Stir It Up by Ramin Ganeshram Read Free Book Online

as the Stuyvesant test,” I begin.
    “Well, you can go after!” Dad booms.
    “I wish. But it’s the same time, Dad,” I say miserably.
    My mom puts her arm around my shoulders.
    “Ah, that’s too bad,” he says. “But at least you know you made it. That’s an achievement. Next time, then.”
    “Dad, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” I say, speaking quickly before he can interrupt me. “I’d like to do this instead. It’s a once in a lifetime chance — I might even get my own show! Plus, I can take the Stuyvesant test next year.”
    Mom interrupts. “Where do you propose to go to school, then, Anjali? You know that even with the scholarship, Forest Hills School is expensive for us. Even on the one in a million chance you win this thing and get your own show, you’ll still have to go to school.”
    “I can go to high school here in Queens,” I say. “It’s free, and there is the C-CAP program I told you about.”
    “Absolutely not,” my father breaks in. “This is foolishness. You are taking the Stuyvesant test. Period.”
    “But, Dad, that’s not a sure thing, either. I might not get in!”
    “Rubbish, Anjali,” he says firmly. “You are one of the smartest kids in your school. Of course you’re getting in.”
    “Please, Dad —”
    “No, the conversation is over,” he says. “Be happy you made the tryout and drop it. This cooking on TV is not your future.”
    “Why?” I say angrily.
“Cooking
is our family business. It’s
your
future!”
    “Anjali,” my father says, raising his voice. “Do
not
test my patience. Cooking is a
hobby
for you. That’s it — a hobby! Do you think I like standing up in a roti shop all day? It’s not my future by choice, it’s my future by necessity. I want more for you and Anand. You are too young to know what’s good for you. That is my decision to make.”
    “But, Dad —”
    “No, Anjali!” he yells, making me jump. My mother is looking at the floor. She still has her arm around my shoulders.
    “Mom?” I whisper. She shakes her head slightly.
    “Deema?”
    “Your father knows what’s best for you,
bayti
,” Deema answers softly.
    I pull away from my mother and look angrily at them all. Anand has his arms crossed and is slumped on the couch. He won’t look at me. This is worse than having a bucket of ice thrown on my head.
    “I don’t even want to go to stupid Stuyvesant! Do any of you even care about that?”
    I run to my room and slam the door as hard as I can. I want to break something, to keep screaming, but I know my father would have no problem giving me a smack if I did that. I sit at my desk and stare out the window at the traffic on the Van Wyck Expressway.
    There has to be another way. And I’m going to find it.
    I sit on the wooden bench and unlace my skates. It’s Saturday. Linc and I are spending the morning at the ice rink at the World’s Fair grounds in Flushing, a few neighborhoods away.
    “Anj, it’s too cold to sit out here,” says Linc. “Why can’t we talk inside the skate rental hall?”
    “It’s too noisy in there.”
    Linc blows into his hands, then shoves them into his pockets.
    “I made the Food Network finals,” I blurt out.
    Linc pulls his right hand out of his pocket. He slaps the air between us for a high five.
“Pow!”
    But before Linc can get too happy, I tell him. “The callback is the same day as the Stuyvesant test.”
    Linc puts his hand down. “Aw, crap,” he says. “The same time, too?”
    I nod miserably.
    “Maybe you can get a special pass or something. They can let you take the test another time,” he says. “You know — a dis — what’s that word?”
    “A dispensation?” I say. “Not likely. My parents would have to agree and they’ve already said no.”
    Linc hunches into the collar of his coat. “That just sucks,” he mumbles from behind the puffy cloth.
    “Linc …” I begin. He cuts his eyes at me. He knows I’ve already got a plan that involves him.