As Kismet Would Have It Read online

  “Thanks,” Ashish said, sitting. He smiled at her friends Rebecca and Courtney. And then stopped. His smile faded. What was he doing here? His heart was so not into this, it was on another continent entirely. Ashish suddenly felt like a total jackass.

  Dana put one hand on his. “Hey, are you okay?” Her blue eyes were soft and open, concerned. Her friends leaned in too.

  “Fine,” Ashish mumbled automatically. Then, as if his mouth had been charmed by an evil, sadistic magician, he found himself adding, “Actually, no, I’m not. I got dumped three months ago and last night I found out that she’s making it official with a guy whose parents actually looked at his red, scrunched-up newborn face and said, ‘You know what? This miniature human looks like a Thad Thibodeaux.’ Thad Thibodeaux. I met Thad once at a party, you know. For some reason known only to him, he likes to punctuate every sentence with a thumbs-up sign. And she chose him. Over me. So what does that say about me, exactly? I’m lower on the dating ladder than ‘Thumbs’ Thad Thibodeaux.

  “Oh, and let’s not forget that the reason Richmond’s spring basketball league has won any games these past few weeks hasn’t been because of me. It’s been in spite of me. I’ve been performing the same function as that chandelier in the student lounge that doesn’t work. I look pretty but I’m essentially useless. I’d have been more useful serving Gatorade than taking up space on the court. I’m seventeen, and I’m already past my prime.”

  Whooooaaaa. Ashish snapped his flapping mouth shut.

  Had he seriously, literally just said all that to Damn-Fine Dana and her friends? Ashish thought he should be more embarrassed, but could he really fall any lower? See exhibit A: playing like a JV basketball newb when he was supposed to be the prodigy captain. Or appendix B: being dumped for Thumbs-Up Thad. He’d already scraped the bottom of the barrel. No, scratch that. He hadn’t just scraped it, he was now curled up on its moldy bottom and preparing to take a very long, very soothing nap. Ashish Patel was beyond humiliation.

  But Dana didn’t move away with a nervous laugh like he expected. She took her hand off his and wrapped her arms around him instead. “Oh, you poor baby,” she crooned, kind of rocking him. Ashish only vaguely noticed her boobs pressed up against his arm. Meh, boobs, he thought, and then: Oh my God, what has Celia done to me?

  “Breakups are the worst,” Rebecca added, reaching over the table to pat his arm. The beads on her braids clicked together. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s totally her loss, Ash,” Courtney said, tossing her curly red hair. “You’re a hottie.”

  “Absolutely,” Dana said, letting go of him to take his chin in her hand. “You’re gorgeous.”

  Ashish smiled faintly and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I know. But thanks. I just feel really . . . off.”

  “Totally normal,” Dana said, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “But when you’re ready to get some revenge, you just let me know, okay?”

  Oh God. The pity in her eyes. He was a charity case. He was a storm-soaked puppy. Ashish sat up straighter and forced a laugh, which came out hollow and fake. “Ah, I’m fine. Really. And I need to get back to my friends.”

  With deliberate swagger, he pushed himself off the cafeteria bench and, throwing the best approximation of what Richmond Academy girls called the Ash Smolder their way, sauntered back to his friends.

  “So apparently, I was wrong,” Ashish said to them, smiling jauntily for Dana’s benefit, just in case she was still looking at him. “I can sink lower. I’ve broken through the bottom of the barrel to the quicksand below.”

  “Dude, what’re you talking about?” Elijah said.

  Oliver grinned. “She kissed you, my man. On the cheek, but still. That’s progress.”

  “Yeah, it was totally disgusting to watch, but I’m happy for you,” Pinky said, stepping up to grab her burrito. “Really.”

  “Believe me, it’s not what it looked like,” Ashish said, feeling bad about bursting their optimistic little bubbles.

  Once they all had their food, they sat at their usual table by the big window that overlooked the organic garden.

  “So what happened?” Pinky said, tearing off a big bite of her burrito. “You were supposed to ask her out.”

  “I tried,” Ashish said. A concrete wall of hot shame slammed into him as he recalled saying the words “past my prime” to three incredibly hot girls. What the hell? “I ended up telling her about Celia breaking up with me instead.” He said the rest quickly and quietly, needing to get it off his chest but also hoping the others wouldn’t hear. “And I might also have moaned about how much I suck at basketball and compared myself to a broken chandelier.”

  Elijah groaned, but Oliver silenced him with a glare.

  Ashish took an aggressively nonchalant bite of his sausage burrito, to show he didn’t care that he’d just embarrassed himself in front of three of the school’s cutest girls. A guy had to retain some self-respect, even if it was all bullshit.

  The burrito was Richmond Academy’s specialty spicy cardboard flavor. Awesome. “Wait.” Pinky gave him a funny look. “Were you in love with Celia or something?”

  Ashish looked slowly around the table at them all. “Uh. Yeah. And she didn’t feel the same way at all, so now I’m just some high school man-baby she can laugh about.” Oops. He hadn’t meant to say that last part. Talk about super-not-cool.

  Everyone was staring at him in silence, their eyes wide. Shocked that Ashish Patel, player extraordinaire, had been in love. And that he was now completely wrecked as a result. The pity on their faces was the freaking cherry on top of everything, a special prize, just in case he wasn’t feeling like enough of a loser already.

  Pushing his tray back, Ashish stood. “You know what? I . . . I’m going home.” And then he walked right out of the cafeteria, not even turning around when he heard his best friends call his name.

  Sweetie

  Sweetie held the shampoo bottle up to her mouth. It helped her get into the right headspace. In here she wasn’t just Sweetie, she was Sizzling Sweetie, Sexy Shower-Singing Sorceress. She liked alliteration, what could she say?

  “R-E-S-P-E-C-T!” she belted out.

  “Find out what it means to me!” Kayla, Suki, and Izzy shouted back.

  “R-E-S-P-E-C-T!” Sweetie sang again.

  “Gimme those Jujubes!” Izzy sang, at the same time that Kayla sang, “Open sesame!” and Suki sang, “Mayfair, pretty puh-lease!”

  They stopped suddenly, and then Kayla said, “Jujubes? Are you kidding me, Izzy?”

  “Oh, like ‘Open sesame’ is any better?” Suki retorted from her shower stall.

  “What about ‘Mayfair’?” Izzy said. “That doesn’t even make sense!”

  “Guys, guys,” Sweetie called. “It’s ‘Take care, TCB.’ ”

  “What?” the three girls chorused back.

  “What does that even mean?” Suki said.

  “Nothing, that’s what,” Kayla said. “If you ask me . . .”

  Sweetie knew the argument could go on forever, so she just launched into the “Sock it to me” stanza. The others fell quiet, listening.

  This was how they were, their postpractice showers. The other girls on the team didn’t even say anything; they enjoyed it when Sweetie began to sing.

  She shimmied in the shower, her round, robust voice echoing across the tile like a symphony of clear bells, bouncing off the glinting silver faucet and showerhead. When she was done, she bowed her head, letting the water rush over her, her arms held up high and triumphant.

  There was thunderous applause, just like every other time. Sweetie closed her eyes and smiled, enjoying this one moment when she felt supremely confident and unquestionably beautiful.

  Then as the last of the applause faded, she sighed, turned off the shower, and reached for her towel.

  * * *

  Out by her locker, Sweetie dried off and climbed into her clothes quickly. She didn’t even know why she was moving quickly. . . . It wasn’t l
ike Kayla, Suki, and Izzy would judge her. But Amma’s voice echoed in her head: Cover your legs and your arms. Until you lose weight, you shouldn’t wear sleeveless tops and shorts. If her mother felt that strongly about a sleeveless shirt, she could imagine what she’d say about Sweetie being naked in the girls’ locker room.

  “You slayed it, as usual!” Kayla called from her locker. Her deep-brown skin was flawless, her abdomen toned and her legs shapely. She didn’t rush to put on her clothes.

  “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.” Sweetie smiled, trying to shake off her thoughts. She’d kicked butt on the track today, beating her own best time on the 1600 meter run. She should be feeling nothing but happiness. My body is strong and does everything I want it to do, she told herself, repeating the mantra she’d always chanted silently after one of Amma’s “motivational” talks. I’m the fastest runner at Piedmont High School, and the second-fastest high school student in the state of California.

  It was true, too. Sweetie could leave anyone in the dust. There was a reason the local paper had called her the Piedmont Road Runner recently (but it had been a mistake to read the comments on the online article—those were full of people who couldn’t stop asking variants of the asinine question, How does she lug all of that around the track?). Coach was always telling her she could get a scholarship to pretty much any college if she kept it up.

  “Hoo, check this out!” Suki called from her locker. She’d thrown on a skirt and a top and was sitting on the bench, bent over her cell phone as usual, her straight black hair all wet.

  They gathered around her. It was a picture of a handsome guy in a basketball jersey on the sports page of the Times of Atherton, the local paper.

  “Ashish Patel at last weekend’s game,” Izzy said, leaning in. Her pale cheeks were flushed from the hot shower. “Yum-eeee.”

  “I heard he led Richmond to another victory,” Kayla said. “He’s their golden goose. Coach Stevens wants to poach him.”

  “Good luck with that,” Izzy scoffed. “His dad’s the CEO of Global Comm. His kind of money would never go to a school like Piedmont.”

  Sweetie laughed. “We’re not a hovel. But yeah, we’re definitely not the Ivy League incubator that Richmond is either.” She crossed her arms, frowning a little as she looked at Ashish’s picture. “Is it just me or does he look kinda sad to you guys?”

  Kayla, Izzy, and Suki just looked at her blankly.

  “What would he have to be sad about?” Kayla said. “The boy’s got everything.”

  Maybe on paper, Sweetie thought.

  “Why? Is your Sweetie Sense going off?” Suki said, laughing.

  Sweetie felt her cheeks get warm. She’d always been perceptive, prone to listening to her intuition about people. But Suki thought it was a bunch of crap, that Sweetie just believed what she wanted to believe. Who knew, maybe Suki was correct.

  “Yeah, you guys are probably right.” Slinging her bag over her shoulder, Sweetie said, “Hey, want to get some breakfast before class?”

  Suki put her phone away, and her friends all stood, laughing and talking about how Coach had seemed even more stressed out today than usual, chewing viciously on a wad of gum. Then she’d yelled at Andrea for not giving 110 percent and had almost choked on it.

  Sweetie kept one ear on the conversation, but her mind kept drifting back to the picture of Ashish Patel at his basketball game. What did a boy like that have to be sad about? Sweetie gave herself a mental shake. Come on, what do you care? It’s not like you’ll ever find out.

  Continue Reading…

  There's Something about Sweetie

  Sandhya Menon

  About the Author

  Sandhya Menon is the New York Times bestselling author of When Dimple Met Rishi; From Twinkle, with Love; and There’s Something about Sweetie. A full-time dog-servant and part-time writer, she makes her home in the foggy mountains of Colorado. Visit her online at sandhyamenon.com.

  Visit us at simonandschuster.com/teen

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  Simon Pulse

  Simon & Schuster, New York

  Also by Sandhya Menon

  When Dimple Met Rishi

  From Twinkle, with Love

  There’s Something about Sweetie

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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  First Simon Pulse eBook edition April 2019

  Text copyright © 2019 by Sandhya Kutty Falls

  Cover photograph copyright © 2019 by Meredith Jenks

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  Cover designed by Sarah Creech

  Interior designed by Mike Rosamilia

  ISBN 978-1-5344-5534-4 (eBook)

  ISBN 978-1-5344-4764-6 (Riveted eBook)