Samir sighed. “Pinky, I think it’s great that you have all this support. But will it be enough to save the habitat?” He shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
She studied him. “I thought you were all gung ho about helping me. What happened?”
“I do want to help you,” he insisted, running a hand along the back of his neck. “It’s just that… I don’t know. This feels kind of unrealistic. I’m glad you’re passionate and all, but stopping the entire thing? Going against this big-shot developer?”
Pinky faced forward, feeling cold. She’d told herself Samir’s comment siding with her mom the night of the lanterns had been a one-off. He’d been acting weird since their argument about his planner, and maybe he’d just been tired. Maybe he’d made an off-the-cuff remark without realizing how it sounded. But now… now she wasn’t so sure. “Wow, that’s good to know,” Pinky found herself saying. “So you think this is just me being my irresponsible, immature self, huh?”
Samir sighed. “That’s not what I said at all.”
What had happened to him? When had he begun to sound like her mother? And then, in the next instant, it came to her: This was how he always was. He’d never tried to pretend to be anyone else. This was their fundamentally different nature, showing itself in the real world. This was what she’d been worried about all along.
Samir
As they rode the sweltering bus back to the lake house, Samir gazed out the window. He could feel Pinky glancing at him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to look at her. It had been encroaching on him since his fight with Pinky about the planner, about how she just didn’t understand his life, his world. And now he couldn’t really ignore it anymore. Everything in his world seemed washed out, faded somehow as he came to terms with the truth that had been staring him in the face the entire time.
He’d thought he and Pinky could overcome their differences, that they could be together in spite of them. But maybe that had just been the magic, the madness of summer. Real life was very different from Ellingsworth Point Island, with its butterflies and sunshine and sparkling lake. He’d deluded himself into thinking otherwise. Pinky, with her passion and fire and boundless enthusiasm, had seemed like an impossible dream, but one within reach.
But there were some dreams even glittering, floating lanterns couldn’t make come true. It was time he accepted that before he got in too deep.
Pinky
“Do I have to go?” Pinky asked her mom the next weekend as she sat on the bed in her room, painting her toenails. Samir and her dad were out shopping for a tux for Samir. The silent auction at the country club was a much fancier event than trivia night had been, and his suit just wouldn’t do. “I mean, what am I going to do there? Samir and I could just chill here. It’s not too late; we can just text Dad and tell him.”
“I don’t want you and Samir here by yourself,” her mom said, and Pinky blushed in spite of herself.
“Come on, Mom—”
“No, Pinky. That’s it. End of discussion.” She walked out, leaving Pinky looking after her.
It was the Thursday after the town hall meeting, and she and Samir were hobbling along, not really talking about anything at all, even though there was so much to say. Although their arguments—it seemed there were more and more of them these days—kept resounding in Pinky’s head, she kept pushing them aside, not sure what to do with them. What she’d told Samir before was still true: She was happier with him than without. But she knew, too, that there were some stark differences between them. So what was she supposed to do about that?
Shaking her head, she brought her mind to easier-to-handle matters. The Yeung-Kumars—and one Jha—were due at the silent auction night at the country club soon. It was annoying, because all Pinky wanted to do, all she had done all week, was plan the protest that had been decided at the town hall meeting. With Gloria’s permission, she’d gotten all their numbers and set up a group in WhatsApp. It was pretty cool how hyped they all were. It wasn’t just her, for once.
Pinky’s mind flashed back to the argument she and her mom had had at the lake. How her mom had told her she was nothing like Pinky and Pinky was nothing like her. There was an acid pain in her stomach at the memory. The truth was, no matter how her mom felt about Pinky, Pinky couldn’t help but wish her mom could go back to being the person she’d been before she got pregnant with Pinky. What might their relationship look like then? There was no point to these thoughts, other than to torture herself, but Pinky couldn’t help feeling a pang for the mother she’d never had.
She walked to her closet and opened it. Because the Yeung-Kumars seemed to be invited to these kinds of “fancy” events often during their summers at the lake house, she’d packed a few glitzy dresses. She pulled one out of the closet that matched the teal streak in her hair exactly and held it in front of her as she studied herself in the full-length mirror.
It was like she lived two lives, one as Pinky the Protester and the other as Pinky the Privileged. With her multicolored hair and eyebrow ring visible above the long, glittering teal dress, it was like Pinky had been cleaved in two, simultaneously both people while fitting neither persona completely. Sighing, she tossed the dress on her bed.
* * *
“Whoa.” Samir watched as she walked out into the driveway where he stood with her parents. Pinky’s hairstyle—a crown braid—had taken longer than she’d expected. “You look… like a mermaid. A punk thrasher mermaid.”
Pinky laughed and looked down at herself. “Yeah, I guess so.” She took him in, all handsome in his tux. “And you look… like my dad.”
“Hey now,” her dad said, all pouty-faced. “What’s wrong with that?”
Samir laughed and pulled at his bow tie, looking uncomfortable. Too late, Pinky realized her comment had probably reminded him of exactly what she herself wanted to forget: that they both walked in very different worlds.
* * *
Once they got to the country club and showed the woman at the desk their invite, they were ushered into a grand hall with a domed ceiling and hardwood floors. The entire space was buzzing with conversation and muted laughter. On one side of the hall, an auction table had been laid out. On the other end was a giant bar. Stiff-backed waiters were walking around, offering people drinks and appetizers off silver trays.
Pinky leaned into Samir as they followed her parents to the auction area. “Think my mom will go ballistic if I take off my shoes?”
He snorted. “Do you really need to ask that question?”
“My shoes are killing me.” She looked down at them. They were beautiful, but her feet were already screaming at her.
“We could always sneak off and hide out on the rooftop,” Samir suggested, and they looked at each other, smiling at the memory of their shared secret, when things seemed a lot simpler.
“Here’s that dental cleaning from Cash’s dad,” her mother said, swishing over to the table in her long mauve gown like a regal queen.
“Something I get for free through my insurance,” her dad said, quirking his eyebrow at Pinky and Samir.