Prisha had been absolutely certain that her mom would be coming for her—and she didn’t want to risk them missing each other—so she’d meekly turned down the offer when Qiu suggested they ride home together after their respective dance practices.
Now, the 10-year-old was beginning to regret her decision.
Dance had been over for more than 20 minutes now and the sun had begun its descent long before, slowly dipping the sky into an inky blackness while the street lights flicked on one-by-one and two-by-two. It made her anxious, her lips twisting into a pensive frown while her little fingers gripped firmly at the strap of her baby pink Sky Dancers backpack. She didn’t know if their trembling was a nervous thing or because of the mid-winter chill that threatened to wrap around her bones as a light flurry of snow had begun just minutes before. Her brown skin was flushed pink in the biting wind. She didn’t care.
Instead, her gaze remained steadfast, trained on the parking lot entrance and silently willing her mom’s cherry Honda to pull up and grant her sanctuary from the concerned eyes of her instructor, Mrs. Bakshi, on her back. Prisha had also rejected her offer of waiting inside where all of the adults would keep glancing at her with those worried looks on their faces. She was anxiously anticipating the woman’s second attempt when the telltale scraping-squeal of the old rec center doors opened.
She vaguely heard Mrs. Bakshi’s voice in that secretive whisper tone moms like to use when they were speaking nearby the person they were talking about. “She won’t budge. I’d hate to just grab her, but...”
The footsteps that followed the noisy, disruptive clang of the doors shutting, however, were much too quick and light to be her dance teacher’s. They slap slap slapped when Mrs. Bakshi’s were a calmer tap click tap click. The slaps stopped abruptly and Prisha tensed, anticipating a stranger’s attempt at talking to her, which she always dreaded.
A sharp gasp had her tensing even more. She squeezed her eyes shut as if it would make her (or them) disappear, while the footsteps resumed—quicker than before and stopping right next to her. She bravely peeked an eye open when an awed chuckle rang in her left ear, right along with a warm puff of candy-scented breath hitting her cheek…only to have the, unfortunately, familiar little boy be much closer to her than she’d expected, having leaned down and around to look at her during her delusional little game of pretend.
A high-pitched squeak left her before she could catch it, coupled by her jumping nearly a foot back and stumbling on the bit of sidewalk where it met a currently dormant flower bed. And she might have crashed ungracefully onto the bone-dry skeleton of a bush if not for Finnigan’s quick reflexes.
“Wh- ack!” With a surprised yelp on his part, he’d reached out and grabbed her by the front of her coat, bandage-covered fingers curling around the V created by the parallel teeth of its zipper. They dug in a little uncomfortably, but they wouldn’t make another series of band-aids, so he ignored it.
For a moment, they both just stood like that. Staring at one another, wide-eyed and shocked by the turn of events while crystalline clouds of breath ascended and dissipated in the air between them. Then, Finn’s came out in a bigger cloud as he laughed in amazed triumph.
“Holy shit! Didja see that just now???” he exclaimed, firmly but gently tugging the smaller girl to a stable standing position and going to card a hand through his unruly locks in disbelief.
Prisha, though scandalized by the ease with which such a grown up word passed by his lips, was frozen in a completely different shock while he continued to peacock around for just a little more before a thought seemingly slammed into the forefront of his mind.
“Prish! Your coat is wet!” he stated, concerned painting his star-speckled visage while he reached out to thoughtlessly put a heavy hand on her head. “Your hair too! Here-”
She had no time to react before he was stripping himself of his own winter protection and holding out a hand. “Trade with me or else you’ll get sick.”
She found her voice then, soft and almost imperceptible, with confusion drawing a deep furrow in her thick brows: “Wha- no? What about you?”
“I never get sick, honest! Why d’ya think I’m always just walkin’ around in shorts and sandals?”
It was hard to argue there. She truly had no other explanation; he answered for her, voice lowered to a conspiratory whisper.
“It’s ‘coz I got crazy good fire powers.” And definitely not the fact that he'd already raw-dogged every germ possible, giving himself an iron-clas immune system.
She deadpanned. Still, she began to unzip the coat that’d had a hand in saving her life (maybe a little dramatic, but hey-) because the kid made a convincing argument...even if he was a stinky, no good liar.
Before long, she was all wrapped up in a Georgia Southern varsity that nearly stopped at her knees and radiated a heat that had her almost believing in those convoluted fire powers.
They stood in the center's vestibule, a finally successful appeal from a relieved Mrs. Bakshi, with Prisha’s own winter wear slung safely over the bulk of Finnigan’s Bag of Holding. He rummaged through it and prattled on about...something. She’d accidentally stopped paying attention while lost in the warmth of her borrowed coat.
”…and that’s why I stay here after school haha. Anyway, I think I get why you’d wanna stay out here even if it’s cold as balls. Back when m’dad used to pick me up from school in Simons, the teacher—Miss Cleary—used t’ always look at me with this weird screwed-up ol’ face. Y’know? With her eyebrows all scrunched up at the middle and one of them frowns that don’t look like one, ‘coz he was always late—aha!”
He produced a red stripey hat, one that’d been snuck in there the second he left the house and his ma’s line of sight earlier that morning. He grinned proudly, newly-missing tooth and all, and tugged it firmly over her head, careful to mind her bow and ponytail.
“Anyway- ah…what was I sayin’…oh! Yeah, I just- that’s what that lady in there was lookin’ at you like, y’know? I hate that, so makes sense if you do too.” He cleared his throat, lightly bouncing on the pads of his feet. “Is your mommy always late?”
Prisha opened her mouth to finally get a word in but clamped it shut, shaking her head instead. This was new and scary and the myriad of what ifs that were swirling about in her little head had been forgotten until that very moment. Tears welled at the corners of her wine-colored eyes which incited a mild panic in her companion, causing his idle bouncing to morph into panicked foot-to-foot hopping while he looked around, dark hair flying, as if a solution would present itself.
Before any actual tears could fall, however, a familiar red car rolled up outside, tires crackling over displaced asphalt, soon followed by a bright honk honk!
Prisha was quick to dart outside, taking a few precious steps toward her mommy’s car before pausing and turning back to Finn while beginning to shrug out of his coat.
”Nah, keep it! We can trade next time Boys’ Club hangs,” Finn grinned, brandishing a firm thumbs up from where he leaned on the open door. Ever polite, he waved high over his head to the woman he’d mostly come to know through his mom and step dad’s conversations.
”Hiya, Miss Ramesh! “ he yelled, already loud voice clear across the stretch of pavement between the building and road. “Ma said thanks for the Kal…the Kalak…the- the cake thingies!”
