Bhangra Babes by Narinder Dhami

have a question to ask you.”
    I thought it must be something to do with the wedding. Oh dear. How wrong I was.
    Mr. Arora sat down at his desk and steep led his fingers together. “Where is Kiran?” he asked gravely.
    “Who?” I blurted out.
    Mistake. Of course I knew who Kiran
was.
I'd just forgotten about her, that's all.
    “The papergirl,” Jazz said helpfully. “The one who's in your class.”
    “Thank you,” I mumbled. “I do know.”
    “Well, where is she?” Mr. Arora repeated.
    I shrugged. I hadn't seen her since French conversation, just before lunch.
    Mr. Arora was looking deeply pained. “There she is.” He pointed out of the window. Kiran was sitting on her own on a bench in the playground, reading a magazine.
    Jazz looked puzzled. “If you know where she is, then why are you asking us?”
    Mr. Arora looked even more pained. “As you can see, she's on her own. And this is the second day I've seen her sitting on her own at lunchtime
and
break time.” He turned reproachful, puppy-dog eyes on us. “I did ask you if you could help her settle in.”
    “It's not our fault,” I said defensively. “She's not exactly the easiest person in the world to get along with.” This was putting it as politely as I could.
    Mr. Arora sighed. “I accept that. But if you could all try a little harder to make friends with her, I think she'd respond. Will you give it a go?”
    We didn't say anything for a moment. I'm sure Geena and Jazz were having exactly the same thoughts as I was—which were that there was no way we'd be in this awkward position if Mr. Arora wasn't engaged to Auntie. However, I could just imagine the hassle Auntie would give us if we didn't do what he asked.
    “We'll try,” I said gloomily.
    “This is ridiculous,” Geena complained when we were a safe distance away from Mr. Arora's classroom. “Why do
we
have to be the ones to make an effort? If
    this girl hasn't made any friends yet, it's because nobody likes her.”
    “She looks like a thug too.” Jazz shuddered melodramatically. “That hair.”
    “You know, technically Mr. Arora can't make me do anything,” Geena said thoughtfully. “He's head of the lower school, and I'm in the upper school.”
    “Oh, I'd like to see you tell him that,” Jazz sniggered. “Auntie would love it.”
    “I'm not scared of Auntie,” retorted Geena.
    “Of course you are,” Jazz said. “We
all
are.”
    “This is your fault, Amber.” Geena turned on me. “If you hadn't annoyed Kiran the first time you met, she might be a bit more pleasant.”
    “May I remind you that I was the one who had a newspaper stuffed down her sweater?” I snapped. “Look, we're missing the point here.”
    “Which is?” Jazz queried.
    “Well, don't you think Mr. Arora and the other teachers are coming on a bit heavy?” I went on. “We've had new kids start at the school loads of times. And they don't usually have such a big fuss made of them.”
    Geena frowned. “You mean—there's something odd about Kiran?”
    “That's exactly what I mean,” I replied. “There's some sort of mystery. …” I thought for a moment. “I think I've got it.”
    “What?” Jazz asked eagerly.
    “I reckon Kiran was a troublemaker at her last
    school,” I said slowly. “Maybe even a bully. And Mr. Arora's doing his best to stop her from going down that road again here.”
    Geena put her head on one side as she considered. “Actually, that makes perfect sense,” she admitted.
    “She
looks
scary,” said Jazz. “Yes, I'll buy that.”
    “I suppose we'd better go and talk to her,” I sighed as we went into the playground. “I wouldn't be surprised if Mr. Arora's watching us from his classroom window.”
    “If we could get her annoyed, she might thump one of us,” said Jazz eagerly. “Then she'd be expelled, and we'd be rid of her forever.”
    “I nominate Amber,” said Geena.
    “Forget it,” I said. “We're all in this together.”
    Kiran glanced up from her