The First Life of Vikram Roy (Many Lives Series Book 3) Read Online Free Page B

Hard. Boys don't cry.  
    Leaning down, she pats me on my head. "Look at it this way. I am making sure you are house-trained. Someday some lucky girl is going to thank me for it!"
    Uh? What's she saying? Then it sinks in. What she's saying. Sort of. "Girl? Really, Mum," I groan, "I am never getting married." I screw up my face for emphasis.  
    "Wait till the hormones kick in, then we'll see." She sighs, before leaning down. She's going to try to kiss me. I duck, trying to get out of her way, but am not quick enough. She clutches me to her. A full-blown hug and I have no choice but to stay still as she ruffles my hair and kisses me. On both cheeks. I hold my body rigid. Shut my eyes. Then try to slip out of her grasp.  
    "Besides, you are the only woman in the world for me, after all," I say. Ha! I know she'll like that. I do mean it. Right now, she is the only woman in my life.
    "Oh! How sweet." Her cheeks go rosy, but this time I dance away before she goes in for a repeat performance of the kissing and hugging.
    "So, you'll buy me the new Gameboy then?" No harm asking.
    "You know how much your dad hates you playing with make-believe characters, right?"
    "Mum, they are not make-believe." I try to set her right. When she frowns, I rush in with, "Now, now, I don't want the prettiest woman in this world to frown. You are, you know, Mum … the most beautiful girl I have ever met."  
    "You charmer, you. When you want, you really can turn it on fully, can't you?" Mum smiles, but I can tell she is really pleased with the compliment. "Okay then."
    "Yay!" I hug Vishal and lift him off his feet.
    "But don't tell your dad, okay?"  
    I nod, and on cue Dad yells again, "Are you going to stand all day gossiping or will one of you get the beer. We have some very thirsty men here."  
    "Your hair appointment, Mum," I remind her, and am pleased when she gasps in recollection and heads off to her room. "Remember your promise," I yell as she turns to leave.  
    "And you remember yours." She jabs a finger at the closed door to Seema's room.
    I know girls love to be flattered. But today I learnt that when you mean it and compliment them with sincerity it actually also feels good. And that turning on the charm will get me everywhere.  
    Mostly.

ELEVEN

ELEVEN

    I study at the American School in Breach Candy, where we play basketball, softball and football. Any sport other than cricket. So, my father's mission in life is to balance out this gap in my education by taking me to cricket matches. He is fanatical about the sport. Today, he's taking his old friend, Mark Ramesh, to a one-day match.
      Dad insists I accompany them. So here I am at a packed cricket stadium listening to an animated discussion involving sixes, fours and run-rate calculations in that weird vocabulary which avid cricketers all over the world specialise in. It's Boring with a capital B. I crunch my eyes and look into the distance. I'd rather be playing basketball. Or even babysitting Seema.  
    We are in the stands. The VIP area. All that means is that you get unlimited food and alcohol. There's still no air conditioning. So what's this "VIP" thing all about? And I'm stuck way, way above the ground. Too far away to unpick the details of what I am seeing. The players all look like little stick figures scattered around the ground randomly. I watch Dad's face as he stares intently at the field through his binoculars.  
    Then. Hey! The crowd cheers, forty-five thousand people spring to their feet as one.  
    What happened? What?
    Uh! Did we score a goal …? No, I mean a wicket. Did we get a wicket? No, we are batting and the batsman has just hit six runs? No, it's a four. Something. What the—? What is this stupid game? Too many rules. Just don't get it.  
    Dad thumps me on the back and pumps his fist in the air. He raises the flag and screams with the crowd. A wall of sound rams into me. I am swept up to my feet, carried along by the feverish excitement of the audience.