"I am pretty," she reassured herself as she looked in the mirror. She didn't see why the mere fact that she was dark made her not pretty. She had beautiful almond shaped eyes that seemed black unless you got really close. Her skin was smooth and clear. She didn't have acne like other girls her age and she was proud of that. "Touchwood," she murmured under her breath. She was proud of her straight teeth since she never had braces. Most Indians don't get braces. It's a novelty that only the rich and spoilt can afford, in her opinion. She could never understand how people could spend such money when they were three years old children begging on the street. She realized she was not expected to think like that especially since she was only twelve.

Nothing about her was similar to the other girls she hung out with. She was brought up without a father. He wasn't dead, sadly she thought. She quickly felt guilty for thinking such morose thoughts. Her parents were separated before her birth. She came from a good, conservative Brahmin family but that meant nothing since she did not have a normal family. Her mother had walked out on her father. Shameful, truly, according to everyone. She lived with this shame and never was able to escape it. Lest she was successful in forgetting it, a dose of shamefulness was fed to her everyday by her relatives. She didn't detest them. They were family after all and family matters the most, at least she tried to believe that. She had to believe that, she reckoned.

She didn't behave much like a girl, according to her aunts. She performed no housework, answered back to the adults, hung out on the balcony " staring at boys they supposed. "Why should I have to do chores around the house when my cousins don't? Just because I am a girl?" She questioned despite knowing the answer. She knew that was the reason and she thought it unfair. But it was not supposed to be fair, her aunts tried to reason with her. "What kind of boy is going to marry her?" they always worried. They thought it was pertinent that she should learn to be humble since she was not living with her father and her mother was known to have a bad temper. She ignored these worries. She respected and loved her mother. She could understand why her mother had left her father. She had met her father on a few occasions and dreaded each encounter. He was quick to point out how her mother and her family had failed in her upbringing. She never understood how come everyone was disappointed with her in one way or the other, including her mother. She kept a dairy and wrote in it each day about the mundane things that took place daily, her innocent crushes and the cruel taunts showered on her by her aunts. She knew they meant no harm but it still hurt. Everyday she would conclude her entry with the same sentence " "I just want to be loved by everyone." Impossible feat she soon realized.

Amid all this worries, he was like a breath of fresh air. He lived in the flat across from her. He was more than a couple of years older but that didn't matter. She was never going to talk to him. She just like watching him and loved it when she caught him looking at her. She would brush her smooth, pretty black hair by the window on purpose. He would stare and then smile. She would freeze even though she had practiced countless time in the mirror how to smile back. He made her feel pretty. He was not disappointed in her. He liked her, she thought. She fantasized about him. About talking to him. About impressing him with her smarts. A smart girl she was and she always ended up amongst the top five in her class. But that was never enough. It was expected of her to do well. She was jealous of her male cousins since they had no such worries, had way more freedom and had fathers who cared about their scores and bought them gifts if they fared well in exams. They would buy her gifts too but just so that she wouldn't feel left out. "Maybe I'm wrong in thinking that," she considered. But she did feel left out. She longed for a father figure who on Sundays would quiz her on geography and be proud of her. She did not want her own father. She preferred her present situation better than to live with him. There was something off about him which she would experience first hand in a few years.

She wished she was a boy so that her achievements would mean something. She could answer back, not do house work, stay out later in the evening and she would never have to worry about finding a nice girl to marry. Her mother wanted a boy and she had said so to her face. She said life would have been easier and maybe her father would have treated her mother better. She didn't despise her mother for being honest. She understood that it is better to have walked out on your husband and have a son then have a daughter. Her mother was a working woman and did not really have the time at least not since she had been in fifth grade. That was two years ago. Many things had changed since. She had hit puberty and now she worried about how small her breasts were. But boys seemed to like her just fine. She knew this because she would catch them staring at her. That's how you know. In the society that she was a part of, boys didn't approach girls at the age of twelve. Maybe in a couple of years but that is unlikely as well. However, college will be different. For one thing, she won't be in all girls' school anymore. She was desperately looking forward to college. She connected better with boys. They validated her with their stares and smiles. Not the sleazy kind from sleazy boys. Good boys from good families, of course. They were not disappointed in her. They liked her just the way she was " dark, smart and blunt.