10 Things I Hate About Pinky - Sandhya Menon Page 0,66

island?”

“Oh yes, I’m so sorry, I forgot who I was talking to. I’ll be sure to ask them to set up a placard just for you.”

Samir chuckled softly. “That would be nice.”

Shaking her head and smiling a little in spite of herself, Pinky turned around to survey the habitat as though through Samir’s fresh eyes. The frilly Japanese holly, the sprawling witch hazel, the soft trumpet vines waving in the breeze, the brilliant purple hydrangeas that Pinky had advertently or inadvertently matched her outfit to. The way the monarchs dipped and canted, flitting from one delicious treat to the next, blissfully happy in this paradise humans had created for them.

A path meandered through the thicket of vegetation, and Pinky began to walk. “I have so many memories here. So many. My mom and dad brought me here as a toddler, when this was all just first getting started. Apparently I helped plant that cluster of summer-sweet bushes over there. Well, I also ripped out what they were planting, but at least I didn’t completely destroy it all.”

Samir laughed and walked over to her, his arm brushing lightly against hers. Pinky felt herself tense, hyperaware of every single one of their movements. “I bet you were adorable.”

“I bet I was a hellion.” They walked around an oak tree, watching the question mark butterflies—Pinky’s favorite when she was little, owing to their weird name—spin and pirouette through the air, like they were showing off. “I remember having picnics here, on that patch of grassy field. Dolly and I would play tag, and we’d tag each other but also the butterflies. And the butterflies would sometimes tag us, too, on our shoulders or our cheeks with their soft wings, and that was the best thing ever.” She smiled at the memory.

“That sounds really nice.” Looking around, listening to the warbling, calling, cooing birds, Samir added, “I can’t believe they want to raze this.”

There was a pang in Pinky’s heart. “Raze.” It was such a violent word. She couldn’t imagine this simply not being here; she couldn’t imagine sterile condo buildings where so much life buzzed and hummed and fluttered and grew, defiant in brilliant color.

To distract herself, Pinky got DQ out of the tote bag and set her on the ground, in the shade of the tree. She wouldn’t be awake for a while. That done, Pinky ran off to the right.

“Where are you going?” Samir called from behind her.

“Race you to the top of this tree!” she called back, grabbing the lowest limb of the oak tree, which had spread its branches out like it owned the place. “This used to be one of my favorite places in the habitat when I was a kid.”

Samir jogged over to her and put his hands on his hips, looking worried. “What is it with you and high places? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted to find an easy way to murder me.”

Pinky laughed, already a quarter of the way up the tree. “I promise the view’s gonna be worth it!”

Samir sighed. “Do you know how long it took me to starch and iron these clothes today? Do you think these crisp lines happen without effort?” But then he grabbed the lowest limb and hoisted himself up anyway.

Samir was a much slower, more careful climber than her, so Pinky waited patiently while he tested each branch with some of his weight before fully committing to climbing on it. At times she wanted to prod him on with her toe, but she knew she’d just freak him out, and then he’d probably refuse to go any farther and he’d miss out on the best part.

Once they were both at the top, Pinky pointed. “Look.”

Samir’s eyes were shut. “No, thank you. I’m good.”

“Sam.” He didn’t open his eyes. “Are you seriously going to climb all the way up here and not even enjoy the view?”

Sighing dramatically, he opened his eyes. And then gasped. “Whoa.”

Pinky grinned, satisfied. “Nice, right?”

“ ‘Nice’ is not even the word.”

The butterfly habitat sprawled on every side around them, a riot of color and movement. From up here, you could see the scope of everything, how hard the people of the town had worked, how much time and effort and money had gone into it. In the far distance, Lake Spear stretched out like a diamond shard, all the big houses crouched possessively around it.

“I used to bring books up here and just sit on a limb and read. I don’t think