10 Things I Hate About Pinky - Sandhya Menon Page 0,37

mouths open like they were laughing at him. Obviously, he’d lost his mind because it was way, way too hot for him. He was a Cali boy, not used to this kind of weird East Coast heat.

“Are you building another observation deck up there or what?” Pinky’s voice came floating up to him, crabby and sarcastic.

Narrowing his eyes, Samir scoffed. Yeah, definitely just the heat. He could never ever find someone like Pinky Kumar even vaguely attractive. “So sorry to make you wait, my liege,” he called back down, equally sarcastic, and began the climb down.

Pinky

“Lots of sunscreen,” her dad was saying, one morning a couple of days after the lighthouse trip.

Pinky blinked up at him through the steam emanating from her coffee cup. “Say what?” she mumbled. God, why did people insist on talking to her before ten a.m.?

Samir was, of course, bright-eyed and chowing down on his blueberry pancakes. Which he’d probably helped make. Dolly was out on the deck with her parents, all of them drinking chai together on the rocking chairs, smiling like they were in a commercial for a Realtor.

“We’re going paddleboating today,” her mom said, walking in wearing a linen top, white capris, and pearls. She made a beeline for the coffee maker. Pinky’s caffeine addiction was a genetic gift. “Didn’t Dad tell you?”

“No,” she said, glaring at her dad.

“Actually, he did,” Samir said merrily. “But I think you were mostly asleep.”

Pinky’s dad chuckled. “Story of my life. But what do you think, Samir? You don’t get seasick, do you?”

Samir grinned. “Not at all. Actually, I’m on the sailboat team at our country club.”

“Of course you are,” Pinky mumbled into her coffee cup.

“Excellent!” Her dad was practically glowing. “Then you and Pinky can team up! Every time we take the boats out, she manages to paddle her way into a clump of bushes somewhere. Maybe someone with a sense of direction can help her out.” He guffawed like he’d told the best joke.

Pinky’s mom took a seat between her dad and Samir. “Well, we used to go fishing, but when Pinky turned about five, she would cry every time we hooked one.”

“Aw.” Samir turned to her, smiling. “You cried because you were sad for the fish?”

“Fishing is a disgustingly Neanderthal pastime,” Pinky retorted.

“So, tell me, Samir,” her mom said quickly, because she obviously didn’t want her wayward daughter scaring off the one good boyfriend she’d ever brought home. Ha ha. Joke’s on you, Mom. He’s not even a real boyfriend. Just a guy with absurdly pretty eyes and biceps like grapefruits. “What kinds of things do you and your family like doing together?”

Pinky noticed the smile slide off Samir’s face and felt a pinch of sympathy for him, remembering the “intervention” she and Ash had staged.

“It’s, ah, just me and my mom. My dad died when I was really little. My mom… my mom doesn’t really like doing too much, so we mostly just hang out at home. And read together.” He drank his milk, as if to stop himself from saying too much. He looked so uncomfortable, she didn’t even silently make fun of the fact that he was drinking milk in the morning like an eight-year-old.

“Read together?” Her mom frowned. “Well, that’s commendable, I suppose, but surely you like to do other things besides—”

Pinky drained the last of her coffee. “Mom. I forgot to tell you. I have a pet possum now.”

“You what?” her parents said in perfect synchrony, and Samir darted her a grateful look for this kamikaze move. As well he should. He owed her big-time. Pinky wasn’t sure what, exactly, had made her pull such a stunt. But there was something about watching her mom poke and prod at an obviously sensitive spot in Samir’s psyche that just… didn’t feel right.

Pinky shrugged and got up for a coffee refill. “She’s just a baby. I can’t release her into the wild because she’s been abandoned by her mom, so on the day we fly out, we’re gonna have to make a pit stop at the wildlife refuge.”

“And… where is this rodent right now?” Her mother’s voice was dangerously calm.

“Marsupial, actually,” Pinky said, leaning against the counter with her mug in her hand. “She’s in my room.”

Samir frowned at her and mouthed something she couldn’t make out. Her mother rushed out of the kitchen without another word, no doubt headed to Pinky’s room, but her dad paused. He shook his head, his brown eyes somber. “Why do you purposely get under