Bindi Babes (8 page)

“You'll have to give us all the news from India, Susie,” Auntie Rita said. “How are Mohan, Palvinder and the kids?” But she didn't wait for an answer. “Did I tell you Jaggi's got into Cambridge University? We're so proud of him. He's going to study law. And Sukhvinder's doing really well at medical school. Bobby's just been promoted at the engineering company, too.”

“Lovely,” Auntie said.

Doctor. Lawyer. Accountant. Teacher. Engineer. Pharmacist. They were all good careers for good Indian boys and girls. Careers their parents could boast about.

“And Baby's doing really well at school,” Auntie Rita went on. “She wants to be a lawyer like her brother, don't you,
beti
?”

“Until she gets married and has children, of course,” Biji interjected grumpily. She fixed me, Geena and Jazz with a piercing stare. “How are you getting on at school? I hope you're not wasting your time running around with
boys
.” She made them sound like a fatal disease.

“We're doing all right, Biji,” Geena replied politely.

“Oh, don't be so modest, Geena,” Auntie cut in. I could tell she wanted to show off about us, too. “Your
father tells me you're all doing really well. Your reports were excellent.”

I saw my chance. I shrugged. “They were all right,” I said. “But it doesn't really matter anyway.”

Biji sat up ramrod straight. “What do you mean, ‘It doesn't matter,’ child?” she snapped. “How will you find a good husband if you don't get yourself a decent education?”

“I don't want to get married,” I said.

You'd have thought I'd said I'd murdered someone. Auntie Rita gasped and nearly dropped the teapot. Biji goggled at me from behind her five-centimeter-thick glasses. Even Auntie looked shocked. I went for the killer touch.

“I want to be a pop star,” I added.

Biji almost fell off the sofa. “A
pop star
?” she screeched. “What kind of a job is
that
for a respectable Indian girl?”

Auntie glared at me. She looked seriously embarrassed, and I was glad. “Be quiet, Amber,” she whispered.

“But I
do
want to be a pop star,” I insisted. I was enjoying myself. “Why not?”

“What do you mean, ‘Why not?’” Biji was clutching her heart dramatically. “Dancing around in skimpy clothes, singing suggestive songs? Your father wouldn't allow it.”

“He can't stop me,” I said coolly.

Auntie looked as if she wanted to throttle me. I
didn't really want to be a pop star. Well, I wouldn't have minded, but I can't sing. I mean, I
really
can't sing. I sound like a bunch of cats having their tails pulled.

“I've never heard anything so ridiculous in my life,” Auntie Rita declared, patting her rock-hard hairdo. “You'll have to knock these silly ideas out of her head, Susie.”

I glanced at Geena and Jazz. They were smiling. They were enjoying seeing Auntie squirm as much as I was.

Auntie was watching me closely, and I tried to meet her gaze without looking too triumphant. Then, after a moment, she shrugged. “Well, if that's what Amber really wants …”

What?
I blinked. She wasn't supposed to say that.

“What do you mean?” Biji howled, slowly turning purple. “No relative of mine is going to be a pop star!”

“But if Amber's got a good voice, and that's what she wants to do, well, maybe there's no harm in it,” Auntie said thoughtfully. To my utter horror, I was beginning to get an idea of where she was going with this. “Perhaps she
has
got a good voice.” She stared coolly at me. “I wouldn't know. I've never heard her sing.”

“Oh, my voice isn't that great,” I said quickly.

“Why don't you let us be the judge of that?” Auntie folded her arms. “Go on. Sing something for us now.”

“S-s-s-s-sing?” I stuttered.

“Yes.” Auntie fixed me with a steely stare. “Now.”

“That's a good idea,” Baby chimed in. I could almost see a big, flashing sign saying
REVENGE
! above
her head. “Shall I go and get Dad and Uncle Johnny?”

“No, don't do that,” I said. But Baby had already whisked out of the room.

“Ah, here come the boys.” Auntie Rita beamed as the front door opened. “I'm sure they'd like to hear Amber sing too.”

Geena and Jazz were looking at me sympathetically. I swallowed hard. I glared at Auntie, who stared serenely back at me. She needn't think she'd got the better of me. I'd show her. Oh, yes.

“That,” I said heavily, flinging myself onto Jazz's bed, “was just about the most embarrassing thing I've ever had to live through.”

“I thought that was the day you started school,” Geena remarked, following me into the room. “You know, when you wet yourself and it went all over the teacher's shoes.”

“Forget that,” I groaned, burying my face in a pillow. “Today overtook it by miles.” I cringed as I remembered my terrible rendition of Kylie's latest single. Even Biji had been laughing by the end of it.

“It was all Auntie's fault,” I went on bitterly. “She set me up.”

“And you fell into it,” Jazz pointed out helpfully.
“Right
into it.”

“Thank you.” I hurled a pillow at her, and felt better when it smacked her in the face. “Now I've got to get my own back.”

“How?” Geena asked.

I didn't know. I'd spent the rest of the day keeping my mouth firmly shut, while we went on visiting people, and I hadn't come up with anything. But suddenly an idea swam right into my head from nowhere. It was
beautiful.

“I've got it,” I said. “We'll pierce Jazz's ears.”

“I beg your pardon?” Jazz spluttered.

“We'll pierce your ears,” I repeated. “We'll do it ourselves. Right now. That'll show her.”

Geena grinned. “Great idea, Amber.”

“Hold on a minute.” Jazz wasn't looking very enthusiastic. “Exactly
how
are you going to do that?”

“With a pin,” I said. “We'll sterilize it in disinfectant first, so you don't catch anything nasty.”

Jazz frowned. “But it'll
hurt
.”

“No, it won't,” I said. “We'll numb your ears first with some ice from the freezer. It won't hurt a bit.”

“Can't I just go into town after school tomorrow, and get my ears pierced in Claire's Accessories?” Jazz pleaded.

I shook my head. “Come on, Jazz,” I said. “Don't be a baby. It's a perfect way to show Auntie that she can't boss us around.”

“Yes, except that it involves pain,” Jazz grumbled. “
My
pain. And what about Dad?”

“I didn't think of that.” Geena glanced at me. “Dad will kill us, Amber.”

I shrugged. “He'll get over it.” I wasn't about to give up my brilliant idea. Auntie had defeated us on all fronts so far, and anyway, Dad had one foot in the enemy camp now. “Come on, Jazz,” I coaxed her. “You really want those second holes, don't you?”

Jazz was wavering. “Well, yes …”

“And I promise you it won't hurt,” I went on, crossing my fingers behind my back.

“All right then.”

“Yes!” I slapped Jazz's shoulder. “You go and get the ice, and Geena and I will organize everything else.”

“Make sure it's a really small pin,” Jazz ordered us, going over to the door.

“Sure,” I agreed. “Get the biggest needle you can find,” I said under my breath to Geena. “It won't work otherwise.”

By the time Jazz came back, we had everything sorted. Geena had found a gigantic needle, which we'd put in a tooth mug of Dettol and hidden behind a pile of books. We didn't want Jazz to freak out.

“Where's the ice?” I asked. Jazz had a family pack of frozen peas in her hand.

“There wasn't any,” she said. “I thought this would do instead.”

“All right, sit on the bed and stick it on your ear,” I instructed her.

“Ow, it's cold,” Jazz complained, clapping the frozen peas to the side of her head. “Where's the pin?”

“Don't worry about that,” I said, advancing toward her. I touched her ear. “Now, relax. I'm just going to—”

“
Aargh!
” Jazz screeched, pulling away from me.

“I'm just marking some dots on your ear with a pen, you idiot. Look.” I dangled the pen under her nose. “I haven't even started yet.”

“I'll put a CD on,” Geena said. “That'll help you to relax, Jazz.” She raised her eyebrows at me. “And it'll muffle the screams,” she whispered.

Geena put a Coldplay CD on, and I marked two dots on Jazz's ears, using the first holes as a guide. It was difficult to get the dots in the right place, but it wouldn't be too noticeable if the holes weren't quite level. I hoped. Then I took the giant needle out of the disinfectant.

“Close your eyes, Jazz,” I said, keeping it behind my back.

Jazz did as she was told. I squinted down at her left ear. I was aiming the needle at the pen mark, when the bedroom door opened.

“I've made some tea—” Auntie began.

Several things happened. Jazz opened her eyes, saw the size of the needle and let out a hysterical scream. I almost jumped out of my skin. The needle flew out of my hand and across the room, straight toward Geena like an arrow. She leaped backward, and knocked the tooth mug of disinfectant over the
CD player. Coldplay ground to a watery, shuddering halt.

“What are you doing?” Auntie asked in quite a reasonable tone of voice, considering.

“We're piercing Jazz's ears, Auntie,” Geena replied politely.

“Oh.” Auntie advanced into the room, and folded her arms. I waited for her to go mental. “Better get on with it, then.”

“I'm sorry?” I said, hardly believing my ears.

Auntie shrugged. “I said, you'd better get on with it. Tea's ready.”

Oh, it was perfectly obvious what she was up to. She was trying to call our bluff. Like it was
really
going to work.

“All right,” I said. “Get ready, Jazz.”

“But—” Jazz began, eyeing the needle.

“
Now
,” I said sternly.

Reluctantly Jazz stuck the frozen peas on her left ear again, and Geena handed me the needle. We all ignored Auntie. She was still standing there, trying to put us off.

“That's a big needle,” she said, as I held it over Jazz's left ear.

Jazz squinted sideways at the needle. I glared at her.

“It's going to hurt,” Auntie went on, standing there like some prophet of doom in a sari. “I mean,
really
hurt.”

“She's just trying it on,” I whispered to Jazz. “Take no notice.”

“I had my ears pierced with a needle when I was a
kid,” Auntie went on. “That's the way they do it in India, back home in the village, you know. That's why I can tell you for sure that it hurts like mad.”

“OK, Jazz,” I said brightly. “Here we go.”

“One of my friends, Sarbjit, had hers done at the same time as me.” Auntie examined her fingernails. “She must have caught an infection because her ears swelled right up. The other kids called her Dumbo for weeks.”

“Forget it!” Jazz howled. She jumped to her feet and knocked my arm away. “I'm not having it done. No way.”

Auntie went over to the door. “Tea's ready, don't forget.” She waltzed out, humming a song from
Reena aur Meena
.

“Jazz, you complete prat,” I whispered. “That was exactly what she
wanted
you to do.”

“I don't care,” Jazz said sulkily, clapping her hands over her ears. “I'm not going around looking like Dumbo the elephant.”

“Look, maybe it wasn't such a good idea, anyway,” Geena said, jumping in between us before we started thumping each other. “It would've got us into big trouble with Dad.”

“So Auntie's won again,” I said bitterly. Whatever we did, she got the better of us every time. I couldn't see any way out of it.

“There's nothing else for it,” Geena said. “She's got to go. Any ideas?”

We all flopped onto the bed. We lay there in a row, kicking our legs against the headboard, thinking. It seemed an impossible situation. Auntie was here to stay. There was no reason why she would go back to India. Her parents, our grandparents, were dead, so she didn't have any close family there. Most of her relatives were in England, unluckily. I supposed she might get married one day and leave. Or at her age she might not get married at all, and we'd be stuck with her until
we
left home. It was a totally depressing thought.

Then I smiled. Call me a genius.

“I've got it,” I said.