Bhangra Babes (13 page)

“Yes, I would imagine they're always short of people,” Auntie-ji said, popping her glasses back in her handbag. “Now, shall we go to Jyoti Fashions?”

I sighed. Why was it that no one else could keep up with me?

“Why don't
you
volunteer?” I suggested.

“Me!” Auntie-ji's eyebrows shot upward. “But I never have a minute to spare. I'm far too busy.”

“Well, they always say if you want something done, ask a busy person to do it,” I reminded her.

“Yes …” Auntie-ji stared thoughtfully at the poster. “Maybe I'll pop in sometime for a chat.”

“Why don't you go right now?” I suggested ruthlessly. I pointed in the direction of Shepherd Road. “It's just there. We'll have a look in the shops around here.”

“Well, all right,” Auntie-ji agreed. “I won't be long. But don't bother going into Kareena's. The clothes in there are really outrageous.”

We watched her turn down Shepherd Road, and then we dived straight through the door of Kareena's.

“You know, Amber,” Jazz said grudgingly, “sometimes your ideas aren't half bad.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I'm on a roll at the moment, as you might have noticed.”

“Hi, girls,” said Lakshmi, the shop owner. She was tall and slim, with dyed red hair, a silver nose ring and Jimmy Choo shoes. “Long time no see.”

“We need some outfits for our aunt's wedding,” I explained. “Anything brown and sack-like is definitely off-limits.”

“And hurry,” Geena added.

However, Auntie-ji was a very long time. We'd all chosen our outfits by the time she peered through the shop window, looking for us. We'd even had time for a lengthy argument with Jazz about the revealing side splits in the skirt she'd chosen.

“Sorry I was so long, girls,” Auntie-ji panted. She was pink in the face with excitement. “There was so much to discuss.”

“So are you going to volunteer?” I asked eagerly.

Auntie-ji nodded. “I'm going to help with the mum and baby group on Monday afternoon. See how I get on.”

Geena and Jazz looked at me admiringly, and I felt very pleased with myself. I was sure that if Auntie-ji had something else to think about, she wouldnt interfere quite so much with the wedding. I was also sure that Auntie and Mr. Arora would be very grateful. Oh, why couldn't everyone be as clever as me?

“So you've chosen your outfits, then.” Auntie-ji noted the clothes we were carrying with slight disapproval.

“And for you?” Lakshmi hurried toward Auntie-ji

on her five-inch heels. “I have a lilac suit embroidered with gold that would suit you perfectly.”

“Oh!” Auntie-ji looked quite shocked as Lakshmi whisked the suit off a rail. “I never usually wear those kinds of colors.” She fingered the thin, silky material. “But it is lovely… .”

“Try it on,” urged Geena.

“Oh, all right.” Auntie-ji beamed at us. “No harm in living dangerously for once, is there, girls?”

Auntie-ji bought the lilac suit. Then she treated us to an eat-all-you-like lunch at the Curry Queen, at four pounds a head. Afterward we went home, where Auntie and Mr. Arora both looked pleased and relieved to hear that Auntie-ji had found something else to do other than interfere with their wedding. I also made sure that Auntie knew it was my idea. She thanked me, but she had something else to say too.

“Don't forget, Amber,” she said wisely, “the art of interfering is knowing exactly when to stop.”

Oh, why, why,
why
didn't I listen to her?

I
was rushing headlong toward disaster, but by the beginning of the following week, I hadn't realized it yet. In fact, things were still going swimmingly.

First, Rocky turned up at school on Monday morning, precisely one minute before the bell rang, with a face of the darkest thunder.

“Let me guess,” I said instantly. “Kiran was right and you were wrong about that bhangra track.”

Rocky flushed deep red. “I don't know how I made a mistake,” he muttered. “I must have been having an off day.”

“That's all right,” I told him. “I'm sure Kiran won't hold it against you if you apologize right away.”

“Apologize?”
Rocky gasped, as shocked as if I'd ordered him to kiss Mr. Grimwade.

“Well, yes,” I replied. “You
do
remember the deal?”

Rocky stared glumly at his expensive trainers (a different pair this time). “I'll do it later,” he mumbled. “There isn't time before the bell.”

“It only takes two seconds to say you're sorry.” I gave him a little push toward Kiran, who was sitting on the wall with a book. “Off you go.”

“I don't know how you're getting away with this, Amber,” Geena remarked as Rocky trudged off, “but all your ideas seem to be working splendidly.”

“At the moment,” Jazz added darkly.

“Well, she was bound to hit a lucky streak at some point,” Kim observed. “But it can't last forever.”

“You three can insult me all you like,” I said haughtily. “I'm not in this for the praise and glory. I just like helping people.”

“And you fancy Rocky,” Geena added. “That's a big incentive.”

We watched Rocky approach Kiran. I think he managed to force out an apology, but it took a great deal of effort. They chatted for a moment before the bell rang. Then they smiled at each other—actually
smiled
— before going their separate ways.

“Watch and learn from the queen of the good idea,” I told Geena, Jazz and Kim smugly as I strolled toward the lower-school entrance. Sadly, the effect was spoilt a little when I tripped over my trailing shoelace. They all sniggered as my nose headed straight toward the floor, but luckily someone caught my arm just before I made contact.

“It's OK, Amber,” said George with a grin. “You don't have to fall at my feet every time you see me.”

“Very amusing,” I said coldly, pulling myself free.

George cocked an eyebrow at me. “Thank you, George. Don't mention it, Amber.”

“I was just coming to that,” I snapped. “Thank you.”

George followed me into the lower school. Jazz and Kim hurried along behind us, ears flapping.

“When you get fed up with old Bighead,” George went on, “I'll still be here.”

“Bighead?” I repeated, pretending I didn't know whom he meant.

George roared with laughter while I stared crossly at him. “You know who. He's a loser.”

“I think not,” I said, as coolly as I could.

George shrugged. “Still trying to win the bet, then?”

I stopped dead, and Kim and Jazz thudded heavily into the back of me.

“How do you know about the bet?” I demanded.

George tapped me teasingly on the nose. “I have my ways,” he said with glee, and sauntered away.

“Right!” I snapped. “Only four people know about this bet. Me, Geena, Jazz and—”

I stared hard at Kim, who had gone crimson.

“I didn't think it was a secret,” she said, trying to sound assertive instead of guilty.

“It isn't.” I scowled. “But I expect a bit more loyalty from my friends.”

“If it's not a secret,” Kim replied, “then I haven't been disloyal.”

“There are different ways of being disloyal,” I countered.

“So was it a secret or wasn't it?”

Jazz groaned. “This conversation is killing me,” she muttered, wandering off toward the Year 8 classrooms.

“Look,” said Kim, “George asked me if you liked Rocky, so I told him about the bet. End of story.”

“That was a mistake,” I said crossly. “You should have kept your mouth shut.”

“Does it matter?” asked Kim as we walked into the classroom. “No one else knows.”

“Amber!” Chelsea Dixon screeched across the room. “Is it true that you, Geena and Jazz have made a bet to see which one of you Rocky Gill likes best?”

The whole class cheered as I blushed.

“My money's on you, Amber,” said Mr. Hernandez, who was engaged in his daily task of searching for the register.

“Is that true?” Kiran asked me as I sank into my chair and tried to make myself invisible.

“Oh, it's just a bit of fun,” I said in an offhand tone.

Kiran said no more. I didn't think anything of that at the time.

It only began to make sense later…

“I want a word with you, Ambajit Dhillon.” Jazz stomped across the playground toward me, fury radiating from every pore. “The whole of Year Eight is talking about our bet!”

“Our year too.” Geena flew toward me from the

opposite corner of the playground like an avenging fury. “Rocky must have heard about it by now. It's totally embarrassing.”

I pointed at Kim. “Blame Miss Blabbermouth here.”

Kim looked unconcerned. “Rocky already guessed what you were up to. I told you that before.”

“You can't know that for sure,” Geena retorted.

“I do,” Kim argued. “He always has a smug look on his face when he talks to you three.”

“Can I just suggest that you stop interfering in other people's business,” I said in a freezing tone.

“Ha!” Kim exclaimed scornfully. “That's a joke, coming from you.”

“I don't interfere,” I said. “I help people. That's the difference. See?”

I pointed across the playground. Rocky and Kiran were walking slowly toward the school. Their heads were close together, and they were having what looked like a very deep discussion.

“Like
that's
not going to end in tears,” Kim said in a doom-laden voice.

We ignored her and left to join Rocky and Kiran. They were arguing about music, but in a good-humored way. They were both laughing.

“Hey, girls.” Rocky gave us a slow, deliberate wink, which left me in no doubt at all that he knew about the bet. “Sorry, haven't got time to chat at the moment.”

“Why not?” demanded Jazz.

“Mr. Fowler wants volunteers to help him tidy the

music room,” Rocky replied. “So I asked Kiran to give me a hand.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said. “You two are giving up part of your lunch hour to help the head of the music department tidy up?”

Kiran grinned. “Not just that,” she said. “I reckon Rocky here thinks that if he gets in Mr. Fowler's good books, he might be asked to DJ at the next school disco!”

“Yeah, why not?” Rocky retorted. “I'm the best.” And the two of them started laughing again.

“I see,” I said. “Do you want any more help?”

“Nah, we're good, thanks.” Rocky raised a hand at us. “Catch you later.”

They went into the upper-school entrance, and we were left outside like starving urchins with our noses pressed up against a baker's window. It did not feel good to watch Kiran waltzing off with the best-looking boy in the school. I knew Rocky was only hanging out with her because it was part of the deal. But
still
…

“They seem to be getting on well,” I muttered sulkily.

“At least Rocky's keeping his part of the bargain,” Geena said, looking no better pleased herself.

“Yes, but how are we supposed to keep this bet going if he's spending all his time with Kiran?” Jazz wanted to know.

“Patience,” I replied. “This is only a temporary blip. We watch and we wait.”

So we watched and we waited. That week, things appeared to be going as wonderfully as even I could

have wished for. Kiran and Rocky met up whenever they could to talk about music, swap CDs, borrow each other's MP3 players and generally have what looked like a very good time of it. Kiran had started to look a lot more relaxed. And within a few days everyone in the school had started to notice that she and Rocky were becoming rather matey mates.

“So what's Kiran got that you, Jazz and Geena haven't?” asked Chelsea Dixon, quite offensively, on seeing Kiran and Rocky fooling around one break time.

“An in-depth knowledge of bhangra and hip-hop,” I retorted. “And that is all.”

“They look very cozy together,” observed Sharelle Alexander. “Are they in
love?”

I laughed long and hard. “Don't be ridiculous,” I said coolly. “They're just friends.”

And, of course, George Botley had to stick his oar in too, didn't he.

“Has Lover Boy found someone else, then, Amber?” he inquired with a grin. “Never mind. You've still got me.”

“Now why does that make me feel like slitting my throat?” I replied.

George laughed uproariously. “You can mock—” he began.

“Thanks, I will,” I broke in.

“But you'll see I'm right eventually,” George went on. “You'll soon get fed up with Rocky Gill. He's not your type.”

“And you are?” I asked with more than a touch of scorn.

“Yep.” George nodded. “Rocky's an idiot.”

I did not reply to that. Rocky was no idiot, but a tiny part of me—a teeny, weeny part—knew that otherwise George was absolutely right.

I mean, you couldn't expect someone as stunningly good-looking as Rocky to have a personality to match, could you? That would be totally unfair and against all the laws of nature.

Oh, Rocky was beautiful, yes indeed. But he wasn't exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Geena was in all the top sets in her year, and Rocky wasn't in
any
of her classes. He was nice enough. He just wasn't Mr. Charisma. He was very self-absorbed, in himself and in his music. That didn't make him a bad person. But it did make him a not-very-interesting one.