Year of the Chick by Romi Moondi

Author:Romi Moondi [Romi Moondi]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781466492066
Google: I1KqpwAACAAJ
Amazon: B005ZY7DG0
Goodreads: 13046696
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2011-10-25T13:00:00+00:00

“This is Indian culture,” she continued. “When your skin is darker it’s a sign of lower class. People get darker when they work in the fields all day.”

But Neema grew up in Southern Ontario!

“So why are we even meeting him then? If he’s going to think I’m LOW CLASS?” My sister’s eyes were glistening intensely. She could see an opportunity. An out. And she was not about to let it go.

“Because you make good money and he’s having some trouble finding girls. But you’ll look too dark if he sees HER.” My mother pointed at me in disgust. So now I’m a disgrace to the family?

“Should I go somewhere then?” I didn’t mind the idea of an afternoon away, maybe I could go downtown and meet some friends.

“No! You sit in your bedroom with the door CLOSED. And don’t make any noise. Don’t walk around, don’t go to the bathroom. Just total quiet.”

What the fuck? Keep me trapped in my room like the demented mutant daughter?

“I can’t sit in my room all afternoon! I’ve hardly even eaten today!”

My mom rolled her eyes. “We brought a whole box of samosas for tea. Go downstairs for two minutes so you can eat. TWO minutes! Then go to your room and close the door.”

I stared in disbelief.

“GO!”

I sprinted down the stairs with my two-minute window ticking fast. I searched for samosas in the oversized kitchen with its excess of counter space and stainless steel appliances. I finally found them in the corner by the fridge, next to a bag of bagels.

I inhaled the first samosa in four giant bites. As the digital clock on the stove switched to minute number two, I started with the second potato pocket, which was as flaky and delicious as the last. I finished it off and reached for a glass from the cupboard, but froze when I heard the sound.

‘DING DONNNG.’

Uh-oh.

I ditched the glass and leapt up the stairs going two at a time, almost colliding with my mother and sister. My mother simply glared as she made her way down, which was her signal for me to keep running.

My bedroom door clicked shut at the exact same second that the front door opened, with my dad’s cheery voice now in greeting mode.

I made my way over to the bed, careful not to step on the two creaky floorboards hiding underneath the carpet.

‘Cause God forbid they should discover the upstairs-mutant. Shield your eyes from her hairy hunchback!

Once I was comfortably in bed, I didn’t really know what the hell I was supposed to do.

All the action was happening downstairs, but from my closed bedroom door I could only hear muffled voices.

Distracted by a flake of samosa pastry caught between my two front teeth, I worked it over and over with my tongue, trying to set it free. I couldn’t, so I picked it out with my fingers. Then ate it.

Well that takes care of that. Now what?

If only I had squeezed in that drink of water. I was so damn thirsty, but strangely I also had to pee.

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