Part 5 (1/2)

”No, it's beautiful!” I crossed to a quilted and beaded art piece that looked like an umbrella, but there was no way you'd ever take it out in the rain. I ran my hand over its soft golden ta.s.sels. ”I love this.”

”Really?” a woman's voice called from the kitchen. ”I'm so glad! I got it on my last trip to see my mother in India and had to fight Lila tooth and nail to stop her from taking it back to school with her.”

The woman was a little shorter than me, with thick, straight black hair that fell all the way to her rear end. She wore jeans and a white cotton s.h.i.+rt with a bit of embroidery at the collar. It was simple, but on her it looked lovely and breezy. She wore no makeup, but her smile and eyes sparkled as if she found the whole world endlessly amusing.

”I'm Bina, Archer's mom,” she said in her slight British lilt. ”You must be Cara. I can't even tell you how happy I am to meet you; we've heard so much about you!”

”You have?” I asked.

”Of course! Come.” Bina took my arm. ”If you like the umbrella, you'll love this tapestry-it's from the same artisan. And these little dolls were made for Archer's father, Edward, by his grandfather, back in the Philippines.”

”Mom, Cara and I were actually going to go down to play Ping-Pong...”

”Of course! Of course! Go. I'll bring you some tea. Cara, do you drink Indian tea?”

”I don't know,” I said. ”I've never had it.”

”You'll like it,” Bina a.s.sured me. ”If you don't, I'm sure Archer will drink it. I'll get the phone, too, so you can ring your parents and tell them you're here. Unless you've already called...”

I could've lied and said I had, but I already liked Bina too much to do that. Truthfully, though, I hadn't intended to call my parents at all. As long as I was home by dinnertime, Mom and Karl knew I was okay and staying out of trouble. But Bina wanted me to call, so...

”h.e.l.lo?” my mom answered.

”Hi, Mom! It's me. I just wanted you to know I'm at my friend Archer's house-”

”Is everything okay?” Mom knew this wasn't our usual MO.

”It's fine. Bina-Archer's mom-just wanted to make sure you knew I was here.”

”She did?” Mom sounded both surprised and intrigued by this idea. ”Put her on for me, please.”

”Really?”

”Yes! If she's looking out for my daughter, the least I can do is say h.e.l.lo.”

”h.e.l.lo” would be fine, but I had a feeling Mom would say something far more mortifying than that. It was my own fault. I should've lied.

I handed the phone to Bina. ”She'd like to talk to you.”

Bina beamed and slipped back to the kitchen, but we could still hear every word. ”h.e.l.lo! It's so good to speak with you! Your daughter is just darling...”

I shot Archer a pained look.

”Ping-Pong?” he asked.

”Immediately.”

”Your mom's probably smart to check up on me,” Archer said as we trotted down to the bas.e.m.e.nt. ”My reputation precedes me. Especially when I have a paddle in my hand.”

”Bring it.”

Archer hadn't been lying about his Ping-Pong skills. He was good... almost as good as me and just as fiercely compet.i.tive. We played for two hours straight, pus.h.i.+ng each other with endless volleys that had us both running around the room, sweating and panting and gasping until I finally squeezed out match point on our tie-breaking third game in a row.

”You're a worthy foe, Cara Leonard,” Archer said. He took my hand for a postgame shake.

”As are you, Archer Jain.”

The shake was done. This would be the part where we'd let go of each other's hands.

But we didn't.

At least Archer didn't, and I wasn't going to pull away before he did.

Archer was only an inch or two taller than me, but his hand was much larger. It cradled mine. His palm felt soft against my skin.

My heart started to speed, and I hoped he couldn't feel it in my pulse. I was grateful we'd just played Ping-Pong, so my palms had a legitimate reason to be sweaty.

I smiled, but Archer didn't do the same. He looked serious. He looked ... nervous?

Was he getting ready to kiss me? What if my breath was horrible? What had I eaten for lunch? Oh G.o.d-pork rolls with mustard. So not okay. But that was hours ago. Didn't food-breath neutralize itself after a certain period of time? And what about my lips? I hadn't put on gloss since before school ended; what if they were too dry? I could purse them to check, but then Archer might guess what I was thinking. And if he did kiss me, what would I do with my tongue? I couldn't just shove it in his mouth, but if I kept it in my own, would he think I was a prude? Would he be able to tell I didn't know what I was doing?

I wished I had a mint.

I suddenly had to pee.

Really badly.

I considered ignoring it, but then I had a horrible image of me bouncing around to hold it in while Archer tried to kiss me.

This sucked.

I looked into Archer's eyes, filled with ... longing? Desire?

”I'll be right back,” I said.

Afterward, I desperately hoped we could pick up where we left off, but the mood was broken. Archer was back on his side of the Ping-Pong table, counting how many times he could bounce the ball on his paddle.

I had never in my life been so filled with self-loathing.

”It's six,” I said, glancing at my watch. ”I should go.”

”Okay,” he said.

That was it. ”Okay.” Clearly, any romantic feelings he might have had for me were wiped out forever. Stupid bladder.

Archer walked me to my car and held the door as I got in. ”Think maybe you could come back tomorrow?” he asked. ”We were really close ... I'd love another chance.”