The weekend couldn't come soon enough.

Five days of school, and my body is ready to give up this drudgery of everyday routine. Doing the same thing day in, day out, within the confinement of social normalcy. It was high time for a break (who cares if the vacation ended only a week ago), and I couldn't be gladder to get out of the house.

"Carey! Good morning!" My aunt beams, pulling me into a bear hug against her plump body. My chin bumps her head, and she laughs, squeezing the shit out of me.

"Shiva, you're going to kill the poor girl," My uncle drawls out next to her. His ever-present lazy grin on his smile.

"It's good to see you, Carey," Aunt Shiva smiles at me warmly before marching into the house. "I have to go check on the kitchen, Lord knows Priya can't cook to save her life."

"Hey, Uncle B," I hug my mother's brother, engulfed by his lanky frame. "Long time no see."

"Too long," Uncle B chuckles softly, and then he smiles some more on seeing Mum. "Yasmin," he hugs her tightly and then takes her suitcase. "I'll call the boys to take that upstairs."

"Thank you," I take out my shoes and leave next to the untidy row of sneakers by the door and deposit my backpack on the floor.

"Carey, you can share a room with Priya, which should fit all of us," my uncle guides Mum and me into the massive lounge.

Contrasting my aunt, my uncle is tall, thin and the least affectionate person I've ever met. Like my mother, her brother is quiet and soft-spoken, keeping to himself instead of voicing his opinions. I haven't seen my aunt and uncle throughout the holidays – they and their five children had gone to India – so it was nice to see them again.

My Aunt had invited Mum and me over for the weekend, so here we were Saturday morning, standing at the threshold of their big house. I had a backpack with my clothes and toiletries, and Mum rolled in a small suitcase. From upstairs, I could hear the thundering noise of footsteps running and my cousin's voices shouting across passageways. The stairs rattle as they come bounding down, in a flurry of hyperactive children.

"Kids! Behave yourselves!" Aunt Shiva pokes her head out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in her hand. "Go greet your cousin and your Auntie!"

Mum and I share a look.

The lounge space has an L-sofa and two recliners on the side, all faded white leather. A messy coffee table sits in the middle, there are video game consoles on the floor, and books piled up on the small stool next to the large flatscreen TV. The middle kid of my five cousins – Akil – sits in the corner, nearly engulfed by pillows, and I have to do a doubletake.

His pitch-black hair peeks out, narrow shoulders hunched, and his small body is tucked as he plays a video game on the TV. Akil doesn't notice me, he's too busy staring intently at the screen, and only when I stand in front of him blocking his vision, does his gaze shift.

"Hey there," I deadpan, putting my hands on my hips.

Akil scowls, ducking under my arm. "No! You crashed my car!"

"And now you can greet me," I smirk, and my cousin groans as he unfolds from the couch. "Hi, Carey."

My smile widens, and I hug him, nearly lifting him off the floor. Akil is eleven, a scrawny kid with long, messy hair and the easiest to push around. Every time I've come over, he's always hiding in the shadows, curled up in his signature place on the couch, engrossed in a video game or book.

"You're gone taller," I muse, stepping away to assess him. He's gained around two inches of height, making him just a head shorter than me. Soon, like everyone else, he'll be above me.

"No, I haven't," he's already retreating to his little cave as the over kids make their appearances.

Two five-year-old girls gurgle as they skip into the lounge, running around my legs. They squeal as I bend down and pick up one of my twin cousins, holding her upside down. I laugh as Divya shies away behind my legs, and Anaya squeals again in my arms.

"You can't catch me!" Divya grins, ducking under my hand.

I tickle Anaya. "Got you!"

She shrieks with laughter.

"Anaya! Divya! Behave!" My aunt shouts from the kitchen. "Yash, go check on them."

"Why can't Priya go?" I hear Yash, the second born, and my snarkiest cousin groans as he comes downstairs.

"I'm helping with the Parathas!" Priya shouts back.

"Let me go see if they need help, look after the girls," Mum puts a hand on my shoulder and squeezes. I nod, holding Anaya upright.

Uncle B joins us in the lounge switching off the TV as he strides passed, Akil withdraws further into the couch, and the twins jump around, upsetting the cushions. Priya, my oldest cousin, comes in, Yash whistling behind her. He picks up Divya and dumps her on the couch in one move. I put Anaya down next to her.

"Hey, Carey!" They grin at me identically and devilishly.

"Hello, naughty girls," I crouch, flicking their noses.

"We're not naughty," Anaya says, but her front two teeth are missing, so it comes off as 'notty'.

Diya bobs her head. "Yeah."

Yash scoffs. I give him and Priya a hug.

"You cut your hair!" I exclaim, tugging at a loose strand of Priya's straight, dark hair. She used to have a glorious mane of thick black till her waist, now it was cut short to her shoulders, making her look like a completely different person.

"India was way too hot," she grins, sitting next to me on the sofa. "First thing I did was make ma take me to cut my hair."

"It looks good," I comment. "How was India anyways?"

"Noisy!" Yash says and launches himself at Akil. "Play soccer outside with me!"

"It was busy," Akil kicks Yash in the stomach before he can get too close. "The streets were packed with traffic for hours."

"Yeah, just going down the road took ten minutes," Priya nods.

"I like the colours in India!" Anaya bounces, her frilly blue dress fluttering around her.

"So pretty!" Diya adds – she's wearing a matching dress as her sister but it's pink with rose patterns instead of daisies.

I chat with my cousins for a while about India, and then the conversation shifts to school. Priya, Yash and Akil all go to a co-ed private school that offers grade one till senior year combined. It's one of those expensive schools that only have twenty children in a class, and they have to wear uniforms. My uncle is a mechanical engineer – it would make sense that he can afford to send his kids to an exclusive school.

In fact, my mum comes from a family that consists literally of engineers. My grandfather was an electrical engineer who immigrated from India – newlywed to my grandma whose a biochemical engineer. They both got high-class jobs in America, working themselves to the bone to make a living in a foreign country.

Mum never forgot how much her parents sacrificed so that she'd have a good future, and she reminds me so that I know of their struggles. She didn't point it out, but I knew my grandparents were disappointed in her. My mother was brilliant at school, but she never bothered with university. She hated the social normalcy that demanded students go right to college for another gruelling four years. Instead, to her parent's dismay, she'd gotten a job right after school as a receptionist for a dentist.

My uncle, on the other hand, was halfway done with his degree. And so he became an engineer, and my mum simply flitted between jobs, never able to settle down. And then, the cheery on top that must've given my grandmother a heart attack, Mum met my Dad at a law firm she'd be working in at the time. ("A white man!" My grandma was appalled. "He's so bland! Only puts salt in his food!")

"Carey, let me show you what I did with my room," Priya taps my wrist excitedly. "I looked through those Pinterest pics you sent when I redecorated."

I grin, following her up the stairs. "Yeah? What time did you like?"

Priya looks over her shoulder. "Book lovers haven. Obviously."

"Obviously," I echo, following her into her room.

Priya was hellbent on refurbishing her bedroom during the vacation, realising how much she outgrew the frilly pink bedspreads and glittery butterflies hanging from her wall. She had this bedroom since she was five, and after asking for my input, my cousin went all out. And the results are extraordinary.

"Woah," I look around as if I stepped into an alternate reality. "Damn girl, you really went all out."

She shrugs, pushing her newly cut hair back from her face. "I needed the change."

Gone are the pink bedspreads, replaced by a lavender quilt with white daisies. The butterflies from the white wall are now book quotes, artfully designed in calligraphic fonts. The old, pastel pink shelves full of teddy bears and trinkets are redecorated into a light brown, books filling it nearly from top to bottom. There's a new study desk as well, where her makeup table used to be.

"I need a pic of this," I tell Priya, unpocketing my phone.

She smiles. "Nice."

I unlock my phone, and to my surprise, there's an unread message from Nash.

"Ay, what got you smiling like that, Carey?" Priya leans over my shoulder playfully. "Or should I say who?"

I switch my phone off quickly, my hands fumbling as a blush spread on my cheeks. "Nobody."

"Uh huh," Priya raises a sceptical brow.

"I mean it, it's no one," I splutter quickly.

She waves her hand. "It's okay Car, don't tell me. But that's some boy got you flustered like that."

My heart leaps to my throat, and I'm at a loss for words. No boy made me feel different – least Nash of all people. Not anymore.

I'm saved a reply when my aunt calls everyone for lunch.