It’s an ironic problem, my wondering how to poison a boy when that is the sole purpose of my existence. But then again, I’ve never had to poison someone only a little bit. Nothing I’ve ever done has demanded the kind of subtlety that slipping Deven three separate doses of toxin will require. The jobs Gopal gives me are straightforward—they require only one meeting, only a moment of interaction. But this—this will require something so much more delicate, and I’m not sure I can pull it off. Subterfuge is squarely in Iyla’s skill set. So that’s probably where I should go for help.
I run a brush through my hair and then crawl into bed. After the day I’ve had, I’m expecting it to take me hours to drift off, but the last few nights of lousy sleep must have caught up with me, because before I know it, the night is over and sunlight is spilling across my cheeks. For just a moment I feel safe ensconced in a soft blanket with warmth on my face. But then the events of yesterday come rushing back and carve a pit in the middle of my stomach. I wish I could go back and live forever in that peaceful moment between sleep and reality.
Mani is still fast asleep, so there’s time to make breakfast. We don’t have to leave for Iyla’s right away, and I need some time to decide how I can convince her to help me. Iyla is stingy with sharing her tradecraft, but she’s also the closest thing I have to a friend. I prepare a simple porridge of brown rice, almonds and dried figs. It simmers for over an hour, but Mani still isn’t awake. I sit on the side of his bed and push the hair off his forehead. His color is worse than yesterday and his breathing is shallow.
“Mani, time for breakfast.” I shake him gently and get no response, not even a grumble or a sigh. “Mani? Come on, Mani.” I try to wake him for five minutes, and the whole time I’m wondering if this will be the morning when I can’t.
Finally his eyes flutter open and I’m flooded with relief. “Hi, monkey,” I say, and there’s a little hitch in my voice that I can’t quite cover up.
Mani rubs his eyes. “Was I hard to wake up?”
“Nah,” I say, “not too much.” If he knows I’m lying, he doesn’t challenge me. “Do you want some breakfast?” This perks him up a little.
“You made breakfast?”
“Hey,” I say, “don’t sound so surprised. Sometimes I cook.” Mani smirks and I swat him lightly on the bottom as he heads to the table. “Be nice or I won’t share.”
I wait until he is polishing off his second bowl of porridge before I tell him my plan to visit Iyla.
“I don’t think we should ask her for help,” Mani says.
“Why not?”
“She’s…” Mani licks his spoon as he thinks. “Kind of sneaky.”
“Yes, I know. That’s why we need her, to help us sneak the poison to Deven.”
“Why can’t we just tell him the truth?”
I sigh. “I don’t think he would believe us, Mani. Would you voluntarily take poison from someone you just met? Even if they claimed it would help you?”
He scrunches up his forehead. “I guess not.”
“Our best chance to protect him is with Iyla’s help.”
Mani frowns at me. “If you say so. I’ll go get dressed.”
Iyla lives in a more affluent neighborhood than Mani and I do. Butter-yellow row houses with deep-red rooftops march along the street in groups of four. The lawns are expertly manicured and boast shrubs clipped into the shapes of animals. The first time I saw Iyla’s house, I complained to Gopal. It didn’t seem fair that Iyla was living so lavishly while Mani and I were stuck in a tiny bedroom at the girls’ home. Gopal smiled at my complaint. “Oh, Marinda,” he said. “Don’t be jealous. Iyla doesn’t concern me, but you…you I want close to me always.” I didn’t care what Gopal wanted—I wanted a place that Mani and I could call our own. A few months later Gopal agreed to let us move into the flat, and I never said another word about it. But every time I see Iyla’s neighborhood, it still stings that she is treated so differently. Iyla lives at the far end of her street in the last house on her row. Mani and I are almost there when I hear a door close and then the unmistakable sound of Iyla’s laughter. She’s not alone. I hold out my arm to stop Mani and we duck behind a huge topiary elephant.
“When will I see you again?” Iyla says.
“I’m not sure,” says a male voice, “maybe a few days?”
“A few days! But that’s too long to wait.” Her voice is dripping with so much false sweetness that I wonder who would be foolish enough to think she’s sincere. I inch forward and risk a peek around the hedge. My heart jumps into my throat.
She’s talking to Deven.