Count Me In

“I was thankful that my father and grandfather did not wear turbans, and I worried for my friends whose fathers and grandfathers did. My parents calmed my fears; they believed in America and said we were still safe. I trusted them, because I wanted to. It could never happen to me, I told myself. And why would it happen to me? I was like my friends and peers. I reread the note: CURRY CHOPS STINKS. GO HOME. Was I different from my friends and peers?”

Karina faces bullying and teasing at school because of her Indian American cultural markers, such as food. Fearing that others won’t accept her because of her background, Karina at first responds by hiding—she wears long-sleeved shirts to conceal her arm hair and does her best to avoid being noticed. However, the novel will trace Karina’s learning to advocate for herself and embrace her identity.

“What could I have done? I had asked myself that question. I was sitting on the bus with the guys from the basketball team, and I had only waited forever to be able to sit with them—to be one of the guys. If I had said something at the time, what price would I have had to pay?”

Chris’s guilt over the bullying incident in sixth grade conveys his depth of character. He was unkind to Karina in the past, but he isn’t dismissive of his behavior. While he wants to balance his desire to be accepted with his desire to be a good person, he knows that he must make up for his bullying by performing acts of allyship.

“My cousins and I giggle as all the grown-ups get on their feet. I’m not sure how it happened, but it has become a dance party. I have a theory, though: I think it’s the call of Papa’s magical red silk tunic. Someone eggs Papa on. ‘C’mon. It’s your party. You have to join us.’ Papa is the center of attention with his white man and his big laugh. My cousin whistles. Mom claps, and her foot taps.”

When Karina is alone with her family she feels more comfortable being herself. Here, she is participating in her family’s boisterous dance party tradition without fear or self-consciousness. Her lack of inhibitions contrasts with her usual quiet, removed behavior at school, where she wants to attract as little attention as possible to protect herself.

“On the outside, our houses are built of the same bricks and siding. Same windows and door. Same oak trees in the front yard. Same front doors. They are like two chocolates in a box. But on the inside, they have different centers.”

The similarities and differences between Chris and Karina’s houses work as an analogy for the tweens themselves. On the outside, the classmates seem like equals—they live in the same neighborhood, are the same age, and go to the same school—but their inner lives are quite different: They have different backgrounds, customs, and family traditions. Once they start visiting one another’s homes, Chris and Karina get to know one another, sharing their favorite things and learning how to accept and welcome each other without judgment.

“I don’t want Chris Daniels to be eaten alive, even though the hyenas did laugh at me when Quinn made that crack about my arms. But I guess I should let that go. First of all, I don’t care anymore—I’ve learned to like my arms the way they are. And second of all, it was over a year ago. We’ve both grown since then. Papa always says, ‘Let bygones be bygones. They are too heavy to carry around.”

Karina’s thoughts about her relationship with Chris reveal that she is forgiving and mature. Although Chris hurt her in the past, Karina doesn’t want to hold onto bitterness. She is also learning from her grandfather, who will be her guide throughout the novel.

“I’m not scared before the next test. Mr. C shows me how to breathe deep so I don’t feel anxious. He texts and reminds me to eat breakfast the morning of the test. When I see the questions, some of them are familiar and I know I can handle them. I get a C+. When I show Mr. C my grade, he yells, ‘You did it!’ He gives me a bag of Peanut M&M’s. He remembered that they’re my favorite. I rip open the bag and share them with him. ‘We did it!’ I say with my mouth full.”

Chris’s relationship with Shiv Chopra, or Mr. C, changes his outlook on school and on himself. Chris is initially uninterested in getting math tutoring; he is resigned to simply not understanding the material. However, Mr. C quells his fears and helps him to succeed. Seeing himself through Mr. C’s eyes as a student capable of getting good grades allows Chris both to accept his flaws and to know that they can be worked on.

“Before I go, Karina surprises me by asking for a favor. ‘Chris, I need help choosing a photo for the tween competition at the gallery,’ she tells me. ‘I’ve shown them to a few people, but I could use another opinion.’ Karina wants my opinion? On her photographs? Has the Earth stopped spinning on its axis?”

By asking Chris for help with her photos, Karina is forgiving Chris for the past. She is making a gesture that communicates her desire to let the bullying incident go and to try being friends. The scene marks a turning point in Karina and Chris’s relationship and foreshadows the connection they will establish.

“Everything changes. Everything. We toss our phones at him, and he hurls them into a bush by the side of the road. We keep walking, and the man circles us like a vulture homing in on a carcass. His knife glints in the light. Houses line the street opposite the soccer field, and I see our car at the end of it. But I don’t see a soul other than us. I pray that someone will come out with their trash or to walk their dog. I wonder what the man will do if we make a run for it. Now I reach for Papa’s hand and hold it like a lifeline in case the man tries anything.”

The day that Karina, Chris, and Shiv are attacked on the street is jarring and climactic; nothing in the narrative so far has suggested that the tweens would face this kind of danger. The threats and violence make the characters feel helpless, changing how they see their neighborhood and themselves.

“Karina’s gone back to the spot where Mr. C fell. His Gandhi-style glasses are shattered on the street. One of his sandals lies there too. The berries we were eating are strewn all over. The burst strawberries look like splattered blood. Karina stands there among the wreckage, holding herself tall, and takes pictures. At that moment, I’m so proud to be Karina Chopra’s friend.”

Chris admires Karina’s boldness after the attack: Despite her shock, she immediately documents what happened, which impresses Chris. Her action conveys how eager she is to make sure there is a clear record of what happened—her pictures will give authority to her version of events. In turn, her behavior teaches Chris how to stay strong in the face of adversity and fear.

“I force myself to look at the doctor. His lips are moving, but I am hardly listening. I take in the rest of him. He is tall and pale, like he has never seen the outside of this hospital. His stethoscope hangs on his wrinkled white coat. His hair is thinning, like Dad’s. His touch and tone are so different from the other blue-eyed man. I must see beyond his eyes, I tell myself. I must. I remind myself that all brown people are not terrorists and that all people with blue eyes are not mean haters.”

Karina initially feels edgy when she sees Papa’s doctor at the hospital because he looks like the man who attacked them. However, Karina’s internal monologue reveals her desire not to judge others by the way that they look. She is actively refusing to make the kinds of harmful generalizations that lead to bias and prejudice, unlike the attacker, who judged her and Papa for their appearance.

“My grandfather was beaten up and called ugly names yesterday. He was attacked by a stranger who felt that Papa did not belong in America—someone who saw him as a terrorist and a threat. Papa has lived in America longer than he lived in his native India. Today he lies in a hospital bed. My friend Chris and I were with him but couldn’t stop the hate. Please pray that Papa recovers. And that soon he will be back to tutoring math and mending broken fences.”

Karina uses social media as a tool to foster community and understanding. She posts about what happened to Papa online because she wants others to know and she wants to ask for help healing from the incident. The novel argues that social media is a useful tool for organizing support and togetherness—although recent research has actually underscored how psychologically damaging excessive exposure to social media is for children and teens.

“As we talk, my mind spins. A few days ago I’d have never imagined discussing hate crimes with my parents. But here we are, in our kitchen, talking about heavy stuff instead of what we’ll grill for dinner. I wish the circumstances that brought us to this were different, but I’m glad we’re having the conversation. Like Mr. C says, you have to be able to imagine a better world to make it a reality.”

The attack inspires Chris to discuss difficult topics with his family. Therefore, the incident creates an opening that Chris couldn’t have otherwise anticipated. Talking about what happened helps him to understand the ways in which hate and love coexist even in his neighborhood. Chris is also leaning on Mr. C’s advice in this moment, again proving Shiv’s role as a mentor and guide for the younger characters.

“‘But let’s not mention this to Papa right now,’ Dad says. ‘When I was growing up, he always told us to keep our head down and work, and not share our business.’ ‘My dad used to say that too,’ Mom says. ‘Our parents accepted the little slights as the price that they had to pay for being new in the country. But maybe things are different now. Karina’s generation wants and demands more.’ Yes, things are different, I want to say. Also, I am not new. I was born here.”

Karina wants to tell her story because she believes that her experience is a valid American story. However, her parents come from a generation taught to hide and minimize the bigotry they encountered in order to assimilate. While Karina respects her parents, she doesn’t want to back down from the assumption that reaching out to strangers online is a positive and productive force. In the end, the novel sides with Karina, arguing that the hateful comments that she must sift through to find the supportive ones have limited effect on her mental health.

“The monster is dead. The world seems to stop spinning for a moment. The officers are talking to Dad and Papa, but their voices are far away. All I hear is, The monster is dead. He is no longer walking around hating on others. I move from my chair to sit next to Papa on his bed and hold his hand. We both breathe a sigh of relief.”

Learning about the attacker’s death helps to eliminate some of Karina’s and Papa’s fears after the incident. Before the man dies, the characters are terrified that he’ll come back and hurt them again. This moment is therefore significant in their healing processes. Some readers may be surprised by Bajaj’s decision to end the attacker’s life in this incredibly violent way; rather than exploring how the justice system would have handled the assault, the novel portrays the death as completely morally and psychically neutral, or even positive—a decision that may strike readers as unrealistic.

“While they talk, I check out the giant card someone left for Papa. It looks so cheerful that a stranger might think that Papa just slipped and fell, rather than the more brutal truth. It is full of hearts and signatures and get-well-soon messages. Some are even written in Hindi. I take a picture of the card and post it with a bunch of hashtags—#SurgerySuccessful, #HatersWontWin, #StayStrong, #OneStepAtATime, and #SupportHeals.”

Karina uses photography and social media to build community around a multicultural view of the US as the home of many different kinds of people from many different backgrounds and heritages. She posts about her grandfather’s recovery because she wants the support not only of her friends and family but also strangers online. Her hashtags convey her desire to remain strong despite the challenges she and her family are facing.

“Everything has multiplied. There are lots more flowers and cards, and a couple of balloons. People have also hung a bunch more of the green hearts with notes showing support. Someone has placed a picture of Karina and her grandfather on the tree too. It’s almost as if the flowers and hearts are pushing away the hate.”

The memorial illustrates the community support that Karina, Chris, and Shiv have in their Houston neighborhood. As the weeks pass after the incident, the community keeps building on the memorial, which shows that they haven’t forgotten the attack and therefore won’t forget what happened to Karina, Chris, and Shiv.

“‘I don’t mind,’ says Karina. ‘Sometimes, I feel like the whole world should know. Other times, I worry that my grandfather would not like it. But I think he’s beginning to understand that it’s important to talk about all this.’ Before we leave, Karina takes a picture of Mrs. Maxwell, me, Diego, Trevor, and Ashley against the pink streaks in the sky.”

Karina learns how to use her voice, advocate for herself, and accept her identity with the help of her friends and family. She conveys these notions to Anne Maxwell and her friends at the memorial because this site encourages and empowers her.

“By three in the morning, I am still awake. The light of the almost-full moon streams in through the slats of my blinds. I toss and turn, and can’t help worrying about what will happen if Papa is not able to walk independently again. What would that mean to our family? But I cannot allow myself to go there. He must get better.”

Karina’s internal monologue reveals her character’s resilience. Karina does at times fear that her grandfather won’t recover and that her family will have to face even more difficult times in the future. However, she refuses to allow these fears to derail her drive to overcome the prejudice she has faced and to unite her community in tolerance.

“While the majority of the comments are supportive, I’m reminded again that there are other Quinns in the world. There are some comments that say America is for Americans. I agree with that. I just don’t understand why all Americans must look alike. There are people who echo all the things the monster hurled at Mr. Chopra. There are comments that suggest that Karina and Mr. Chopra made it all up.”

The hateful responses to Karina’s posts challenge Chris to think deeply about his country and the definition of what makes an American. Unlike these aggressive commenters, Chris wants the US to look the way his neighborhood already looks—with people of many different ethnicities and races living together. The way he is responding to the comments illustrates his growth and shows how he has changed since the attack and since befriending the Chopras: He no longer feels like he needs the approval of the “Quinns in the world.”

“‘I wanted people to be as outraged as me at the way Papa was treated,’ I say. ‘The story needed to be told. It’s important because I love my country, but I don’t like this hateful side of it. And for me, I feel I tell stories better with my pictures than with words.’”

Karina’s interview with Anne Maxwell gives her the platform to tell her story in her own words in a more public forum. As Karina explains her decision to post about the attack online, she also describes her relationship with photography and the way she relies on the art form to express herself.

“I open my phone and look at the pictures that people continue to post with the #CountMeIn hashtag. These are the pictures that make me happy now, less alone. I am looking at a picture of two little best friends. They remind me of me and Ashley in third grade. I close my eyes tight. In my mind, I see all the pictures that have been shared over the last few days. Instead of being on the screen of my phone, they are all framed and they hang on the pristine walls of the art gallery with spotlights illuminating them. I keep my eyes closed tight, because that is the exhibition I want to see. I want the whole world to see. But I can enter only one picture, not hundreds.”

Karina’s photography and social media presence help her understand that her community is made up of all different sorts of people. This is how she gets the idea to make her collage, a project which illustrates diversity and community by combining many people’s photographs into one cohesive whole—a metaphor for the kind of city Karina wants to call home.

“Chris and I make plans, and I tell him I will let him know the time frame for Papa’s arrival at the memorial after I confirm everything with my dad. I can feel the excitement building now. This will be the homecoming Papa deserves. Papa already knows about the tree memorial—he got teary-eyed when I filled him in on it, and said, ‘You have good friends, Karina. Hold on to them.’ ‘Papa,’ I told him, ‘it’s as much for you as it is for me.’”

Karina and Chris work together to show Papa how loved and accepted he is by his community. They host the welcome-home gathering at the memorial because the site represents the friends and family, and the love and support that Papa has had since the attack.

“I am an old man. I have learned that there are people who do good things and some who do bad. It has nothing to do with your religion or skin color. I am lucky to be surrounded by all you good people.”

Shiv’s words at the welcome-home celebration capture his beliefs about diversity, acceptance, and community. He isn’t holding onto any bitterness after the attack because he doesn’t want hatred to control how he sees himself or his country. He is also expressing his thanks to the community because he knows that their love is a sign that the US he believes in does exist.