they just hand it over if you ask nicely, huh?”

“I askreallynicely.”

Rajan knew what that meant, but right then, he didn’t care. Hecoulduse the money. Looking back, he wishes he could say he was thinking selfless things when he considered it. Like, he could buy stuff for his brothers, or give it to his aunt as a thank-you for hosting him and his mom, or help with the mortgage. But he wasn’t. He thought about one thing only.

“Give me another line and I’m in,” he said.

Nick leaned sideways to address someone behind him. “Zohra! Get my man Rajan some more chitta.”

“Sure thing,” said a husky, feminine voice. Slender arms slid around Rajan’s shoulders and made him feel drunk in an entirely different way.

Later, Rajan would wonder how Nick knew his name. He’d learn that Nick and Zohra had him marked the minute he’d used his LS connections to find that party. Before he even walked in, they knew exactly who he was, how he couldn’t afford his own taste in drugs, and what he used to do for the Lions in Kelowna. And they’d decided he could be put to work here, too.