On Valentines Day, the smoke alarm wakes me up. When I run into the main room, I see Lin at the stove weaponing his oven mitt against the smoke. He's wearing his cow-print chef hat. On the counter next to him is a platter of charred, black heart-shaped pancakes. When Vanessa runs into the kitchen to check if there's a fire, Lin explains that this is the upshot of breakfast in bed gone wrong. I watch with my hands over my ears as she kisses him and gets all teary-eyed. I don't know if she's crying because of the smoke in her eyes, or because her heart's desire can't cook.
After the three of us whip the smoke out the window with towels from the bathroom, Lin goes out to buy us a non-flammable breakfast. He returns fifteen minutes later with a box of heart-shaped donuts from the bakery down the street. I slump at the table and pick at the sprinkles in the pink frosting. Lin sits across from me. His bed-head makes him look like he was electrocuted. His shirt has black splotches from the smoke. "What's on your mind, you lovely girl?"
Sebastian sits next to him and eats his donut with a fork. It feels like a fork ripped bloody stripes down my throat. He waits for an answer and I stare right back. There is nothing lovely about me.
Before I leave for school I mehndi my ankles and re-mehndi my right arm. Vanessa kisses my cheek when I walk out the door. In english, Ms. Rishanki makes us write haikus about love for our journal assignment. Mr. Gowda gives us a sugar-coated version of The Talk and throws Hershey kisses on the Bunsen Burner. My math teacher is absent. We have a substitute teacher who lost his hearing during the cretaceous period. A group of Precious Baby Bitches writes a list of Valentines Day puns on the board while the substitute naps at his desk.
Unhook your Alge-BRA
Gee-om-etr-acted to you
calcu-lust
Oh, the humanity.
Sixth period. Lunch. Everywhere I look in the hallway, there are hands being held and tongue muscles being worked. I plan to eat my heart-shaped hamburgers in a bathroom stall, but Gracie flags me down at my locker and drags me to the cafeteria with her. I try to break free, but she digs her nails into my arm and pulls me through the crowd. I bump into a girl who's mid-makeout with a pimply wasteoid and give her the finger when she turns to glare at me.
Gracie leads me to a table in the corner and introduces me to three pale, zitty faces. Matthew, Olivia, and Jade: The Guys From The Newspaper Club. I almost whip out my notebook and ask for their autographs. I bet they sign their names in Times New Roman.
The Guys From The Newspaper Club. They're snobby. They're Precious. Their parents pack their lunches for them. I can tell by the way each food group is separated by the partitions of their metal Tupperware. They each have matching insulated lunch bags: a proud testament to aristocracy. Gracie brings her lunch in a brown paper bag. I buy school lunch.
Gracie gestures to me when she sits. "This is Vidya. Is it okay if she sits with us?"
She doesn't wait for an answer before pulling me down on the seat next to her. If Matthew tried to be discreet in giving me a once over through his fishbowl glasses, he failed. "Whatever."
I unwrap my oatmeal raisin cookie while Gracie forks pasta from her thermos. From the moment we sit, it's clear that The Guys From The Newspaper Club have established their clan and want nothing to do with us. They're bonded together from three years of copying and pasting and knowing MLA format by heart. Gracie doesn't get the hint. She talks like she's one of them: books, libraries, staplers, New York Times. She reminds me of Lin, in a way. They share a mutual interest in not shutting up and making me want to bash my brains out. They should grab lunch sometime.
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SHOUT - Adopted by Lin Manuel Miranda
Fanfiction"Sometimes I think the universe sets certain people out into the world like gifts meant for others, people whose purpose is to save someone else. That's how I think of families. And if the universe couldn't do me that favor, couldn't put someone on...
