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whole thing herself. So she decided to wait.
    At first the idea of a curse on her veena seemed thrilling. Was it one of those ancient curses that affected anyone who came in contact with the instrument? Maybe she was cursed now, too. But that’s when she began to feel annoyed. Why didn’t anyone tell her about this curse? Even after the veena was stolen?
    Just then, Amanda turned around from the row in front, her auburn hair hanging gracefully down her back. Selfconsciously, Neela ran her fingers through her own hair. She could feel the knots that were still there, and hoped she’d washed out all the toothpaste that got in the ends when she was brushing her teeth this morning.
    â€œHey, Neela,” Amanda said, “are you bringing your instrument to school again?”
    Neela wondered why Amanda cared. “It’s too heavy to carry,” she said warily.
    â€œI wanted to tell you yesterday, but couldn’t because of Miss Photo Freak”—Amanda glanced at Lynne—“that my mom heard about your veena and wants to borrow it.”
    â€œBorrow it?” Neela didn’t understand. Who would want to borrow a veena?
    â€œFor her job. They need to do a photo shoot with Indian instruments.” Amanda’s mother was a photographer for a magazine in Boston. “They’re doing some article about rooms from all around the world.”
    So that was it. Keep your mouth shut, Neela told herself. The last thing she wanted was to talk about her missing veena with Amanda.
    Ms. Reese came by. “Nice work.” She handed Neela her test, facedown. Neela turned it over to see a perfect score, and flushed with pleasure. She let herself momentarily bask in the glow of a good mark.
    â€œSo?” Amanda asked.
    Neela turned to her. “I’ll have to ask my mom.” Good! Hopefully that would keep Amanda from asking more about the veena.
    Amanda handed something to Neela. “That’s my mom’s business card. You can talk to her yourself at her work.”
    Neela looked at the card: ELIZABETH BONES, SENIOR PHOTOGRAPHER, BOSTON LIVING MAGAZINE . It looked so professional, complete with a Boston address. No one had ever given her a business card before. “I’ll have to get back to you,” she said miserably, “because we kind of don’t know where the veena is right now.”
    â€œYou don’t know where your veena is?” Amanda’s voice rose an octave. But before she could say anything more, Matt, who just sat down next to Neela, had overheard the whole thing.
    â€œDude! You lost it?” he said.
    â€œBut it was so big, Neela!” Penny said.
    â€œDid it break?” someone else asked.
    â€œDid your parents bust you?”
    All of a sudden, everyone around her buzzed with questions. At first she was embarrassed, but as she began to answer more questions, she found herself privately enjoying the attention.
    As she described what had happened at the church, she left Hal mostly out of the story except as someone who let her inside. She couldn’t say why, but something made her keep quiet about him. And she definitely didn’t mention what her parents had said about the veena or about her grandmother. “We’re going back this afternoon to see if it’s still there,” she finished.
    â€œThat’s awful,” Penny said. “I hope you find it.”
    Matt shook his orange hair back. “Filched in a church. That’s intense.”
    By now, Ms. Reese had noticed the chatter around Neela’s desk. “Class, keep it down. Neela, Matt, save your conversation for recess.”
    Neela reddened and turned to face the front. Most of the time Matt drew bizarre pictures of space aliens or read thick books that had creepy-sounding names in the title. Also, after bleaching his hair to a wild orange color, he had started wearing old, ratty T-shirts with the names of rock bands she’d never heard of