Bhangra Babes (5 page)

“We'll see,” said Geena. “Kim can make the final decision.”

“No, thanks,” Kim said firmly.

“Or we could just ask him,” I suggested.

“Fine,” Geena replied.

“Fine,” I repeated.

We stared challengingly at each other.

“What are we betting?” Geena wanted to know.

I took a Snickers bar from my pocket and began to rip it open. “Slave for a day?” I suggested.

“Nice one,” said Geena. “But I must warn you that when I win, I'll be making you do all sorts of unpleasant and humiliating tasks.”

“Same here,” I replied. We'd had slave-for-a-day bets before. Last time I lost, Geena had ordered me to cut her toenails.

“I'm in this too,” said Jazz stubbornly. “Or are you scared of the competition?”

“Not at all,” Geena snapped.

“Oh, let her join in,” I said. “It'll shut her up.”

“We ought to have a deadline.” Geena frowned. “What about Auntie's wedding? That gives us until just before half-term.”

“Done,” Jazz and I agreed.

“I think you're all mad,” Kim said, with rather too much assertion, frankly.

I grinned. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I looked round. It was Kiran. Her face was red and this time it was
her
turn to have steam almost coming out of her ears.

“Yes?” I said coldly.

“Why didn't you tell me I had to go for lunch half

an hour ago?” Kiran demanded. “Now I've missed the sitting.”

“Sorry,” I said, trying not to smile. I actually felt a tiny bit guilty. But not much when I remembered my big white pants disaster.

“If you go and explain to the teacher on duty,” Kim began, “I'm sure they'll let you in—”

Kiran did not answer. She leaned over, whipped the Snickers bar from my hand and walked off.

“You—you!” I spluttered. “Come back! That's stealing!”

“Go after her and take it by force, Amber,” suggested Geena. “It's the only way.”

Jazz roared with laughter while Kim looked worried.

“Not at all,” I said with dignity. “I told you, brains over brawn. I'll sort Kirandeep Kohli out
my
way.”

Sadly, I didn't yet know what “my way” was.

“So tell me, Amber.” Mr. Arora drove out of the school car park at a snail's pace to avoid the embarrassment of flattening any of his pupils. “How are you getting on with Kiran?”

“What?” I said absently, not listening. Mr. Arora had rounded us up at the end of the afternoon and told us that Auntie had asked him to drive us home as soon as possible, as we'd all been invited to tea with his parents. I wasn't listening because I was keeping an eye on George Botley, who was having a laugh with a couple of girls from Geena's year.

“How are you getting on with Kiran?” Geena and Jazz repeated together as loudly as they possibly could, just to embarrass me.

“Oh.” I shrugged. “You know.”

“Not really,” Mr. Arora said in an inquiring voice. “Do you think she's settling in well?”

“I'm sure she is,” I mumbled uncomfortably.

“She certainly enjoyed her lunch today,” Jazz chimed in. I gave her a look.

“Well, I know you'll do your best to help her, Amber,” Mr. Arora went on. This, of course, had the instant effect of making me feel like a toad. “Maybe you could invite her over to your house sometime—”

“What!” I gasped, just about stopping myself from adding,
No way
—
never on this earth will I ever do that.

Geena and Jazz were doing their best not to explode with laughter. They succeeded easily when Mr. Arora added, “Then Geena and Jazz could get to know Kiran too. In fact, I think it would be a great idea if all three of you did your best to make her feel welcome.”

“So do I,” I agreed, smiling at Geena and Jazz. They both lapsed into a sulky silence, which lasted until we reached our house.

Auntie was standing at the curb, helping Mrs. Macey into a cab. The driver slung a heavy suitcase into the boot, and the taxi pulled away as Mr. Arora drew to a halt.

“What's going on?” Jazz asked nosily as we climbed out of the car.

“I've finally managed to persuade Gloria to go and

visit her daughter in Southampton,” replied Auntie. She was dressed for tea with Mr. Arora's parents in a pale pink suit embroidered with silver, and strappy silver sandals.

“You mean the one she hasn't spoken to for five years?” I asked. “Just because she's married to a black guy?”

Auntie nodded. “She's never even seen her two grandchildren,” she said. “I've told her to bring them all to the wedding.”

“Imagine not speaking to a close relative for five years,” Geena remarked. “Although after what happened in assembly this morning, I can understand it completely.”

“What happened in assembly this morning?” asked Auntie, onto the trail like a bloodhound.

“We don't really have time for this now,” Mr. Arora broke in. I threw him a grateful look. “We'll see you in about half an hour.”

He waved and drove off.

“Isn't that Mrs. Macey thing just so Auntie?” Geena said admiringly as we went into the house. “Here she is, with her wedding coming up, yet she still has time to go around interfering in other people's lives.”

“I know,” I replied. “It's a remarkable achievement.”

We ran upstairs to get changed and fight over the bathroom with Dad, who'd come home early from work. Jazz started getting on my nerves, fussing about which outfit she was going to wear. I decided to take my revenge by locking her wardrobe and sticking the

key down my bra. We ended up wrestling for supremacy on the bed.

“You know what,” Jazz panted, trying to wriggle out of the headlock I'd got her in, “I'll be so-o-o glad when you move back into your own room.”

“Oh!” I said. “I'd forgotten about that.” Of course, when Auntie moved out, I'd get my bedroom back. That was one good thing.

Geena strolled in, looking deliciously cool in a violet silk skirt, matching short top and floaty chiffon wrap. “Aren't you two ready yet?”

Jazz snatched the key from the duvet, where it had fallen. “Amber's being very childish,” she said, flouncing over to the wardrobe. “I hardly think that's going to impress Rocky Gill.”

“Oh, and you think
you
will?” I scoffed.

“You can mock,” Jazz replied snootily, whipping out an orange and gold suit with wide-legged trousers and a funky beaded scarf, “but I have a plan to win this bet.”

“So do I,” said Geena.

“And you think I don't?” I said quickly.

I didn't. But I was going to think of one very quickly.

“Girls, it's time to go.” Dad popped his head round the door five minutes later. “You all look very nice.” He sighed and shook his head. “You know, I really can't believe that my little sister's getting married.”

“Dad, you're not going to cry, are you?” asked Geena.

Dad blinked. “Of course not,” he said. “We have to

think about what we're going to do when your aunt moves out, though. I might hire a housekeeper.”

“Someone to cook and clean?” Jazz's face lit up. “Excellent.”

“And to look after the three of you.”

“Dad!” Geena protested. “I'm fifteen in a couple of months. I really don't need a babysitter.”

“We'll see,” Dad said, and went out.

“We certainly will,” Geena promised grimly. “I think we need to put a stop to that little idea, girls, wouldn't you say?”

“You bet,” Jazz and I agreed.

We'd met Mr. Arora's parents before. They were lovely. His dad was very gentle and quiet, with a shock of white hair, and his mum was small and thin and always smiling. As we sat in their living room, she kept blessing us and thanking Guru Nanak, whose picture was on the wall, for bringing her such a good daughter-in-law.

“I thought our
beta
would never find a wife.” She beamed as she handed round the plates of barfi, laddoo and gelabi for the fifth time. “I was beginning to despair of ever having any grandchildren.”

The tips of Mr. Arora's ears turned pink, and Auntie looked pleased but embarrassed. The three of us were enjoying it all enormously, of course.

“The boy was married to his job,” Mr. Arora (senior) added. He turned to Dad. “More whisky?” he asked, pouring it anyway.

“I'll drive home if you've had too much tea, Johnny,” Auntie whispered.

“Our Jai was always such a good boy,” Mrs. Arora went on, forcing a third samosa on Jazz. “He studied hard, never gave us a moment's trouble.”

I decided it was time to stir things up a bit. Playfully, of course.

“Do you have any baby photos?” I asked. “We'd love to see them.”

Auntie threw me a sour look. Mr. Arora (junior) gulped.

“Oh, come now, Amber,” he said. “You're not really interested.”

“We are,” the three of us chorused. We were possibly motivated by a teeny-weeny desire for revenge at having Kirandeep Kohli so unceremoniously foisted on us.

Mrs. Arora looked thrilled. “Of course, we have hundreds!” she proclaimed with glee. “Wait one moment—”

Bang!
We all jumped. Someone had just flung open the front door with a resounding crash.
Bang!
We all jumped again as it closed.
Thump! Thump! Thump!
We heard footsteps coming down the hall toward the living room.

“What the hell is going on?” Geena whispered in my ear.

I did not have time to reply before—
bang!
—the living room door was thrown open.

A woman in a pink sari stood there grinning widely at us. She was almost as broad as she was tall. She virtually filled the doorway.

Then, with a joyful shriek, she raced across the room, trampling my toes in the process, and hauled Auntie off her chair into a bone-crushing embrace. I have a confused memory of Auntie's feet not even touching the floor.

“We meet at last!” the woman roared. “Oh, how I've longed for this day!”

Auntie looked stunned and for once was speechless.

“Hello, Auntie-ji,” Mr. Arora began.

“Ah, come here and give your old auntie a hug!” The woman turned to Mr. Arora, hauled
him
off his chair and pinned him to her large bosom.

“I hope we're not next,” Jazz whispered.

Sadly, we were. Mr. Arora's auntie worked her way round the room like a boa constrictor, hugging the life out of each of us and leaving us half dead on the sofa.

“Now!” She stood in the center of the room, hands on her hips. “Tell me what wedding arrangements have been made so far.”

“Well, not many,” Mrs. Arora began timidly.

Auntie-ji held up a large, square hand. “Then you can leave it all to me,” she proclaimed happily. “I'm going to take everything off your hands.”

She leaned over and pinched Auntie's cheek. I think it was meant to be affectionate, but it seemed to hurt. Auntie had been speechless for the past five minutes, which was probably a world record.

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun,” I whispered to Geena and Jazz. “Now Auntie's got an interfering auntie too!”

“I
don't like lying,” Kim said, frowning. “It shows a lack of integrity.”

“Oh, please,” I retorted. “You can't even spell
integrity.
And if you're that bothered, why don't you go to the library right now? Then it won't be a lie, will it?”

It was two days after tea with the Aroras. Things were not going well on any fronts. Auntie still hadn't recovered from her encounter with Mr. Arora's auntie. Apparently she was legendary amongst the Arora family for sticking her nose in and having the hide of an elephant when it came to listening to hints. Auntie-ji had elaborate, expensive and outrageous ideas for every aspect of this wedding, from the reception venue to Auntie's shoes. Auntie had been overheard

telling Mr. Arora that he was going to have to put his foot down and stop her from interfering so much. Mr. Arora had looked quite ill.

More importantly, I hadn't had any chance to get to know Rocky better. In fact, I'd hardly seen him. My only consolation was that Geena and Jazz didn't seem to be getting on that well either. Geena's only claim to fame was that she'd stood behind him in assembly the day before, and she could confidently state that he had a lovely neck.

Mr. Arora was still going on at me about looking after Kiran Kohli, who did not improve on closer acquaintance. Luckily we seemed to have reached some sort of truce. A silent one. We didn't speak to each other unless there was a teacher watching.

So now my idea was this: I had to get Rocky on his own, without my two ugly sisters around. The only possible time was before school. I'd noticed that Rocky had arrived ahead of us the previous day, so I was hoping he would do the same this morning. And somehow I had to lose Geena and Jazz along the way.

Of course, this simple plan involved an elaborate ruse on the scale of plotting to steal the Crown Jewels. First, I had to tell Auntie that I was going into school early because Kim and I had to go to the library to finish a project we were doing together. I added Kim into the mix because I thought it sounded more authentic. But then, tiresomely, I had to tell Kim because Auntie was quite capable of ringing her to check that this was true. It's so inconvenient having inquisitive relatives.