Bhangra Babes Read online

  “This might sound like a silly question,” I began, “but why are you so desperate to spy on kids eating their lunch?”

  “The Year Tens are in there,” Jazz replied, dusting off her black over-the-knee socks. “And Geena's somehow managed to nick a seat next to Rocky.”

  “What!”

  I pushed Jazz out of the way, grabbed the windowsill and hauled myself up. As I was about thirty centimeters taller than she was, I had a good view.

  Geena and Rocky were sitting at a table near the window, eating banoffee pie and custard. I couldn't hear anything, but I could tell that, in between bites, Geena was flirting relentlessly.

  “What are they doing?” Jazz asked as I let go of the sill.

  “Talking,” I replied. “And Geena's coming on pretty strong. Has the girl got no shame?”

  “It's so not fair,” grumbled Jazz. “Geena's in the same year as Rocky, so she's got a much better chance of getting to know him than we have. We should have given her a handicap before we made the bet.”

  “Like what?” I asked.

  “We could have made her wear an eye patch,” Jazz muttered bitterly.

  “I think you're all mad,” said Kim. “Why don't you just forget this stupid bet?”

  At that moment Rocky and Geena came out of the canteen, laughing together. They looked very, very cozy.

  “What's that noise?” Kim asked.

  “It's Jazz grinding her teeth,” I replied. “She does it sometimes when she's annoyed.”

  Geena spotted us and tried to steer Rocky in the opposite direction, but Jazz and I were having none of it. We hurried after them, sliding ahead to cut them off at the corner.

  “Oh, hello,” said Geena unconvincingly “I didn't notice you two.”

  “Obviously,” I replied, “or you wouldn't have walked off in the opposite direction.”

  “Sorry,” Geena sighed. “I'm so scatty these days. It must be the medication I'm taking. You know, for my terrible skin rash.”

  I tried very hard not to blush.

  “What skin rash?” asked Kim.

  “Well, amazingly, it's all gone!” Geena rolled up the sleeve of her white shirt. “See?”

  “Let's hope your little problem clears up just as quickly, Amber,” said Rocky solemnly.

  “My little problem?” I repeated, bewildered.

  “I know you don't like talking about it.” Rocky lowered his voice. “But when you've had it lanced, bring a cushion to school to sit on. It's the only way.”

  Kim and Jazz started giggling hysterically.

  “Geena,” I said in a dignified manner, “a word with you. In private.”

  We edged a discreet distance away.

  “Can I ask why you told Rocky I'd got a boil on my behind?” I demanded in a low voice.

  “For the same reason you told him I'd got a contagious skin disease on my arms and legs,” retorted Geena.

  “Oh, that,” I said dismissively “It was just a joke.”

  “Exactly,” Geena agreed. “And I was able to show him that it wasn't true. May I ask if you're going to do the same?”

  I glared at her. “Oh, that's funny.”

  “All's fair in love and war,” Geena reminded me. She glanced over my shoulder and frowned. “What is going on?”

  I turned to see Jazz and Rocky standing close together and gazing into each other's eyes. Of course, Geena and I galloped over there immediately.

  “Jazz says she's got something in her eye,” Kim said dryly. “I offered to take a look, but she said no.”

  “I think it's all right now.” Jazz peeped under her eyelashes at Rocky. She had one hand on his arm, the shameless hussy. “Thank you.”

  Geena and I were seriously annoyed. There was no saying what might have happened next if redheaded Karl Peterson, who was in Year 8, hadn't come over to us.

  “Mr. Arora wants to see you,” he said without preamble, “in his classroom right now.”

  “You heard him, Jazz,” I said. “Mr. Arora wants to see you.”

  “No, all of you,” Karl insisted. “Right now.”

  “Are you sure he said all of us?” asked Geena.

  “All of you,” Karl said. “Do you want me to write it down?”

  “Don't be cheeky, you lower-school scumbag,” Geena told him.

  Karl shrugged and sauntered off.

  “You'd better go, girls,” Rocky drawled. “Catch you later.”

  “I think you three are making a big mistake,” Kim said sternly as Rocky wandered away. “He's guessed what you're up to. And he thinks it's amusing.”

  “Oh, stop being so prim, Kim,” Geena exclaimed. “This is just a bit of fun.”

  “Of course it is,” I agreed as we went in search of Mr. Arora. “But really, Jazz! Pretending to have something in your eye. That's one of the oldest in the book.”

  “He fell for it, though,” Jazz said with satisfaction. “And I got really close to him.” She sighed. “He smells of pine and lemon.”

  “You make him sound like toilet cleaner,” I snapped.

  “You're just jealous,” Jazz replied with deadly accuracy.

  “He thinks you're a kid, Jasvinder,” Geena said loftily.

  “He doesn't!”

  “Does!”

  “Doesn't!”

  “Oh, very mature,” I said as they began hitting each other to make their point.

  “Who asked you?” Geena retorted, giving me a shove. I reeled against Mr. Arora's door, unfortunately at exactly the same moment as he opened it.

  “Are you all right, Amber?” he asked anxiously as I picked myself up off the floor.

  “I'm fine, sir,” I said through my teeth. Up until then, I'd been treating our bet as a jolly bit of fun. But from now on the gloves were definitely off.

  “You wanted to see us, sir?” Geena said inquiringly.

  Mr. Arora closed the classroom door behind us. “Yes. I have a question to ask you.”

  I thought it must be something to do with the wedding. Oh dear. How wrong I was.

  Mr. Arora sat down at his desk and steep led his fingers together. “Where is Kiran?” he asked gravely.

  “Who?” I blurted out.

  Mistake. Of course I knew who Kiran was. I'd just forgotten about her, that's all.

  “The papergirl,” Jazz said helpfully. “The one who's in your class.”

  “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I do know.”

  “Well, where is she?” Mr. Arora repeated.

  I shrugged. I hadn't seen her since French conversation, just before lunch.

  Mr. Arora was looking deeply pained. “There she is.” He pointed out of the window. Kiran was sitting on her own on a bench in the playground, reading a magazine.

  Jazz looked puzzled. “If you know where she is, then why are you asking us?”

  Mr. Arora looked even more pained. “As you can see, she's on her own. And this is the second day I've seen her sitting on her own at lunchtime and break time.” He turned reproachful, puppy-dog eyes on us. “I did ask you if you could help her settle in.”

  “It's not our fault,” I said defensively. “She's not exactly the easiest person in the world to get along with.” This was putting it as politely as I could.

  Mr. Arora sighed. “I accept that. But if you could all try a little harder to make friends with her, I think she'd respond. Will you give it a go?”

  We didn't say anything for a moment. I'm sure Geena and Jazz were having exactly the same thoughts as I was—which were that there was no way we'd be in this awkward position if Mr. Arora wasn't engaged to Auntie. However, I could just imagine the hassle Auntie would give us if we didn't do what he asked.

  “We'll try,” I said gloomily.

  “This is ridiculous,” Geena complained when we were a safe distance away from Mr. Arora's classroom. “Why do we have to be the ones to make an effort? If

  this girl hasn't made any friends yet, it's because nobody likes her.”

  “She looks like a
thug too.” Jazz shuddered melodramatically. “That hair.”

  “You know, technically Mr. Arora can't make me do anything,” Geena said thoughtfully. “He's head of the lower school, and I'm in the upper school.”

  “Oh, I'd like to see you tell him that,” Jazz sniggered. “Auntie would love it.”

  “I'm not scared of Auntie,” retorted Geena.

  “Of course you are,” Jazz said. “We all are.”

  “This is your fault, Amber.” Geena turned on me. “If you hadn't annoyed Kiran the first time you met, she might be a bit more pleasant.”

  “May I remind you that I was the one who had a newspaper stuffed down her sweater?” I snapped. “Look, we're missing the point here.”

  “Which is?” Jazz queried.

  “Well, don't you think Mr. Arora and the other teachers are coming on a bit heavy?” I went on. “We've had new kids start at the school loads of times. And they don't usually have such a big fuss made of them.”

  Geena frowned. “You mean—there's something odd about Kiran?”

  “That's exactly what I mean,” I replied. “There's some sort of mystery. …” I thought for a moment. “I think I've got it.”

  “What?” Jazz asked eagerly.

  “I reckon Kiran was a troublemaker at her last

  school,” I said slowly. “Maybe even a bully. And Mr. Arora's doing his best to stop her from going down that road again here.”

  Geena put her head on one side as she considered. “Actually, that makes perfect sense,” she admitted.

  “She looks scary,” said Jazz. “Yes, I'll buy that.”

  “I suppose we'd better go and talk to her,” I sighed as we went into the playground. “I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Arora's watching us from his classroom window.”

  “If we could get her annoyed, she might thump one of us,” said Jazz eagerly. “Then she'd be expelled, and we'd be rid of her forever.”

  “I nominate Amber,” said Geena.

  “Forget it,” I said. “We're all in this together.”

  Kiran glanced up from her magazine as we approached. She looked totally underwhelmed to see us.

  “Hi,” I said in a jolly voice. “How's it going?”

  “Go away,” snapped Kiran. “I know you're only here because Mr. Arora sent you.”

  “Oh, that's nonsense,” Geena blustered.

  “I saw you in his classroom,” she said coolly. “And he's watching us right now.”

  We all turned round just in time to see Mr. Arora dive out of sight behind a cupboard.

  “Er—all right, I admit it,” I muttered. “But at least we're here—”

  “Excuse me,” Jazz murmured, sidling away, “I need the bathroom.”

  “So why don't you try being a bit more pleasant?” I went on. “We might end up getting on better.”

  “Sorry,” whispered Geena, backing away from me. “Something I've got to do.”

  “You think we could be friends?” Kiran asked with a fixed smile on her face.

  “Well, maybe friends is a bit strong,” I said cautiously. “How about distant acquaintances?”

  “Speaking of friends”—Kiran's smirk was getting wider—“your sisters seem to be getting on awfully well with that boy.”

  “Which boy?” I roared, spinning round.

  There was Rocky, and there were Geena and Jazz fluttering around him like flirtatious butterflies. How sneaky is that?

  “Sorry,” I threw over my shoulder at Kiran. “Something just came up.”

  “Don't worry,” Kiran called after me sarcastically. “Tell Mr. Arora I'll be fine.”

  Call me an idiot (Jazz and Geena do, often), but I felt a teeny bit guilty as I charged over to elbow my way between Rocky and Geena. But why should I? If Kiran wasn't going to try to be friendly, then why should I?

  “I see you're playing it cool with Rocky,” Kim remarked as we headed into school a little later for afternoon lessons.

  “I was only hanging on to his arm because I felt a bit faint,” I said dismissively

  “I could tell that Jazz and Geena were concerned,” Kim replied, “by the way they were trying to shove you aside.”

  I ignored her. “You know, this isn't getting me anywhere,” I said.

  “Oh, good.” Kim looked relieved. “Are you going to forget about this ridiculous bet, then?”

  “I didn't mean that,” I said. “I meant that my strategy to get Rocky to like me best isn't working.”

  Kim raised her eyebrows. “I didn't know you had a strategy.”

  “I was relying on my natural charm.”

  “Well, that was bound to be a mistake, wasn't it?”

  I resisted the urge to put my hands round Kim's throat and squeeze. “I need to find out more information about him,” I said thoughtfully. “Where he lives. What he likes doing at weekends. His hobbies.”

  “There was a bhangra CD sticking out of his bag,” remarked Kim.

  I stared at her. “Are you sure? I didn't notice.”

  “You were too busy fluttering and twittering around like a lovesick parrot,” Kim replied. “Yes, I'm sure.”

  “Nice work, Sherlock.” I grinned, slapping Kim heartily on the back. “That's just the kind of inside information I need.”

  The following day, Friday, started promisingly. This time I had a plan, and I laughed smugly and silently as I watched Geena and Jazz falling over themselves

  to impress Rocky before school. The obvious was no longer for me. I was going to be subtle. I was going to be cool. And I would win. Yes, he would be mine, all mine.

  Break time was the appointed hour for me to put my plan into action. Before Miss Jackson had finished giving out German homework, I was sneaking my books into my bag. When the bell went, I leaped to my feet like a light-footed gazelle.

  “Shall we—” Kim began.

  But I never did hear what she was proposing. I whisked out of the classroom and into the playground to make my move, leaving Kim far behind me.

  I was actually the first person out there, which has never happened to me before or since. But seconds later doors opened all round the building, and streams of other kids came pouring out.

  I waited and watched. It was essential that Rocky come out before Geena and Jazz. Otherwise my plan would have to wait till another day.

  Oh, joy. Here he was.

  Now it was up to me. I fumbled in my bag and found my bhangra CD. We had quite a few of them lying around at home, and I'd chosen one by Punjabi MC.

  I sidestepped my way casually over to Rocky. He didn't see me. Then I “accidentally” dropped the CD in his path, rather like a Victorian lady might have dropped a handkerchief in front of her admirer.

  “Oh, silly me—” I began.

  Of course, my plan was for Rocky to pick it up, say,

  “Why, Amber, I didn't know you were into bhangra! You've got good taste as well as being stunningly beautiful,” etc., etc.

  It didn't work out at all like that. Oh, Rocky bent down to pick up the CD, yes he did. But at exactly that precise moment, George Botley dived in from the left to do the same. Their heads met with a resounding crack.

  “George, you idiot!” I muttered.

  “Ow!” George moaned, rubbing the side of his head.

  “Are you all right, Rocky?” I asked anxiously.

  “Yeah, I reckon so.” Rocky shot George a poisonous stare. “You want to look where you're going, mate.”

  “You sure you're not concussed or something?” I went on, ignoring George, who wandered away, looking sheepish.

  “I'm fine.” Rocky checked out the CD, then handed it to me. “So you're into bhangra?”

  “Why, yes,” I said flirtatiously. “Isn't everyone?”

  “I'm into bhangra fusion,” Rocky replied. “Hip-hop and rap mainly. I write my own stuff, you know. I like to mix in a bit of reggae and sometimes a few Bollywood beats too.”

  “You do?” I breathed. Was there anything Golden Boy couldn't do?
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  “Yeah.” Rocky was all lit up with enthusiasm. “I've got my own recording studio with decks and everything at home. My dad's helping me set it up in the flat over our garage.”

  “Where do you live?” I asked. This was the very information that might help me win the bet.

  “We've just moved into Temple Avenue,” Rocky replied.

  Wow. Now I was impressed. You had to be quite seriously loaded to live in Temple Avenue. The whole of our street would fit into one back garden there.

  “Someone told me that there's a fantastic music shop called Shanti's on the Broadway,” Rocky went on. “Do you know it? I thought about checking it out tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Oh, I know it,” I said. “I go myself most weekends.” Which was almost true. I did pop in there occasionally. “Maybe I'll see you there?”

  “You got it.” Rocky pointed his finger at me. “I'll be there after lunch.”

  Oh, me too, I promised him silently as he strolled off. Even if it meant locking Geena and Jazz in the garden shed. Even if it meant tying Auntie to the cooker with a length of rope. I'd be there.

  “I've got a big pile of dirty socks to be washed. By hand. My trainers need new Odor-Eaters. My hairbrush needs de-hairing, and I must have the hard skin on my feet removed.” I sighed happily. “Oh, how I love having slaves.”

  “You're wasting your time with that list,” Jazz called. She was sprawled on our bed, straightening her hair with ceramic irons. “I won't end up being your slave for a day. You and Geena will be mine.”

  I ignored her. “Oh, and my pet snake's tank needs cleaning out.”

  Jazz looked puzzled. “You don't have a pet snake.”

  “I know,” I replied. “I'm thinking of getting one, just so you can clean it out.”

  “Hmm,” Jazz said suspiciously. “You seem very confident that you're going to win this bet.”

  “Quietly confident, yes,” I agreed, looking as innocent as I knew how. “I know that my charm and good looks and personality will carry the day.”

  “Just how insane are you?” Jazz inquired.

  I prevented myself from smiling even just a little. Of course, Jazz and Geena could not know about my plan to meet Rocky that very afternoon at Shanti's music shop. I had prepared myself by putting on my new cropped jeans and pink T-shirt, with subtle makeup— just a touch of Pink Poodle lip gloss and mascara.