She won’t think anything’s wrong when she reads it—it’s just the sort of thing I’d do on a Saturday morning—but when I start the second note, the one I’ll leave under the statue of Shiva, the one Ma won’t find until much later, I have to swallow hard.
Ma will be shocked, tearful … and angry. She’ll know I’ve lied to her, but I bite my teeth together, fold the notes, and put them on the bed.
I yank on the stiff jeans and hoodie Uncle Neel sent last year and tie the laces on my blue sneakers. These clothes will be a good disguise, in case anyone comes looking for us. I take the piece of broken cup from my kurta and slip it into my pocket.
I weave the lamagaia feather back into my braid, collect everything I’ll need for my journey, and pile it all into my red bag.
I know Rohan and Roopa will cry when Ma tells them what I’ve done, but maybe they’ll be impressed as well—they want Papa back as much as I do. I swipe my eyes. “Look after each other and be good for Ma,” I say softly.
I stumble down to the dark kitchen, shining the flashlight ahead of me. The wooden door to the food cupboard scrapes as I open it. I flick a nervous glance over my shoulder, scooping a mango and two boiled eggs into my bag.
Even in this dusky light the statue of Shiva glows golden. I slide the second note under his foot. “Please, Lord Shiva,” I whisper, quickly pressing my palms together. “Bless my journey. Look after Ma and Rohan and Roopa.”
I pick up the matches and take them as well. We’ll have to light fires when we sleep outside, to keep all the wild animals away.
The thought of the mountain wilderness filled with wolves and ravenous tigers makes my skin tingle, sending a shot of fear searing through my body.
Leaving our house behind me, I run light-footed through the amber-smudged night toward Jeevan’s farm buildings, blood pounding loudly in my ears. Once I reach the crest of the hill, I hunker behind the row of shivering neem trees, just in case his papa’s arrived early.
I peer around the tree to check it’s all clear and cautiously trip the final few yards to the shed, but Jeevan’s already there, pacing backward and forward in front of the loaded cart.
“Everything OK?” I ask, trying to read his expression in the low light.
His forehead is creased with worry. He slides his eyes away from me, clasps his hands together, then blows the hair off his face.
I will my heart to slow down. “What’s the matter, Jeevan? Something has happened, hasn’t it?” My palms are sweaty and I’m afraid of what he’s about to say.
He begins quietly. “I’m really sorry. I’ve thought about it over and over again, but …”
“But what?”
“I can’t go with you.”
“What did you say?” The night air suddenly feels heavy and I find it hard to breathe.
“If anything happened to me, Ma wouldn’t know what to do.”
“I don’t understand, Jeevan. I thought you were my best friend … I thought you would do anything for me.”
He tries to put his arm around me but I push him away and storm outside.
My face is burning. “I don’t need you.” The words we both know aren’t true hang awkwardly in the midnight air.
“Y-you remember what happened to my brother.”
“Yes … you told me.” Jeevan’s younger brother caught a fever when he was five and the doctor didn’t get there in time. I know I should say something to make him feel better, but I just can’t.
“I can’t leave my ma like he did,” he says, hugging his arms around himself and leaning against the shed.
Neither of us speaks.
“How will my ma cope if anything happens to me?” I say in a loud whisper. “Then she won’t have Papa or me!” I remember her silence at supper and the way her tears were just a blink away. I turn my back on him, my throat aching from holding down a sob.
Then my anger explodes. “How dare you? You practically forced me to go to see the witch, you told me that I have to find Papa, and now … now at the last minute you’re leaving me to do it all by myself!” I swivel around and punch him in the arm, hard, then look at the ground to stop myself from crying.
“Ow! Stop it! Look, I’m sorry, Asha.” He holds me by the shoulders and tries to turn my face toward his. “Look at me.”
But I struggle out of his grip and stomp away.
I’m shaking now, unable to see anything but a watery veil, and I sense my heart forming a tight fist against anything that he might say to make himself feel better.
“I promise I’ll help your ma and look after Rohan and Roopa as if they were my own little brother and sister. I … I won’t let that Meena woman or her thugs anywhere near the farm.”
I keep my arms firmly crossed, refusing to speak.
“Maybe when we get to the market I could give you a signal to get away?”
I close my eyes and clasp my pendant. Nanijee, if you’re listening, help me to be strong, help me on this journey.
Jeevan searches in his bag and hands me a map.
I shove it away. “Don’t worry, I’ve got my own.” My voice trembles. “I measured everything carefully … I don’t need yours.”
“Oh … suit yourself, then.” He takes a few steps toward the path leading away from the sheds and turns as if to go, then twists around to face me. “Do you want it or not?”
I edge a little closer, peering at him from under my lashes, watching as he opens up the map under the nearly full moon. The paths are highlighted in different colors and there are
