Realm of the Goddess Read Online Free Page A

something about her, her skin the color of a mocha latte, her long, black hair, usually knotted up in a stylish bun at the base of her neck, and her dark eyes, always intense as if they could see right through a person. But I’d always felt it was her accent that gave her an air of mystery. Her education in one of Kolkata’s most prestigious schools had left her with a refined accent when she spoke in English, and my grandparents’ love of Bengali literature made her equally enchanting when she spoke in her mother tongue.
    I watched her now, getting dinner ready while my dad was making his delicious mango salsa. I liked to watch them together. There was something about the way they moved together, like two parts of a well-oiled machine. Their movements were almost choreographed, as if one could read the other’s mind, knowing what their next move would be. They worked perfectly in unison, maneuvering around the kitchen, never bumping into one another as they went about emptying and refilling the dishwasher, getting ingredients out of the refrigerator, putting dishes away. In less than half an hour dinner was ready and we were sitting in our respective recliners. We weren’t really a family that ate at the table. When we had first moved to Seattle my mom had gone back to school for her doctorate, and dinners were usually something from the freezer that could be heated up in the oven and eaten in the family room while my mom worked on her thesis. But somehow she’d always made time for me, asking me who my new friends were, inviting them over for cookies and ice cream and throwing the best Halloween parties ever. Over the years eating in the family room had become our thing. That and watching American Idol . My mom and I loved the show, and my dad had long ago given up trying to get us to watch football instead.
    Now as we ate my mom continued gushing about the new Indian family. In the back of my mind I already knew this must be Shiv’s family, and of course I was right. A few minutes later she casually brought up the fact that this new couple happened to have a son and wondered if I had seen him at my school yet.
    “Actually, Mom, I hit him in the head with my locker door at lunchtime today,” I said nonchalantly, as if violence was just a regular part of my daily routine. I waited a few seconds for this to sink in. And then it all started. My dad just grinned as he calmly ate his chips and salsa while my mom unleashed a torrent of horror at having a clumsy daughter. She calmed down only after I told her he was very nice to me afterwards and that I had made up for it by showing him around. Somewhat mollified, she began to plan what kinds of Indian sweets we could bring them as a welcome gift, which, of course, I would walk over to their house later that evening. I hadn’t been planning to tell her about the whole Burke situation, but I couldn’t think of a better way to distract her. So I threw myself under the bus.
    “Mom, Dad...there’s a problem at school,” I started. I could literally see their ears perk up. When it came to school, my parents were über-involved.
    “What kind of problem, Callie?” my dad said. “Is everything on track with your university applications?” He was very keen for me to attend his alma mater, UW, where he taught anthropology.
    “Yes, that’s all fine. But Mr. Burke is giving me a hard time. He says my mark is dropping and that I have to stay after school to do extra credit work.”
    I was hoping they would feel as indignant as I did, but I had no such luck.
    “Well, if that’s what needs to be done, then just do it,” said my dad, ever the voice of reason. My mom looked a little miffed, but I could tell from her lack of argument that she basically agreed.
    “I’ll have to cut back on my tutoring hours and also my volunteering,” I mentioned, hoping that they would realize just how much this would cramp my style. I volunteered at the local retirement home, and I hoped