From Twinkle, With Love Read online

  Sahil Roy, Film Critic, it said. There was a phone number below it.

  “You’re into films, aren’t you?” he asked, tugging at his T-shirt.

  Am I into films? Ha. Ha ha ha. Only like Bill Nye is into science. “Mm-hmm,” I said. “Definitely.”

  Sahil smiled his shy/awkward smile. “Cool. I am too. You should think about joining the film club sometime.” He rubbed the top of his ear. “And that’s, uh, my cell number there.” He cleared his throat and then coughed violently, choking on his own spit. I patted him on the back while he stared at me, his eyes wide.

  “Do you need some water?” I was starting to get worried about the color his face was turning.

  He shook his head and walked back to his table, where his friend Skid, sighing, handed him his cup of water. Aaron tossed me a smile and I nodded back.

  “Coffee.”

  I found Stan holding out my cup and I took it. “Thanks.” I walked up to Sahil’s table. “Hey, uh, thanks again for the coffee. I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you guys.”

  Aaron and Skid held up a hand and Sahil cleared his throat. “Sure, no problem,” he said, all hoarse and funny-sounding. “Take care.”

  I giggled. How could two brothers be so different, honestly? “You too.”

  I looked for Neil once I was back outside, but he was long gone. Ah, well. Our Bollywood romance would have to wait.

  One day, though. One day I’ll be the Alia Bhatt to his Shahid Kapoor.

  Two

  Tuesday, June 2

  AP Economics

  I was ambushed today.

  Okay, so maybe “ambushed” is too strong a word. But I was definitely, in no uncertain terms, reminded of my groundling status.

  I walked into the girls’ bathroom with Maddie at lunch, expecting to have a quiet chat. I’m not exactly sure why we walk together anymore. We don’t sit together at lunch since she left Camp Groundling. She sits with Hannah and Victoria and Francesca and all the other girls who aren’t on the lunch program. I sit in the back by myself. Well, maybe I do know why we still walk together. Maybe if we spend enough time together, I’ll figure out why she feels like I’m not BFF material anymore. And if I figure it out, maybe I can fix it.

  Anyway, it’s not so bad, sitting in the back by myself. The only slight drawback is that I’m one table over from Brij Nath and Matthew Weir, both of whom slurp cafeteria chili and gargle it in the back of their throats as a joke. It’s just as horrifying (and oddly hypnotic) as it sounds.

  They’re also computer geniuses who like to brag that they could “hack into this pathetic excuse for a secure network” anytime to change their grades. Except they don’t need to because their grades are already beyond an A. I think PPC had to invent a new grading system for them and Maddie. Oh, and there’s a rumor that Brij had to leave his last (expensive private boys’) school because he felt they were mismanaging their fundraiser money by putting in a third tennis court. So he hacked into their database and rerouted all the money to the Worldwide Fund for Nature. Which, naturally, earned him an expulsion.

  Maddie and I pushed open the door to the girls’ bathroom on the third floor, and inside, instead of it being all quiet like it usually is, I found Hannah Macintosh and Francesca Roberts leaning over the sink, putting on mascara. My heart dropped to the floor.

  “Heya!” Hannah said, running over to give Maddie a big hug without even glancing at me. She smelled like ripe plums, which suited her. Seriously, what dark arts do I have to do to smell and look good in everything? “Did you know this bathroom is always empty at lunch? Apparently people are too lazy to hike up here from the cafeteria!”

  “I know! It’s, like, the best.” Maddie laughed and walked to the third—and last—sink and pulled out her makeup bag from her backpack.

  I lounged against the wall and checked my fingernails. Mainly I did this because I’m too poor for my parents to get me a phone and I didn’t want to stare at them while they did their makeup. Also, I don’t wear makeup. I don’t have anything against it. I just don’t get it.

  After a minute of Maddie, Francesca, and Hannah chattering about Hannah’s upcoming seventeenth birthday party and how she wanted a diamond bracelet (a conversation to which I could contribute nothing because, hello? Just imagining my parents’ faces if I asked for a diamond bracelet makes me want to burst out into maniacal laughter), Maddie caught my eye in the mirror. Recapping her mascara, she said, “Oh, hey. Twinkle saw this thing about diamonds on the History Channel.” Seeing my confused face, she continued. “Remember? Weren’t you telling me about that a couple weeks ago? I can’t recall exactly what you said, but …”

  Oh. I got it. Maddie was trying to give me a conversational in. I straightened, ready for the challenge. “Oh, yeah. So, conflict diamonds are a real thing. The diamond industry estimates they make up to fifteen percent of the diamond trade and children are forced to work in extremely horrifying conditions to mine them. The toll on local communities is enormous. Not to mention the environmental devastation because of soil erosion …”

  I trailed off when I saw Francesca and Hannah staring at me blankly, like I was speaking in Elvish. Maddie was sorta wince-smiling, like, Great. Good effort, Twinkle. A+. Now please stop talking.

  After a slight pause, Francesca smiled and said, “Cool,” and then they went back to their conversation. I slumped against the wall, wishing I at least had to pee so I’d have something to do.

  You know what? Scratch that. Hannah would probably just judge me on my pee splatter patterns or something.

  After Hannah and Francesca hugged and air-kissed Maddie a million times (and invited her to walk with them instead, an invitation she dodged while darting nervous glances my way; YES, I HEARD THEM, MADDIE), we made our way to classes with about five minutes left.

  I felt myself unwind as we walked, until my shoulders were shoulders again and not ear barricades. We rounded the corner and passed Patrick O’Cleary and Callum Truesdale (he of the Caveman Callum fame—more on that in a minute) who were saying:

  Patrick: Dude, Midsummer Night’s on the twenty-seventh. We should definitely do that one idea we had last weekend.

  Caveman Callum (CC): Oh, you mean how each of us could chop a different fruit onstage? Showcase our strength as swim-team studs?

  Patrick: Yep. I’m gonna do a pineapple. Unpeeled.

  CC: Dude. Epic. *fist bump and grunting follow*

  Okay, Callum doesn’t grunt. And he isn’t a caveman (not technically, anyway). But he got his nickname because one time, in third grade, Maddie and I were playing on the jungle gym at recess when Callum came over and began to taunt us. He was saying stuff like how Maddie and I weren’t real Americans and how my parents were fresh off the boat.

  And then he accidentally-on-purpose hit me with a basketball.

  Maddie and I looked at each other, and in one coordinated move, we hopped off the jungle gym and walked over to Callum like we were in a music video. Maddie pinned his arms behind his back (he was pretty scrawny back then) and I kicked him in the shins until he howled. Guess what? He never bothered us again.

  That was all cool. But my favorite part was when Maddie and I began to call each other sisters after that. And ever since, Callum’s been Caveman Callum. (To me, anyway. Maddie stopped calling him that when she stopped being a groundling. I hold grudges a lot longer. What can I say? I’m like a cat. They can hold grudges for ten years.)

  I was staring at Maddie, wondering if she was thinking about the good old days like I was, when she grabbed my elbow and speed-walked me around the corner.

  We passed by Sahil Roy, also apparently on his way to class. Huh. He was taller than I remembered, in a good way. And … better built, too. I briefly wondered how he looked in swim trunks.

  “Ow,” I said when Maddie finally stopped rushing around like the Road Runner. “What are you doing?”

  “Did you hear what Callum and Patrick were talking about?”

  “You mean Caveman Ca
llum?” I asked, and she rolled her eyes. “Um, what? Something about making fruit salad?” I waggled my fingers at Sahil, who was still looking at me.

  And then he tripped over nothing that I could see. I looked away and pretended I hadn’t noticed. We groundlings have to watch out for each other.

  Maddie sighed in this overexaggerated way. She forgets sometimes that we mere mortals don’t automatically assess a situation and then arrive at a conclusion at the speed of computers. “Maybe if you were less focused on calling him Caveman Callum and imagining him grunting, you’d hear the more important stuff. I’m talking about Midsummer Night being on the twenty-seventh.”

  Principal Harris had reminded us about the Midsummer Night festival during morning announcements too. “Oh, yeah. What about it?”

  “I have this genius idea.” Maddie’s eyes sparkled, and that’s when I knew I was in trouble. Not that she doesn’t have good ideas. Just that when she relies on me for execution, things generally don’t go as planned. Like when we tried to throw her dad, Mr. Tanaka, a black-tie forty-fifth birthday party two years ago. I was supposed to get a cake shaped like the Eiffel Tower, one of his favorite places in the world. Only I somehow picked up a cake meant for a bachelorette party and … well. Let’s just say the tower inside was not of the Eiffel variety. Mr. Tanaka nearly choked on his whiskey in front of eighty-five guests while I couldn’t stop staring at the cake and, in my shock, asked loudly, “Well, are we still going to eat it?” Total disaster.

  I rallied my courage. “What’s your idea?”

  “You should make a movie for Midsummer Night!”

  I stared at her. “Are you serious?” Midsummer Night was the biggest event of the year at PPC, before we got our measly one-month-long summer break.

  She raised her eyebrow, like, Duh.

  “Maddie, no. I can’t do that. Everybody would be watching it and stuff.”

  “Um, yeah. That’s basically the point? Plus, you could use it in your college apps!”

  I felt a pinprick of cringy-hotness again. Like my parents could afford college. “I’m still thinking no. I mean, I’ve only ever made videos on YouTube before. You know how many subscribers I have on my YouTube channel, Maddie? Seven. Three are Dadi, who keeps forgetting she made an account and making more, one is you, and the rest are porn bots. That’s a little different from airing a movie for the entire school to watch on-screen in an auditorium.”

  Maddie sighed so hard I felt my hair move a little. “Twinkle, what’s your number one goal in life?”

  “To change lives with my films and show the world what a Desi girl can do,” I said proudly. It was sort of my mission statement. (Mission statements were Maddie’s idea from three years ago. Hers is “To become the premier physician-scientist working in the realm of gender-based medicine and, specifically, takotsubo cardiomyopathy as it affects women.”)

  She nodded. “Okay. So, do you have any other ideas to get the world to notice you?” Maddie crossed her arms, and all her charm bracelets clinked together.

  Not to be nitpicky, but she used to hate bracelets. She said they made it super annoying to type and lowered her words per minute to under one hundred and thirty. But then Hannah, Francesca, Victoria, and she went to this little boutique in Denver, and now they all wear the same matching charm bracelets.

  “No,” I mumbled, scuffing the floor with the toe of my Converse. How am I supposed to begin changing lives if said lives don’t even know I exist?

  Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to see Sahil Roy looking down at me from his six-foot vantage. “Hey, guys. Sorry for eavesdropping, but, um, I might have an idea. About how to get noticed?” he said.

  We both stared at him. Me because I was confused and Maddie probably because she was wondering why on earth Sahil Roy was talking to her at all.

  “About a film you could make for a big audience, I mean,” Sahil continued hastily when he saw our blank faces. “Instead of making one by yourself, what do you think about making one with me?” Seeing my “meh” face, he continued. “Pretty much the entire student body shows up for Midsummer Night.”

  My “meh” face transformed into my terrified face. “I’ve never directed a movie before. Not on this scale.”

  Sahil kept going. “I know it sounds scary. But I think I could really help as a producer and general sounding board. I get the analysis side of movies.” He paused, as if deciding whether to share something before continuing. “Um, my film criticisms have been published on Film FANatic, if that helps.”

  Whoa. “Are you kidding?” To Maddie, I said, “Film FANatic is the biggest film website out there. They usually only publish reviews from professional critics. There are rumors that Roger Ebert got his start there.” Even Maddie looked impressed.

  Sahil waved his hand, looking embarrassed. “Ah, I don’t know. … I think that might just be a rumor. But my point is, if you want exposure, if you want to make a career at this thing … this might be the way to do it. You direct, I produce. I’m good, Twinkle. I can help.”

  Despite my debilitating shyness, a spark of excitement began to fizz and pop inside me. How long had I dreamed of someone besides Dadi and xxlovebotxx watching my videos? How long had I wanted to get my stories out there, have my voice heard? “It might be cool,” I said, a small smile at my lips. “A bunch of media peeps from the paper and stuff come, too. Now that I think about it, it could be huge.” What if my movie made it into thousands of people’s houses on local TV channels? What if they began to trickle over to my YouTube channel, to see if I had more? My heart raced. This could be it, the beginning of using my art to change the world. Of people seeing me.

  “Yes!” Sahil grinned, seeming relieved, and held out his fist for a fist bump. Only by the time I reacted and went to bump it, he had switched to a high five and we ended up with his hand wrapped awkwardly around my fist. I could see Maddie watching us groundlings, her lips clamped together like she was trying hard not to laugh. Sahil cleared his throat and dropped his hand. “Uh … anyway. I have zero interest in making movies. But you …” He shrugged. “If you think you might wanna do this, we could talk more?”

  Maddie looked from him to me and back again.

  Since she wasn’t weighing in, I made an executive decision. “Yes, okay,” I said, nodding firmly. “Let’s meet up tomorrow at lunch.”

  “Cool,” Sahil said, smiling a slightly mischievous smile. “Maybe on the green outside the caf? I think it’s supposed to be nice.”

  I smiled too, excitement bubbling inside me. “Sounds totally grab!”

  He stared at me. And blinked.

  My excitement dribbled away, my face going purple. I did not just say that. Smooth, Twinkle. You’re off to a great start as an aspiring director. “Um, great. And, um, fab. I kinda … combined … Anyway. See you then.”

  He laughed a little and then loped off quickly, awkwardly dodging a trash can in the hallway at the last minute.

  At least I wasn’t alone on Planet Doofus.

  I shook my head, actual goose bumps sprouting on my arms and legs as it sank in. “Oh. My. God. I might be directing a movie for Midsummer freaking Night.”

  Maddie’s pearly pink lips had gone all pouty. “But Sahil?” Her expression made it clear she definitely didn’t think Sahil Roy was my ticket to greatness and discovery. “I don’t know if people will take him seriously. He’s … geektastic.”

  I looked at her, this sinking feeling in my chest. Because to her being a geek was a bad thing now. Was that why she wasn’t my friend any longer? “Geeks are smart and talented and passionate,” I mumbled, not even looking at her. “I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” And you never used to, either, I wanted to add. But didn’t, because I am a total coward.

  Maddie half shrugged. “Maybe not.” She paused for a moment, thinking. “And, you know, working with Sahil might be your in to hanging out with Neil. And more.” She winked lasciviously.

  I wished she wouldn’t broadcast
my crush on Maddie FM. “Shh!” I leaped forward and put my hand on her mouth. And then immediately pulled it back. My palm was covered with her lip gloss. “Oops, sorry.”

  “S’okay,” she said, pulling out a tube of lip gloss from the side pocket of her backpack and reapplying it. She snapped the lid on and slipped it back.

  “Besides,” I continued, “Neil’s at that pre-Olympic swim training thingy. I heard them talking about it at Perk yesterday. He won’t even be back in school until the end of the month.”

  “I know, but he goes home at night and on the weekends. Maybe you’ll go over to Sahil’s house once or twice for movie stuff and he’ll be there. Voilà!”

  I laughed, happy that things seemed better between us, at least for right now. “Maybe.”

  “Meet you at your locker after school like usual?”

  “Okay.”

  Maddie nodded and then planted two air kisses on each of my cheeks. She smelled like her Poppy perfume, warm and sunny. Hooking a hand around each of the straps of her pink plaid backpack, she spun with a swirl of her skirt and walked off to class.

  I stood there for a moment, feeling suddenly insecure. Was making this movie and showcasing it for the entire school a giant mistake? I mean, this was going to essentially be a message from my soul, on display for all the silk feathered hats to gawk at. Besides, I’d never, ever made a movie with someone else before. Making art was intimate. Was I ready to share that with a boy I barely knew?

  But Maddie was goals for me when it came to following her passion. I had no doubt she was going to become the premier physician-scientist of whatchamacallit. And I wanted what she had. I wanted people to see me, to like me for who I was and what I had to offer. I wanted to use my talent to transform people’s lives and how they saw the world. So I nodded (to myself) and walked off to class, trying for the same swagger Maddie had.

  Except I wasn’t wearing a skirt. And my shoelaces were untied. But, you know. Same difference.

  Love,

  Twinkle