I want to feel that, I think as Pia throws back her head and wrinkles her nose in laughter at something one of the other girls says. How does she do it? How does she let go?
I scowl at the fence. Maybe girls like me aren’t made to be petal light and carefree. I’m the girl who cleans up after goats, who makes her own tea, who fixes machines these Revati girls will never touch. Or I was. Now I’m . . . what? Pretending to be one of them? Pretending the rest of my life never happened? For them, this whole world of horses and fine clothes and slick machines will never end. It’s all they’ve ever known, ever will know. But for me, one wrong tug and everything could come unraveled in my hands.
CHAPTER
.32
Dr. Lata sits me down in a plush chair facing her desk. She stands on the other side, fingers resting on its glass top. “I’m concerned, Ava.”
I keep quiet, waiting for her to continue.
She draws her hand across the touchpad on her desk, and the tablet screen beside her springs to life, full of what can only be my botched entry exam. She seats herself, stares at it, and sighs. “Your reading scores . . . well, I find them troubling for a girl of your age.”
I don’t disagree.
“And your mathematics scores are erratic.” She looks up. “I understand you leaving the trigonometry questions blank, but how is it you’ve mastered intermediate algebra, yet you’ve never learned geometry?”
“I . . .” I swallow, feeling sick. “I didn’t know. . . .”
Dr. Lata waves her hand in dismissal, mistaking my answer for sullen childishness. “Who was responsible for your education?”
“Miyole,” I say. “And me.”
“Miyole?” She glances over at my records on the screen. “Your aunt says you lived on a transport ship most of your life?”
I nod.
“Surely there was a certified instructor aboard?”
I shake my head.
“An instructor in training?”
I shake my head again.
“How did you learn even the basics, then? Addition? Multiplication? Someone must have taught you those.”
I open my mouth, then close it again, afraid if I begin to talk about my life on the Parastrata, I’ll have to talk about what ended it, too.
“Ava?”
“I don’t know,” I say. But I see the frustration building on her face and I hurry on. “I taught myself at first. And then Miyole showed me the symbols and gave me puzzles like the ones there.” I point to the screen.
“Ava, we want what’s best for you. You know that, right?”
“Yes, so missus.”
“For that reason, we’ll be keeping you with your social peers as much as possible, but assigning remedial academic coursework until you catch up.” Dr. Lata taps the touchpad, and my exam disappears.
Remedial. I don’t know what it means, but the way it drops from Dr. Lata’s mouth tells me it’s something bad. Trash. Burnoff. Me.
“Can’t you put me in a class with Miyole?” I say. “I can catch up there.”
“Ah.” Dr. Lata wipes an invisible dust mote from her desktop. She won’t look up at me. “Well, Miyole. That’s another matter.”
“What matter?”
“Miyole is . . .” She looks past me, out the window into the streaming Mumbai sunshine and the ships passing calmly over the city. She smiles. “We don’t have many students like Miyole.” Her smile drops. “I’m afraid it won’t be possible to place you in the same class.”
“But why not? I’m her . . . her . . .” I falter. Her what? Sister? Family? “Friend,” I finish lamely.
“Exactly,” Dr. Lata says. “Miyole’s education is a matter for her guardian—your aunt Soraya—and for me. You need to take some time to put yourself in order, Ava. Concentrate on your own education. Don’t worry so much about Miyole. She’ll be fine. More than fine.”
I leave Dr. Lata’s office, storm into the nearest bathroom, and kick open the stall doors to make sure they’re empty. I bury my face in my hands and scream. She’ll be fine, they say, when they know nothing about her except her skill in reading and figuring, nothing about the girl who used to fly her kite above the Gyre, who survived a hurricane with bloodied hands, who had to hide from the Marathi Wailers.
Suddenly, my crow chirps. I gasp and near drop it. I’ve forgotten it was on me, hidden in a clever, slim pocket sewn into my skirt at the hip.
I finally wrestle it open. “What?”
“Ava?” It’s Soraya. Her voice sounds wary, unsure. I can’t help thinking how Perpétue never would have sounded so. She understood me. She never would have sent me here to be humiliated.
“I wanted to tell you not to worry about waiting after school for Miyole,” Soraya says. “Dr. Lata called. They want her to stay after to take advanced placement tests, so I’m coming to meet with her instructors. I’ll take her home afterward.” Her voice glows with pleasure.
“Is that what Miyole wants?” My words come out near a growl.
“I’m sure it is. You can talk to her yourself if it makes you feel better.”
“Maybe I will.” I snap the crow shut before she can say anything more.
I stomp down to Miyole’s classroom, where I pace outside the door until the session ends, and a pack of smallgirls comes streaming out into the hall. Miyole catches sight of me.
“Ava!” Excitement bubbles in her voice.
“Miyole.” My anger melts a little.
“I’m learning Mandarin,” Miyole announces. “And Ms. Sarangapani says we’re going on a field trip to the bioelectronics labs at Bangalore later this year.”
“That’s great.” I smile and fix one of her braids what’s gone askew. “Soraya says they want to test you more after school. Is that what you want?”
“Oh, yes.” She’s practically hopping. “Dr. Lata said if my scores were good, I could take biochemical engineering with the older girls.”
“That’s wonderful. You want me to wait for you after?”
Miyole frowns, thinking. “Isn’t Soraya coming to get me?”
“Right so,” I say.
“You don’t need to wait, then. Soraya can take care of me.”
I step back. “Are you sure?”
Miyole nods. “I talked to her already. She says we can stop and I can try kulfi on the way back. I asked Vishva about it, and she says it’s this sweet thing, but it’s cold.” She’s so excited she near forgets to blink. “I’ve got to go. Vishva and Aziza said we get to build our own bird glider in biomimetics.”
I leave Revati Academy alone. The rail, with its mash of people and suffocating heat, feels less foreign and luxurious now. I’ve stopped looking out the window. Instead of riding it all the way up to Soraya’s house, I step off early at the Salt.