Twelve
Totally cheesy, but I swear time stopped in that moment. My breath caught in my throat. A loose curl blew across my face. I tucked it behind my ear, blinked, and slowly swiveled, the carousel music creating a perfectly surreal, magical backdrop.
Sahil grinned down at me, debonair in a yellow button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and plaid shorts. I didn’t even think for a second that it might be Neil. I was getting to know all of Sahil’s little quirks, like that silly dimple-like divot on the bridge of his nose when he smiled. “Hey!”
I blinked again. Huh? “Are you …?” Oh my God. Was he N?? I felt a weird combination of confusion and hope warring in my chest. I tried the question again. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, I’m supposed to meet Aaron and Skid to go ride the roller coasters. We do it every year. But Skid had a flat on the way here, so they’re waiting for a tow truck. I offered to give them a ride, but they said I should just meet them here.” He shrugged. “So here I am, ready to grab some fried goodness, get a head start on the food-coma train.” He grinned. “What about you?”
My heart did this slow plummet as he talked and I realized that duh he wasn’t N and duh that didn’t even make any sense because his name is Sahil Roy. He doesn’t have a single N anywhere in his name. Then I remembered he’d asked me what I was doing and I still hadn’t answered. “Oh, right. I’m, ah, just meeting someone.”
“Oh, cool.” He looked me up and down for the first time and his eyes got wide. “Wow. I mean, you look—” Then he stopped and his face got this stiff, guarded look. “Is this a, um, date-type situation?”
I opened my mouth to respond. I didn’t know exactly what I was going to say, but I’d figure it out. The thing was, I still didn’t want to tell Sahil about N. I knew hiding this wasn’t the most honest thing to do; it wasn’t fair to Sahil. But there was so much tension between the brothers. Sahil had told me, in no uncertain terms, that their sibling rivalry was pretty bad. He didn’t even like me bringing up Neil’s name. So what would you do in my situation? Besides, I wasn’t even 100 percent sure N was Neil. Was there any point getting Sahil hot and bothered about nothing?
But before I could answer, the voice blared over the loudspeaker again. “Okay! Time to go, folks! Three, two, and one!” A deafening horn blew, and the entire crowd of people who’d so far done a remarkable imitation of completely normal humans morphed into these rampaging beasts looking for free carnival rides. We were immediately—and I do mean immediately—swallowed up by the tsunami of the crowd. Thankfully, Sahil grabbed my hand at the last second or we’d have been utterly and irrevocably separated from each other. I couldn’t see him; I just felt the steady pressure of his fingers against my skin.
“This way!” I heard him shout, and then something was yanking on my arm and I just blindly followed.
We broke free a minute later, making a left toward the Ferris wheel while the majority of the crowd turned right toward the more fun rides in the park. Sahil pulled me forward, and I saw the line to the Ferris wheel was tiny. I guess most people were going to get their money’s worth from the ten-token rides. Once we were able to stop, he looked at me with wide eyes. “What the heck was that?”
“Something about free rides?” I said, brushing down my dress and adjusting the clip in my hair, which was coming loose.
He shook his head. “Wow. I don’t remember that from last year.”
I looked back toward the carousel, which was now quite a distance away. The crowds were still seething and surging. There was no way N would be able to find me anymore. The horn had stopped blasting, but people were still running every which way, trying to make it to a ride before they filled up. I thought about what Sahil had said when he’d first walked up to me. He’d asked if I was all dressed up for a date. If I were being completely honest, I was more than a little relieved that the horn had interrupted him. Because I didn’t want to tell Sahil what I was doing here.
N would have to wait another day. Even if I did go back by the carousel when the crowd died down (if this murderous crowd calmed down), what were the chances that N would still be waiting? And I didn’t have a phone to e-mail him and tell him to meet me somewhere else.
“Hey,” Sahil said, interrupting my tumbling thoughts.
I looked at him.
“Want to go on the Ferris wheel with me?” He gestured at the giant wheel glittering with lights.
I smiled without hesitation. “Okay.”
We got on—into a bright pink cab—almost immediately. I scooted in so Sahil could slide in beside me.
“Oh my God,” I said, grabbing the bar with my free hand as soon as the wheel began moving. “I forgot how high up these things go.”
Sahil laughed. “Are you serious? You couldn’t tell from just, um, looking at it?”
“Shut up.” I hit him on the arm, and he laughed harder. “It’s different when you’re in here, suspended in the air—” I cut myself off with a yelp as the sadistic operator jerked us to a halt, with Sahil’s and my cab as high as it would go. Everything was eerily quiet except for the faint music from the carousel. Our cab swung lazily back and forth. “Oh my God,” I said, gasping. “I think I have a slight fear of heights.”
Sahil laughed. “So I shouldn’t do this?” He shifted in his seat and the entire cab rocked dangerously.
“Stop!” I yelled, way too loud, and someone laughed from below. Far, far below us. “Not funny!” I said, glaring down.
Sahil grinned. “Oh, come on.” He scooted gently over to me, so the cab didn’t move. “It was a little funny.”
A male voice from below floated up to us, saying, “There’s always one.” More laughing.
I glowered into the darkness. “Thank you kindly for your unsolicited opinion, sir! You can shove it right—” Even more laughing.
Sahil looked at me, his eyes serious. “Twinkle. I promise I will not let you fall.”
He smelled like something warm and lemony and spicy. “Swoony” is the word you’re looking for, Twinkle, my brain said.
“Um.” I cleared my throat in an attempt to clear my head. “Okay. Thanks.” Something about his presence felt anchoring. I felt safe, ensconced, and protected, even though I knew in my head that was idiotic. If the Ferris wheel failed, there was absolutely nothing Sahil could do to fight off gravity, unless he was hiding some major superpowers.
“Sure.” I could hear the smile in his voice.
I let go of the bar and sat back reeeeally carefully as the wheel began to move again.
“Oh, hey, I wanted to tell you: I thought you did a great job on the analysis you gave everyone about the movie on Thursday,” Sahil said. “I could tell you were drawing them in, especially when you said that thing about Dracula representing the untrustworthy foreigner who came to England to plunder and pillage.”
“Ah, you think so?” I smiled, pleased. “I know how hard it can be to relate to older movies. I was hoping it would give them something to latch on to as they acted out their parts.”
“That was excellent thinking.” Sahil paused. “Something I’ve learned from studying the film industry is that directing’s about helping your actors insinuate themselves into the parts they’re playing as much as it is about getting them on film. I feel like you have this innate grasp of that process. You’re going to touch so many people with your movies, T. I hope you know that.”
I studied his face, my heart thumping. Sahil saw what I was doing—what I was trying to do as a director—and more than that, he believed I could do it. I’d been afraid of doing something as intimate as making art with him watching, but Sahil was one of the few people who not only saw Twinkle the artist, but respected Twinkle the artist. If Mummy’s ignoring my art made me feel invisible, Sahil’s recognition was like being surrounded by a million neon lights.
“Thank you,” I said, looking away and out over the carnival, at the tiny people milling around on the ground below us. I was afraid he’d see in my eyes what I was beginning to suspect—that his heart knew my heart. That my soul was a piece of his.
“So,” Sahil said after a moment of crystalline silence. “Do you ever think about what you want to do after high school?”
I shrugged and faced him again, now that the moment was broken. “I don’t know. My dream is to go to USC, like George Lucas or somebody. But it’s expensive. I’d pretty much need a full ride, and I don’t think my grades are good enough for that.” I tried to pretend saying all of this out loud didn’t coat my mouth in the bitter taste of disappointment.
“My parents would call that a travesty,” Sahil said, and I frowned at him questioningly. “Oh, they’re big believers in higher education. Both of them teach anthropology at UCCS. They sort of finance the education of one student every year. It’s their mission in life to make higher ed accessible to everyone.”
“That’s so cool,” I said. And crazy that they could do that. My parents couldn’t even afford to put one kid through college.
“Cool, but also a little bit annoying. They want both Neil and me to go into academia. Neil’s one hundred percent on board, but I want to be a film critic, which my dad thinks is just an excuse for me to sit around and watch movies and get paid for it. I mean, he’s not wrong.” We laughed. “But I don’t get why that makes it a less valid profession than his. Anyway, what do your parents do?”
“Um, my dad’s an aide at a center for runaway youth. And my mom’s a substitute teacher. Dadi doesn’t work.”
Sahil didn’t ask why I mentioned my dadi when he asked about parents, which was cool. He got the whole Indian extended-family thing. It was another example of how Sahil saw me in ways other people didn’t.
We began our ascent again, and my stomach dipped uncomfortably. I must’ve made a face because Sahil moved infinitesimally closer to me, the movement seeming completely subconscious. I, on the other hand, was hyperaware that our thighs were just a breath away from each other. My fists balled in my lap.
“And do they support your filmmaking?” he asked, in a way that told me he was trying to take my mind off the fact that we were, once again, floating in the sky in a creaky little metal cage.
But I played along. It helped. “Dadi does. My parents don’t exactly support it, but they don’t not support it either, if that makes sense.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “It does. It sucks when parents aren’t fully engaged in your stuff, even if it’s so much better than hovering parents.”
I looked up at him again. He was so right. I had cousins in California and Oregon whose parents were basically a subspecies of helicopter, they hovered so much. And that would be super irritating. But having parents who couldn’t care less about what you were up to had its own levels of associated suckage. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”
“You should come to breakfast at my place sometime,” he said suddenly.
I glanced at his flushed face and saw this was a big deal to him. Sahil wasn’t the type of guy to extend frivolous invitations. “Your parents wouldn’t mind?”
“Nah. They’re always telling me to broaden my friendship horizons beyond the same two I’ve had since second grade. Besides, my mom is impressed that you want to be a film director in the … how did she put it? Oh, right, the systematic racial and patriarchal system that has been curated to exclude women and especially women of color.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” He smiled fondly. “Mom gets a little bent out of shape about the patriarchy. But I promise they’re fun. And my dad makes the best peanut butter chocolate chip pancakes. Hands down.”
“No kidding?” To be honest, I was curious about Sahil and Neil’s parents. What must they be like to have raised two crushworthy boys? And okay. I was also into the idea of accidentally-on-purpose running into Neil. Maybe we could just talk about all the secret admirer stuff right there and things would finally be clearer. “All right. You’ve convinced me. Just let me know when.”
He grinned, looking relieved. “Awesome.”
The Ferris wheel stopped spinning and I realized we were at the bottom. We’d be getting off in a few short seconds. I felt a lurch of disappointment that my time with Sahil was almost over.
“Wanna go on another ride?” he asked.
I desperately wanted to. But another ride would turn into another one and then this would turn into a flat-out date. And I couldn’t do that to Sahil or N. I just couldn’t. I had to use the unspent money Dadi had given me for rides and stuff on a cab ride home. There were a bunch at the gate. “I … shouldn’t.”
His disappointed face matched mine. Only for a heartbeat.
Because then I blurted out, “Do you want to get some cotton candy?” Twinkle, why? Why couldn’t you just let Sahil go?
His face brightened, like someone had turned up the wattage. “Sure.”
We walked to the cotton candy stall slowly, people swarming around us like busy flies. Our arms kept brushing together, and I scooted in half a millimeter closer. It was chilly and he was warm, okay?
Sahil ordered two from the cotton candy vendor.
“Hey,” I said as I paid for the cotton candies with the money Dadi had given me. Sahil made a motion for his wallet, but I threatened him with bodily harm and he laughed and surrendered. “I forgot to tell you, but Victoria Lyons invited me to Hannah’s birthday party next weekend.”
We began to walk again. “For real?” he said.
“I know. I was surprised too. But I think I’ve earned street cred with her because of this whole director shtick.” I shrugged. “Anyway, I wanted to know if you’d come with me.” When he seemed to get really happy, I hastily added, “Because I want to get that behind-the-scenes footage we were talking about.”
“Oh, right,” Sahil said, his mood dampening noticeably as we made our way through the crowd and the noise.
I took a big bite of cotton candy. “It’s in Aspen at Victoria’s parents’ cabin, so it’s a bit of a drive.”
Sahil whistled. “And this is Hannah’s birthday party? But Victoria invited you?”
He was starting to remind me of Maddie. Was it just so obvious to everyone else that I didn’t belong with them? I felt a little silly in my shiny new dress and my perfectly done hair all of a sudden. Trying to ignore the sting of hurt, I said, “I know. It’s so weird that they’d want me to go.”
“No, that’s not what I meant,” he said, grabbing my hand to get my attention. “I just mean … Hannah’s never been very nice to you. Are you sure she’s gonna be okay with it?”
I shrugged. “Victoria told me not to worry about it, so I’m not worried about it. I’ll just bring her a fabulous present or something.”
“Hmm. Sure, I’ll go. And I’ll drive you if you want.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.” I took my hand away. “Sahil …”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t think we should hold hands. I don’t want to confuse things. …”
“Is this still about keeping things professional?” he asked quietly. “Because I get the feeling that there might be something else. Or someone else.”
“There is the movie, but you’re right. There’s some other stuff I have to figure out too,” I admitted, swallowing and keeping my eyes forward. My palms were sweating.
“But … you like me?”
I took a deep breath. “I do. I like you.”
Sahil smiled. “That’s good enough for me for now. And this stuff you need to figure out?”
“Yeah?”
“Will kissing help or …?”
I laughed and pushed him on the arm. “Stop it.”
He walked me to the gate. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked, stepping closer. I tried not to notice the way his eyes positively glowed as he looked at me. I was sure mine had a matching glow.
“Yes.”
He tucked a curl behind my ear. It was like we couldn’t stop finding excuses to touch each other. I should stop him, but I didn’t want to. N and I didn’t meet up. And Sahil was here. Sahil was always showing up for me. I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug. “Bye.”
“Bye, Twinkle.”
I smiled and turned around to walk outside to a waiting cab. And all the way there, I felt Sahil watching me go.
Love,
Twinkle