Page 78 of TJ Powar Has Something to Prove
“A gift for Simran.” She’d been thinking all afternoon of how she could send a message to her. A peace offering Simran can choose to take or not, the same thing TJ did with Charlie. And maybe like Charlie she’ll ignore it, but at least then TJ will know for sure. “She’s going to a music camp next week. She doesn’t drink coffee, so I looked up some herbal teas that are good for singers. You know, for sore throats.” She cuts off her rambling because her father’s looking at her oddly.
“That’s... thoughtful,” he remarks as they pull out of theparking lot. “I didn’t know you and Simran were that close.” TJ winces, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “I still remember the two of you butchering dolls when we did playdates. Barbie heads all over the floor. Gave me nightmares.”
TJ smiles slightly at that. “Why’d you stop the playdates?”
A pause. “You got old enough to make your own friends.”
TJ senses that’s not the whole story. “Did it have anything to do with the fact that Mom and Masi ji can’t stand each other?”
He slams the brakes a little harder than necessary at the stop sign. “Where’d you get that idea?” When TJ gives him a look, he sighs. “Okay, fine. But they’re sisters. They just get on each other’s nerves.”
In the past, TJ had accepted this half-assed explanation, but now she crosses her arms. “About what?”
His eyes dart from the road to TJ and back. “Maybe you should ask your mother about this.”
“I have. She always changes the subject.” TJ sits up. “If you tell me, I promise I’ll act like we never had this conversation.”
He seems to consider. “Pinkie-swear?”
TJ solemnly extends her pinkie. Without looking away from the road, he links pinkies with her. Then he rests his hand back on the wheel. “Really, you already know why. Your aunt is so much older than your mother. She grew up in the village, but your mom grew up here. That’s like being raised on two different planets.” He chuckles to himself. “Which is why they never agree on anything. The friendliest I ever saw them was when you and Simran were born. Finally, some common ground.”
“So what happened to that?”
His amusement fades as they turn into the mall. “You got older. And your mothers had very different ideas on how to raise a daughter.”
TJ stares at him. “Are you saying it’s about... me and Simran?”
“I’m saying that’s probably part of it.”
She has so many other questions. But she only asks, quietly, “Why didn’t they ever work it out?”
He shrugs. “Maybe they think it would just fall apart again. Having a relationship with someone so different from you is a lot of work.”
TJ nods glumly. She’s starting to understand that feeling.
∗
The next day, Friday, TJ finds Simran in her usual lunchtime haunt: the French classroom.
The room is loud and busy, a card-playing group clearly in a tense part of their game. Ms. Schwab appears too busy giggling with the principal to tell them off. TJ walks past them straight to Simran in her usual corner. She’s got her head bent over a notebook, pen moving furiously. Probably doing last-minute homework for her afternoon classes.
She doesn’t seem to notice TJ until she plunks the gift bag she’d bought on the desk. Then she looks up. Her eyes widen slightly.
TJ says, “Good luck for your music camp,” very fast. She hovers on the edge of saying more, but hesitates. She and her father had taste-tested several teas before buying anything, but what if Simran hates them? TJ’s only ever seen her drink chah.And as for the travel mug she’d added, that was probably too much. It’ll seem desperate. Like she’s trying to buy Simran’s friendship.
Simran looks at the bag. A second ticks by, then two. That’s all TJ can take. She spins and leaves before her cousin can say anything. Whatever. Olive branch officially extended.
∗
When Saturday comes, TJ busies herself with her weekend plans: last-minute Nationals prep. She wonders if Charlie feels as anxious as she does, but each time she thinks about texting him, she reminds herself to leave him be. Everything will be fine.
And everythingisfine. Until Wednesday morning, when she walks into school and gets a text from Piper.
check Northridge Confessions.
Dread prickles up her neck. She stops in the middle of the hallway, people jostling her as they go by. Is she imagining it, or is that group of eleventh graders staring at her from their lockers?
She gives them a frosty look and makes a beeline for the washroom, the one people rarely use because it smells like mildew. It’s empty, which is perfect. Once she’s locked herself in a stall, she opens the Northridge Confessions Instagram on her phone.