Lucky T (22 page)

"If Asha and Manisha have flowers, then they're all going to want flowers," Dash said. "Trust me. They're girls."

Dash and Manisha started to fil her bag up with flowers. Trina tucked a bloom behind her ear and Akhtar started to make a chain by tying the stems together.

"I like that one!" Asha said, pointing to a flower Manisha was holding, yellow and fringed with orange petals.

"I'll trade you for that one," Manisha said, taking a light yellow bloom from Asha's bouquet.

Carrie knew she should stop them, but they were having so much fun. She looked up at the house, her heart pounding as the kids laughed and plucked and traded. The place looked deserted enough. And Carrie was sure that the basketball man, whoever he was, wouldn't mind losing a few flowers if he saw the joy this little gardening break was inspiring.

"You guys, let's only take them from the edges so it's not so noticeable," Carrie said, getting into the act. "We'll decorate the girls' ward with them. The place could use some brightening up anyway."

Too bad Dee's not here, Carrie thought as Manisha passed her a handful of flowers and she deposited them into her bag. This was exactly the kind of rush she'd been talking about, exactly the kind of rule breaking he needed to do. Harmless enough, but thrilling all the same.

Carrie set the last glass of flowers on the windowsil and stepped back to admire her work. Marigolds bloomed from every available surface in the room, adorning not only the three large windows, but the tables between the beds and the dressers at either end of the room. The color and life changed the entire feeling of the ward, making it more welcoming and definitely more cheery. Maybe there really was something to the whole feng shui thing. Carrie would have to look into that before the new school year started back home.

She heard Dee's footsteps in the hal and turned just in time to see him walk in.

"The girls told me you had something to show-- whoa," he said, stopping in the middle of the room.

"We pulled a little Martha Stewart," Carrie said, grinning as she executed a curtsy.

"Where did all these flowers come from?" Dee asked.

"Just a little creative gardening," Carrie said with a conspiratorial smirk.

Dee took a few steps toward her, bringing a distinctly unpleasant vibe with him. He looked tense, as if he were waiting for Leatherface to jump out of a corner and hack them all to pieces with a chain saw.

"Carrie, what does that mean, creative gardening?" he asked.

"Well, the kids and I were out for a walk today and we ... borrowed a few flowers from one of those immense mansions a few blocks up."

"Oh, Carrie. Tell me you didn't," Dee said, covering his face with his hands.

A hard rock of disappointment formed in Carrie's stomach. She knew that taking the flowers was technically wrong, but in the grand scheme of things it had made the kids happy. She had hoped Dee might see it her way. Clearly he did not.

"Look, it's not that big of a deal," Carrie said. "It's not like he's going to miss them. His landscaper will probably have them replaced before he ever even notices they're gone."

"That's not the point, Carrie!" Dee exclaimed. "Do you realize what you did today? You taught those kids it's okay to steal."

Carrie's face flushed. There was no denying that they had taken something that didn't belong to them. But it wasn't as if they had all run out into the streets with crowbars and committed grand theft auto. She looked at Dee, at the disappointment and condescension in his eyes, and a flame of indignation ignited in her chest. Who was he to judge her?

"It's just a few flowers, Dee," Carrie said. "Why are you freaking out like this?"

Dee took a deep breath and glared at her. "Is this what you meant last night by breaking the rules? Did you all get that rush you were talking about by doing something bad?"

Carrie looked at the floor. When he said it like that, it sounded perfectly awful.

"You did, didn't you?" he said. "I bet you all had a grand time! How are we supposed to teach them now that it's wrong?"

Oh, crap. What did I do? Carrie thought, his words sinking in.

"I'm sure they know that stealing, real stealing, is bad," she said softly.

"How? Kids are impressionable, you know. They watch you do something like this and they think . . . no, they know that it's acceptable," Dee said.

"And what do you mean real stealing? Is there some size requirement I don't know about? Like stealing is okay as long as whatever you take is smaller than a TV?"

"Well, there are degrees of stealing in the States. The values of the items stolen is the difference between a misdemeanor and a felony," Carrie countered, thanks to hours of watching Court TV.

"Exactly, but either way it's still crime," Dee asked, folding his arms over his chest.

At that moment Carrie had no idea what else to say. A lump formed in her throat. Had she really just scarred Manisha and Dash and the others for life?

She had a sudden vision of them as teenagers, running around in black leather jackets with cigarettes hanging out of their mouths, throwing gang signs, and wreaking havoc on the streets of Calcutta. Al because of her.

"I'm sorry," Carrie said finally. "I just ... I thought it would cheer the place up."

"What am I going to tell Mr. Banarjee?" Dee asked, tipping his head back.

At the sound of the director's name a sliver of dread ran through Carrie's heart. If this was the way Dee was reacting, then it was quite possible that Mr.

Banarjee would throw her out on the street. He definitely wasn't the most laid-back guy on earth. "Why do you have to tell him anything?" she asked.

"He's going to find out. He always finds out," Dee said with a foul expression.

The stark contrast between the expression on his face now and the admiration he had heaped upon her the night before sent Carrie into a tailspin.

She wanted last night back. She wanted that Dee back. She needed him. Plus the last thing she wanted was to be forced to leave and say good-bye to the kids and the friends she had made here. Carrie swal owed her pride and started grasping at straws.

"I'm sorry, all right?" she said, lifting the last glass of flowers off the windowsil . "We'll get rid of them."

"That's not the point," Dee said. "The damage is already done."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" she asked. "I'll . . . I'll talk to the kids. I'll explain that stealing is wrong. I'll --"

"You don't get it, Carrie," Dee said, pacing now. "It's not just this. It's everything. You act like playing basketball and teaching them about fashion is going to help them, but it's not. It's not going to help them get anywhere in the world. And the one time you were asked to do something semi-responsible, you took them out to play again. It's like you think this is circus camp, not real life."

There was nothing inside Carrie but a roiling mess of confused emotions. Was this how Dee really felt about her? That she hadn't contributed one useful thing since she had arrived here?

"Well, if that's what you think of me, then maybe I should save Mr. Banarjee the chore of firing me and just go," Carrie said, her voice breaking.

Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening, she told herself.

For a split second she thought she saw uncertainty in Dee's eyes. She thought he was going to grab her and apologize and tell her they would figure something out. But a moment later he blinked and it was gone. His gaze was completely blank when he said: "Yes. Maybe you should."

"Why do you have to leave?" Manisha asked for the twenty-fifth time, pulling on Carrie's arm as she stood in the foyer, looking out at the rain. Dash and Akhtar hung off to the side, arms crossed tightly over their chests. Dash kicked at the floor while Akhtar stood still . "Is it our fault?" Manisha asked.

"Because we took the flowers?"

Carrie looked up through the window, guilt searing her heart. The clouds were thick as mud. No one would be watching the gorgeous sunset tonight.

"Manisha, none of this is your fault," Carrie told her. "I just... I have to go home."

Carrie's voice broke on the word home and she was at a loss as to whether it was because she was homesick or because she didn't want to leave yet. Just looking at the dejected faces on these kids--her friends--was making her chest ache. She glanced out at the road, looking for the tell tale auto-

rickshaw. Celia had promised to come get her at six o'clock sharp. Where was she? Carrie had to get out of here. She couldn't take much more of this long good-bye stuff.

"Don't leave, Carrie," Dash said. "Dee is not your boss."

"No, but Mr. Banarjee is," Carrie said. "And I don't think he really wants me around right now."

"But what if we do?" Akhtar said quietly. "What if we want you around?"

Carrie's eyes welled up with tears, but luckily she was saved by the toy-like engine of an auto-rickshaw pulling up outside. It idled at the curb and Carrie could see Celia inside, huddled away from the open doors, avoiding the rain. Carrie had never been so relieved to see anyone in her life.

"Well, that's my ride," Carrie said. '"Bye, kids."

She reached down to give Manisha a hug. Akhtar simply gave her a quick bow, then turned and ran up the stairs. Carrie couldn't believe how attached these kids had become to her and how much she was attached to them.

"He can't handle anything," Dash said, lifting a shoulder. Then, playing the tough guy, he reached out and slapped Carrie's hand. "See you."

As Dash walked up the stairs, Dee passed him on his way down. Carrie couldn't read his expression to save her life. He might have been sorry for the argument, but he might have just as easily been sorry to find her still there.

Heart heavy, Carrie reached for her umbrella. Out of habit she was going to step outside, then open it, but she paused. Fear and excitement gripped her chest all at once. She could do it. She had to prove to Dee that she wasn't some little idiot consumed by ridiculous fears. No matter how much of a jerk he had been. Carrie was going to be the bigger person.

She looked at Dee over her shoulder and popped open the umbrella, effectively blocking him from view, but not before she saw the stunned look on his face. Then, exhilarated by her outright defiance of everything she believed in for so long, she grabbed up her bags and strode out the door.

It would have been a perfectly elegant exit if Manisha didn't follow her out into the rain.

"Don't go," she said, her eyes brimming with tears.

"I have to," Carrie replied as the rain pounded on the umbrella. "But I'll write to you. I promise."

"You won't. You'll forget," Manisha said sorrowfully, looking at the ground.

"Hey. I don't forget my friends," Carrie said, putting her stuff down and crouching in front of Manisha as rain ran down the little girl's cheeks. "You're the best friend I've got in this place."

Manisha's whole face lit up and she threw her skinny arms around Carrie's neck again, hugging her for real. Finally Carrie had to pul away. She gathered her stuff and got into the auto-rickshaw, blinking back her tears.

"Hey, Carrie," Celia said sympathetically.

"Hey," she replied.

The engine started up and Carrie was jerked backward as it careened forward.

'"Bye, Carrie!" Manisha shouted after her. '"Bye!" The raindrops smacked at the windshield, and Carrie's tears started to fall. Celia reached over and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly, but it wasn't enough to close up the floodgates. Carrie cried all the way back to the hostel.

Carrie was exhausted. Her whole body felt weak. Her eyes were heavy and dry. As she looked blankly out the window of the lurching bus, she couldn't imagine sitting through the entire flight back home. It felt as if she would never get there. San Francisco existed in an entirely separate reality.

There hadn't been much sleep for Carrie the night before. Her eyes had refused to close as her mind raced from place to place. She kept seeing Dee's hard and disappointed eyes. Manisha's sorrowful face. One minute she was wishing she had never stepped foot in CCS, the next she was wishing she was back there. She went from feeling indignant about the way Dee had reacted to the flowers to painfully guilty about the fact that she had encouraged the kids to take them. No matter how many times she resolved not to think about it anymore and to get some sleep, her eyes always ended up popping open again. Meanwhile Doreen had snored the night away in the next bed, effectively frustrating Carrie to the point of throwing her pillow at the girl. Repeatedly. She didn't wake up once.

In the midst of all the random stream of consciousness, one thought kept coming back to Carrie over and over again like a mantra. She was going home without her T-shirt and nothing was ever going to be the same again. Not only that, but it felt as if she was leaving a part of her father behind.

Great, now the floodgates are open, Carrie thought.

In her mind's eye she began to imagine herself calling her father when she got back home. She saw herself telling him how much it hurt when he blew her off and that she wanted to see him more often. Then the mental film reel flipped to a classic scene--her dad getting off the plane, dropping his bags, and opening his arms so that Carrie could run right into them. Then he'd hug her and tell her she was the most important person in his life and he would never again let her feel otherwise.

Then her thoughts trailed off into Dee-ville. He was, after all , the one who had put the idea of coming clean with her father into her head. If the whole thing worked out, she would owe it to Dee.

Not that he would even care. He probably hated her now.

Carrie glanced out the window and gasped. Her hands pressed up against the dusty pane of glass. Her entire mouth went dry. She couldn't be seeing what she thought she was seeing. It had to be a mirage--a hal ucination brought on by insomnia and Doreen's buzz saw snoring. But she couldn't take the chance.

"Stop the bus!" she shouted, jumping straight up and slamming her head into the overhead rack. Her skull exploded with pain, but she barely noticed.