Page 13 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
“Of course I know that,” TJ says, suddenly annoyed. “Iwantto.”
“Okay. I respect that.” Simran turns back to the paper on her desk, some form with a picture of a keyboard in the header. TJ squints at her.
“So you’re really not upset?”
Simran looks up again, now with a hint of exasperation. “No. Are we done? I have things to do.”
TJ stands, her irritation growing by the minute. Why’d she even come here? The meme’s probably going to blow over by tomorrow anyway. “Fine. I was just trying to check in on you, but I guess I’m not welcome.”
Simran exhales slowly. “I didn’t say that. I’m just tired of you trying to work out your own issues on me.”
“What?” TJ snaps. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Simran shrugs. “All right. See you later.”
TJ grinds her teeth and heads for the door. But when she flings it open, her masi’s on the other side, holding a tray withthree steaming teacups and a plateful of digestive biscuits.
“Oops,” her masi says, clearly unashamed to be found snooping. “Stay for chah, at least?”
∗
After gulping down hot chah, her masi drops her off at home. TJ spends the whole awkward drive cursing the fact that her father’s on day shifts this week, using their shared car.
When they finally pull into the driveway, all the house lights are still out, and her masi sends her off with instructions to send her hellos to her parents. TJ nods, although she has no intention of telling anyone she was at Simran’s house.
But at dinner that night, she finds she has no choice.
“Why were you at your masi’s house today?” TJ’s mom asks right when they sit down. Her shoulder-length hair is disheveled, clothes wrinkled, and yet her eyes are sharp. Too sharp for someone who just came back from thirty hours of hammering prosthetic hips into place.
TJ takes a bite of pizza. They ordered out because no one wanted to cook. Her father has sliced up some vegetables in an attempt to make the meal healthier, but no one’s touched them. “How do you even know that?”
“Kamaljot uncle’s their neighbour, and he saw you arriving. He told his wife, who told Reeta, who told me.”
TJ privately thinks Kamaljot uncle should mind his own damn business. She turns to her dad, who’s slouched beside her drizzling his pizza with ketchup. Disgusting. “How was work?”
“Oh, you know. Just cleaning up your mother’s messes.” He grins. It’s his favourite joke, since he’s a housekeeper at thehospital where her mom works as a surgeon. Chandani’s mom, who’s a nurse, once informed TJ that the two of them are often seen having coffee together mid-shift. It’s sickeningly cute.
“Don’t change the subject,” her mother says.
TJ scowls. “I was there to talk to Simran.”
Her father scratches his five-o’clock shadow. “I thought debate was over until the new year?”
TJ takes her time chewing. She doesn’t want to explain the meme tothem. It would be a nightmare. Even if she managed it, her mom would suggest going to the principal or something, and her dad would tell her to ignore it. “I just wanted to go over our scores. Um, to debrief. We didn’t get a chance at the tournament.”
Her mom’s thick eyebrows are still drawn together in suspicion. Like going over to her masi’s is a crime. Maybe it is, in her eyes. They don’t get along very well. TJ holds her breath.
But instead of probing further, her mother just holds out the plate of sliced vegetables. “Have some cucumber. All you ever eat is junk.”
∗
When TJ checks the Northridge Confessions Instagram the next morning, the post has tripled in likes. She almost throws her phone across her bedroom.
School doesn’t help her mood; the restocked newspaper receptacles are empty again by noon. Every time TJ sees one she wants to scream. But she keeps her mouth shut. Tries to ignore it. She avoids Liam during class—mostly to avoid saying something she’ll regret while she’s this mad—and tells herself tojust get through the day. Then she’ll have soccer and can finally work off all her pent-up frustration.
There’s a bounce in her step when, later that afternoon, she finally arrives at the indoor field they use for off-season winter practices. Coach has already gotten started on his pep talk by the time she dumps her bag on the ground and joins the huddle. “Listen up,” he shouts, impressive moustache bristling. “The UBCO scouts are here today, as you can see.” TJ glances where he’s pointing; on the other sideline there’s a cluster of women in UBCO shirts she hadn’t noticed before. They’re the last thing she cares about today, honestly. But her teammates hang riveted on his every word. “They’re going to watch some of our spring season games, too. So don’t embarrass me. Ever since I started coaching this team, the rate of university team recruitment has gone up two hundred percent. That’s a reputation I intend to keep.”
“Really?” whispers Alexa Fisher.