Freaks and Fortune

Over the next few days, Cal became very distant with me. He clung to Savannah and was acting more desperate than usual. He followed her around quietly, trying to hold her hand when she least expected it. He wasn't being cute or cocky about it... He was just there with her all the time.

Savannah, of course, was taking it all in stride. She would always calmly turn him down, never getting fed up or angry. She seemed, somehow, used to the attention.

I tried to talk to him once or twice. He'd speak to me, but he'd deliberately make his replies as short as possible. I found it strange. Lonely, even.

It was Saturday. I could either stay in bed, or get up and do something with my time. I flirted with the idea of sleeping through until the afternoon, but something told me that I had to find Ravi.

It had been about four days since the huge fight between Ravi and Anthony. I hadn't seen much of Anthony after I talked to him... That didn't worry me. It was rare that I saw him under normal conditions. My days were always very busy. But I almost never went through a day without running into Ravi. And I hadn't seen him since the anniversary fiasco.

I started asking around, trying to find out if anyone had seen or spoken to the temperamental Elephant Acrobat in the past couple of days. Nobody had.

The combination of my gut feeling and the mysterious circumstances under which Ravi had disappeared brought me to his door at ten o'clock that Saturday morning.

I pounded on the door, expecting a sullen Ravi to answer. Instead, his father greeted me. Without a word, he stepped aside and let me in.

The white-haired Indian man was about a head shorter than me. But the power and stature that radiated from him was enough to make me feel smaller than I've ever felt in my life. It wasn't scary. It was more humbling.

"This way, Ms. Bailey."

I was led into the kitchen. Wood floors creaked beneath my feet.

"Ravi has been in his room."

Mr. Hastin had his back turned to me. He was fixing something on the counter.

"Do you... Do you know if he's okay?" I asked timidly.
"He hasn't opened his door."
"Oh..."

Mr. Hastin reached up into a cupboard and lifted down a glass plate. He turned around. A sandwich, cut diagonally, was in his hands.

"This boy... Anthony," he said carefully. "He is very important to my Ravi, yes?"
"Yes, sir," I replied. My voice was strong and assured. "Very important."

Mr. Hastin nodded understandingly. He extended the plate to me.

"He is in his room. Please bring this to him."
"Yes, sir."
"And remind him that he is a Hastin, Ms. Bailey. Remind him a Hastin must always be proud of who he is."
"Yes, sir."

Smiling, I took the plate from Ravi's father. He pointed me to a hallway to my left.

"Third door on the right, Ms. Bailey."
"Thank you, sir."

To my surprise, Ravi's room was unlocked. I was expecting a big battle to get it open. But the silver knob turned easily in my hand. I walked into Ravi's room and set the plate with the sandwich on it down on his dresser.

The room was painted blue. One one wall, there was a poster, yellowing with age around the corners. Upon closer inspection, I found that it was an advertisement for Ravi! It boldly stated that Ravi Hastin was a four-year-old acrobatic prodigy.

It was a poster for his first show!

I smiled and looked around the room a bit more. It was neat... unsurprisingly so. On top of his wooden dresser, right next to where I'd placed the sandwich, stood a picture in a frame.

It was Ravi at his birthday party. The cake was sitting in front of him, slightly blurry and out of focus. I could make out "Happy Sweet Sixteen, Ravi!" written on it. A huge banner was hung behind his head, it spelled "Janam Din ki badhai!"

Ravi was reluctantly smiling in the picture. It was plain to see that he was trying hard to keep his default scowl on his face, but the sheer joy that leaked through his eyes was too much for his mouth to handle.

He looked much younger. Two years can make a world of difference. Anthony was sitting right beside him, his arm draped casually around Ravi's shoulder. Two party hats were on his head, made to look like horns. He was smiling broadly, his mouth open and his tongue out. He was making a crazy face for the camera.

It took a few seconds for me to realize that something was not right... It wasn't with the picture... It was a sound. I thought hard. It sounded sort of like... running water.

I turned around to see another door. The sound was coming from inside. The handle wouldn't turn.

"Ravi?" I yelled over the water. "Ravi, are you in there?"
"No!" came his voice from the other side of the door.
"It's Ivy, Ravi!" I called. "Let me in!"
"No!"
"I have food!"
"Go away!"

I thought for a bit.

"I just talked to your father."
"Go away!"
"I talked to Anthony the other day."
"Go- Wait, what?"

The sound of running water stopped.

"I talked to Anthony on Thursday. I have something to tell you."

The lock clicked on the door handle. I opened it.

Ravi was standing by the sink. He was dripping wet. I caught sight of an empty clear plastic bottle in the trash and then... It hit.

Ravi had dyed his hair black.

My mind instantly flashed back to how his hair had been the last time I'd seen him. Half of it had been white, with streaks of red and gold running through it. But now there was nothing. Just his natural black all over. The water ran from his hair down into the neck of his shirt. The white cotton soaked it up and slowly turned grey.

"Oh... Ravi..." I breathed.

He stared at me through his bangs. Black water dripped onto the floor.

I snatched a towel from the small closet and handed it to him. He dried his hair off and stared at me guiltily.

"Why?" I asked.
He just sighed and looked down at his feet, scowling.

Silent, he walked into his room. I followed. He sat with his back pressed up against the foot of his bed and the towel around his shoulders.

"I'm an idiot," he said quietly as I sat down next to him. "I'm such an idiot."
"Don't say that."
He banged the back of his head against his bed. "I'm an idiot."

I got up and brought him the sandwich his dad had made for him.

"Your father isn't angry, you know," I told him. "He said that you should be proud of who you are."

Ravi took a sullen bite and pushed the plate across the floor.

"I'm not hungry," he muttered.
"Nobody's mad at you," I said. "Not even Anthony."

He looked at me sharply.

"I'm being serious," I swore. "He feels just as guilty as you do."

Ravi raised his hand to touch the red scab on his lip, as if to wipe away the memory of the blood that had been there.