Ashish paused the video. “Great. This is good stuff. We can go over it more later, but I think you guys are really close to having a finished dance on your hands. You just need to practice it a couple of times and you’ll be set.”
Dimple took a deep breath. “Aah, thank you.” She reached out and patted Ashish’s arm, somewhat stiffly. She was definitely not big on physical affection, so Rishi knew how much she must really mean it. He wondered if he should feel a stab of jealousy—Dimple bonding so well with his muscled, much cooler younger brother—but all he felt was this warm, almost gooey feeling in his chest. Like his heart was wrapped in microwaved Nutella.
Dimple checked her watch. “Okay, it’s twenty till, so I’m going to run down to my floor and take a quick shower before dinner. I can meet you both downstairs in the lobby.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Rishi reached out and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed her soft and slow and then smiled, his forehead against hers. “Okay, now you can go.”
Grinning, Dimple floated off.
When she was gone, Rishi turned to Ashish, who was rolling his eyes at their public display. “We still need to talk about Ma and Pappa.” Ashish’s face closed off, and Rishi hurried to add, “But thanks. For helping us. That’s really nice of you.”
Ashish shrugged, that old defensive wall coming back up. Rishi tried to ignore the heavy stone of disappointment weighing him down. “Yeah. Dimple’s cool, so, you know . . . Hope you guys win the thing.”
He sounded like he was talking to an acquaintance, one he didn’t even like very much. Rishi swallowed and rubbed the back of his sweaty head. “Yeah, um, I’m gonna take a shower too. We’ll go to dinner, and then we can figure out when I’m going to drive you back.”
Ashish sprawled on the bed and began to text. He didn’t even look up to acknowledge what Rishi had said.
Sighing, Rishi got his shower caddy and towel and walked to the bathroom down the hall.
CHAPTER 42
It was 7:20 and Dimple was alone in the lobby.
Celia hadn’t been in their room, and Dimple hadn’t gotten a response when she’d texted her. So now she sat listening to the laughter and chatter of the other students, all getting ready for a Saturday night out (or in, in some cases—José and Tim had just had pizza delivered; they said they were gearing up for a marathon weekend coding session). She’d texted Rishi a minute ago, but hadn’t heard back yet. So it was probably now or never.
Dimple took a breath and opened the e-mail app on her phone.
She had a draft saved—she’d written it after her shower, but hadn’t had the courage to send it yet. The cacophony of voices faded to a dull hum as she began to read what she’d written.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: We met at SFSU Little Comic Con
Hi Leo,
I’m not sure if you remember me, but we met at SFSU’s Little Comic Con event a couple of weeks ago. I was with a boy, Rishi Patel, who was dressed in a costume you commented on—a thick brocade kurta, silk pants, and a hand-painted mace. You asked him if he had any sketches to show you, and he said no. He said he wasn’t dressed as anyone special.
But here’s the thing—he was lying.
You’ve been Rishi’s idol forever. He’s watched every single video you’ve ever made and pored over every single comic you’ve ever drawn. I’m a coder; I love everything to do with coding and technology. It’s a passion. But for Rishi, art is so beyond that—it’s who he is. It’s part of him; ink and blood flow together through his body. And that’s what scares him. He thinks he loves his art too much. He’s afraid of it consuming him.
But I think for him to let it go to waste—to never share it with the world—is what we should all be really afraid of. Because I truly think his art could change the world.
Anyway, hope that’s not too melodramatic. At LCC, Rishi was dressed as Aditya, an Indian Sun God superhero he’s been working on since he was fifteen. I’m attaching some of his sketches here. I hope you’ll see what I see when I look at them.
Rishi’s e-mail address is: [email protected]
Thanks,
Dimple Shah
Dimple had already attached the pictures she’d taken. All that was left was to press send. She took a deep breath. Her finger hovered over the button. Rishi would freak if he knew what she was doing. But he needed help. He needed a tiny nudge over to the other side, to show him what he was missing, what he could have. His parents weren’t going to do it; Ashish wouldn’t do it. That left her. Dimple wasn’t doing Rishi a favor, she was doing the world a favor.
So she pressed the button and listened to the swoosh that meant it was on its way to Leo. Dimple sat back, trembling slightly, half afraid, half ecstatic, the background noises that had been muted fading back in and crashing over her.
There was no going back now. She’d just have to wait and see how this unraveled.
The line in the bathroom was long, everyone getting ready for the weekend, and by the time Rishi was finished with the shower and brushing his teeth, it was seven thirty. “Crap,” he said as soon as he walked into his room and saw the clock on his nightstand.
Ashish sprang up from the bed, stared at him for a moment, and then sat back down. “Dude, where have you been?”
“Did you text Dimple? Did my phone buzz?” Rishi speed walked over to where his phone was charging—as much as one could speed walk in a towel, anyway—and checked the phone. Besides one Coming down soon? text ten minutes ago, she hadn’t said anything else. “Crap, she’s probably mad.” He texted her quickly: Sorry, line in bathroom was crazy. Getting dressed now.
“Why didn’t you get my phone and text her?” Rishi opened the closet door for cover, let his towel slip, and climbed into his boxers and jeans.
“Oh yeah, because you’d be totally fine with me pawing through your phone.”
“I wouldn’t have cared this once. It’s a half hour past when we said we’d meet her, Ashish, come on.” Feeling that familiar pulsing annoyance behind his eyes, like an ever present headache when Ashish was around, Rishi pulled on a light sweater and stepped out from behind the closet door. “All right, let’s go.”
They walked downstairs, Ashish weirdly distracted. He kept looking at Rishi, but when Rishi looked at him, he’d look away quickly. “What?” Rishi asked finally, trying not to snap. “Why do you keep doing that?”
Ashish raised his eyebrows, that perpetual defensive set to his jaw slightly deepening. “Doing what? What am I doing wrong now? Breathing too slow? Blinking too fast?”