Seventeen
I stopped singing mid-word. I couldn’t do anything but stare at him.
Sahil glanced at me before looking back at the road. “Did you hear that,” he said quietly, “I’ve only been in love once? It happened when I was eleven. And it’s still happening.”
I swallowed and shook my head. “Reject.”
He smiled a little. “One point for me.”
“Sahil …” I didn’t even know what I was going to say exactly. My heart felt all melty, butterflies were wreaking havoc in my stomach, and I felt scared and exhilarated and like laughing and crying all at the same time.
“I know,” he said, his voice barely audible, almost covered by the humming of the tires on the road. His big hands gripped the steering wheel loosely. “It’s complicated for you. But, Twinkle, I just wanted you to know it’s not complicated for me.” He glanced at me again, his dark eyes sparkling. “It’s never been complicated for me when it comes to you.” After a pause, he said, “I just want to be honest. I’m not trying to freak you out.”
He wasn’t freaking me out at all. In fact, I’d been marveling at how brave Sahil was. How unapologetically honest and trusting. I felt a little shift inside me, a softening. Maybe I could let down a wall of my own. “Thank you,” I said finally. “For telling me. For … loving me. I appreciate it more than you know.”
Sahil nodded.
“Because … did you hear that my mom doesn’t? Love me, I mean?” I said before I could stop myself. My eyes filled with tears, but I forced myself to not wipe them away.
Sahil looked at me, startled. “I’m sure that’s not true. Your parents love you. And your dadi. I saw it when I came to visit you.”
I smiled a little as a tear dripped down my cheek. “One point for me.”
Sahil reached over and put a hand on mine, squeezing gently.
I laughed a weird, watery-sounding laugh. “My dadi does love me. And Papa … he loves me in his own way. But you shouldn’t believe everything you see.” I shook my head, not able to speak for a few seconds. My throat was painfully tight.
“Mummy used to be this talented artist. I still remember her painting banyan trees from her village and red double-decker buses with Indian people spilling out of them. I used to hang out with her behind her chair and just watch. Sometimes she’d dab my nose with her paint to make me laugh.”
Sahil smiled.
“Everything changed when my nani got sick,” I said, looking down at Sahil’s hand over mine. A tear splattered onto his skin, but he didn’t move. “My mom’s mom died alone back in India when I was nine. My parents didn’t have the money to visit for the funeral. And after that, Mummy just became completely withdrawn. It was like every time she looked at me, she remembered the reason my parents came here when my mom was pregnant with me was so I could have a good life. The reason she wasn’t able to go back to India is because my parents spend all their money—and they don’t have much of it—on me. And she’s never forgiven me for it. Sometimes I tell myself that I’ll earn enough to take her back one day soon. But who am I kidding? Most filmmakers don’t make any money at all, let alone someone just starting out. So I’m doomed. We basically don’t have any relationship at all.” I sniffed, and Sahil reached into his center console to hand me a tissue. “Thanks.” I dabbed at my nose. “Wow, sorry to unload on you like that.”
He rubbed my back and then put his hand back on the wheel. “I’m glad you did. And I’m … I’m so sorry, T. I had no idea.”
I shrugged. “That was one of the things I loved about Maddie. She doesn’t have a mom, so I used to pretend in my head that I didn’t either. It was just easier that way. She had her dad and I had Dadi and we had each other, so it seemed okay. But now Maddie’s gone and my mom’s still gone in almost every sense of the word and …” My voice wobbled. “It just feels sucky all around.”
Sahil looked pained, like he might cry too. “Hey, T. For what it’s worth, you’ll always have me. Okay? I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
I smiled at him through my tears. And in that moment, I completely believed him. Sahil was someone I could count on. He’d never let me down.
Oh, we’re here. I better go.
Love,
Twinkle
Saturday, June 20, post-party
Sahil’s car again (he’s getting gas)
Dear Ava DuVernay,
In the history of horrible, obnoxious, hideous, loathsome nights, this one would get its own full-color page, complete with attention grabbing headlines smattered with !!!! and unflattering pictures of me stealing away into the darkness, my collar up and my head down.
It started out okay. Sahil and I got to the cabin (it was obvious which one was Victoria’s parents’ because of the thumping bass and ten shrieking teens trying to climb into the fountain in the front yard). It was one of those enormous mountain chalet getaway thingies, with huge windows and logs and stuff. As soon as we entered, Sahil left to talk to Victoria about setting up a quiet space for the behind-the-scenes interviews. I walked up to Hannah, who was surrounded by the usual gaggle of juniors and seniors, including Maddie. Apparently she’d decided her dad’s show was worth missing for this party. Slowly, the chatter died down as they registered the presence of an intruder in their midst.
“Can I help you?” Hannah asked. She looked gorgeous, with this ombré lip gloss and a deep burgundy strapless dress that set off her blond hair. Her friends all stared at me, and Maddie shifted from foot to foot, looking like she was in pain. Which might have been because she was wearing six-inch wedge sandals or because she was uncomfortable with the situation.
“I just wanted to say happy birthday,” I said, handing Hannah the small silver-wrapped box. Sahil and I had chipped in for a gift card to Nordstrom together.
She took it with a small smile/grimace on her face. “Thanks.”
“That’s cool of you,” Maddie said after a pause. “To bring a present, I mean.”
I stared at her in shock for a moment before recovering. Maddie was being nice to me in front of Hannah? Was it one of the signs of the apocalypse or something? “Um, yeah. No worries.”
A glance passed between Maddie and Hannah, and then, sighing, Hannah said to me, “Help yourself to drinks or whatever.”
“Thanks. I’m mostly here to do the behind-the-scenes interviews, but that’s nice of you.”
Apparently done with me, Hannah returned to her friends, and they closed ranks, their backs facing me like a wall. Maddie tossed me a small, apologetic shrug, but that was it. She didn’t say anything else. I felt my new friend, anger, begin to bubble inside me. Why was Hannah so intent on excluding me when I’d never done anything to her?
I didn’t break my stride as I tried to find Sahil, but the thought slammed into me, hard: That was the last chance. I’d been willing to just come here, do a few fun interviews, and leave, if Hannah could treat me nicely for once. But now? The gloves were off. Now I was in search of the truest stories, the ones that would best represent the silk feathered hats. And if Hannah and the rest of them weren’t happy with the end results, I wouldn’t feel guilty about it. I was here as a storyteller, a fly on the wall, not as a friend. Not anymore. And if they didn’t like that, maybe it’d force them to think about how they treated people.
I grabbed an orange soda from a cooler in the hallway and walked into a small room off to the right. Sahil was in there, setting up the shot. He’d placed a chair in front of a bookshelf that was mostly full of expensive-looking vases and china figurines, and not many actual books.
“Hey,” he said, beaming at me. “I thought maybe we could set up the camera in that corner.” He pointed across to the chair. “Victoria has a tripod if you want to use it.”
“Sounds good.” I smiled and walked up to him, close enough that we were toe to toe. I put my hands on his chest, feeling his heart beating, strong and steady. Sahil would never treat me like the others. Sahil was always so good to me. I ran my hands from his chest down to his stomach and then around to his back. His smile faded as his eyes got heavy, his gaze traveling down to my lips.
“Did I tell you already that you look heart-stoppingly beautiful tonight?” Sahil said. “Mina Harker has nothing on you.”
I laughed quietly. “I don’t know. I don’t have that whole ingenue thing down like she does.”
Sahil shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “You don’t need it. You have something else … Chamatkaar.”
“Chamatkaar? What is that—magic? A miracle?”
He nodded. “When I was little, I thought the word meant ‘golden fireworks.’ I don’t know why or how I connected the two. But when I see you … every time, Twinkle, I feel those golden fireworks inside me. And the only reason I can think of is that you have some kind of chamatkaar. You must be a special kind of miracle.” He smiled a little abashedly, like he was afraid he’d said too much.
I didn’t even think twice. I just laced my hands behind his head and pulled him to me. His eyes widened, surprised at first, but then he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me as close as I could go. Our bodies molded together, his fingers digging into my hips, his mouth just as hungry, just as fevered, as mine. The only thought going through my head was, Finally. What had taken me so long? Why had I been so slow to figure out that Sahil was the one, that he’d always been the one? No matter what connection I’d thought I had with Neil all those ages ago, it was Sahil who was here now. Sahil who’d been here, who was so my type it was like he’d been created in a matchmaking factory just for me. Just like Sofia Coppola, I was a sucker for a love story. I’d just been too blind to see the one unfolding right before my eyes.
I pulled back and smiled at him, my fingers still in his hair. “When I’m with you, I feel like I can breathe. And all of these people? They don’t matter. They’re … they’re nothing.”
Sahil’s smile morphed into a half frown. “I wouldn’t say they don’t matter. I think Victoria’s been pretty nice to you, yeah? Inviting you here, letting us do the footage, use her house …”
And she’d done my makeup and hair the night of the carnival, too, though Sahil didn’t know that. “Sure, sure. But the rest of them? Hannah and Maddie and Francesca and the others?” I rolled my eyes. “Please.”
Sahil put his hands on my shoulders, his eyebrows furrowed with what looked like concern. “You know, maybe you need a break from all this filmmaking stuff.”
“Why?”
“I’ve just … I’ve never heard you talk about anyone like that. You sound so …” He looked at me.
“What?”
“Cold. You sound cold and unlike you.”
I smiled, but I could tell it was hard, like a sliver of ice. Sahil had been right before; I’d been awful to Lewis. But now? He hadn’t seen how Hannah had just treated me. He couldn’t understand what it felt like to be me, how tiresome it got to play the leading role in Invisible Girl day after day, month after month. But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to tell him any of that. Putting my hands on my hips I said, “Oh, so now I’m cold? I thought I was chamatkaar.”
Sahil stared at me. “Twinkle, I’m not trying to fight with you. I’m just saying—”
“I heard you, Sahil. But you don’t know what those girls are like. You don’t have to put up with it like I do. So do me a favor and spare me the sermon.”
He laughed a little disbelievingly. “Wow. All right. I hear you loud and clear.” He rubbed a hand along his jaw. “I’ll get the actors for the interview.”
I grabbed his arm, regret pinching in my chest. “Hey, look. I don’t want to fight either. I’m sorry. I just want to get this done and wrapped up. And then we can enjoy the party, okay?”
He studied my face and then nodded. Planting a light, soft kiss on my forehead, he left.
While Sahil rounded up people for me to interview, I walked to the kitchen for a glass of ice; the soda I’d picked up was getting warm. On my way there, I happened to glance out into the dining room and saw Francesca standing by the sliding glass doors, her face a mask of complete anger. My pulse kicked up a notch; I could sense a story. I walked out there and stood next to her, looking at what she was looking at.
Her boyfriend, Tony, was in the backyard. Wrapped around him was Sherie Williams, a senior cheerleader. I blew out a breath. “I’m sorry, Francesca,” I said.
She took a shaky sip of her drink. “I can’t believe that little crap bag,” she said in her New York accent, and I wasn’t sure if she meant Tony or Sherie. “You know I convinced him to go out for the football team last year? He thinks he’s such a gift to women, but he was nothing without me.” She glanced at me. “And Sherie? Her mom is usually passed-out drunk on the couch whenever I go over there. She’s obviously compensating.”
Something heavy and oily squirmed in my stomach. I did not want to be here, listening to this. At least, a big part of me didn’t. But there was a small part of me, a small, vicious, spiteful part of me that wanted more.
“You want a behind-the-scenes interview?” Francesca said. “I’ll give you one. I can tell you some stuff, Twinkle. But you gotta promise me you’ll put it in the video.”
Walk away now, a voice inside me said. It sounded like a weird mix of Dadi and me. You do not want to do this, Twinkle Mehra. But Francesca and Sherie were both a part of Hannah’s friend group. When had they ever stood up for me? When had they ever told Hannah to not be so mean? Why should I feel any sense of loyalty to them? Besides, this was a truth waiting to be unveiled. This was what I’d wanted—to show the world how things looked behind the curtain. This was me, an artist, not pulling any punches.
I nodded at Francesca. “Sure. I’ll give you the first interview. Want to get started now?”
She took a drink, smiled, and then followed me back.
“So not only is Sherie a boyfriend-stealing diva, but she also stole Taylor Packett’s bracelet. Yeah.” Francesca leaned forward. “It was this charm bracelet her dad got her from Tiffany’s. The clasp was loose, so Taylor left it on her desk while she went to the bathroom. Sherie took it when she thought no one was looking and then helped Taylor look for it when she came back from the bathroom!” She laughed, the sound hard. “Who does that? And Taylor still doesn’t know.” Francesca looked right into the camera. “Well, guess what, Sherie? Someone was watching. And I’m done sitting back and being quiet for you, you thieving little witch.”
I hit pause on the camera; I could hear people outside, probably waiting to come in and do their interview. Wiping my palms surreptitiously on my jeans, I smiled. “Great. This was great. Thanks, Francesca.”
She threw me a peace sign and walked out.
“Okay, the next person can come in!” I said, turning toward the door. Sure, it wasn’t exactly award-winning work I was doing here. But it was something that would get people talking. It would get people really looking at themselves and the choices they were making. I thought about Hannah and Maddie, how Hannah had said she didn’t know why Maddie hung out with me and how Maddie had refused to speak up for me even though we were practically sisters until about a year ago. So why shouldn’t I be the one to force them to look at themselves closely? To see their rotten reflections in the mirror? I mean, I was doing the world a service. So I wasn’t one of the silk feathered hat people, but you know what? I wasn’t a groundling anymore either. I was something completely different, an artist on an island, the only one brave enough to tell the truth.
Taylor Packett walked in, wearing a hot-pink one-shoulder dress and giant hoop earrings. She tucked one strand of long brown hair behind her ear and sat down across from me. Her phone dinged, and she looked down at it, giggled, and began typing out a text. I waited one minute, then two, then three.
“Whenever you’re ready to start,” I said, feeling my face beginning to get warm.
“Sure, sure. Just …” She kept typing and giggling.
My heart pounded. “You know,” I said, crossing my legs. “I heard something interesting about you tonight, Taylor.”
That got her attention. She looked up from her phone, frowning. “Oh, yeah? Like what?”
“Have you ever lost anything valuable?” I smiled a thin-lipped, tight smile. “If you have, you might want to take a closer look at your friends. Maybe make sure they’re not all in on it, all laughing at you behind your back.”
Taylor set her phone in her lap, her eyes hard. The fingers of one hand clasped loosely around her other wrist. “Are you talking about my bracelet? Who took it? Was it Katie Walters? Because let me tell you something about Katie. You know how last winter she went on break early because she was supposedly visiting relatives in Utah? Well, she was actually visiting Planned Parenthood to stop the arrival of a relative, if you know what I mean. And Katie’s dad is the grand poo-bah of the Mormon temple.” Taylor leaned forward and spoke directly into the camera. “Don’t screw with me, Katie. I will take you down.”
There were three more interviews after Taylor’s, each one just as bitter and scathing and gossip-filled. Each time that tiny voice in my brain would tell me to pay attention to the squirming, faintly nauseated feeling in my stomach. And each time I’d shut it up. Who ever said making authentic art was comfortable and cushy?
“Come on in,” I yelled over my shoulder toward the door when Sherie Williams had left after dishing about Francesca’s dad’s gambling problem. Which apparently was a big deal because he was the treasurer of the country club.
But no one came in. Sighing, I got up, walked to the door, and found Maddie standing just outside, her arms crossed. She had on silver eyeshadow to match her silver dress, and her red-lipsticked mouth was set in a thin, hard line. People milled out in the hallway, talking and laughing, no one paying attention to us.
“Hey?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Want to come in for your interview?”
“What are you doing?” Maddie asked, shaking her head.
“I’m … getting interviews—you know what I’m doing.”
“No. You’re getting my friends to gossip about each other. This isn’t about the film at all, Twinkle. This is about some sick part of you wanting revenge for feeling like—like you do.”
“And how is that, Maddie? Since you’re the expert on me, how do I feel?”
Her eyes glittered. “You know.”
“I don’t. Why don’t you enlighten me?”
“I’m not doing this right now.” She began to walk away.
I barked a laugh. “Oh, big surprise. Maddie’s running away! That’s your MO anytime you come across something you don’t know how to handle.”
She whipped back around, her cheeks stained pink. “Fine! You want to know what I think? You’re just lashing out at everyone because you feel like a loser inside. News flash, Twinkle. That’s no one else’s fault but your own. Maybe you should fix yourself before you attack other people!”
Anger exploded in my brain in a thousand colors. For a second I couldn’t even see Maddie because of the thick fog of anger surrounding me. She’d called me a loser. “How dare you?” I spat, leaning forward. “You cannot blame me for your friends being total douche bags. Am I forcing them to say these evil things about each other? Am I feeding them their lines? I’m not the loser here, Maddie. It’s too bad you can’t see that.”
“Oh, they’re evil for the things they’re saying?” Maddie scoffed. “What about you, Twinkle? What about the fact that you’re sitting here, baiting everyone? What, that’s for the good of the world?”
“It is for the good of the world!” I shouted. A few people looked our way and then went back to their conversations. “I’m doing your friends a service by showing them what they act like when things don’t go their way. I’m forcing them to face the truth about themselves, and the truth isn’t always pretty!”
“You’re forgetting the nice things people have done for you, then,” Maddie said. “Didn’t Victoria come over one weekend to help you do your hair and makeup? Didn’t Francesca help pay for the expensive lighting you wanted? And I helped you recruit most of the actors for your movie! But that doesn’t fit in with this bullshit narrative you have going on, does it?” Her voice rose with every question until she was shouting too. “What the hell are you doing, Twinkle?”
“What are you doing, Maddie?” I yelled, gesturing at her short dress. “Who are you trying to impress by talking about your old friends behind their back to your new friends? By dressing like a teenage WHORE?”
We stared at each other in silence. I felt immediate shame, hot and choking, for the last thing I’d said. People should not be judged by what they wore. I knew that. I hated when girls, especially, were called out for wearing the “wrong” clothes. When I was called out for wearing cheap clothes. But I kept my face the same, refusing to give an inch. I couldn’t back down over that now, or Maddie would think I was apologizing for everything.
She nodded slowly. “Right. You know what? I don’t even know why I’m bothering. Just forget it.”
“Yeah, just forget it!” I yelled at her retreating back as she threaded her way through the crowd. “Just forget you, Maddie!”
I put a shaky hand to my forehead and took a deep breath just as Lewis Shore walked up, grinning. “Yo. We still on for that interview?” He clearly hadn’t heard anything Maddie and I had said. It was weird, how my entire world felt like it was collapsing and he was just standing there, smiling, happy to be at this party.
“Yep,” I said finally, my voice muted. “Come on in.”
Love,
Twinkle