Chloe in India (9 page)

I was still hanging out with Anvi and Prisha and their group, but I had yet to go over to anybody's house. When Anvi asked me about it—her mom had texted another invitation to my mom—I changed the subject.

Then Anvi's birthday came. It was going to be the biggest bash ever, she said. It was going to be
awesome.
And it was going to be at her parents' farmhouse in Chattarpur. I
had
to come.

There's a rule at Premium Academy: If you hand out birthday invitations at school, you have to bring one for everyone in the class. You can't leave anyone out.

One Wednesday afternoon, Anvi's driver and
didi
showed up at school with two enormous cardboard boxes full of invitations. Each invitation was in its own thin sparkly box, about the size of an iPad. You opened the box and a pop song blared out. I couldn't understand the song—it was in Hindi—but Anvi made sure that everyone knew her dad had commissioned it from some famous Bollywood singer-songwriter in Bombay. The song was about her.

Ms. Puri made Anvi wait till the end of school to hand out the invitations. When the final bell rang, all the girls swarmed Anvi and the two boxes. Anvi called out names and then handed each girl an invitation, one by one. The girls lifted the box tops and squealed when the music played.

When she got to me, Anvi handed over my invitation with a special, secretive smile. I opened the box. There was a little card tucked inside. It was candy pink and heart-shaped. It looked just like a valentine. I turned it over and there, scribbled in gold metallic marker, were the following words:
ANVI + CHLOE = BFF!

Best friends forever.

I felt my face flush.

It was like that moment when Charlie Bucket peels off the wrapper of the Whipple-Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight and he finds Willy Wonka's last golden ticket inside. Anvi Saxena wanted to be best friends with me—with Charlie-Bucket-of-a-
me
!

I glanced up at Anvi, who was still busy handing out invitations. Her long arms reached down into the cardboard boxes. Her delicate fingers handed out the sparkly invitations. Her black hair shone in the fluorescent light of the classroom. She looked like a movie star. She looked perfect.

Anvi was reaching the bottom of the first box. She frowned as she pulled out two invitations and held them for a moment, one in each hand, as if she were weighing them. Then she looked across the classroom. Lakshmi and Meher were by the windows, watching the rest of us. Lakshmi was leaning back against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest. She and Meher weren't talking. They were just standing there, watching.

Anvi cleared her throat. “Well, are you going to take them?” she said.

Neither girl budged.

“Meher!” Anvi commanded.

Lakshmi gave Meher a little nudge and the mousy girl trudged up to Anvi. She held out her hand, her eyes still on the ground.

Anvi took her time. She swung her long hair so that it all cascaded over one shoulder. Finally she placed the invitation in Meher's hand. Meher slunk back to the window, the invitation at her side.

“Now
you
?” Anvi said, eyebrows arched.

Lakshmi strode across the room. Her black eyes blazed straight into Anvi's. She put out her hand, but Anvi held the invitation tight to her chest for a moment.

Then she turned to me. “I don't know why we waste our money on these invitations for them,” she said. “It's not like they'll come….”

I flinched. I couldn't look at Lakshmi, who was standing in front of Anvi, her hand still extended, palm up.

Everyone was staring at the two girls now. It was a standoff.

Where, oh where, was Ms. Puri? I glanced frantically around the room, but I didn't see her. She must have stepped out for a moment. Why wasn't she there?

Right then, a pack of boys came tumbling back into the classroom. They had been in the bathroom, changing into uniforms for after-school cricket club.

“What's the matter, Anvi?” Dhruv snorted. “Your invitations too precious to give away?”

Anvi glared at Dhruv. Then, rather than placing the invitation in Lakshmi's hand, she tossed it toward her. The invitation bounced off Lakshmi's chest and landed on the floor.

Everyone stared. They were expecting Lakshmi to bend over and pick up the invitation. But Lakshmi just looked down at the envelope for a moment. Then she took one giant step. Her oversized school shoe landed on top of the sparkly box. A strangled noise came out of it and then stopped. The classroom was silent.

Anvi stood there, openmouthed, too shocked to speak.

Lakshmi kept walking, right out of the classroom. She didn't look back, not even when Dhruv and the other boys erupted into hoots of laughter. She simply strode away, her long black braids swishing behind her.

We were sitting on the seesaw in the park later that afternoon. It was so hot I could feel the seesaw's metal seat burning through my nylon shorts.

“Was Anvi right?” I said.

“Huh?” said Lakshmi.

“About her party. You'd never go?”

Lakshmi snorted. “No.”

“Why not?”

Lakshmi gave me a hard look.

“Anvi
tried
to give you an invitation,” I said. I shifted my bum on the burning seat. “I was there.”

Rather than answering me, Lakshmi stuck her fingers in the corners of her mouth and let out a whistle. Kali came trotting out of the bushes. Lakshmi leaned down and muttered something to the dog as she stroked her scarred head.

I tried again later. We were under the AC in Mom's office. I was teaching Lakshmi Uno.

“You sure you won't come to Anvi's party?”

Lakshmi didn't look up from her cards.

“No,” she said.

“How come?” I said. “It would be more fun with you there….”

Finally Lakshmi looked up at me. She tilted her head to one side as she spoke. “You not talk with me at party, Chloe,” she said.

I fiddled with my cards, closing my hand, then fanning it back out again. I could feel my face getting hot.

“We not school friends,” Lakshmi continued. Her voice was gentle but firm, matter of fact. It was like she wanted to reassure me that things were all right—that it was okay that we didn't hang out at school, that we didn't act like friends when Anvi and Prisha were around. We were friends in secret. And that was okay with her.

“Well, you didn't have to step on the invitation,” I said. I placed a red five on the discard pile. “You could have just—I dunno—walked around it. Or maybe picked it up and said, like, ‘I'm so sorry, but I can't make it that day,' or something.”

Lakshmi played a red seven. “But this make more—what you say?” She grinned mischievously. “This make more splash?”

I played a red skip, a blue skip, and a blue seven.

“Uno!” Lakshmi yelled. She pointed at the one remaining card in my hand.

“Shit!” I said. Then I clamped my free hand over my mouth. “Oops, pretend you didn't hear that. You're not supposed to say that, okay?”

“Shit, shit, shit!” Lakshmi echoed. “Now you draw two!” She watched gleefully as I picked up two cards.

“I beating you, Chloe,” Lakshmi crowed. “This new game for me, but I know more than you already.”

After Lakshmi left, I went to the kitchen to grab a snack. Anna was there, peeling an orange. I reached into the cupboard for a packet of Delishus biscuits. (And no, they're not all that delicious.)

“She doesn't have a car, you know,” Anna said.

“What?”

Anna stopped peeling the orange for a second and looked at me. “Lakshmi,” she said. “She doesn't have a car. And she probably doesn't have the right clothes. Or money for a present. So how do you expect her to go to some stupid birthday party?”

“Were you eavesdropping on me and my friend?” I said.

Anna turned back to her peeling. “I just think you should realize,” she said, “that life might be a little more complicated for Lakshmi.”

“And I think you should realize”—I was shouting now—“that you should mind your own business!”

I slammed the cupboard and stormed out of the kitchen, a fat stack of cookies in my hand.

A uniformed guard pulled open the iron gate to Anvi Saxena's house and Vijay drove the minivan up the long, topiary-lined driveway, coming to a stop under the columned portico where two gold Porsches and a silver Rolls-Royce gleamed like family trophies to welcome us.

“Good grief,” Mom muttered.

Since Mom had been killing herself on some big story for weeks, I was surprised when she offered to take me to Anvi's party. She even blow-dried her hair and put on some mascara for the occasion. As for me, I was wearing jeggings and my favorite sparkly tank top. I had even convinced Mom to paint my fingernails pink.

“Just for the party,” Mom warned as she blew on my wet polish. “We'll take it off as soon as we get home.”

We walked up the wide marble steps, past two enormous lion sculptures, but before we could reach the front door, a man in a dove-gray uniform darted forward and ushered us back down the steps, toward the side of the house, where a massive tunnel of pink and silver balloons stretched into the mansion's back lawns. Dance music pounded in the distance.

“Jeez,” Mom said, looking up. “There must be hundreds of balloons here just for this one day. What a waste. Imagine the impact on the environment if every—”

“Mom!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Mom said, clamping a hand over her mouth. She gave me a little nudge. “I'll try to behave, okay?”

I tugged at the stretchy headband I was wearing. My hair had grown out a lot since the Magic Marker incident, but little bits sometimes stuck out at funny angles.

“You look great, sweetie,” Mom said.

“You're my mom,” I said flatly. “You're supposed to say that.”

Still, my heart rose when we stepped out of the balloon tunnel and the vast green lawns of the Saxena estate spread out before us.

“Jeez,” Mom said again. “Shreya said it would be big, but I wasn't expecting a country club.”

To our left, an immense swimming pool, surrounded by tables and sun loungers, sparkled under the midday sun. Behind it was a tennis court. An enormous lawn stretched along the back of the property, a cell phone tower looming over it like an alien spaceship. Soccer goals had been set up at either end of the lawn, and even though it was boiling, some boys from my class had started a game.

As we stood there, slightly dazzled, a skinny lady in an off-the-shoulder top and tight white jeans teetered toward us. She was wearing high heels, and with each step, they sank a bit into the soft grass, making her wobble from side to side. She was trailed by a tall, uniformed man wearing mirrored sunglasses. He looked a lot like the guy I had seen dropping Anvi off at school, except this one had a thin black mustache and a tattoo across one bulging bicep—a dagger with a curved tip. I glanced around. That's when I realized they were positioned all along the perimeter of the Saxena property: guys in identical dark gray uniforms and mirrored sunglasses. Each one held a walkie-talkie.

They were security guards.

“Welcome! Welcome!” The wobbling woman had finally reached us. She gave my mom a big, fake smile and my mom gave her a big, fake smile back.

“You must be Klow-ay! Anvi told me about you! We're sooo happy you could make it to her little party!”

Anvi's mom spoke in exclamations and when she leaned down to squeeze my cheek with her long purple fingernails, her face didn't look quite so pretty. Up close, I could see that her makeup had caked a bit around her mouth and eyes. The eyes themselves were a weird color, kind of blotchy green. Her hair was lighter than most Indian hair, too—blondish brown instead of black. It hung in long, loose curls over her shoulders and down her back. I'm no hair expert, but even I could tell a lot of work had gone into that hair.

I found myself fidgeting with my headband again.

“Are you from Manhattan?” Anvi's mom was exclaiming to my mom.

“No,” Mom said. “Actually, we're from Massachu—”

“We have a penthouse in Manhattan! Fifty-Seventh and Lexington! Love the shopping! Sooo much better than Delhi! But at least we have Dubai!”

Mom elbowed me and I held my gift up. “Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Saxena,” I said.

Anvi's mom seemed confused by both my declaration and the presentation of the gift—two Roald Dahl paperbacks, which Mom had wrapped in brown paper that I had potato-printed that morning. She waved at a servant to come take the parcel from my hands. Then, before we could say another word, she had lurched off, chasing down a caterer with a silver tray while the tattooed bodyguard followed.

Abandoned, Mom and I stood there for a moment, surveying the scene. The party was already in full swing. There was an enormous pink bouncy castle set up in one corner of the lawn, as well as a bunch of other amusement-park-style rides: a rocking ship, spinning teacups, and a mini train for the littler kids. Back by the soccer field, a zip line had been strung from one end of the lawn to the other, and kids were already lined up, waiting to be harnessed for a ride. There was a huge inflatable ball that two kids could be strapped into and then rolled around in. There was also a mechanical bull. Closer to us, an oversized trampoline was outfitted with a bungee cord so that kids could jump as high as the third-floor balconies of the Saxenas' marble mansion.

Uniformed staff members were scurrying around, strapping kids into the various contraptions. Most kids had an ayah trailing behind them, too. There were hardly any parents, though—just a couple of moms seated at a round table by the pool, chatting. They had big sunglasses on, and big bags in their laps. Each one clutched an iPhone, which she tapped every couple of minutes.

“I'm gonna case the joint, maybe find a ladies' room,” Mom said. “You don't hear from me in an hour, you call the cops, okay?” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, toward the house. “I could get lost in that marble quarry.” She leaned down and kissed me on the head. “Have fun, sweetie.” Then she set off toward the house, her long cotton skirt swaying as her flip-flops flapped against the grass.

I gave an involuntary shudder. I love my mom and I didn't want her to be like those other moms—really, I didn't—but did she have to be so, so…
not
like them?

Scanning the crowd, I spotted Anvi and Prisha toward the back, by the zip line. There was a fashion-show runway set up and they were strutting down it, striking poses and then collapsing against each other in hysterics.

A sudden attack of shyness hit me.

Instead of joining them, I slunk over to the crafts area, where a bunch of bored-looking helpers were slumped behind a long row of activity tables: BeDazzle your own T-shirt, get your own hair extensions, make your own tiara. I paused in front of the nail stall, where bottles of polish were stacked in pyramids. There had to be at least fifty different shades.

“You want?”A young Thai-looking woman pointed at her own nails, which were decorated with skulls-and-roses decals.

I shook my head. Mom would kill me.

“No thanks,” I said.

She shrugged and went back to texting.

I was gluing yellow feathers onto a mask when the MC turned on his microphone and started trying to corral the kids into party games.

“Let's get ready to PAR-TEEEY!” he yelled into the mike.

Even though it was blazingly hot, he wore a shiny black suit and a sparkly silver tie. Sweat streamed down his temples.

“It's Princess Anvi's birthday, and we're going to have MAXIMUM FUN!”

He had one of those really fake American accents. He was yelling so loud, I could feel the table under my mask vibrate.

“Don't you want to play, honey?”

Mom was standing at my elbow.

“I like your mask,” she said.

I squinted up at her. Then I shrugged. “I'm not really in the mood,” I said.

“But you love party games,” Mom persisted. “Back home, you always wanted to play.”

“That was home,” I said.

Mom sat down in the chair next to mine. “You okay?”

I kept gluing. We had been at the party for twenty minutes already and Anvi hadn't even come over to say hi. I didn't understand. She gave me the BFF card, right? Maybe she had already changed her mind. Maybe she didn't want to be friends with me after all. Maybe I was too boring. Maybe I was like that petal-pink backpack and she was already…

“Yo, everybody! Come on up for tug-of-war! Tug-of-war, everybody! Give it on up for ANVI!” the MC yelled in the background.

“Why don't you give it a try, Chloe?” Mom said. “Just play one game, and then…” She gave me a nudge. “And then we can get out of here, okay? Maybe stop at the bookstore on the way home?”

I didn't say anything.

Mom stood up. “I think you might regret it if you don't even try….”

I sighed. I knew my mom; she was not going to give up without a fight. “Okay, okay,” I grumbled. “I'll play one stupid game.”

The next time I saw Mom it was three hours and several dozen rounds of freeze dance later. I was huddled with Anvi and Prisha at the body-painting table when Mom stomped up, her face cloudy.

“Oh, you must be Anvi! We haven't met! I'm Chloe's mom!” Mom said. She was talking fast. Her voice was fake cheery.

Anvi stared at her without saying anything.

“Well!” Mom said, turning to me. “You ready to go, sweetie? I think we better get back to Dad and Lucy. And I'm sure you have homework to do.” She glanced around at all the girls at the table and lowered her voice. “I'm sure you
all
have homework to do,” she said.

The girls stared back at her, their expressions blank.

“I'll be in the car, Chloe,” she said, then turned and flip-flopped toward the balloon tunnel.

“Why do you have to be such a downer, Mom?” I said.

We were stuck in a line of cars trying to get out of the farmhouse compound and onto the ring road toward home.

Mom didn't answer.

“Mom?” I said. I knew I was pushing it, but I couldn't stop myself.

“Oh,
I'm
the downer?” Mom said. “Wasn't
I
the one who had to push
you
into joining the party games? And let's review what happened next, shall we? Hmm, I sat for three hours in the blazing sun, being force-fed chicken chunks while listening to those…to those women—who seem to do nothing with their lives but get their hair done—complain about their maids ironing their lingerie the wrong way.” She paused to take a breath. “I would actually argue, Chloe, that I was rather supportive today.”

The car was silent for a few moments.

“Did you like the food?” I was backpedaling, trying to make peace.

“Oh, Chloe,” Mom said. She paused for a moment. “The food was delicious, sweetie. But it was so…it was so over the top. I mean,
all
that food. Did we need even a quarter of it?”

I looked out the window. She was right, of course. There had been way too much food. A catered buffet the length of an Olympic-sized pool spread along one side of the garden with dish after dish of Indian kiddie favorites:
chaat
and
kati
rolls,
dosas, chhole bhature,
and
rajma chawal.
There was a pasta station and a pizza station. There were custom-made quesadillas, burritos, and shawarmas. Mongolian barbecue. Crepes. There was a make-your-own salad bar and a sandwich table. There were chicken hot dogs and chicken burgers served with fries. And piles of steaming naan, served piping hot from two tandoor ovens.

The dessert buffet was over by the tennis court: oven-fresh cookies and made-to-order waffles, a chocolate fountain and ice cream sundaes. There was a candy bar with a dozen glass canisters full of sour bombs, toffees, and chocolates. They even had cellophane bags in case you wanted your candies to go. On a separate, round table, surrounded by white lilies, was the cake, a standing replica of Anvi herself dressed in a silver miniskirt made of sugar crystals that sparkled in the sun. She was holding a mobile phone and a handbag made of marzipan. (“It's a Kelly,” Anvi whispered to me. When she saw my blank look, she rolled her eyes. “The bag! It's a Kelly. You know, Hermès? I got a real one as a present.”) When the MC put on a hip-hop remix of “Happy Birthday,” actual fireworks went off—even though it was daytime.