66. Chapter 2
“What did you do?” a deep voice asked from behind her.
She turned, startled. Not Rahul Gupta. Tall, lanky, blazer too neat for someone at this godforsaken school and a face too handsome.
Preppy, opinionated and annoying. The guy who'd always correct her grammar in front of the class. The guy who always had a perfect score in maths and was the ICT teacher’s favourite.
He had all the support from adoring doctor parents who gave him the freedom to pick what he wanted to do in life.
She had a massive crush on him until he opened his mouth and proved himself to be an entitled little shit when he asked her if she was wearing her baby clothes. It was a fucking crop top.
Why him?
“What do you care?” she snarled back.
He raised a thick eyebrow. “Because you’re hiding under the bleachers and moaning like a tragic heroine.”
“Fuck off, Paki.”
The words burst out of her like reflex. Too late to withdraw them.
Silence. His jaw clenched, and his light brown eyes hardened.
“First of all, I’m a UK citizen , born and brought up here”, he ground out through gritted teeth.” And second, if you’re going to insult me, at least get your racist slurs right. I’m Indian origin. Not a Pakistani. Geography was never one of your stronger subjects anyway.”
She swallowed, shame slicing through her. Her hands curled into fists.
“Fine. Sort it out yourself. I have better things to do anyway”, he flung at her before turning to walk off, his bag slung over his shoulder.
“Wait.”
She hesitated .
The cold from the metal bleacher behind her seeped through her hoodie and into her skin, but it wasn’t why she was shivering.
Then, in barely a whisper, she said, “He took a picture of me. After... you know. Jack did.”
For once, Rahul didn’t say a word. Not an ‘I told you so’ nor a raised insufferable eyebrow- the way he always did when she screwed something up in class.
He just stood there, listening.
Lule let out a breath. Her throat felt dry.
“I’d been seeing him,” she added, her voice barely audible over the wind slicing between the bleacher bars. “He wanted to keep it secret.”
She looked up vulnerable, almost bracing for a smirk, a quip - Of course he did.
But Rahul’s face stayed impassive.
So, she looked away again.
“We had sex.”
Still nothing from him.
“And last week,” she continued, forcing each word out, “he took a photo. I didn’t know he was going to. He didn’t ask. He just… did it.”
She swallowed.
“And then I heard about those girls. Doreen. Gillian. Sandra. I didn’t want to believe it at first, but…”
Her voice cracked.
“Have you seen them?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Rahul shifted his weight. Hesitated .
Then, he said quietly, his hands in his pockets “Yeah. Everyone has.”
Her lip wobbled, and she turned away fully now, arms crossed tightly over her chest, fists balled in the sleeves of her hoodie. Her heart was hammering. Her shame felt volcanic.
Aria. How will Aria bear it? After all she was going through to make sure she had everything she needed?
After a pause, she asked, her voice small as if steeling herself-
“Have you seen mine?”
There was silence.
Then she looked up, and Rahul was watching her with a strange expression. His full lips were compressed in a thin line.
There was something unwavering in that expression and yet, impossible to read.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
He didn’t soften the blow with empty comfort.
“But,” he added, “I guess it’s a matter of time. Jack can be a nasty little shite .”
Lule blinked fast, like that would stop the waterworks that threatened.
But he looked at her as if to say he wasn't going to let her spiral alone. He looked around, then said, “Come with me.”
They caught the bus to his house-a beautiful detached four bedroom with a neat garden, nicer than anywhere she’d ever been. His mum opened the door and hid her surprise at seeing her very well.
She was in a soft jumper, her hair tied back in a messy ponytail, a tea towel flung over one shoulder. Her eyes flicked from Rahul to Lule - eyebrows rising just a bit - and then she smiled like this was the most natural thing in the world.
After the initial interrogation…no, introduction, his mom got right to the point .
“Is this that girl who beat you at maths last year?” she beamed.
“Mum,” Rahul groaned, closing his eyes.
“Don’t Mum me,” she said cheerfully. “I remember what a grump you were, raging and playing that stupid game…what was it called? Assassin’s something. He came home sulking. Mumbled something like, ‘She used geometry like a knife and stabbed my pride.’”
Lule snorted. “Sounds about right. He is a drama queen at school as well. And a sore loser.”
“Smart and pretty,” his mum mused, folding her arms. “So… do you have a boyfriend?”
Rahul practically choked. “Mum!”
“What? I’m just asking. You never bring anyone home. I assumed…well, your dad and I, we didn’t know what to think…”
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Rahul said through gritted teeth, “I don’t need a girlfriend”.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Lule added quickly, half-amused, half-embarrassed.
His mum tilted her head. “Not yet, huh?”
“MOM”, Rahul groaned louder, dragging a hand down his face.
“Alright, alright.” She waved him off, turning to Lule with a wink. “Don’t worry, I’m only embarrassing him because he deserves it. Come in, sweetheart. You’re staying for tea.”
“I-” Lule blinked, awkward. “I didn’t want to impose-”
“Nonsense,” his mum said, already ushering her inside. “Any girl who can beat my son in maths is always welcome. Besides, you look like you could use a hot meal. Have you ever tried pokode ? Do you have an allergies? ”
And somehow, without quite knowing how she managed to be persuaded into forgetting about nude pictures and ruined lives for just a while, Lule found herself slipping off her shoes and stepping into warmth - into a house smelling of laundry, spices and love.
After an hour while a little lady with the kindest light brown eyes extracted her life story while Lule stuffed her gob and Rahul looked on with bemusement, they retreated to his room.
Of course it had LED lights, a triple-monitor setup, and shelves lined with sci-fi books and manga.
Lule stepped into his room and took it all in -the LED-lit desk setup, the shelves crammed with tech manuals and manga, the meticulously arranged Funko Pops, and the framed poster of Soul Eater above his bed.
She raised an eyebrow. “Wow. A whole shrine to emotionally repressed anime weirdos. Classy.”
Rahul didn’t even glance up from his desk. “Says the girl who works overtime to buy Lego.”
Lule opened her mouth, then shut it.
Touché.
“And don’t fucking touch anything. Sit there.”
She sank onto the edge of his bed, suddenly unsure what to do with her hands.
He pulled out cables, tapped at the keyboard while muttering to himself.
“Give me the phone once you get it. I’ll jailbreak it. And then the fun begins…”, he said, rubbing his hands.
“Wait. wait. What phone?”, Lule asked, completely at sea now.
“Jack’s phone, numbskull. Try to keep up”, replied Rahul, still engaged in whatever he was doing.
“How?” Lule asked, arms crossed, voice wary.
“You’ll sidle up to him. Joke, flirt a bit. Bat your eyelashes or something. Grab the phone when he’s distracted. ”
She frowned. “What phone?”
Rahul looked up from his keyboard, then leaned back in his chair, expression unreadable.
“Tell him to meet you somewhere,” he said smoothly. “His house, preferably. He mentioned during basketball last week that his parents are out of town.”
Lule raised an eyebrow. “You were listening?”
“I have ears,” Rahul said flatly. “Not my fault he shares personal logistics like the attention-hungry dirtbag he is.”
She smiled despite herself. “Fine. Let’s say I get him to agree. Then what? No way am I sleeping with that again. It’s like watching hair grow.”
“No, don’t. He will probably give you an STD. Once he lets you in,” Rahul continued, “act like your period just started. Dramatic style. Like Mariah Carey broke a nail and the world is going to end. Just in case he wants to get adventurous.”
Lule wrinkled her nose. “Ewwww.”
“Exactly,” he said, deadpan. “Make it awkward enough and he won’t try anything. You want horror stories. Say you bleed like a sacrificed goat. Ruined sheets. Leaked onto a classmate’s chair once. Whatever.”
She gave him a long look. “You’re disturbingly good at this.”
Rahul opened a drawer and pulled something out - an old Samsung, scratched but intact. He handed it to her. “Here. It’s been factory reset. Looks generic enough. You need to find a way to make the switch.”
She took the phone, staring at it like it was a bomb.
“I’ll meet you outside the house,” he added. “Once I’ve got the real one, leave the rest to me. ”
Lule nodded slowly. Her fingers tightened around the decoy. Her throat felt thick.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
Then her eyes welled up without warning -hot, angry tears gathering faster than she could blink them back. She looked away quickly, biting her cheek, but her breath hitched anyway. Silvery tears streaked unchecked down her pale cheeks.
She heard a sigh followed by a rough grumble.
“Shit.”
And then, in the most awkward, unscripted move of his life, he stood and pulled her into a stiff hug.
She froze.
Aria was the only one who ever hugged her, and even that had been ages ago. A half-hearted squeeze when the electricity got cut again. A tired pat on the back when Lule passed her GCSEs.
Rahul’s arms were tense, unsure. Her own hands dangled at her sides for a moment.
Then-slowly, like a drawbridge lowering-she relaxed into him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
They stood like that for a while. Her forehead against his chest. His chin resting lightly on the top of her head. She was tall-five foot nine-but he had just enough height on her that it worked.
“My mum does this,” Rahul muttered. “When I rage about politics or some ignorant idiot’s casual racism. Just... hugs me. It actually helps. So, this is not me trying anything with you.”
She didn’t say anything, just enjoying the feeling of being held.
“Purely platonic,” he added, clearing his throat.
Still, neither of them moved .
After a few more seconds, he exhaled and said softly, “Lule... it’s going to be fine.”
And he said it with such conviction that she believed it.