10 Things I Hate About Pinky - Sandhya Menon Page 0,100

reason Dolly wasn’t here to draw the attention away from this train wreck of a conversation she’d just had with her mother.

“There’s no reason to be rude,” her mother said. Turning to Cash, she added politely, “Hello, Cash. Would you like a s’more?”

Cash grinned. “Nah, thanks. Haven’t had one of those since I was ten.”

Ooh, you’re so cool, Cash, Pinky wanted to snap. Go pickle your liver in beer instead.

“What can we do for you, Cash?” Pinky’s dad’s usually exuberantly happy voice was strained with annoyance. Pinky smiled to herself as she reached over and grabbed a Hershey bar. Across the fire, Samir rolled his eyes at her and she grinned, feeling even better.

“Well, I actually came over to talk to Pinky.” Scratching his stomach through his shirt, he said, “My mom says our cleaning lady said you turned up at her house? With a flyer or something? And the woman at the seafood market said the same thing.”

Pinky stiffened. Crap. This was not how she’d wanted her mom to find out about the town hall meeting she was helping with. “Um, right.” She adjusted her ponytail and ignored the skewering looks her mom was tossing her way.

“Priyanka,” her mom said in a voice that was just two notches higher than her usual one. “Would you mind sharing with me what the flyer’s for?”

Standing, Pinky glared at Cash. “You can go now.” Shrugging, he sauntered off.

Reaching into the pocket of her shorts, Pinky got out her cell phone and pulled up a picture of the flyer she’d been handing out all week.

Her mom took her phone and looked at the flyer, her expression hard. “You can’t get people all agitated about this.” She looked up at Pinky. “We don’t live here. This isn’t our problem.”

“I already told you, I’m just joining a cause that the town residents have already organized. Besides, this is everyone’s problem!” Pinky said, sitting back down.

“I told you to leave it alone,” her mom said. “This—” She squeezed her hand around Pinky’s phone, as if she wanted to crush it. “This is…”

“Something you would’ve done twenty years ago?” Pinky couldn’t help but ask.

“Pinky,” Samir said, shaking his head. “Just… maybe let it go for now?”

She stared at him, not really able to believe he’d just said that. He’d been with her when she’d found the photo. He’d heard what her mom had just said to her. And he was taking her mom’s side? “Are you serious?” she said, huffing a laugh. “You’re on her side?”

“I’m not taking sides. I just… I don’t think anything productive’s coming out of this, that’s all,” he said, sticking his hands into his pockets.

“I agree,” Pinky’s mom said. Because of course she did. Of course she agreed with Samir.

Pinky dug her toe into the sand and forced herself to say nothing.

* * *

They stood at the bank of the lake with all the other families, dozens and dozens of people all holding their lit lanterns, their faces glowing in the gathering dark. Samir and Pinky stood close together, each of them holding their shining lanterns like magical orbs meant to grant secret wishes. Pinky had decorated hers with a drawing of butterflies emerging from a cocoon of stars, and Samir’s had an abstract design that looked like swirling smoke enveloping people. It seemed kind of sad, but when she’d asked him about it, he’d just laughed and brushed her off. There was a palpable excitement in the air, and Pinky pushed the fight she and her mom had just had—and the comment Samir had made, taking her mom’s side—to the back corners of her mind.

“At the count of ten,” Mr. Parker said into his megaphone. He beamed around at them all, winking when he caught Pinky’s eye. “We will let our lanterns float into the air. Remember to whisper your wish into it first!”

The Parkers were black and one of only three other families of color who also owned a lake house on Ellingsworth. Pinky’s and Dolly’s parents had had them over for dinner many times over the past few summers. Mr. Parker was always the one who led the lantern-lighting ceremony. As the mayor of his city back home, he was kind of used to taking charge, Pinky supposed. And no one else wanted to do it anyway.

There were murmurs of excitement all around. Pinky smiled at Samir, and he gazed back, his smile somehow muted. “Better wish for something good,” he said.

Pinky laughed. “Oh, I am.”

His eyes crinkled a

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