It does. I make the turn into the Chester complex …
‘Noway.’
The entire parking lot is full, rivalling game days out here. Every spot is taken, and I have to circle the place like a vulture until I find one parking space so far out I’ll have time to listen to half a podcast on my walk to the field. I completely forgot this was today. And unfortunately, so did everyone else.
They’re gathered at the far equipment shed, well outside of Chester, where we keep the golf carts. Even Coach is there, jaw slack in shock. ‘May!’ she yelps. ‘This was today?’
‘I had no freakin’ idea.’ I stare down the chaos happening inside Chester, visible through the chainlink fences. The grass, our field, is completely full of adults and kids and families all together, and the thud of the bass shakes the ground all the way out to where we are. The whistle of water guns is loud in the air as coloured water and powder fly above the fences.
‘What’s today?’ asks Colt, squinting at the field.
‘Uh. Some context.’ Coach clears her throat awkwardly. ‘We arekindof stretched thin for money here. As you know. So we rent the field out.’
‘You dowhat?’ Colt’s right eye twitches in confusion. ‘For who?’
‘May’s mother has some contacts.’ Our coach winces as a bomb full of colourful powder explodes above the field. ‘In the South Asian Association of Oklahoma. Their Holi celebration is today. Which we did not realize. At all.’
‘Wait, wait. So what’s going on with practice, then?’ Maddie holds out a hand. ‘Is there another field we can use right now?’
‘I’m afraid not.’ Coach looks like she’s literally sweating bullets as the entire team glares nervously. ‘I know your game is Thursday, girls, but the soccer field is taken, and you know sure as hell we won’t be able to get into Benson.’ She’s unfortunately right. Athletics would never let women’s lacrosse onto the precious football field just to run a practice. ‘Why don’t we go see what time it ends? Maybe we can postpone? Or ask if they could wrap up early?’
‘Coach.’ I shake my head sadly. ‘They’re Desi. They probably got here two hours late. There’s no way they’ll leave a minute early.’
‘Well, negotiation is our only bet!’ Jordan calls, already jogging towards the field with waving arms beckoning the rest of us. ‘Worst case, we party!’
‘That’s easy to say,’ I grumble. ‘We have a match Saturday.’
‘I mean, it’s not all bad.’ Colt perks up. Holy golden retriever. He’s bright-eyed, gazing at the celebration going on right across from us. ‘This could be fun, right?’
‘We’re going to get eaten alive by aunties.’ I used to go to this thing with my parents every year (who, more likely than not, are already inside, getting sloshed and fighting kids for their water guns). Unfortunately, I stopped around the time I turned fifteen. It sucks to step away from that side of my culture for such a stupid reason, but I cannot stand the community judging every breath you take and every choice you make. My mom had much the same to say about the story when she married my father. It took her, quite literally, over a decade to finally re-immerse herself into South Asian culture.
By the time we reach the door to the fence and sneak in, the music is so loud my eardrums might just burst into about amillion pieces. Someone’s water gun fires, and I wince as the droplets fly.
‘It’s fun!’ Brianna chirps happily, moving her shoulders to the beat of the invasively booming Bollywood song playing in the background. Ever so eager to make conversation no matter where we put her, Brianna taps a nearby girl’s shoulder. ‘Hey! Do you know what time this thing ends?’
The girl just shrugs and laughs. And then proceeds to throw a fistful of pink powder straight at a shocked Brianna.
Our cheerful midfielder spits out bits of pink with a strangled, ‘Oh, okay!’ Then, to me, ‘May? Is this normal?’
‘Yes.’ I can’t help but laugh. ‘Holi is the festival of colours. The whole thing is that you throw these coloured paints and water at each other. Or—’
I don’t get to finish. An arc of bright blue soaks my entire left arm. My mouth slowly falls open as I turn to absolutely storm down the offender. ‘Water cannons,’ I mutter through gritted teeth, getting ready to hit the warpath, Smurf-blue and all.
Colt stands a couple of paces away with a group of young boys, all of whom are exchanging smirks and giggling. A big grin spreads across his face as he holds out a cannon happily. ‘Retaliate!’ he shouts. ‘It’s fun!’
I absolutely refuse. I won’t be retaliating anytime soon, considering I’m already turning into a blueberry from the left side. But the urge to get Colt back for this attack is stronger.
Jordan is already at my side with an entire bag of purple colouring. ‘Get ’em,’ she jeers, grabbing a fistful herself.
I reach in, take as much powder as I can hold, and make a run for it. Colt’s eyes widen, and he reacts far too late. By thetime he’s dodging, I’m already throwing the entire mass of purple right at him. The cloud of it erupts every which way, and once it dissipates, he’s standing there with purple all over his hoodie and face, his cannon at the ready.
This time, when he fires it, it’s straight on. Nearly every part of me that’s facing him is dyed blue in less than a second, and those damn kids he’s got to do his bidding take their shot at the same time, spraying me with red and pink and orange while I struggle to run from these ridiculously fast boys, dodging disappointed aunties and drunk uncles.
‘Anarmy?’ I gasp through coloured water. ‘Ofchildren? How, Colt?’
‘I’m a personable guy,’ he chuckles as he jogs towards me, but when he pumps the cannon, a sad little spray comes out. ‘Aw, come on! Dude, Rahul! Hit me!’
Rahul – one of the members of Colt’s newfound army, a little Desi kid who can’t be more than twelve – chucks his gun Colt’s way. Colt snatches it, basically spamming the trigger, only for a weak spurt of green water to come out.
