Chapter 20
Riya was a few minutes late to lunch.
She’d been stopped in the hallway by Hana, the panicked president of the Techno Appreciation Society. Apparently, Hana had
forgotten to submit her club’s registration form, which meant it had been operating against school regulations.
“This may be a silly question,” Riya said, scanning the paperwork, “but what exactly do you do in the Techno Appreciation
Society?”
Hana blinked. “O-oh! Are—you’re asking me?”
“Yes . . . ?” Riya looked up. “You are the president, right?”
“I—yes! Yes, I am. I just didn’t think you—uh, you know, talked to people like that.”
Riya frowned. “Like what?”
“Like . . . so nice.”
A beat.
“I can be nice,” Riya said.
Hana looked horrified. “No—I didn’t mean it like that! You’re just usually so—like—focused. Intense. Like a hawk. With a clipboard.
But it’s cool! I respect it!”
Riya blinked, unsure if that was a compliment.
“We listen to techno,” Hana added hurriedly. “And electronica. And dance music. We’re scheduled to DJ the winter formal in December. And I’m helping with the Talent Show, too. So—please don’t disband us.”
Riya slipped the form into her Student Council folder. “Well, everything looks up to snuff. For all intents and purposes,
it’ll be like the registration form was always there.”
Hana’s eyes went wide. “Really? No punishment?”
“Just don’t make it a habit, please.”
Hana beamed. “Wow. This is the nicest conversation I’ve had all week. Come to our meetings sometime! You’d be surprised how
good techno is for stress.”
Riya watched her go, feeling strangely . . . lighter.
She’d almost forgotten what it was like. To actually be helpful.
By the time Riya finally made it to the cafeteria, she spotted Mel sitting in her usual seat—and beside her, Kian.
“What is happening?” Riya asked cautiously, sliding into the seat across from them.
This was not a duo she’d anticipated. Nor wanted. Mel and a love-cursed Kian felt like two tuning forks humming at the same
love-starved frequency. The thought of them feeding into each other’s energy made her stomach somersault—the same kind of
somersault her dad attempted last summer at her sisters’ urging, nearly dislocating his hip.
“Oh, Riya!” Mel beamed. “Kian’s been giving me tips on romance so I can finally talk to Andrew.”
“You told Kian about Andrew?”
“Hard not to notice,” Kian said. “The pining was practically audible.”
He nodded toward the soccer team’s table. Most boys glared back when they caught him looking; thanks to him, they’d lost their
groove during the district playoff match and lost. Andrew, however, became deeply absorbed in his lemonade.
Mel blushed.
“So now you’re some sort of a love coach?” Riya asked. “Do you even have the qualifications?”
“Technically? No,” Kian said proudly. “I’ve never dated before—mostly on account of people being afraid of me. But I am wildly in love.” He smiled at her, open and unflinching—even as Riya scowled.
“Aww!” Mel clutched her hands under her chin.
“Unbelievable.” Riya sighed and unwrapped her turkey sandwich.
“Oh, and get this!” Mel added. “Kian talked to Mr. Thakur and got my grade bumped up so I don’t have to bust my butt in Physics
anymore!”
Riya almost dropped her sandwich. “You did what?”
Kian pinkened. “It’s not a big deal. I just . . . explained a few things.”
“And now I don’t have to write that extra-credit essay!” Mel patted his shoulder like she was rewarding a puppy. “I’ve misunderstood
Kian. He’s a good one.”
Riya took a slow bite of her sandwich. Almost two weeks ago, Mel had been feeding her every terrible rumor about him. Now she was praising him like he was a rom-com lead with a heart of gold.
She didn’t know what startled her more: that Mel had changed her mind—or that Riya hadn’t corrected her.
When had Kian even found the time to do all that?
As Mel and Kian kept chatting, Riya drifted. Occasionally, she caught snippets: “What if you tried giving him, like, blue flowers that match his eyes? Trust me, you can tape them to his locker and leave
a note. Dudes love notes.”
She should tell Mel about the curse, she thought. Mel would forgive her; she was already cheering Kian on. But that was the
problem.
“Hey, Riya, are we still meeting after school today?” Kian’s voice pulled her back. His fingers were tapping a strange rhythm
against the table. Like he needed her to say yes. Like he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she said no.
“Huh?” Riya blinked. “Oh. Yeah.”
“Ohhh?” Mel fluttered her lashes. “A secret meeting? Sounds suspiciously like a date.”
“No! No. Just . . .” She scrambled for an excuse. She refused to let Mel think she and Kian were dating.
Kian had suggested they check out Underwood Books—some New Agey store that, yes, sold books, but also crystals, incense, and
according to their website, ethically sourced worry stones.
You said peris are secretive, right? What if they’re hiding in plain sight? Kian’d asked excitedly, trailing her through the hallway yesterday. The store hosted what they called a “magic book club” every Wednesday, and it was the only lead they hadn’t ruled out yet.
“We’re just . . . going to a bookstore,” Riya said.
Kian grinned. “Underwood Books—ever been?”
Mel’s eyes lit up. “I love that place! They give out free tea samples—and they have a bookstore cat! But I didn’t think that was your kind of scene,
RiRi.”
“It’s not. We just thought it might be . . . worth checking out.”
“They might have sheet music,” Kian added quickly. “I have an audition for Berklee coming up. I’m still figuring out what
to play.”
“Ugh, so romantic.” Mel clutched her heart. “Date night at the bookstore, looking through music—”
“Nope. Nothing romantic about it at all,” said Riya. “In fact, if you love it so much, you should come with us.”
Mel blinked. “Oh, I don’t want to ruin your time together. . . .”
Kian hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then he smiled—too wide. “If Riya wants you there, it’s fine by me.”
Mel smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.” But there was something about her tone that made Riya pause. Like Mel could see right
through her—or at least suspected there was more to this so-called bookstore date than either of them was saying.
Mel cleared her throat. “Okay. New topic! Talent Show. Are you performing, Kian? Since you play guitar and all?”
Kian slowly looked up. “. . . I don’t know. Last time I did a public performance it didn’t end well.”
“But Riya needs talent!” Mel grinned. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind this time.”
Riya wasn’t sure about that.
“I’ll think on it. . . .” Kian pursed his mouth. “Have you thought about performing at the Talent Show?”
“I play harp. Not exactly the most portable instrument.” Mel sighed. “Plus, Riya already asked, and I said no. I’ve got mad stage fright.”
“But harps are cool. You could play a song, dedicate it to Andrew.”
“Please refrain from giving Mel bad ideas,” said Riya flatly. “I’ll find more people to sign up.”
“But it’s not a bad idea. . . .” Mel whispered, her mind clearly working at warp speed. “A public declaration of love? The
spotlight, the drama, the romance?”
Riya bit back a groan.
“But . . . ugh, I’d be way too nervous!” Mel whined. “Even the thought makes me want to puke!”
“I get it. But,” Kian said gently, “the way I see it is this. If you feel there’s a spark, it’s probably not just you. He
might feel it, too. But you won’t know unless you say something.”
“I can’t!”
A quiet ache stirred in Riya. She didn’t know what it felt like to pine for someone, but she did know the fear that came with
needing something too much.
“Then you don’t have to,” she said. “You said it yourself. Love is scary. No one can force you into it. Not even you.”
“Ugh, but—but it’s scarier not to try!” Mel’s voice rose, eyes blazing. “Do you know how painful it is to be in a one-sided love? Especially when you know that you’d be perfect together, but they just don’t see it yet?”
Riya stared at her. There was a fire in Mel now, a determination she hadn’t seen before.
“I don’t know if I’ll use the Talent Show,” Mel went on. “But I will tell Andrew how I feel. I just need to try.”
“Attagirl,” said Kian, patting her back. His eyes met Riya’s. Warm and glittering.
A reluctant smile tugged at her mouth.
“Love really is terrifying.”