with a tedious, gutless drudge like you.”
They stared at each other, Pinky panting a little, feeling a curious mix of shame and guilt swirling under her skin. She pushed it away, deep inside her. She had no reason to feel ashamed. Samir had used her; he’d been cruel too. Now he was still and subdued, the exact opposite of her. After a long moment, Pinky said, in a calmer voice, “I have a protest to get ready for. So if you’ll excuse me…”
Samir nodded. “Yes. Okay.” He turned to go, but with one hand on the doorknob, he looked at her over his shoulder. “Thanks for being honest with me. Can I…? Can I still come and help?”
Pinky held his gaze. “I’m going by myself. I can’t stop you if you show up. But don’t expect me to drop everything and listen to you. I’m going to be working, Samir. In that hardheaded, bullish way I have. So leave me alone. Okay?”
He studied her face for a long moment. Maybe he was looking for some give, some hint that she didn’t mean what she was saying. He must not have seen any, because he nodded once and pulled the door open. “Got it,” he said, his voice quiet.
Much as it hurt her heart, much as the tears threatened to come again, Pinky strode to the door and closed it, firmly, after him.
Samir
She’d been gone an hour. Samir paced his room, back and forth, back and forth, pushing his hands through his hair. She wouldn’t even talk to him. She wouldn’t accept his apology. She’d barely looked at him. He’d screwed this up so badly. Samir didn’t think he’d ever, ever screwed anything up so horribly in his life.
And all the things she’d said about him… She’d called him a boring coward. She’d said he was flat and colorless, tedious and gutless. He’d felt little pieces of his heart break off as she spoke, until it was just a splintered, ragged thing in his chest. And after he left, he’d felt a blaze of fury at her words, even though he’d asked her, goaded her, into saying them.
But now… as he paced, he forced himself to face up to a tiny, incessant question in the deepest, darkest recesses of his mind. It glimmered there like a piece of metal catching the light.
Was she right?
Samir stared out the window at the lake, his hands pressed to the tabletop under the window. A large water bird, probably a heron, lifted off the water in a graceful arc. Was the entire reason he’d been so controlling, so rigid, simply because he was deathly afraid? Terrified to take a risk? This entire time, he’d thought his life was safe and protected; he’d thought it just made good sense to live the way he did. But maybe, maybe he’d just been too scared to face the truth the entire time.
Pinky had called him gutless, and maybe… maybe that wasn’t so far off. Maybe he had been living his life like a coward, like someone too afraid to fully engage with it. But could he really base his entire life, all of his decisions—big and small—on the desire to avoid something that might never even happen? What if nothing bad ever happened in his life, but nothing great ever did either? What would he think when he looked back and realized he’d never truly lived?
Pinky, on the other hand, lived for herself. She knew what it was she needed to do in this world, she knew her purpose, and she charged into the fire willingly, over and over, if it meant she could help someone else. It didn’t matter if she was afraid or sad or hurt, or if some giant douche had made a list about her that he had no right making. All that mattered was that she lived bravely, that she lived passionately, that she lived.
Samir felt a fizzing, tingling feeling on his limbs as he realized he had purpose now too. He knew exactly what he needed to do.
He walked out of his room and down the hall toward Pinky’s parents’ closed door. It was just past seven. He knew they’d had a late night last night, but he couldn’t wait any longer. Taking a deep breath, mustering all his courage, he raised his hand and knocked hard on their door.
Pinky’s mom answered the door, dressed in her pajamas and a robe. Weird to see the Shark in pajamas covered with roses. Okay,