Bright Lines Read Online Free Page B

time without a thought to decency.
    Ella never let her mind wander to Charu’s body at nighttime, committed to being chaste. She pondered why, over and over. The word lesbian felt as foreign to her as the word sister . There were other kids in school who were more comfortable with being queer, and formed clubs and events that she seemed to get invited to. The idea of belonging to a group because a crush on Charu would “qualify” her as a member—that just wasn’t okay. It wasn’t like anyone else had ever caught her attention at school, and during those sleepless nights, Ella wondered if anyone ever would.
    Once during a game of Taboo, Charu’s clue was like you , and upon learning the word was adopted , Ella stormed off, not speaking to Charu until the next afternoon. She walked around with fists clenched, and developed a teeth-grinding habit that would last for years. Anwar attributed this behavior to a sedentary adolescent lifestyle and asked her to help him build the fence for the vegetable garden. This worked for a while; she was too exhausted at night to desire. But after the fence was built, the old insomnia persisted. It was Hashi who cured her, with lovers rock. The Guyanese hawker Rashaud Persaud had brought the reggae CD as a gift to Hashi during a salon visit. Finding no use for “such slow” music, Hashi passed it on to Ella, who listened to it every night till she left for college. She stopped seeing images in her dreams—she dreamt as though born blind.
     * * * 
    And now, seeing her cousin in her bedroom, Ella hesitated for a second before rapping on the window. Even though Ella had wrapped up her sophomore year at Cornell, met some good folks, she flushed with that same embarrassment.
    Charu’s face switched from seductress to sister. “Ella!” She hugged her cousin through the window.
    “Charu,” said Ella, lightly returning her hug. Charu hugged back tighter, and pulled Ella through the window into her bedroom.
    “Shit, I wasn’t expecting you !”
    “Who were you expecting?”
    “You’ll never guess who I’m dating.”
    “Who?” This takes the cake for shitty guessing games .
    “Malik. Can you believe it? After all these years?”
    Ella scanned her memory—Malik? Ah, Anwar’s intern. Same year in school as Charu. Skateboarder extraordinaire. Stupid bastard. “How’d that happen?”
    “He just offered to teach me how to skateboard. See?” Charu pointed to a scab on her knee. “Isn’t that awesome?”
    “Yeah, awesome.”
    “Should I wait in the nude? Should I wear this?” Charu grinned, holding up a lace teddy. “I made it.”
    “God, Charu, I don’t know about that stuff.” Ella grimaced at the lingerie. “Did you two . . .” She let the sentence fade. “Wait, you made that?”
    “No, we haven’t had sex yet. Maybe tonight’s the night. And yes, I’ve been hittin’ the sewing machine like crazy.”
    “It does look a little crazy in here,” said Ella, looking at the mess everywhere. Charu’s sewing machine was covered with lace and fabric swatches, paper patterns, pins, and spools of thread.
    “Well if they’d let me go to FIT, like I wanted, I wouldn’t be hoarding all this shit.”
    “I’m sure if you made more of a case—” Bullshit , thought Ella. While the Fashion Institute of Technology was Charu’s first-choice public school, Ella knew Charu blaming Anwar and Hashi was a load of crap. When it came down to it, Charu had chosen NYU and a pretty decent financial aid package because of the slightly higher probability that she would meet a straight guy.
    The unmistakable sound of a shaking tree interrupted Ella.
    “Shit, he’s here!”
    At the same moment, they heard Hashi’s militant footsteps approaching Charu’s room. Charu fumbled to turn on theoverhead-light switch, her signal to Malik that it was not safe to enter. The rustling of the branches stopped. Just as Charu yanked on a terry cloth bathrobe, Hashi turned the doorknob without