Rishi. Dimple hung her head, guilt and resentment jostling for space in her chest.
Something had changed. Ever since Celia had made that comment yesterday . . . but no, it had started before that. Things were fine when she and Rishi were just dating, when there were no boxes around their relationship. But the moment he’d asked for a commitment to try and make this work long-distance . . . something had shifted.
And now she’d lost Insomnia Con. There was no doubt about it—if they hadn’t been going out, she would’ve spent almost all of her free time working on her prototype. Tweaking it. Making it better. And maybe one of those tweaks would’ve sent her over the edge. Maybe she would’ve been so good that they couldn’t have ignored her, not even for Hari.
She picked up the phone and keyed in, No, have a headache. Napping instead.
! But Jenny Lindt will be in at noon. You could talk to her.
Jenny Lindt would be at the Spurlock building speaking with Hari et al. about their stupid winning idea. Dimple had no desire to meet her now, rank with defeat. Seeing the Aberzombies gloat would likely send her sailing off the edge, and she didn’t want murder on her conscience.
Nah, think I’ll skip. Talk to you later.
She hadn’t spoken to Rishi face-to-face since the results yesterday. He’d been good about giving her space, but she knew he was probably starting to wonder. Guilt clutched at her as she thought of his open, honest brown eyes. His sweet, goofy smile. His hands on her waist.
The truth was, maybe they’d come to the end of their path together. Maybe it was time to say good-bye.
Rishi watched Celia inhale another doughnut. Ashish reached across her and pulled a cruller onto his plate. How could they eat like that? Rishi’s own stomach felt like khishmish—a dry, desiccated, shriveled raisin.
They were at the cafeteria, as were pretty much all of the Insomnia Con participants, eating brunch before Hari, Evan, and Isabelle’s meeting with Jenny Lindt. Afterward, other people who wanted to speak with her could have a few minutes too. Rishi had been looking forward to it for Dimple, but now he wasn’t so sure. He patted a USB stick in his pocket, wondering if what he had planned was a good idea after all.
“Are you sure she’s just depressed about losing?” he asked for the eighteenth time.
Celia wiped pink icing off the corner of her mouth with a napkin, and Ashish’s eyebrows knit together sympathetically. This was something he could get used to—a brother who actually felt something for him other than dismissive exasperation. Celia put a hand on his. “I really think so,” she said. “She’s barely said a word to me, and I live with her. She’s taking it hard, but she’ll bounce back. You know how she is. This isn’t going to hold her back.”
From the far end of the cafeteria, they heard a whoop and then guffaws of laughter as Hari got on the cafeteria table, stripped off his shirt, and twirled it around. Evan clapped and cheered him on. Isabelle was nowhere to be seen.
“Idiots,” Celia muttered. “I can’t believe they won.”
“Me either.” Ashish reached out and squeezed her hand. After a moment, he turned to Rishi. “Bhaiyya, I feel like Dimple and I are pretty similar in some ways. So just give her some time. I think she probably needs to lick her wounds for a bit before she gets back up.”
Rishi nodded and took a sip of his tea. He could do that. And, in the meantime, he’d move forward with his plan.
CHAPTER 54
There was an almighty bang as the door opened. Dimple groaned under the covers. A moment later, she felt the bed shift as someone sat down.
“Dimple?” Celia’s voice behind her was soft but firm. “It’s time for you to get up now. We’re all worried.”
She opened her eyes a touch. It was gloomy in the room, either dusk or dawn. “What time is it?” she asked, her voice just a croak.
“Seven p.m. How long have you been napping? You missed lunch.”
Dimple turned over. Celia looked down at her, her hazel eyes worried. Her hair was held back by a cloth headband with sequins sewn in. “Couple of hours.”
Celia smoothed a curl off Dimple’s forehead, her face full of compassion. Dimple swallowed so she wouldn’t tear up. Taking a deep breath, Celia sat up straighter. “All right. It’s time to get up and get dressed. We’re going out.”
Dimple frowned. The thought of getting out of her warm, quiet room and into the buzzing, chaotic world sounded about as appealing as going salwar shopping with Mamma. “Why? Where?”
Celia cocked her head. “Why? Because you’ve become incapable of responding to my questions in more than little nubs of sentences. And where? To the Last Hoorah party.”
Dimple groaned and burrowed back into the covers. “No.”
There was silence for a moment, and she thought Celia was mad. But then her friend spoke in a quieter voice. “Is this about having lost Insomnia Con? Or something else?”
Dimple’s heart began to thud. “Like what?” she said after a pause, her eyes wide under the covers in the dark.
“I’ve noticed you haven’t been speaking to Rishi. Or about him. He’s noticed too, you know.” She said it without judgment, but Dimple’s chest constricted with that familiar guilt.
“Has he . . . what has he said?”
“He just wants to know what’s going on. He’s such a good guy, Dimple. He really cares about you. No, scratch that. He really loves you.”
Dimple took the covers off her face and looked at Celia. “I know he does.” And it was true; she did. The thing was just . . . she’d met him too early in her life. That was the cruelest of things. It wasn’t that Rishi was wrong for her. It was that he was too right.
Celia looked at her for a long moment and then nodded. “If you’re going to break his heart, do it now. Don’t stretch it out. It’s not fair to him.”
Dimple sighed. “I don’t know what I’m going to do yet.” Although that wasn’t quite true. She was pretty sure. She just didn’t have the courage and energy to admit it to herself yet.
Celia stood. “Well, I do,” she said. “You’re coming to the party with us.” She shrugged when Dimple made a face. “You may as well face him. Maybe it’ll help you make up your mind, move on from this weird limbo you’re in.”
Rishi hung up the phone and paced the floor, his heart jittering in his chest. He ran a hand through his hair and grinned. “Oh my gods.”
Ashish looked up from where he was reading one of Rishi’s old issues of Platinum Panic. “What?”
“Do you know who that was?” Rishi felt like his face was going to split in two, he was grinning so hard.
Ashish put the comic down and sat up slowly. “No . . . who?”