Chapter One No parties, no shorts, no boys. These were my parents'' three cardinal rules. But what they didn''t know couldn''t hurt them, right? I quickly changed out of my NASA pajamas and into my favorite black crop top and dark-blue vintage jeans, liking the way they accentuated my curves. According to Mom no one needed to know that I had boobs, much less a belly button, except for me, Allah, and my future husband. Of course, the whole "no boys" rule was a moot point in my case, but fortunately my parents didn''t know about Ariana. "Rukhsana, Mom''s never going to let you out of the house wearing that." Startled, I spun around to see my brother, Aamir, leaning lazily against my door frame. "Knock much?" I said, quickly pausing the music playing on my phone.

"I did. It''s not my fault you couldn''t hear me over that screeching you call music." Aamir smiled as he sauntered into the room and plopped down on my bed. Of course, my brother was right. I would never be allowed to go out wearing this. Which was why I was planning to throw on my oversized school hoodie to once again become the shapeless blob my parents preferred to think of me as. "Aamir, you know this isn''t my first rodeo." I ruffled his hair affectionately.

"Plus, you always have my back, right?" "Yeah, yeah, don''t worry, I''ll cover for you," Aamir said, pushing away my hand. He was very particular about his hair. "But it''s going to cost you," he added with a grin. "What do you want this time?" I pulled the bulky hoodie over my head. "Something good. I haven''t thought about it yet." He surveyed my outfit. "Ariana''s going to run away when she sees you, but at least Mom will be happy.

" I punched him playfully in the arm before going downstairs. The smell of chai led me into the kitchen, where I found the pot bubbling on the stovetop. I inhaled its spicy aroma deeply, allowing the cinnamon and cardamom to soothe my nerves. It was almost five o''clock, time to head over to Jen''s house to finish getting ready for the party. But first I had to convince Mom to let me go. She walked out of the study having just finished her Asr prayer, absentmindedly rolling up her prayer rug. She wore a faded blue shalwar kameez, one of the few old ones she kept for when she cooked. Other than the few grey strands escaping the black bun at the nape of her neck, she looked much younger than her forty-five years.

I took a long sip of my tea before placing the cup on the kitchen counter. "Mom, don''t forget, I''m going to Jen''s house soon." She removed her head scarf and draped it over the back of a chair. "Again?" she asked, deepening the worry lines on her forehead. "Why, Rukhsana? You just went the other day." She picked up the pot and poured herself a cup of chai, taking a careful sip before returning her gaze to me. "Mom, I told you," I said with a deep sigh. "We have a project due on Monday and tonight is the only night we''re both free to work on it.

" I waited, a familiar knot forming in my stomach. I hated how I felt right now, like a child asking for just one more cookie. I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she decided my fate for the evening. "I need your help with dinner first. I''m making murgir jhol and your dad will be home soon. You can make the roti and then go." That was that. She turned away to pick out jars of spices from the rack and lined them up neatly on the counter next to the stove.

Great. Now I was going to show up to the party smelling of fried onions and garlic. Just what I needed. My phone pinged. Rukhsana!! Get your butt over here! It was Jen. I knew she''d freak out if I was late. I darted a glance at Mom. She was busy chopping onions, her face stoic, as if not even the onions could make her cry.

I don''t know how she did it. I need another hour. Couldn''t get out of kitchen duty. You suck!!!!! I pressed the mute button and shoved the phone back in my pocket with a groan. "Mom, can''t you get Aamir to help out tonight? I really need to go. Jen''s waiting for me." Mom laughed as she ground some coriander in the mortar with a pestle. "Don''t be silly.

Aamir has homework, and you know very well that you need to learn how to prepare these dishes by yourself. When you''re married, who will come and cook for you?" As if on cue, Aamir strolled into the kitchen and Mom''s face lit up. Typical. Mom could be such a cliché sometimes. Of course, she doted on my brother, but me? I had to learn how to cook so I could impress a potential mother-in-law. Deep breath. I had bigger problems at the moment. Like, how was I going to get out of here, go to Jen''s house to put my makeup on for the party, and make it back home by curfew? All without making my parents suspicious.

Aamir sauntered to the dining table and plopped himself into a chair. "What''s for dinner?" "Murgir jhol, baba. Your favorite." Mom stirred the spices in the pot. Wisps of coriander, cumin, and cloves wafted around the copper pots that hung on a hook near the stove before settling into my hair and clothes. I recalculated in my head the time I would now need to get ready. Shampooing, drying, and straightening my absurdly curly, long hair added at least another hour to my departure time. Jen was going to kill me.

With a resigned sigh, I gathered my thick hair into a knot, securing it at the nape of my neck with an elastic band from my wrist. I measured out two parts flour to one part water into a large mixing bowl for the roti, casting angry glances at my mother as she kept one eye on the pot. At least kneading the dough for the flatbread was cheaper than therapy. "Mom, I don''t really have that much homework to do. I can help out," Aamir said, unfolding his lanky frame from the chair. "No, no, abbu, you go and relax," Mom said. "Rukhsana will help." I glared furiously at my mother.

If I had a dollar for every time I''d been treated like Cinderella in this house, I''d be as rich as Prince Charming by now. Thankfully, I only had to endure this for a few more months. Then I was out of here. "Mom, this is ridiculous. He said he wants to help. I really need to go and work on my project with Jen." Mom waved a dismissive hand. "Aamir is a growing boy.

" She returned her attention to the simmering murgir jhol on the stove. "He needs to rest so that he can study properly." Aamir picked up the rolling pin, holding it awkwardly, which was not surprising as he''d never used one before. "Mom, I can--" "I said, go upstairs, Aamir." Mom''s tone did not invite argument and my brother slowly backed away from the kitchen counter, mouthing a sorry to me before he disappeared up the stairs. I sighed deeply. "I''m graduating this year, Mom. I think my grades are just as important as Aamir''s, even though you don''t seem to think so.

" I pounded the ball of dough relentlessly into the counter. "I don''t understand why you always do this." "Rukhsana, I''ve told you before. Daughters and sons are not the same. You have the power to honor our family''s good reputation. But if you''re not careful you could also be the one to stain it. And it is my job to make sure that does not happen." Mom reduced the heat on the stovetop and readied a pan for the roti.

I wondered what she would do if I let out the scream that was building inside of me. I took several long, deep breaths and recited the mantra I''d been living by lately: Just hold on for a little bit longer. Having an outburst would be counterproductive at this point. If I antagonized her, I''d never be able to leave the house tonight. I swallowed the lump in my throat and began to roll out the flatbread, allowing the simple, repetitive act to erase my frustration. Soon enough, a layer of perfectly round rotis covered the plate. "You''re getting much better." Mom grabbed the plate, nodding in approval before tossing one into the pan to cook.

I held out another plate with the last batch. "Can I go now?" "You have to eat first, no?" she said, expertly flipping the roti on the pan just as it puffed up. "I''ll just grab something at Jen''s." Mom scooped some rice pudding into a bowl. "Here." She handed me the bowl. "Take this up to Aamir. No need for him to come down when he''s working so hard.

I''ll call him when Daddy gets home." I took the bowl from her with one last glare and trudged out of the kitchen. Upstairs, I set the food down on the desk in front of Aamir. "Here. Mom sent this up for you. She didn''t want to bother you when you''re working so hard." Aamir looked up from his book. "I''m sorry, Rukhsana.

I did try to help," he said. "Mom can be so ridiculous sometimes." He stood and walked over to me. "Here, you can have some of my rice pudding." He held out a spoonful, just like he used to when we were little and I wouldn''t finish my food. Even though he was two years younger, most of the time he acted like a protective older brother. I couldn''t help smiling at him as I ate the pudding. He always knew how to make me feel better.

I washed my hair twice in an attempt to replace the smell of the spices with vanilla and jasmine. After straightening my hair, I pulled out a clean black top from my closet. I never understood why people were always telling me to wear lighter colors. Even though I knew they popped.