Page 139 of The Diamond in the Rough

“Gibran and Meena,” came the answer. “Meena is the oldest, then Gibran, then me.”

“Are they in Richmond?”

“Nope. Gibran’s an accountant in Annapolis, married, two kids, Diya and Ved, Meena lives in Ocean City and is a Park Ranger for Assateague National Seashore. Mata—my mother—says that Meena and I give her grey hair because we won’t give her more grandchildren.” He shrugged, his expression wry. “But she’s just going to have to get used to only having two.”

“What about your father?” I asked him, sensing there was something sensitive about this and wanting to change directions a little.

“Bapa really just wants everybody to be happy,” he replied with a smile. “Which means he mostly runs interferenceand reminds my mother she can spoil Diya and Ved even more than she already is.”

“Interference?”

“You really have no idea how families work, do you?” he asked, but his tone was kind, not critical.

I shook my head.

“Well… families, when they work the way they’re supposed to, anyway, are honestly a lot like me and Hart.”

“They pick on each other a lot?”

Another smile. “Actually, yeah. Because we know that the other people love us, so we can say things to them that would be rude or mean to other people—but you have to say it in a way that they know you’re saying it with love.”

“How do you do that?”

“Lots of ways,” he replied. “Like how Hart always calls me Tony.”

“For Tony the Tiger. The mascot on the Frosted Flakes box.” Hart had explained that.

“You got it.”

“So you call him Keebler after the cookie elf?” I thought I understood.

Raj grinned, showing those white teeth that were maybe a bit sharper than mine. “Precisely. And as long as we still do that, we know that we’re still friends. Even if we get angry sometimes.”

“Like how he usually calls me ‘kid,’ but when he’s really serious he calls me Rayn,” I said.

“Exactly like that.”

I thought about this. “You don’t have a name for me,” I observed.

His lips curved. “Not yet,” he replied. “I don’t know you well enough yet. But I will. And you’ll have one for me, too.”

I thought about this. “How come Mason and Ward don’t do that?” I asked him, then.

Raj shrugged. “It doesn’t work for everybody,” he admitted. “But Ward does call Mason ‘Mace’ sometimes. But since Ward is already a one-syllable nickname, it doesn’t make sense to shorten it even more.”

“Rayn isn’t very shorten-able, either,” I pointed out.

“No, it isn’t,” he agreed. “Did you ever have a nickname?”

I shook my head. He did, obviously. Raj. Tony.

He squeezed my hand again. “We’ll find one.”

“Sylvia calls me sunshine,” I told him.

He laughed. “I like it. It has some irony to it.”

I grimaced. “I hadn’t thought of that.”