She had never been so humiliated. She ran all the way home, not stopping until she reached the Rushing River, letting the roaring waters drown out the sound of her crying.
Worse than the humiliation was the heartbreak, and worse than that was the hatred she felt for herself. She had been sostupid. To think he had meant all those pretty things he’d said, to think he could actually want her—that anyone could.
Well, she had learned her lesson.
Too embarrassed, she didn’t mention it to her sisters; instead, she buried it. Soon thereafter, the summer ended, and Gregory left. She did not even get a chance for revenge; she was too busy being heartbroken and ashamed.
After he left, she thought that was it, but the village boys still snickered whenever they saw her.
So Bisma did what she did best. She poisoned them.
She noticed that they all liked to chew on a particular plant while they stood around and talked in their corner of town. It didn’t take long for her to deduce the plant to be betel leaves. And so, the night before the harvest festival dance, with a simple bit of magic, she modified the leaves.
The boys didn’t notice. Not until it was too late.
The festival dance was notoriously the most romantic day of the year, with many couples spending the night together. None of the boys received such an auspicious fate.
Bisma watched as the effects of the plant kicked in just in time and one by one of the village boys soiled their pants on the dance floor. All the village girls avoided them as though they had the plague. While ordinarily the Unwanted Girls did not attend the festival dance, Bisma snuck out just to see her handiwork. She stood in the dark edges of the woods, her smile like a wolf’s.
The boys did not snicker after that.
She thought Gregory had understood her, but of course he hadn’t, not really, not truly. She was just projecting what she wanted onto him, her own light reflecting off him in a convincing facade. She had deluded herself into believing that he was all that she desired, settling for the crumbs of his attentions and affections.
It made her furious to think back on now, to see how little she had accepted from him, how highly she had regarded him. He had not deserved any of it.
She was always there for him, whenever his father scolded or yelled, she was the one he came complaining to, and she’d felt so important, so special, that it was she he unburdened his heart to. But, no, she was not special; he was just using her.
He did not care about her, not at all—not like this mysterious letter writer seemed to. It filled her with a strange sort of hope, that foolish romantic part of her heart that she thought had withered away, coming alive once more.
All these years she’d convinced herself she was content with stolen kisses, secret rendezvous, purely physical things, nothing more, but deep down, she craved affection. She yearned for love, even though she’d been smited by it.
Bisma wrote back, then went down to join the girls. As she went down the stairs, she saw Luna’s light on. Bisma entered, holding the cake Haru had given her. Luna had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders and was reading.
‘Special delivery,’ Bisma sang, smiling as she deposited the pumpkin cake onto Luna’s bed and sat down. Luna looked up from her book. ‘Haru sent this and said to tell you that he’s thinking of you.’
Emotion crossed Luna’s face, so quickly that Bisma couldn’t decipher it.
‘I don’t want it,’ Luna said, turning back to her book. ‘Give it to the others.’
‘What?’ Bisma asked, confused. ‘You’ve never turned down a cake before, and from Haru, no less.’
‘I’m just not hungry.’
‘Luna, what’s going on?’ Bisma took a closer look at her sister, and Luna buried her nose deeper into her book. ‘You’re not going to ask meexactlywhat Haru said and how he said it?’
Luna shook her head.
Bisma didn’t understand. Luna had been cured; she was alright, now. The scars on her arms had all but healed and Bisma had offered her a salve that would make the deep lines disappear, though Luna had refused.
She frowned. ‘Lu, tell me what’s wrong,’ Bisma ordered.
‘Nothing,’ Luna mumbled. She absentmindedly ran a hand over the scars on her arm, which concerned Bisma. ‘I just want to read.’
She would not look up, even as Bisma lingered. Sighing, Bisma stood. She placed the cake on Luna’s bedside. ‘Alright.’ She didn’t understand why Luna was acting so strangely. ‘Why don’t you come read downstairs?’
‘In a little while,’ Luna replied quietly. She still did not look up.
Bisma nibbled on her lower lip. With a sigh, she went down to the main area, where Mei was now playing with Deeba, having put her vanilla cake in to bake.
