Moyurakhkhi's Cigarettes

8| Tang and Biscuits

"I'm gonna shave my head," I said, slumping into my bed. 

Abbu just claimed that I was irresponsible, and that I didn't put any effort into my studies.

I wish I could find the right words. I wish I could explain how the guilt of not performing well suffocated me from within, even without their reminders of the sacrifices they made to put me through school. Or how the act of going to class and sitting through it killed me. Can dead people study at home? Probably not.

"No, khanki. There's more coping mechanisms than murdering your hair," Fizz said sullenly. She'd had a huge fight with Debasish but wouldn't tell me why, even though I usually had to listen to her complain about Deb whenever they had a fight.

"That's not my coping mechanism," I said. The fading pink streaks in my hair would disagree.

A mosquito sat intently sucking on my ankle for a while now. I smacked it with my palm.

A sudden soothing feeling washed over my ears - the horrible punk rock blaring from next door had stopped. "I didn't know I hated punk until now," Fizz said, and I nodded. "Anyways, I should go, my show's about to start."

Normally, we'd watch her favourite crime documentary together. But Abbu wasn't on speaking terms with Fizz's dad for the week, so I wasn't allowed to go downstairs. The family drama wasn't that serious. You know, fighting over ancestral land, threatening to murder each other, just that sort of thing. The fights had pissed Abbu off enough to keep him away from home most of the time.

The doorbell rang just as Fizz was about to open the door.

A guy in a black tee and cargo pants crouched on the floor with his back to us. A little girl with pigtails lay sprawled before him like a bearskin rug. On the floor. No fucks given.

"No, two," the guy said sternly. His voice was oddly familiar.

The little girl's cheeks puffed up like red-velvet cupcakes. "No, ten!"

"Final offer's five, take it or leave it," The voice tugged tighter at my memory as the kid, finally accepting the negotiation, heaved herself up.

"Five what?" I asked. The two faced us, and my pupils flared at recognition.

"Five chocolates...do I know you?" he asked. The same straight bangs that nearly hid his brows, the same skull tattoo on the nape of his neck.

Holy shit.

"Wait, you're the vitamin C girl," he said, observing me with long, intelligent eyes. As I nodded, a dry smile broke out across his face. "Nice to meet you again."

Fizz quirked an eyebrow, nudging me with her skinny hand, making my slack jaw pop back into place. "Same here," I squeaked. "Small world."

"I'm Kabbo, by the way."

"I'm Moyurakhkhi," I breathed, leaning on the doorframe for support. "This is my cousin Fauzia."

Shoving his hands into his cargo pant pockets, he gestured to the elevator. "So uh, there's an ad in there about tuition? My sister wants to join, if that's okay."

"I don't want to. He's making me, and he's giving me five chocolates a week for it." The little girl piped up, swinging an arm round and round like a Ferris wheel.

I smiled. "Of course. Why don't you come in? We'll work out the details."

I stepped aside to let them into the living room.

"Fizz, didn't you want some help getting you- packed up for uh- your trip back home?" I asked her, cringing inside.

"Yes, I did, and it absolutely can't wait so, um, we'll be right back," she said to Kabbo, who nodded, politely trying to hide how weirded out he was.