Chapter One The Predictable End to Meera the Good Girl #2
But the absolute worst repercussion of my short life of crime is that Mom’s brand-new husband (it feels weird to call Jason my stepfather) pulled some strings and arranged for me to complete my community service in the town where he (and now Mom) lives, Cherrybridge.
Away from Nani, away from my friends, and away from Toronto—where I’ve lived my whole life.
“I don’t understand why she’s forcing me to go to Cherrybridge,” I say, flopping onto the floral bedspread in the spare bedroom of my grandparents’ house, where I’ve been living since Mom’s wedding.
Nani is helping me pack up my stuff because Mom’s driving down from Cherrybridge to get me in the morning.
“She promised I could stay here in Toronto with you when she moved in with Jason.”
Nani lets out a soft sigh. “I know, Meera, but she’s your mother. She wants to keep you close so you won’t get into trouble again.” Nani folds a T-shirt and places it into my suitcase. “Don’t forget your sweaters and blouses.”
I get up and head to the closet. “I’m not going to get into trouble again!
I’ve learned my lesson now. The curse wins…
I’ll die single.” I take all my sweaters down from the shelf and start refolding them.
“You said if I dated before I turned seventeen, the curse would ruin my life. And I waited! Plus, I did all that research, and bought the necklace, and even learned mantras!” I sigh.
I didn’t break any rules. I took extra precautions.
Nani knew about my avoid-curse spreadsheet.
She even gave me some suggestions to add to it.
“I don’t know why it happened, sweetie. I thought you’d be fine too.
The curse always hits girls before they turn seventeen.
Your mother was sixteen when she got pregnant, I was sixteen when I tried to run away, your aunt—”
“I know the stories, Nani.” I’ve been hearing them my whole life.
The curse started when my great-great-grandmother, then a teenager, pulled a gun on her fiancé to try to escape her wedding. The dude’s uncle was a witch doctor, and he cursed her and all of her female descendants with “lifelong problems” if they were with a boy before they turned seventeen.
And the curse has been consistent. Nani apparently almost ran away with a clown when she was in high school (that’s not hyperbole—the guy was literally a clown with the circus), but Nani’s parents interjected and sent her to Nairobi, where she met Nanabapa.
And my mother’s disgrace was getting pregnant with me when she was sixteen and then being abandoned when the “sperm donor” booked a one-way ticket to India the day after she told him.
The only women in my extended family who’ve escaped the curse did so by waiting until they were seventeen before they went on a date—or even spoke to anyone they were romantically into.
“Maybe it was because you were born premature?” Nani wonders aloud. “Technically your seventeenth birthday should have been six weeks later.”
I groan, dropping the pink cardigan I was folding.
“So my entire life is ruined because of a cosmic technicality? I’m an honor student—I’m supposed to graduate valedictorian and get scholarships.
I’m not a juvenile delinquent.” I pause, worrying my lip.
“How am I going to get into the BEAD program now?”
I’ve known pretty much since I was thirteen that I want to be an architect one day, and have been planning to apply in grade twelve to an architecture mentorship program through the University of Toronto called BEAD, for “BIPOC Emerging Architects and Designers.” I’ll get paired with a real architecture student, go to lectures on campus, and do a real architecture project assessed by a professor before I even finish high school.
It’s pretty competitive, but to help my application stand out, this summer I was supposed to work for a local interior designer that my friend Adanna knows.
But now I’ll be in Cherrybridge.
Is there any point in applying to BEAD anymore, without relevant work experience? Or with a trespassing-and-mischief charge on my record?
“Your life isn’t ruined, sweetie,” Nani says, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to her. I sit and put my head on her shoulder, and immediately feel a little better. I’m going to miss seeing Nani every day. Why would Mom separate me from the only family member that really gets me?
“It’s one summer,” Nani says. “Yes, you will have more problems now because of the curse, but it’s nothing that hard work and guidance from your family can’t manage.
Look at me. My life wasn’t completely ruined because of my mistakes as a teenager.
And even your mother—she’s been so blessed!
She’s married to a successful man now and lives in a huge house.
We struggled because of the curse, but we’re not ruined. ”
I sit up straight. There’s a way to manage the curse? “What kind of guidance?”
Nani takes my hand. “If you want to date a boy again, get your mother’s approval first, no matter how old you are.
My parents approved of Nanabapa, just like we approved of Jason.
Be good—no more breaking rules. Don’t lie, and work hard too.
You’re the smartest, best-behaved girl this family has ever seen. You can get through this.”
I raise one eyebrow. “Even as a grown woman I’ll need my family’s approval to date?” Does my mother believe this? She’s always talking about women’s rights and feminism. Asking for permission was never Mom’s style.
Nani shakes her head. “This is to help you, sweetheart. Your family only wants the best for you.”
Mom certainly has a funny way of showing it. What’s best for me is to stay in the city with Nani and my friends.
I sigh. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not planning to date ever again. Getting into BEAD, then into the U of T architecture program, is all I care about.”
The door opens. It’s Nanabapa, and he doesn’t look happy, not that he ever does. “Why are you just sitting there? Meera, your mother will be here to pick you up in the morning. This room needs to be back to normal by then. Vacuum and dust, too.”
“I know. I will,” I say.
He’s still scowling. “I expected more of you, Meera. You’ve turned into your mother.” Nanabapa leaves, keeping the door wide open.
“That’s the most he’s spoken to me since Mom brought me back from court,” I say to Nani.
My grandfather can be strict, but for the most part he leaves me alone, so I’ve never minded living with him.
It’s worth it to be with Nani. I really don’t understand Nani and Nanabapa’s relationship, though. They’re nothing alike.
She smiles and pats my hand. “Don’t worry about him, sweetheart. Keep wearing your necklace and be good. I have no doubt in my heart that you’re going to accomplish all of your dreams, despite the curse.”
I put my head back onto Nani’s shoulder. I’m not as confident as she is, but I am determined. I am not going to let Gabe Bautista, my mother, or this evil curse get in my way.