Why had the family's shop been doing badly?

The form had lain on the kitchen shelf for nine days, under the tea tin. Kavya could see its corner from where she sat.

It was for a scholarship at a college in Pune, three hundred kilometres away. Her teacher had filled in the parts she could and written, in the margin, "You must apply. Last date 30th." Today was the 28th.

Her father's shop had done badly since the new supermarket opened on the highway. Her mother now stitched blouses in the evenings, and Kavya did the accounts for the shop after school, because she was better with numbers than anyone else in the house. If she went to Pune, who would do them?

She had not told her parents about the form. She had told herself it was because there was no point. Now she was not so sure. Perhaps she had not told them because she was afraid of what they would say. Or perhaps because she was afraid they would say yes.

In the evening, her father came in, took down the tea tin, and the form slid to the floor. He picked it up and read it slowly, all of it, including the margin. Kavya held her breath.

He put it on the table in front of her. Then he went to the drawer, took out a pen, and laid it beside the form.

"The accounts," he said, "I will learn."