Dimple wasn’t fishing for compliments when she told Rishi that she’d been bullied by guys like those two jerks who’d walked by earlier. She was flat chested, insisted on wearing glasses and no makeup, refused to grow out her hair, and commonly occupied spaces—like Insomnia Con—that seemed to be implicitly reserved for men. Even when she was in elementary and middle school, she always chose computers as her choice of centers while all the other more popular girls seemed to cluster together in art or reading. All of that seemed to make the boys think there was something wrong with her. For a time people had assumed she was gay. Because, you know, maybe that made it, and her, safer.
But it wasn’t like that with Rishi. It was like he’d found a chink in her armor and had squeezed through, insisting with his easy laughter and his goofy jokes that she like him. That they become friends.
And were they? Dimple wondered, darting a quick glance at him. Were they really becoming friends?
“So you want to meet up later, talk about where you want to begin with the app concept?” Rishi asked, pulling her out of her internal cogitations.
“Um, yeah, sure.” Dimple scratched the back of her neck, feeling suddenly out of sorts. If Rishi wasn’t the enemy, did that mean she had to forgive Mamma? “Let’s meet at the pizza place again, and we can outline our plan of attack.”
Rishi smiled at her, excited, his eyes shining. And Dimple was put out to realize she didn’t exactly hate the thought of spending more time with him.
CHAPTER 13
Celia was sprawled diagonally across her bed in their dorm room, texting someone on her phone. She glanced up when Dimple walked in. “Heeey. There you are. Feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”
Dimple felt her guard go up, that unbreachable wall laid with bricks of cynicism and aloofness that kept people at bay. Celia hadn’t exactly done anything. She was just becoming friends with people Dimple had spent her entire life alternately avoiding and being made fun of by.
But Celia wasn’t culpable, she reminded herself. So far, she had been nothing but unfailingly nice. She couldn’t help it if she’d been assigned to the goateed boy any more than Dimple could help being assigned to Rishi. “Hey.” She set her bag down and flopped down on her bed, sighing in contentment at just being there.
Celia set her phone facedown on the bed and sat up, crossing her legs. “Soooo,” she said, and Dimple heard the eyebrow waggle in her voice, “I saw you got paired up with Rishi.”
Dimple picked up the pillow and dropped it on her face. “Yeah,” she said in a muffled voice. “He requested me when he applied.”
Celia laughed merrily. “That’s so cute! So, how is that going? Did he ask you to marry him again? Give you any other family heirlooms?”
Dimple groaned and pulled the pillow off her face. Rolling to her side, she propped her head up with a hand. “No, thank God. We had a chat, and I think he gets that I’m just not interested. He was actually kind of cool about it. We ended up having fun on our scavenger hunt.” She held up a hand at Celia’s gleaming eyes. “As friends . We had fun as friends. So I think we’ll be okay working together.”
Celia waved a hand. “Eh, work today, bone tomorrow.”
“Gross!” Dimple threw her pillow at her, and, laughing, Celia tossed it back. “So . . . how is your partner? I saw you got paired with one of the grotties.”
Celia raised an eyebrow. “You mean ‘hotties’?”
“What did I say?” Dimple asked, feigning confusion.
Celia shook her head. “Anyway, yeah, I did. His name’s Evan. The other hottie is his friend Hari, and the girl is, like, a friend of theirs from high school who also happens to be Evan’s third cousin or something. Her name’s Isabelle. She and Hari are partners. They’ve all known each other since kindergarten.” She smiled and leaned forward, playing with the edge of her bell-sleeved peasant top. “They’re so cool. I knew people like them in high school, but it was different then, you know? I never really . . .” She made a gesture with her hands like she was putting two blocks together. “Fit in. But I feel like it’ll be different with these guys. They seem to get a lot of things about private school and growing up in Nob Hill with insane parents. And apparently Isabelle is, like, one-sixteenth Dominican or something. Which is cool, because I think I told you, right, my dad’s Dominican?”
“Yeah . . . cool,” Dimple said faintly, mostly because she didn’t know what else to say.
Celia cocked her head, buoyant curls scraping her bedspread. “That sounded less than enthusiastic.”
Dimple pushed her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “No, they just seemed sort of . . . superficial.” She couldn’t, wouldn’t , tell Celia about the comments the boys—she supposed Evan and Hari—had made. She didn’t know her that well, and she didn’t want any pity. It was bad enough that Rishi had heard.
“Oh, they’re not.” Celia said it quickly, in a rush, before Dimple had even finished her sentence. Her phone rang, interrupting their conversation, and she picked it up. “Hey, Isabelle!” she said cheerily. Dimple heard a high-pitched squawk and imagined Isabelle speed talking.
“Dinner sounds great!” Celia said. “What about Italian?” She listened for a minute. “No, that’s fine, we don’t have to do Italian. . . . What were you guys thinking?” Celia made a face at Isabelle’s response. “Elm? No, I’m just not crazy about their food. . . .” After a pause, she said in a hurry, “No, no, that’s totally fine! I think I was just having an off day when I went there last time. I’m sure I’ll find something good tonight.” Celia listened some more and then laughed, the sound pressured and fake. “Okay, see you then. Bye!” She hung up and looked at Dimple, forcing a smile. “Look, I’m having dinner with them. Why don’t you come? Get to know them.” Seeing Dimple’s expression, she added, “Bring Rishi, too. Then at least there’ll be two people you know there.”
Dimple sighed. On one hand she had no desire to see those people again outside of class. On the other hand Celia would be there, and Rishi, if he wanted to come. Maybe she could put this whole thing to bed and Evan and Hari wouldn’t bother her again if they knew she was with Celia. They could all just forget about the stupid comment they’d made and move on, no awkwardness necessary. Plus, she didn’t want Celia to think she was judging her new friends without even giving them a chance. That’d make for an awkward six weeks living together.
“Okay,” she said finally. “Where are we going?”
“This place called Elm on Piazza Ave, about a ten-minute walk from here.” She itched her ear, and in a not completely believable way, added, “Their mac and cheese is supposed to be killer?”
“All right, I’ll be there. Do you want to walk together?”
Celia pulled a face and held up her phone. “Wish I could, babe. I have to run home really quick though. Apparently my grandma decided on a three-day surprise visit, and she flips if she doesn’t get to see me.” Celia stood and slung her bag onto her shoulder. She’d switched out her multicolored, patchwork-adorned backpack for a more demure taupe leather handbag. The interlocking C s glinted in the overhead lights. “But I’ll see you there at seven, okay?”
“Sounds good.” As the door thundered shut behind Celia, Dimple sat back and looked up at the ceiling. It was one stupid dinner, and then she’d be home free. No big deal. She reached over and grabbed her phone out of her bag. Max had made all the partners exchange phone numbers, so she had Rishi’s in her contacts already. For some reason, her palms were slightly sweaty as she texted.
Hey, it’s Dimple. Want to come to dinner with Celia’s new friends tonight instead of doing the pizza place? 7 pm.
Wait, the Aberzombies?
Dimple snorted, only slightly surprised that Rishi’s nickname nailed exactly what she felt about that group. Yeah, unfortunately. I promised to give them a chance, though. It’s at Elm, on Piazza.
Sure, I’ll be there. Pick you up or meet there?