Save Me a Seat: Chapters 18–49

I open it up and there’s a drawing of a bunch of people. Almost everyone is wearing a T-shirt that says I'M WITH STUPID on it, and under that an arrow pointing to the left. There are only two exceptions.

He has a canvas bag containing several metal bats and some large yellow balls.

As I open the bottom compartment of my tiffin box, a familiar waft of mustard seeds and onion drifts into the air, and I feel relieved.

His crooked teeth and beady eyes remind me of Shakti Kapoor, the most notorious villain in Bollywood.

Mia is hogging the bed, so I sleep crooked and wake up with a crick in my neck.

The letters are gold, the borders decorated with glitter and gems as elaborate as a Tanjore painting.

Under this they have glued down photographs, each with a shining border of its own. Pictures of me receiving the award for winning the Math Olympiad. Me, standing on the podium with a gold medal for running. Me, holding my certificate for best outgoing student at Vidya Mandir.

Under this they have glued down photographs, each with a shining border of its own. Pictures of me receiving the award for winning the Math Olympiad. Me, standing on the podium with a gold medal for running. Me, holding my certificate for best outgoing student at Vidya Mandir.

I should feel on top of the world, seeing all these reminders of my success, but instead my stomach is churning so badly I think I am going to be sick.

I should have known better than to leave anything out on my desk when there’s a known kleptomaniac sitting two feet away.

This is my chance to redeem myself for the unkind way I had treated Ramaswami at Vidya Mandir and for all the toes I have stepped on at Albert Einstein Elementary School as well—my chance to set things right.

“Before we start,” Mrs. Beam tells us, “I'd like you all to quietly make your way around the room, familiarizing yourself with the objects on each of the desks. I'll give you a few minutes to do that, and then we’ll begin our game.”

Even though there was blood gushing out of his mouth, he still managed to score the winning goal, which is how his picture ended up on the front page of the Hamilton Herald, with a caption under it that said PLUCKY LOCAL KID JUST WON’T QUIT!

“Three leaves and a bud, right from the very top of the tea bush. The tea pluckers pick the tender shoots and drop them into baskets that hang from their heads. When I was a young man, my first job was to work at the tea plantation. I had to stand in the rain and guard the workers, protecting them from wild animals that might be lurking nearby."

"The tea plantations were infested with them during the monsoon season—they were much larger than these skinny fellows, but these will have to do."

“These leeches are a reminder of who we are, and where we've come from, Ravi, and of all the hardships we’ve endured to get here.”

I look at Dillon to see what he’s making of this disgustingly mushy moment, but he isn’t paying any attention to Lucy.

“Try to muster a bit more enthusiasm, will you please?" says Mrs. Beam.

My hands are shaking a little, so I fold them together the way we were taught to do in elocution class at Vidya Mandir.

"Well, my grandfather battled these tiny Draculas in disguise every single day. Imagine yourself plucking tea under a hot sun, when suddenly you realize you are surrounded by viscous black worms waiting to fix themselves to your body and drain your lifeblood out. Look! There's one between your toes! Be careful! There's one behind your ear! Believe me when I tell you, these dreaded bloodsucking leeches can even crawl up your nostril!”