The Samosa Rebellion by Shanthi Sekaran

Author:Shanthi Sekaran
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2021-07-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 19

The next morning, Amma wakes me up with an announcement. “You’re going to school.” She doesn’t say anything about the night before, doesn’t mention the fact that I’ve only had three hours of sleep. I consider pretending I didn’t hear her, rolling back into corpse pose for a few more hours. But she stands in the doorway until I’m up, on my feet, and well clear of my warm, soft, heavenly blankets. I’m going to school.

It occurs to me that our civics project is due in a little over a week. “Amma? I might be staying after school to work on my project.”

“Okay, Muki.”

At school, Tinley finds me at my locker.

“Uh—hi. Good to see you’re alive.”

“Hi.”

“Were you sick?”

“Yeah,” I lie. She doesn’t know. No one at school seems to know what happened to Paati. I prefer it that way.

“We should probably work on our project today, right?” she asks.

“Yeah. I guess.”

She peers into my face. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t really feel like thinking about butterflies.” I shove my sketchbook in my locker and shut it.

“Okay. Well, um, maybe come over, and we’ll work a little? We’ll at least try?”

I find Tinley after school. She’s flanked by Tinleys, their hair all in little buns, and normally, seeing Tinley flanked by Tinleys, I’d walk right back the other way. But today, I care less about pretty much everything, so I walk right up to her and say, “Hey. Ready?”

Outside the school, something’s happening. Students, teachers, parents—they’re gathered in a crowd at the foot of the school steps. Tinley and I push through, and she slips ahead of me. “What is it?” I call.

For a few seconds, I think I’ve lost her. I squeeze past some eighth graders, get an elbow in the forehead, and finally make my way closer to the front of the crowd, though I still can’t see a thing. That’s when I hear a growl. It’s a hungry, deep growl, but not from an animal.

It can only be one thing. The Bugatti.

Tinley’s hand grabs mine and pulls me through a clot of students, past Mr. Pinto, and down the last few steps. I find myself standing right in front of a Bugatti Divo. The passenger door opens.

“Get in, Muki,” Tinley says. “And scootch over.” There’s no back seat, so Tinley squeezes in next to me, ignoring everyone, even Mr. Pinto.

She sighs. “This happens every time. You’d think they never saw a Bugatti before.”

“I think they probably haven’t seen a Bugatti before.”

“Good afternoon, Muki.” The general sits with a hand on the wheel, a small smile. “Tinley texted me. She said you could use a distraction. And that you’ve never been to the beach before.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say never—”

“Let’s go.”

The Bugatti creeps through the school pickup zone, crammed in by other cars. It grunts and purrs like a wildcat thirsty for prey. The most powerful engine in the world won’t do you any good in the MHP pickup zone.

Finally, we’re out on the road, then on a highway that’s nearly empty, and the wildcats are racing.

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