[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.Alcatraz, Fisherman’s Wharf, Union Square.If I have to take one more picture in front of one more famous attraction, I’m going to be sick.”“Better than mine,” Rayne says.“We went camping up the coast, and I spent the entire time filthy and freezing.” She shivers at the memory.“Hey Cole, what kind of sandwich is that?” Rayne’s always on the prowl for something better than the sprouted-wheat and tofu creations her mother makes her.“Tuna.You want the other half?”“Um, no.I was reading the other day about how they’re overfishing tuna,” she says, looking sad.I chew slowly, getting ready to lose another favorite food.Rayne has a way of making you feel guilty for pretty much everything you put into your mouth.“It’s dolphin-safe,” I say hopefully.“Doesn’t matter anymore,” she says.“The tuna population is getting down so low that if nothing is done in five years, they’re going to disappear forever.Like the unicorns.”Gabi and I exchange glances.“Unicorns?” she asks.“Yeah,” Rayne replies.“You know—like how the cavemen hunted the unicorns until they went completely extinct.”I love Rayne, which is good, because sometimes she’s so gullible it’s scary.She’s an amazing artist, but totally clueless about real life.“Rayne,” I say softly.“You realize that there were no unicorns, right? They’re just a fairy tale.”Rayne looks confused.“Of course there were,” she says.“They became extinct thousands of years ago.Our great-great-great-great-grandchildren will talk about how there used to be big fish called ‘tuna’ in the oceans, just like our ancestors talked about the unicorns.”Gabi pats her on the back.“Girl, good thing you’re book-smart.”“What?” Rayne asks.“Gram wouldn’t lie about that.” She looks so lost that despite trying desperately to keep a straight face, Gabi and I both burst out laughing.“I’m sorry,” I say, taking another bite.“No more tuna.I promise.”Gabi opens up her thermos and a strong spicy smell wafts over us.“What is that?” Rayne asks, leaning over to get a better look.“It smells amazing.”“It’s saag,” she says, poking at it with a fork.“My cousins have been cooking nonstop since they got here.Want a bite?”“Mmm-hmm,” Rayne says, taking a forkful.“Oh man, that’s awesome.”I lean over to get some, and the fragrant spices overwhelm me.I take a deep breath and sit back against the concrete wall, feeling dizzy and unmoored.Rayne, Gabi, and the whole school fade until all I can see is a hot, smoky kitchen, the whitewashed walls punctuated with portraits of severe-looking old men.My mother bends before a cooking pot suspended over a fire, stirring a fragrant stew.Her long black hair is folded into a braid that hangs down the back of her neck and is covered with a loose scarf that she’s gathered in one hand so that it won’t drag into the flames.I look down to see my bare feet with their stubby brown toes sticking out of my loose cotton pants.I sit on a chair, far off enough so that I don’t get in the way, but close enough to feel the heat from the fire.My stomach is rumbling in anticipation of her good cooking.With deft fingers, my mother reaches into the fire and flips a piece of flat bread, handing one to me.“For you, my son,” she says to me.I smile and reach into the bubbling green stew with a torn piece of bread as the fragrance of the spices make my mouth water in anticipation—“You okay?” Rayne says, poking me in the side.“You look a little funny.”I shake my head to clear it of the vivid images.The fragrant smell remains, and I realize that it’s the same spicy scent that’s coming from Gabi’s thermos.“And since when do you speak Bengali?” Gabi asks.“What are you talking about?” I say, feeling vague and distant.I wonder what they saw while I was out of it.Obviously I didn’t faint this time or they’d really be freaking out, but it was probably easy to see something happened.“Bengali,” she says, looking at me sideways.“You were just staring off into space, and you said ‘ozasro dhanyabad.’ That means ‘thank you very much.’ The accent was a little weird, but that’s definitely what you said.”The image lurks in the back of my mind, as clear as if it were a movie, except that I knew things about the scene that a person who’s simply watching wouldn’t.I felt things about it.The hunger, the anticipation, the happiness that came from being with my mother in our house.A pang of loneliness remains as I realize I miss that woman.The mother of a little boy who isn’t me.“I, um … must have picked it up from the Indian restaurant we go to,” I say quickly, trying to cover up my confusion.I look at both of them and attempt a faint smile [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]