Sway With Me: A gorgeous romcom for fans of Sandhya Menon and Jenny Han by Syed Masood

Author:Syed Masood [Masood, Syed]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hodder & Stoughton
Published: 2021-11-01T13:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

A week later, when Ms. Siraj requested I stay behind after class, I worried that she’d ask me again if I’d finished the extra credit assignment about the shape of the world. I hadn’t had time to ponder it, which was odd, because I’d always had time for extra schoolwork before.

Beenish Siraj and Diamond Khan were not good for my grades. There was no longer any chance that I would challenge Annika Bryzgalova’s position as the top student at Tennyson. I was ahead enough of everyone else, thanks to the arts education that Nana had given me, that I could comfortably skip most readings. Material in classes like language and composition or world literature wasn’t at all challenging. The sciences, however, demanded more work.

It turned out that Qirat didn’t want to talk about school. Instead, she asked, “Dance practice still isn’t going well, is it?”

“Did Beenish tell you?”

“How come you never call her Beans?”

Didn’t I? I suppose I had only ever used Beenish’s nickname around Nana, with whom I could be myself. Around everyone else, I’d always been formal, which was only appropriate. To her sister’s question, I answered, “That is an intimacy I haven’t been granted.”

Qirat chuckled. “How many Victorian romance novels have you read in your life? All of them?”

“This isn’t a romance novel and we aren’t ­Victorians—­well, we are a little Victorian, with our arranged marriages and socially enforced norms of modesty and ­propriety—”

“Arsalan.”

I cleared my throat. “I don’t like to take liberties with people. Especially not Beenish. Not right now.” At Qirat’s quizzical expression, I added, “I . . . did something stupid, and now she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“You didn’t try to kiss her or something, did you?”

“I would never! Well, actually, never is overstating the matter a little, ­but—”

Qirat held up a hand. “Relax. It was a joke.”

“Oh. I’m still getting used to those.”

She smiled. “So my little sister doesn’t want anything to do with you, hmm?”

“Yes. She’s made that very clear.”

“Right. She’s made that very clear by going to your house and hanging out with you every day.”

I frowned. “That’s different. It’s for dance practice.”

“If you say so. Anyway, I’m sorry that isn’t going well. And no, to answer your question, Beans didn’t tell me. I guessed.” Ms. Siraj held out a piece of paper. “She’s asking for a favor on your behalf from someone she doesn’t even like to talk to much. Things must be desperate.”

It was a note written by Beans. I recognized her sweeping, poorly restrained handwriting. It was an address, followed by a command to show up there at three o’clock.

“What is this?” I asked.

“That,” Qirat replied, “is the glass you break in case of emergency.”

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