Page 30 of The Good, the Bad, and the Aunties

“Drive,” Abi barks at the chauffeur before we can even close the doors. It disturbs me that the chauffeur doesn’t even seem shocked. He even—I notice belatedly—turned the car around while we were talking to Rochelle so he didn’t have to back out of the driveway. The car zooms forward and I fall into Fourth Aunt’s lap. I scramble to an empty seat and clutch fearfully at the handhold as the car speeds onto the road. I twist in my seat and look out the rear window to see Rochelle and a group of people running after us, shouting.

Never mind my heart racing, it feels as though my entire body is vibrating with electricity. I stare, wide-eyed, at my family, all of whom are looking somewhat shaken. Poor Annabelle is going, “Holy crap, holy crap, hoooly crap!” like she’s stuck in a loop. My heart goes out to her. This is her first encounter with my mother and aunts.

Speaking of which, Ma and the aunties are quickly regaining their composure. As soon as we’re out on the main road, they lean back in their seats and each and every one of them focuses on smoothing down her hair. Well, I say smoothing down, but really they’re puffing it back up, because god forbidtheir exertions put a dent in their big, poofy hairstyles. Meanwhile, Abi is sitting up front and furiously typing on his phone. Okay, so I guess I’m going to have to be the one who brings up the obvious.

“What the hell was that?”

Ma and the aunties look up. Annabelle stops muttering “Holy crap.”

“What you talking, Meddy?” Ma says.

I flail my arms, the words refusing to come out for a moment because of the sheer ridiculousness. “You guys just—you assaulted a teenager!”

They all gape at me like I’ve just told them that they’ve each grown an extra head on their necks. After a beat, Big Aunt says, “What is this, assaulted? Like, salting something? Pouring salt on wound, that kind of saying?”

“No. Like, uh...” Damn it, what’s the proper definition of “assault”? “Like, attacked. Physically. You physically attacked a kid!”

There’s another shocked silence, then they all, as one, start cackling. Poor Annabelle shrinks away from them, terror written across her face. I do not blame her one bit.

“It’s not funny,” I call out, raising my voice to be heard over their laughter. “If we were in the States, she could press charges. I mean, I’m pretty sure we’d be arrested. I don’t know what the laws are here, but—”

“She’s not going to report it to the police,” Abi says from the front.

“How are you so sure?”

“Because of who she is.”

Ice prickles down my arms, making my skin break out ingooseflesh. “Right, because she’s the granddaughter of a mafia family who happens to be your bitter rival.”

“No, I told you before, there is no such thing as mafias or crime syndicates here,” Abi snorts. “We’re all law—”

“Law-abiding citizens, right,” I mutter. “Law-abiding citizens who don’t report anything to the police. Okay. I see.” I glare at Ma and the aunties. “Great, so you got lucky because the person you assaulted happened to be the grandchild of totally-not-mafia, so she won’t be reporting you to the police. But still, that was crazy, what you did. You could’ve hurt her.”

“Hah!” Big Aunt barks, slamming her palm down on the armrest, suddenly looking furious. “Then maybe it make her think twice next time about being so rude to her elders.”

Second Aunt, Ma, and Fourth Aunt all nod vehemently.

“She was bad egg, so bad,” Second Aunt agrees. Great, of course the one time Second Aunt agrees with Big Aunt, it’s over this. “She need to be taught lesson.”

“Yes, her parents do bad job raising her, you know,” Ma adds. “I always raise you to respect your elder, ya kan? Ya?” She glares at me.

“Um, well, yeah, but—”

“Let’s face it, she was a smug little shit who deserved taking down a peg or two,” Fourth Aunt says, with zero remorse.

“Fourth Aunt!”

Ma nods, because of course they are all in agreement right now. She turns to Annabelle, who looks like she’s wishing she could melt into the leather seats. “You listen, ya. Annabelle, you better not be friend with that girl. She is anak ngga benar.”

“Yes.” Big Aunt nods. “Not-right kid.”

“Not-right kid, exactly,” Second Aunt chimes in.

Annabelle nods quickly. “Yes, okay, Grandaunts. I won’t hang out with her anymore.”

They all glare at her a few moments more before Big Aunt sniffs and nods. Annabelle sags back into her seat. The poor, poor kid. When Ma and the aunties are sufficiently distracted by something else, I reach out and pat Annabelle’s arm. She gives me a terrified look, like: What the hell did you just get me involved in?!

“We need to drop Annabelle home first before going to Julia’s,” I call out to Abi. There is no way I’m letting us drag her into the dangers of Julia Child’s clutches. Ma and the aunties all nod in agreement.

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