Emma Jean Lazarus Fell in Love by Lauren Tarshis Page B

tucking of the orange silk, Emma-Jean’s mother had placed a call to Mrs. Adwani, who had not been the least bit annoyed to be awakened at 3:35 a.m. Mumbai time. Despite the early hour, Mrs. Adwani provided coherent instructions to Emma-Jean’s mother, who then adeptly wrapped the sari around Emma-Jean’s body and draped it over her shoulder. The results were quite fetching.
    When they arrived at the school, they found Ms. Wright standing in the doorway of the gym.
    â€œHere you are!”’ she said. “And look how stunning you are, Emma-Jean!”
    â€œThank you,” said Emma-Jean said, confirming that her sari was secure. “You look stunning as well.”
    Indeed, Ms. Wright looked especially lovely in a blue dress, which swished gracefully around her knees. Emma-Jean made a mental note to suggest to Ms. Wright that she wear this dress on Wednesday night, to the dinner Vikram was preparing in honor of Dr. Markt. It had been Emma-Jean’s idea to include Ms. Wright in the dinner, and Vikram and her mother had readily concurred.
    â€œShe loves Vikram’s puran-poli,” her mother had said, referring to Vikram’s mother’s signature dish, a stuffed bread that Vikram would be making for the dinner.
    But Emma-Jean had her secret reason for inviting Ms. Wright, a reason that had nothing at all to do with the puran-poli: She had come to see that the illustrious scientist and her esteemed teacher would make an excellent couple.
    Over the past two weeks, Vikram had shared with Emma-Jean some compelling details about Dr. Markt—that he traveled to Connecticut frequently, that he played the mandolin, that he was unmarried. These facts, combined with Dr. Markt’s demonstrated intelligence and sense of humor, had led Emma-Jean to conclude that he had many of the qualities that Ms. Wright was looking for.
    Emma-Jean had not revealed any of this to Ms. Wright, who might become nervous if she knew she could soon be meeting her future husband. Besides, Emma-Jean could do no more than arrange their meeting. She knew better than to think she could control the unpredictable forces of love. Still, her hopes were high.
    Now Ms. Wright linked arms with Emma-Jean’s mother.
    â€œI need to take these tardy chaperones to their post,” she said.
    â€œDo you want to come with us?” her mother said.
    Emma-Jean shook her head. “I will find my friends.”
    Vikram waved and her mother blew her a kiss. The small diamond on her mother’s engagement ring seemed to wink at Emma-Jean as they disappeared into the crowd.
    Emma-Jean slowly made her way across the gym. She passed Mr. Petrowski, who was standing behind a pile of mats. He was engrossed in conversation with a plump woman wearing a bright flowered blouse. It took Emma-Jean a moment to recognize Colleen’s mother.
    â€œAnd next thing I knew they gave me a new Cadillac Escalade,” Mr. Petrowski was saying.
    â€œThat is a remarkable story!” said Mrs. Pomerantz, her hand fluttering across her chest like Colleen’s did when she was excited.
    â€œI’m glad you think so. I’ve got a million stories,” Mr. Petrowski said, standing up straighter and adjusting his glasses.
    â€œWell, I for one would enjoy hearing them.”
    â€œWhere to start?” Mr. Petrowski said, and they both laughed.
    Emma-Jean smiled to herself. Love really was in the air, she realized. Perhaps it wasn’t too late for Mr. Petrowski after all.
    Emma-Jean walked to the back of the gym and stood against the wall. She admired the festive decorations and the girls and boys dressed in their finery. Two boys were standing next to her. The closer one was Brandon Mahoney, who looked surprisingly presentable in his buttoned-down shirt and pressed pants.
    â€œThis dance kind of stinks,” he said to his friend. “Nobody wants to do anything fun.”
    She followed Brandon’s gaze across to the dance