Page 52 of Devil in Disguise
“They seem to dislike you,” Mrs. Banerjee said.
“You think?” Dyma said, and tried to laugh. “And I don’t even knowwhy.It’s like, as soon as my mom and I walked in, they decided we weren’t good enough. Because she doesn’t work at Microsoft, I guess, and she’s pregnant, and we’re from Idaho and basically nobody, and she isn’t married. Which is all true. She’s engaged, but I don’t see why it even matters. You don’t show people basic respect because they do everything the way you approve of, or because they’re rich, or you shouldn’t. You should be decent anyway, especially to somebody’smom. Would you want people who are richer than you to spit onyou?”She stopped, blew out a breath, and ran a hand through her hair. “I’m usually a whole lot more articulate than this. I have this whole impassioned-but-logical speech I want to make, but I’m just … I’m too mad. And I know you’ve already decided I can’t be Pavani’s roommate, but I wanted to tell you this anyway. That she was great, jumping in to help me. That sheisgreat. Please don’t be mad at her for trying to help me. It’s because she’s a good person.”
Pavani said, “How could I not help, when I’ve seen them bully other kids practically my wholelife,and I’ve never done anything about it?”
Mrs. Banerjee said, “So. You have a pregnant mother. And this is …” She looked Owen over.
Dyma said, “Owen Johnson.”
“Are you a … cowboy?” Mrs. Banerjee asked, with a quizzical look in her eye.
“No, ma’am,” Owen said, his hat literally in his hands, like the biggest, most polite cowhand there ever was. “I’m a rancher. And an NFL player. Sorry,” he told Dyma, “but whatever this is, this hiding thing, it’s gone on long enough.”
“NFL,” Mrs. Banerjee said.
“Mom.” Pavani sighed. “Youknowwhat the NFL is. American football. Seriously?” she asked Owen. “That’s why you aren’t a … full-time rancher? I thought, when Dyma said you didn’t live at the ranch all the time, and that she’d never been there …”
“That I was making it up,” Dyma said. “Yeah, well, I didn’t want to share about Owen, because it’s kind of … weird. It’s just ajob,but people act like it’s something completely out of normal experience, like they’re movie stars or something. Even though that’s just a job, too. Celebrity is bizarre. Especially since my mom’s marrying Harlan Kristiansen.” She might as well put it all out there. It was out there already, and how long would it take to percolate? At least amongst the alumni of the Bush School.
Pavani gave a little shriek. “HarlanKristiansen?”
Owen sighed and muttered, “Here we go. Thor.”
“Mom,” Pavani said excitedly. “You know who he is. The commercial where he’s walking out of the waves carrying the surfboard? That Dad always tries to turn off?”
“So you see,” Dyma said, “why I wanted to keep it quiet. He’s going to be my stepfather,and everybody’s going to be totally weird about it.”
“I do see,” Mrs. Banerjee said. “But you have this boyfriend.” She looked Owen over. It was like a job interview. An extremelyawkwardjob interview. “Who’s a professional athlete. Not exactly the way Pavani described you. I was expecting somebody more … subdued.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still a virgin,” Dyma said, because, again—here they were. “So there’s that.”
Mrs. Banerjee looked skeptical. Dyma could hardly blame her, considering Owen. She wasn’t sharing the “he doesn’t fit” thing, though. Not even for an escape from Mean Girl Hell.
“Yes, ma’am,” Owen said. “That’s true.” And shut his mouth like he wasn’t sharing, either.
“And your grades?” Mrs. Banerjee asked, apparently deciding to leave the ticklish subject of Dyma’s virginity behind. “Is that true, too?”
Dyma pulled her phone out of the pocket of her wrecked jeans, saying a silent prayer of thanksgiving that this exchange wasn’t happening, oh, a week from now, after midterm grades came out. She’d gotten her mom to take pictures of her high-school transcripts, just in case she needed them for this, as weird as that seemed, and now, she found the message and handed the phone over. “I’m also a vegetarian. Which is agoodthing in this context,” she told Owen, “so don’t say it. I guess I should be proving I’m a natural blonde, too, but I don’t carry around baby pictures, so you’ll have to take my word on that one for now.”
Silence as Mrs. Banerjee swiped. She took her time about it, but at last, she handed the phone back.
“And you want to share a room with Pavani,” she said.
“At this moment?” Dyma said, trying to control her voice. Trying to control herface.“More than life itself. You cannot imagine the depth of my desire not to go back there. I don’t know what they’ll do next, but whatever it is, I guarantee it’ll be horrible. If you let me move in, I’ll sleep on the floor until they can move a bed in. I’ll clean the bathroom every time. I’ll … I’ll participate in daily study sessions. I’ll promise to wear headphones at all times while listening to music. Whatever. I’m normally not much for begging and all that, but right now?” She took a breath, took Owen’s hand, and said it. “Please.”
23
Some More Fallout
Owen had wanted to leave.Just turn around and walk away. Or better yet,driveaway. All those times in all these weeks that she’d called him late, when she’d told him she was “hanging out with friends,” she’d been with other guys. Guys who were grabbing her, not knowing she had a boyfriend, because she hadn’t told them.
He had options. He had more than options. You could say the “options” were thick on the ground in every single bar after every single game. He didn’t need this.
He didn’t leave, though, because how could he, when Dyma was so messed up and still trying so hard? Or maybe there was another reason. In any case, he was still there when the girl’s mom said, “I’ll need to discuss this with Mr. Banerjee.”
“Maji,”the girl, Pavani, said imploringly.
The mother turned on her. “Not one word. Not one. If I weren’t such a modern woman, you’d be coming home with me tonight. We’ll see what your father has to say.”
