Page 82 of Reasons We Break

She can’t answer. So often growing up she wished she could go to a friend’s house without it being a big deal. But now that she has that luxury—now that she’s at aboy’shouse and no one notices—she just feels guilty. Of course her parents don’t notice. Her mom’s in thehospital.

She pushes her chair back. “I should go.”

Rajan gets to his feet, too. “I better go lock myself in my room so Sukha can eat without damaging his pride.”

Despite herself, she smiles. “He sounds like you.”

“I sure hope not,” Rajan mutters darkly. “Did you know he got arrested the other day? I think he might be running with the Lions.”

Sothat’swhat’s happening. “You know that for certain?”

“No. But he won’t tell me anything.” He shakes his head as he walks her to the door. “I don’t know how to stop him from making my mistakes.”

He sounds bitter. Simran chews her lip in thought. “Hillway has a program for at-risk kids,” she offers. “The next workshop is in a few weeks. I’ll send you the link.”

“He won’t go to that.”

“Just suggest it. He might not listen now, but he’ll come around.”

Rajan glances at her sideways. “That approach hasn’t been working on you.”

Simran flushes. “We’re not the same.”

“Why? Because you’re better than him?” His voice goes flat. “Because he’s a fucked-up kid from a fucked-up family and his brother set a shitty example by joining a gang and going to jail?”

She flushes harder. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then whatdidyou mean?” He pins her with his gaze. She can actually feel the carefree evening dissolving, the lights flicking back on to reveal the mess between them.

Car headlights stream through the blinds. A vehicle is rolling into the driveway. Rajan glances out at it. “Never mind. You should go.”

She sighs. Right when she’s putting her shoes on, the door opens from the outside, and there stands a man as tall as Rajan, with a five o’clock shadow, wearing a wrinkled collared shirt. He’s handsome; she can see Rajan’s full mouth and high cheekbones on him, but his eyes are dull.

It must be his father. “Sat Sri Akaal—”

Rajan interrupts her. “This is Simran, my Hillway mentor. She just dropped me off. She’s leaving.”

Simran drops her hands. Does he really need to protect her reputation to his own father?

Rajan’s father smiles at Simran, speaking in Punjabi. “Now, where are our manners? Please stay for dinner, or chah?”

“We already ate, but thank you. I should go. It’s getting late.”

“Yes. I’m sorry Rajan made you drive all the way out here.”

She winces. That wasn’t what she meant. “No, it’s okay. I offered.”

And then, because the silence becomes awkward, she bids her goodbyes and leaves.

Rajan and his father watch her get in her truck from the front door. His father’s still smiling when he says, in low, sharp Punjabi, “Are you out of your mind? What are you doing with that girl?”

Simran waves at Rajan. He waves back, then watches her truck roll down the street. “Nothing.”

“Don’t give me that. Everyone knows the Aujla girl. She’s got a bright future. Do you have no shame?”

“Like shesaid, she offered me a ride home.”

“And had dinner.” He nods to the kitchen. “If you get her off her studies or god forbid,pregnant—”