Ticket to India by N. H. Senzai

Author:N. H. Senzai
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster/Paula Wiseman Books

12

Star-Crossed Love

SCRUNCHED LOW TO KEEP the guards from catching sight of them, the boys slithered along the wall, inching closer to Maya’s hiding spot. Frantic, she looked for an escape. Just as she was about to run, lightning flashed, bringing a deluge of rain that obscured her sight.

“This will not work tonight,” she heard the suited man shout. “We’re going to have to cancel our visit.”

The bus, I need to get on that bus, thought Maya, darting from her hiding spot. They can drop me off at the train station. . . . I need to get back to Zara. She could see a blurry image of the guards leaning toward the man, who had disappeared from view.

“Wait,” Maya called out, but her voice was drowned out by the rumble of the bus’s engine. The man had boarded, and the bus was pulling away. From behind her, she could see the hazy figures of the boys running toward her. She approached the towering gate, built into the thick red wall. It was slightly ajar. Filled with indecision, she slowed. Ladu was out there, on the other side of the road. . . .

Without a second thought, she dove toward the gap in the gate.

“You there, boys!” Maya heard a guard bark behind her. “Get away from the gate. No unauthorized entry!”

Maya didn’t pause, but sprinted up the stone path. She veered right across an expansive lawn, squinting through the rainy haze, looking for a place to hide. There. Across from the immense central courtyard stood a towering two-story building, its roof topped with rounded cupolas at each corner, matching balconies on each level. She scurried through the curved arch, past ghostly white marble designs inlaid in the dark stone.

“Lock the gates. No one is to come through!” came a muffled shout behind her, accompanied by the creaking of metal hinges as the guards sealed shut the gate she’d just passed through.

A set of heavy doors, sheathed with bronze plates, rose ahead of her. Maybe someone can help me. . . . Damp and shivering, she pushed on the smooth wood with all of her might. The doors swung inward and Maya ran through, stopping beneath a brass lamp that was suspended from the vaulted roof and cast faint light in a fat circle. Except for the patter of rain, silence greeted her in the sparse octagonal room. Multiple alcoves and doorways stretched out on both sides, and on the right stood a set of glass doors with a sign that read: ARCHAEOLOGICAL SURVEY OF INDIA. Through the glass, she spotted an old-fashioned phone sitting on the table. I can call Zara, she thought, eagerly running over. The doors were locked. Hope deflated as she stood shivering in the empty building. The thought of braving the rain and trying to get the guards to open the gates was beyond daunting. She needed time to rest, to think. She knew they’d missed the train—there was no way to get back in time. She wished she could call Zara, let her know she was safe and she was coming back.

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