PART I : FOUND
• chapter one •
The moment my father snapped my favorite paintbrush into two and told me to go and study instead of 'painting stupid pictures on that bloody canvas', I locked myself in the bathroom and cried because (a) there was nothing else to do and (b) my life was undeniably screwed up.
Screwed up in the sense that being at school was hell, and being at home was definitely hell.
No, I wasn't one of those popular girls who seemed to have everything on the surface but deep down had a story to tell; nor was I a total nerd who got bullied 24/7 and was suicidal. I was somewhere between these two — a normal seventeen-year-old girl, who had one ex-boyfriend and two best friends, and one brother whom I had labelled a lunatic.
Most of the time I didn't get along with my family. Yeah, there were some days when they actually felt like family, but usually they spent their time trying to ruin my life. Or at least, that's how it appeared.
The day I'd reached high school, dad had called me into his room and told me very clearly that I had three options:
1. Become a doctor
2. Become a lawyer
3. Fall into a ditch and die.
Sure, dad was really, really strict, but even I'd been pretty shocked when he'd said the last option.
In short, my situation could be narrowed down to two words:
Life. Sucked.
So when two weeks later it was announced in the school auditorium in front of everyone that my painting had won me an art scholarship to America, I jumped with joy (Literally. I jumped up and down on my bed till I fell down and twisted my ankle.) People applauded and some congratulated me (as in, six of my classmates). Sharon and Sana hugged me and told me they were proud of me.
As we made our way to the canteen to celebrate (instead of attending our physics class), Sharon said, with a hint of jealousy in her voice, "You're so lucky. I wish I could get a chance to escape, too."
"College will be your chance to escape," I reminded her.
We had always talked about escaping this little, miserable town of Dwarka, and going to some nice place someday where we could live life the way we wanted to. There was nothing here that interested us. There was just nothing to do, apart from trying to save yourself from the vagabonds, murderers, rapists and thieves that haunted the streets at night.
And lo! I had a chance to get away now.
We reached the canteen. Sharon took out her money and banged it on the counter. "Give us something edible," she said to the chef. She hated him.
"What do you mean by that?" the chef asked irritably.
I interrupted, "She means, give us anything that you haven't cooked yourself. Like bottled juice, and those sandwiches that you order from somewhere else." Our canteen was notorious for the horrible food, and the chef was notorious for his horrible attitude, and he put too much oil in everything. He scowled at us.
We took our food and walked to an empty table, which stood in full glare of the sun.
"Can't we go to a table that's less sunny?" I asked. I hated the Indian sun.
She rolled her eyes. "Okay, you choose the table. All of them are equally drenched in the sunlight. And our principal is so dumb, it never occurs to him that maybe he should build a shade here or something. I haven't seen a single school where students have their lunch in the open. It's pathetic. Anyway, we were talking about your scholarship. I'm gonna miss you."
"Thanks, really," I mumbled. I pulled out a chair and sat down. "At least someone's gonna miss me."
Sana shook her head. "God, you think no one loves you. You hate your life so much."
"I don't exactly hate my life. I just want a new beginning."
Sharon rolled her eyes again. She did that a lot. "You and your cliché lines." She unwrapped her sandwich. "If you really want to live a happy life, you should get a boyfriend."
"I don't think a boyfriend is a necessary requirement for happiness. Plus, no more heartbreak for me, please."
"Gosh! I remember you telling me after your breakup, 'Love might break your heart, but it's worth it.' You gonna eat that sandwich or not?"
I took a small bite. "I've changed my mind. No more boyfriends for me." I'd actually picked up that quote from Tumblr. My wall was a messy, painted graffiti of all the quotes I had wanted to live by. Some ideas and philosophies just speak to you, you know?
She started off again. "You can have any guy you want, with those amazing reddish hair, and beautiful blue eyes. You—"
I didn't let her finish. "If I'm really that pretty, why don't people talk to me or flirt with me or something?"
I already knew her answer.
"Well, I think you're pretty. Maybe the others don't. And you're American by birth. The rest of us are Indians. We get awkward around you guys. And you have red hair, which is very American. I think it would have been okay had you at least looked like us."
"These senseless teenagers." Someone had even referred to me as an Anglo-Indian once. On top of that, I was a Christian, while a majority of the students were Hindus. Apparently, not very compatible, even though I spoke fluent Hindi.
Sana laughed. "I'll try not to take that personally."
"But why?" I asked desperately. We'd had this conversation, like, a million times, and she always gave me the same answer when I asked why everyone felt awkward around me: 'I don't know, do I? I don't get awkward around you.'
And her answer never satisfied me.
"How would I know?" she asked rhetorically. "I don't get awkward around you. And you have to get a boyfriend now, Hazel. You're the only teenager in existence who has had just one boyfriend in her life. Gosh."
"Don't mention him," I said softly.
"What, you're still not over him?" She raised her eyebrows.
"The pain lessens, but it never leaves."
"Cliché bitch."
I glared at her, but she was smiling.
I still glared. "Ryan was the only person apart from you and Sana in this entire school who didn't get awkward around me and who paid attention to me, alright?" I fingered my locket, like I always did when I thought of him.
"Why did he break up with you, then?"
"Sharon, let it be," Sana warned.
"I've told you, Sharon," I said. "Long-distance relationships don't work. He had to go to Taiwan; there was nothing either of us could do about it."
"Come on, there is no such thing as distance when it comes to true love." She paused, then went back to the previous topic. "Honestly, you need to fall in love with someone. You're absolutely lonely. You have no friend other than me and Sana. You have MAJOR family issues. You obviously need a guy who will look after you and love you." She leaned forward. "And this could be your cliché 'new beginning'."
Then she sat back for effect, pulled out a cigarette, and put it between her lips. Before she could light it, I yanked it out of her mouth and threw it away. Cigarettes were strictly prohibited in the school, but somehow she managed to carry a whole pack in her pocket without anyone noticing. She glowered at me, so I said, "Stop your drama. I've told you a billion times that smoking causes cancer. And you promised me you'd quit smoking."
"What's your problem, Hazel? You are not the one getting cancer. And I'm eighteen, I can decide for myself."
I banged my hand on the flimsy plastic table. "That's the bloody point! Eighteen is not the age to start smoking. And I care about you, okay? You're my best friend, and I don't want you to get cancer."
She snorted. "And then you say your parents don't let you do what you want. Do you let me do what I want?"
"Smoking is harmful. Painting is not. I have a reason to be angry with them. You don't."
She stayed quiet. Then she said, "We were talking about boyfriends."
"Yeah." I took a breath and calmed down.
"Sharon, if you have the right to tell Hazel to start dating, then she has the right to tell you to quit smoking. Should we guys make a deal?" Sana proposed. "Hazel will date someone if Sharon quits smoking. We can check on each other over Skype. Deal?"
"Okay. Deal," we both said. She unscrewed the cap of the juice bottle and took a sip. "It would be hard to start school there, isn't it? I mean, joining right before the exams won't be easy."
"Uh-huh. In American schools," I started to say but then stopped because due to the sandwich in my mouth it sounded something like 'In Amefica scoof', so I swallowed and then continued, "New term begins in September. So there won't be any exams right now. And I will be joining the senior year right at the beginning. Which sucks. I'll have to repeat the first semester of twelfth year again."
Sharon laughed. "That sure sounds like fun."
∞
When the day of my departure finally came, I woke up at six, showered, dressed, and then sat down on my bed with a tomato sandwich in my hand. My parents were, as always, sleeping. They woke up unhurriedly at eight o' clock, then dressed and ate breakfast like today was a perfectly normal day, and finally when it was time to leave, they came to my room. It struck me just how less my parents could care about me sometimes. Dad said, "Samantha called. She said she'd be at the airport, waiting for you. She's wearing a blue plaid shirt."
"Okay," I said.
Samantha was the lady who was responsible for taking me to Louisville safely, as if the plane would crash if I went alone.
"Let's go, then," said mom. Dad helped me carry my suitcases to the car.
"You're not seriously going, are you?" Stan asked as he strapped himself to the passenger's seat with the seat belt. Mom had chosen to sit in the backseat with me, so that she could hug me as much as she wanted to. Even though I'd told Stan a million times that yes, I was going, he felt compelled to confirm his luck every few seconds.
IGI Airport was very crowded, but somehow I managed to locate a plump, blond girl, who was holding up a paper on which it was written in big, bold letters: HAZEL JONES. We all went to her. She had light brown eyes and a round-ish face, but she couldn't be called fat. She wore a blue plaid shirt, like dad had said, and she looked about twenty-five. Mom and dad shook hands with her, then she said, "Let's go, then. We've bought the tickets. I and Louis will be travelling with her."
A boy came up behind her. He was probably twenty. He wore nerdy glasses on his long face and black eyes. His black hair was swept to the side. As he was coming to Samantha, he stumbled slightly and his glasses slid down his nose. Cute. He pushed them up with his finger and said, "Hi, Hazel. I'm Louis." Then he turned to Samantha. "All's set."
"HAZEEEEELLLL!!!" someone called from behind me. I turned around and saw Sharon and Sana running toward me. They jumped on me and hugged me tightly.
"Hey, guys."
"We just came to say goodbye." They pulled away and greeted my parents, "Hello, uncle. Hello, aunty."
Indian kids have this very weird tradition of calling any and every person above the age of eighteen either uncle or aunty. You want to address your friend's dad? Call him uncle. You see an old lady? Call her aunty. A shopkeeper? Call him uncle.
I, however, addressed people as Mr. or Mrs. Whatever. Some people didn't like it, but I suppose they couldn't do anything about adamant Americans who refused to adopt Indian culture.
Anyways.
"Hi, Sharon, Sana," my parents said, and then moved away to give us some privacy.
"Have you downloaded Skype?" Sana asked me.
"Yup."
After that, there was nothing to say, which was weird for all three of us. We always had something to talk about. This awkward realization made me tear up. I blinked back my tears and hugged them again. "Bye, then," I muttered.
"Bye. I'll miss you," Sharon mumbled back.
"Drama queens," Stan provoked, but I ignored him.
I went to mom and dad and hugged them — even though I didn't want to hug dad, because any normal girl in my place who didn't hate her father would've done that — but I simply said a bye to Stan. "That's not right, Hazel. Hug him too," mom scolded.
"Nope," I replied.
"It's okay, mom. I don't want to hug her."
"Stop fighting, both of you, and hug each other. Right now."
I gave in. The smell of his overpowering deodorant filled my nose, and I had to hold my breath. "You smell like a raccoon died inside your shirt."
My friends laughed and then Samantha dragged me into the building.
∞
We went through various annoying security check-ups. When we finally boarded the plane, I squealed upon discovering that we had three first-class seats next to the window. Samantha told me that the window seat was for me.
"Thanks, Mrs.—" I started to say, but she interrupted, saying, "Sam. Just call me Sam, not Mrs. or Samantha or whatever, okay?"
I nodded and sat down. Louis sat next to me; Sam took the next seat.
I switched off the brand-new phone my parents had given me two days ago (Since you're going away for a long time, Hazel, we finally decided to give you a phone! mom had exclaimed), and then waited for the plane to take off.
It was shaky, like I was driving a hundred-year-old car on a hundred-year-old bumpy road. Then I had this weird sensation in my ears, like I was drowning, but the strange thing was that I was able to breathe easily.
This was the first time I was travelling by air.
I spent the rest of my time either looking out of the window or reading Wishful Thinking by Alexandra Bullen, one of my favorite novels. I'd already read it two times, but it never got boring for me, because it was the first novel I'd ever read. Mom had given it to me on my twelfth birthday, and I'd been like Eww, a novel! (I wasn't a big fan of reading at that age) but I'd loved it. And your first 'big fat book' always remains close to your heart.
The flight was a long one, and by the time we landed in Louisville International Airport, I couldn't keep my eyes open. This was normally my sleeping time, but here the sun was shining brightly. Though I'd tried to grab some sleep during the flight, each short nap had left me feeling even more tired.
Sam practically carried me everywhere. We walked into some corridors that were connected to the plane door, and that Sam told me were called jet bridges. We went through security check-ups again, and then went to the exit. Louis was carrying my bags for me, because I was too busy trying to grab some sleep. But when we reached the exit terminal, all of my sleep went away like a woman runs from a cockroach.
Waiting for us was a grand blue SUV. "Whoa," I said. "Is that for us?"
"Yup," Sam replied. I opened the door and got in, smiling. This was so damn cool. I ran my hands over the soft, luxurious leather seats and armrests, and smelled that new-car smell. Louis shoved my bags in the back and then got in with us.
As we drove, Sam kept pointing at things and telling me about them. "Okay, so we're driving down Dixie Highway right now. You have a really nice and charming little house in Hillview Drive. It's got two bedrooms. And you won't believe how amazing the bathroom is...." After that she started talking solely about the house and its oh-so-huge bathroom and pristine kitchen etc., so I decided to tune her out because I was feeling sleepy again and besides, I would see the house myself when I got there. So I rested my head against the cool window and conked out.
Barely five minutes had passed when I felt her shaking me. "Get up! We're here!"
I groaned. "Let me sleep."
She shook me again. "Dude, you can sleep on the super-soft bed in your house. Come on."
I reluctantly stepped out of the car. Hillview Drive was a lovely place, all clean and wide and full of sunlight which came from a sparkling-blue sky. Louis stood outside a house with my luggage, tapping his foot impatiently on the porch. He handed me the key.
"Are all the other scholarship winners going to stay here too? Like, in Hillview Drive."
"Yeah," he answered.
I turned the key in the lock and pushed open the door. My eyes widened in surprise. I hadn't expected the house to be so grand.
Off-white walls, wooden floor. Two orange couches stood in a corner, forming an 'L' shape, facing a large flat-screen TV on the wall. A table rested in front of them, and there was a flower-vase filled with orange lilies on a side-table. A fireplace was built into one of the walls, with a comfy-looking armchair in front of it.
I took a step inside. "It's...whoa."
"What was I trying to tell you?" Sam said.
Louis dragged in my bags and carried them inside. I followed him. There was this arch cut out from the wall of the living room, where a door should've been but wasn't. It led us to a short passageway. Louis walked to the end and pushed open a door. "This is your bedroom," he told me as we entered the room.
The bedroom also had wooden flooring, with a huge bed which looked super-soft. A plain white bed sheet had been spread on the bed, with fluffy, white pillows. Some soft orange throw pillows lay in front of them. "Um, does this house follow some orange-and-white theme?" I asked. "The living room is like this, too."
"Yeah. I think the theme looks good. The orange goes pretty well with the wooden flooring."
On the wall were large sliding windows which were letting in sunlight. A bookshelf hung on the wall. An orange linoleum study table stood in one corner, along with a chair in front of it. And the chair was...any guesses? White. Louis tucked my bags neatly under the table.
"You also have this small room which is absolutely full of art supplies. It's got everything you'll need for your art classes, which begin on Saturday," said Louis. We walked to the living room again.
"Okay, so we're going now," Sam said. "If you need anything, you can just call us. We saved our numbers in your phone while you were sleeping."
"And your school starts in two days, so you better catch up on your sleep," Louis added.
"And you have free Wi-Fi here. Which is damn cool," said Sam. "So...bye."
"Bye," I answered. "And thank you guys." They stepped out and shut the door behind them.
I was tempted to curl up on the soft orange couch and go to sleep, but I explored the rest of the place instead.
I first went to the small room Louis had mentioned, which contained my art supplies. It had shelves that covered the walls from top to bottom, and those shelves were full of brushes, all kinds of paints, sketch books, palettes— everything.
The kitchen was spacious and had white tiles, with an orange linoleum counter. A small, round and white table rested on the floor, with orange chairs surrounding it. I hoped that at least the bathroom didn't follow this ridiculous orange-and-white theme. I liked neutral colors better.
I opened a door in my bedroom which led me straight into a walk-in closet. The walls on either side were covered with cupboards. At the end of the closet was another door. I opened it and gasped. The bathroom was HUGE. I mean, it was nearly the size of the bedroom. A marble slab ran along one wall, and the washbasin was like a huge bowl resting on it, oval-shaped. Above that a large mirror covered the rest of the wall. Next to it was the shower cubicle, but the thing that interested me the most was the giant white bathtub in the middle of the bathroom. A ring of the floor-tile around the tub had been cut out, and it was filled with round grey stones. It was gorgeous.
The other bedroom was just like the first one, except it was smaller, had a small bed, and the bathroom was absolutely small.
After the excitement of exploring a new place had worn out, my eyes started drooping yet again from lack of sleep. Instead of walking back to my own bed, I just plopped down on this undersized bed and fell into a long, dreamless sleep.
It took me two days to get rid of the jet-lag, which were absolutely heaven. I spent hours reading novels in bubble baths, watching TV, sleeping, eating what I wanted, and painting.
The night before school, I turned off all the lights in my bedroom, leaving only my bed-side lamp on, which gave out too much light for me to fall asleep. So I opened my bags, pawing through my clothes, searching for the small toy lamp that I had bought six years ago after I couldn't sleep for a week because I'd watched some horror movie.
It was a peculiar thing, kind of shaped like a toy phone, and it had a plug at the back which could be inserted into a socket for recharging. It gave out a very girlish, pinkish glow, which was one of the reasons I was embarrassed to have it. Yellow would've been better, but pink ... well.
I pulled it out from the tangle of clothes, and checked the battery. It didn't look like it would survive the night without some help. I plugged it into a socket, turned on the switch, and turned off the bed-side lamp.
When I went back to my bags to zip them up, I found my locket lying on top of a balled-up t-shirt. I picked it up, smiling. Ryan had given it to me the day before he went to Taiwan, and broken up with me two minutes after that. It was a tiny red-colored heart, with 'I love you' written in silver on it. Inside, it had two pictures of us, laughing at some inside joke, and the other, eating ice-cream. Both of us had vanilla mustaches.
I put on the locket and closed the clasp behind my neck.
Getting under the sheets, I shut my eyes, worrying about how school was going to be tomorrow, not really hoping it would be awesome, just hoping I would make at least one friend.
∞