Free Monsoon Summer by Mitali Perkins Page A

girls, although shorter than me. She had glossy black hair and big almond-shaped brown eyes. Her shirt was closely tailored and clung to her curves even more tightly than mine.
    I could tell that Rini and Lila were waiting for either Sonia or me to talk. I waited, too, feeling as if I was about to take an exam on a book I hadn’t read.
    Sonia obviously had no problem diving right in. “Was that Indian woman really your mother?” she asked.
    I nodded but didn’t say anything. Why was everyone around here so shocked that Mom and I were related? Not every daughter looked like their mother, did they?
    â€œWe heard a rumor that she’s one of Asha Bari’s children,” Sonia continued. “Is that true?”
    â€œIt’s true,” I answered.
    â€œOh. So your mother was
adopted,
” said Lila, a skinny girl with a beaked nose. She made the word sound as though it were some kind of disease.
    â€œHow’d you find out about Mom?” I asked. Pune was a big city, after all.
    â€œSonia’s father is the chairman of the board at Asha Bari,” Lila informed me. “The academy is sort of connected to the orphanage; they were founded by the same set of Catholic missionaries.”
    â€œWe’ve known you were coming to Pune for ages,” Rini added. “But we weren’t certain you’d be
here
until Monday. We were so excited to see your whole family come in this morning!”
    Sonia sighed dramatically. “Your father’s so tall and handsome, with that wavy hair and fabulous skin. I can just picture him at eighteen. How did your mother manage to catch someone like him?”
    What?
Had I heard right?
Dad
—
handsome? Mom
— managing to catch him? I had to set this girl straight. Immediately. “They were in college together,” I said. “He was in love with her for years before she decided to marry him.”
    After a pause, the questions continued along a different line. “I bought a copy of the latest Greg Lamington album,” Rini said. “We dance to his music all the time at the disco. I hear he’s supposed to be even more amazing live, though. Have you seen him on tour?”
    â€œActually, I’ve never heard of him,” I answered, wincing at the thought of a disco. Dancing and I were mortal enemies.
    All three girls’ mouths fell open. But after a moment of shock over my ignorance, they continued to ask questions, grilling me about other favorite celebrities. It didn’t take long to figure out that they knew much more about the American entertainment industry than I did. They were addicted to the same music and movies as the kids back home.
    â€œWe’ve never owned a television, so it’s impossible to keep up with this stuff,” I said. “I’m sort of out of it, I guess.”
    Sonia raised her eyebrows in surprise. “No television? But you’re an American. From California. California
invented
entertainment.”
    I shrugged. Either Eric or I halfheartedly asked for a television every six months or so. My parents always said no. It wasn’t a question of money. “Time’s too precious to waste on watching commercials, kids,” Mom would explain. “Besides, those ads breed discontent. They’re always trying to convince us that what we have and who we are isn’t good enough.”
    Helen and Frank didn’t have a television, either, so we were doubly deprived. Dad occasionally took us out to the movies, but he supported Mom’s no-TV decision, as he did most of her decisions. I didn’t really think about it much anymore. Now that I was fifteen, I wanted a car more than I wanted a television.
    â€œLucky you, keeping away from the media hype,” said Rini, obviously trying to cheer me up. “We have to keep up with both Hollywood
and
Bollywood. It gets exhausting after a while.”
    â€œI actually know more about Bollywood than I do