This Changes Everything by Andaleeb Wajid EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Andaleeb Wajid
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
‘You’ve got this,’ I tell myself as I look at my reflection in the mirror in my
bedroom. I look almost exactly like my own 12th grade Chemistry teacher,
Ms. Vasudev – prim, starched sari, a tight bun at the base of my head, and a
frown on my forehead.
A veritable nightmare.
A monster who can balance equations in her sleep.
I’m one fat mole-on-the-upper-lip away from being her twin.
Is this the impression I want to make on the kids?
Absolutely.
Kids are the worst. Class 11 kids especially think they’re the bee’s
knees. They no longer have the pressure of the 10th board exams, and
neither do they have to worry right away about the class 12 boards. They
think they’re suspended in some infinite dome of fun and games, and they
can worry about the board exams next year.
I think not.
I take a deep breath and straighten my spine. Any further, and it might
crack. I look perfect. The stuff of their impending nightmares.
There’s only one thing I’m not sure about, and that is the colour of this
sari. It’s light pink with a paisley pattern, and if I smile just a little bit, it
makes me look almost forgiving. But it’s too late to change out of it into
something more sedate, more Chemistry monster appropriate. The school
bus will be here in another twenty minutes, which barely gives me time to
wolf down my breakfast. I don’t want to be late for the first day of school
when the brats are back from their holidays.
I’m picking up my things, my phone, my wallet, and my keys –
dumping them into the voluminous handbag I carry with me to school when
my phone pings. I take it out and look at the message. It’s from Arham.
Surprised pleasure flows through me as I almost smile and tap it open to
read
Let’s meet this evening. At 6. Same place.
The smile doesn’t make an appearance on my face. He knows I start
school today. Or does he? Maybe he doesn’t. I can’t meet him for coffee at
6 in the UB City Mall, where we always meet. It would have to be later
than that. I get back home only by 5.30, and it’s going to be excruciatingly
exhausting because of first-day-at-school-shenanigans.
I don’t have time to send a message back to him. I’ll text him on the
bus, I tell myself as I ready my things.
‘Aloo! You’re getting late!’ Aliya calls out.
‘Thanks, Captain Obvious,’ I mutter as I rush outside to the dining room
just as Ammi places a plate of hot gobi parathas on the table. Steam is
wafting up in gentle curls, and I don’t have the time to wait till it cools
down. Ammi beams at me, and I belatedly realize she is expecting praise.
When Abbu passed away some years ago (ten years this August), Ammi
shifted her attention to us, mostly trying to feed us and keep us happy
through food. In return, she asked for very little. Just a lot of praise.
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