From Twinkle, With Love

by Sandhya Menon

  That reminds me:

  I’m going to be directing a real movie for Midsummer Night!

  Sahil and I made it official at lunch.

  I was sitting on the picnic tabletop when he came up to me and, grabbing my hand to shake it enthusiastically (even though I hadn’t offered it), said, “I like your T-shirt.”

  It was my female filmmakers shirt, with a picture of you, Ava DuVernay, Sofia Coppola, and Haifaa al-Mansour. “Oh, yeah.” I looked up at him and smiled. “It’s my favorite. I like yours, too.”

  He was wearing a vintage Night of the Living Dead T-shirt. When people love something so much it fuses with what they wear, I feel this instant connection to them. The melding of passion and fashion is the song of my people. Sahil pulled at the front of his shirt and turned pink. “Hey, thanks. So, um, you want to talk about the movie?”

  “Sure.” I patted the tabletop beside me. “Hop on up.”

  After the slightest pause, Sahil dropped his backpack on the ground and climbed up to sit beside me. You’d think close proximity to a boy would make me nervous, but I was way, way too excited to care. Pulling my notebook and pencil out, I scooted closer to him. “So, I’m super psyched about this. I think it could be great!” I was flinging my hands around (I like to talk with them), and the pencil flew out of my grasp and landed on Sahil’s lap.

  “Oops, sorry,” I said, and without thinking about it, I reached over and grabbed the pencil. My hand brushed his thigh through the thin fabric of his shorts. His upper thigh.

  We both froze.

  “Um, so s-sorry,” I said, jerking my hand back like I’d accidentally touched the surface of the sun. “I just, um, the wood of the pencil …” I trailed off, horrified. Why was I talking about wood?? “I mean, um, it was slippery and—” Aaaahhh. Now his face looked all pink and sweaty, which I’m sure complemented my purple, sweaty one. TWINKLE. Stop talking. “Anyway. Um, movie?” I finished, apparently no longer able to speak in complete sentences.

  “Yes,” Sahil agreed, sounding relieved.

  I squinted up at him in the sun. You know, I’d never noticed before, but his black hair has glints of red in it. It’s gorgeous. I wonder if he gets that from his mom (she’s white). I wonder if Neil has that too. Anytime I’m in his vicinity, though, my senses go completely dead from shock, so I haven’t noticed. “So, do you have an idea of what genre of film we should make?”

  His face, which was still stupefied-looking, suddenly became animated. “YEAH! Yes. So, I was thinking we could do a remake of Dracula. Like, the really old, classic version from 1931?”

  I stared at him, nerves back once again, internal panic building. I was supposed to be the film expert here. The only acceptable answer to that question would be, Why, yes, Sahil, I know exactly what you’re talking about. But I totally didn’t. I’m more of a documentary and modern movies kind of girl. I mean, I’ve watched some Alfred Hitchcock, but that’s about it.

  Okay, Twinkle, I told myself. Time to fake it till you make it. You can’t sink this now. Especially not after your pencil disaster. “Oh, right, Dracula,” I said, nodding intelligently.

  “Right.” Sahil returned my nod, only his was super enthusiastic. He was clearly pumped (as I’d been before I realized I was about to be exposed as a charlatan). He had clearly watched the stupid movie. “So, I have my own ideas of what scenes we should shoot, but what are your faves?”

  Crap. Okay, what do all vampire movies have in common? “Um …” I tapped my pencil on my notebook, trying to buy time. “Well, I liked the one with the … ah, bat? And the, ah, castle? It was such a great castle.”

  Sahil studied me. The corner of his mouth twitched. “You … haven’t seen Dracula, have you?”

  I hung my head, feeling pathetic. What sort of film expert has never watched Dracula? “No, sorry,” I mumbled.

  Laughing, he said, “Totally okay. This gives me a chance to convert another unsuspecting human to becoming a Bela Lugosi nerd, which is my mission in life anyway. I’ll bring you the DVD tomorrow.”

  I grinned. My (as yet nonexistent) street cred as a director didn’t seem to be damaged. It was pretty cool how Sahil accepted my shortcoming without judgment. Maybe it wasn’t that big a deal to anyone but me. “Wait. Did you say DVD?”

  He nodded.

  “Wow,” I said. “That’s pretty old-school.”

  Sahil raised an eyebrow. “It’s kind of my thing.”

  I snorted. “Okay, but if you want to capture people’s attention at Midsummer Night, you have to go all out. You can’t have a plain retelling. We need to put a spin on it that no one’s done before.”

  Sahil frowned. “So, what are you thinking?”

  I gnawed on my pencil eraser. “Ooh.” I sat up straighter, an idea growing. “What about this? Dracula, but gender-swapped. Like, a Dracu-lass!”

  Sahil beamed. “Bella instead of Bela! I love it!”

  “Excellent.” I hopped off the table and began to pace in the grass, energized now. “So, we could have our Dracu-lass be a total man-charmer like Dracula was a lady-charmer. All the roles in the film could be gender-swapped.” I glanced at Sahil, realizing fully how important this idea was to me. Changing lives could start right here, right now. “Are you okay with most of the cast being female? Because I think probably a movie made in 1931 had mostly male leads?”

  Sahil nodded immediately. “It did. And I’m on board. It’s about time someone shook up Dracula.”

  I grinned, my heart all warm and happy. It was all … clicking. We were on the same page about everything. Maybe making a movie with Sahil wouldn’t be as hard as I thought. “Precisely what I was thinking.”

  “So, we’re going to need to get costumes and props. Maybe we could go this weekend.”

  I pursed my lips, feeling that bite of tension I always felt when the people of PPC, who seemingly had limitless pockets from Narnia, talked about money. I’d love to easily say, “Sure! Let’s do it!” But my family doesn’t have random spending money. Every dollar I use is taken from someone’s lunch or clothes allowance or Support Group for Reincarnated Individuals and Those Who Love Them fees. “Um … I don’t know if I can afford too much. …”

  Sahil waved a hand. “Don’t even worry about it. I’m bankrolling this operation.”

  Was it charity? I didn’t want charity. I studied Sahil’s expression closely. “Um, are you sure? Because that can get expensive.”

  His face was pity-free. “I’m sure. I’m the producer. All I want you to worry about is making the most kick-ass movie you can make.”

  I smiled at him, relief making me slightly giddy. “Now, that I can do.”

  I’m trying to be calm and casual about this, but inside I keep screaming, I’M OFFICIALLY A DIRECTOR! LOOK OUT, WORLD, HERE I COME!

  How the heck do you have so much chill, Jane?

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Four

  Still Wednesday, June 3

  Honors Calculus

  Dear Sofia Coppola,

  I just witnessed the weirdest thing in the history of PPC.

  I was waiting by my locker for Maddie (we always walk to Honors Calculus (me) and AP Chem (her) together because they’re right next to each other) when Brij came up to me. “Are you ready for that econ paper?” he asked, pulling a gigantic binder from his backpack. I wasn’t sure how he’d fit that in there. It was like watching one of those clown cars, where people keep coming out of this tiny space.

  Oh God, I thought. Not this weird obsession with my studies again. “Um … no.” I eyed the binder warily. It had color-coded little flag things sticking out the side.

  “I’ve got all the class notes in here,” Brij said, patting the binder. “Plus old tests I got Mr. Newton to give me. This is the definitive study guide you need if you’ve ever spent a sleepless night wondering about the theory of rational self-interest or the three factors of production.”

  I stood there, trying to figure out how to tell Brij that I h
ave literally never had a sleepless night about school, period, let alone about … all the stuff he said, when Maddie walked up.

  “Hey,” she said to me, and then, seeing the binder in Brij’s hand, “Ohmygod. Are those econ notes?”

  Brij smiled smugly and opened the binder. There was a laminated index at the front. “And so much more. This is the only study guide you’ll ever need.”

  “And you used the RealNotes five-color assorted page dividers, Tuff-Enuff limited edition,” Maddie said faintly, swooning as she ran her hand over them.

  “Mm-hmm. Everything’s organized by topic, subtopic, and how likely it is to be on the test.”

  I couldn’t believe it. They were bonding. Brij Nath and Maddie Tanaka, the most groundliest groundling and the most silky feathered hat person in the entire school. Over sticky tabs and econ notes.

  I cleared my throat, and Maddie jerked her head up at me, abashed. “Oh, right. Wake up, Tanaka. Um, you ready to go to class?”

  I raised an eyebrow and nodded, and Maddie reluctantly came with me.

  “I can give you a copy,” Brij said to our retreating backs.

  I looked over my shoulder and smiled. “Um, thanks, but no, thanks. I’m good.” Hadn’t we been over this already?

  “No, I meant her.” He nodded toward Maddie.

  Her eyes shone like he was offering her the key to the biorhythm lab at Johns Hopkins. “Oh, but I couldn’t ask you to make a duplicate. That would take too long.”

  “I’ve already done it,” he said, and his eyes flitted to me and then away superfast. “But I don’t think I’ll need that second copy after all.”

  “Wow. Thank you,” Maddie breathed as he handed the binder over.

  Brij nodded, looking a little embarrassed.

  “Nath, you coming or what?” Matthew called from his locker. “We’re going to be late.”

  “Yeah.” He lifted a hand to us and then plodded off.

  I stared at Maddie. “What?” she asked, her eyes all big and innocent. Yeah, right. She wasn’t fooling me. “I just liked his notes.”

  “Yeah.” I snorted. “His notes. Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?”

  Maddie jostled me with her shoulder. “Shut up. I’m holding out for my Japanese-American tattooed artist, remember?”

  “Sure, Maddie.” I grinned, enjoying teasing her way too much. It felt like the old days again, just for those few moments. “Keep telling yourself that.”

  I didn’t even have a chance to tell her about the movie stuff. Which was fine, because she told me to call her later. We haven’t talked on the phone in forever. Wanna know a secret? I am ridiculously excited.

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Yep, still hump day, June 3

  My room

  Dear Mira Nair,

  I called Maddie tonight to tell her about the movie, but she didn’t answer. Actually, her cell rang twice and then went to voice mail, which means she looked at the screen, saw who it was, and then hit reject. I may not have a cell phone, but I’m not stupid.

  I guess that connection I thought we had at school, where we were back to being Twinkle and Maddie, was just in my head.

  I didn’t leave a message.

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Thursday, June 4

  School bus

  Dear Jane Campion,

  I found Dadi naked on the lawn today.

  At least, I thought she was naked. It turned out she was wearing a brown housedress the exact color of her skin, and mistakes are easy to make at six a.m. when the sun is barely a blip in the sky.

  After Papa poured me a glass of warm milk to steady my nerves, I went outside to see what she was up to. (My parents declined to go, muttering tiredly, Woh Dadi toh aisi hai, na? Which, okay, they have a point. This is just the way Dadi is, but still. My curiosity got the better of me. Besides, Dadi and I always check on each other.)

  She was standing in the middle of our tiny patch of grass with this giant tub of water in front of her, her praying mantis arms waving around like she was conducting the world’s hardest-to-hear orchestra. Oso was at the fence, sniffing at our canine neighbor, Maggie, this little white creature that’s more fur than dog. (They have an epic romance that will never be requited because neither of them have opposable thumbs and therefore will always be thwarted by the gate. Legendary.)

  I walked up to Dadi, stepping around the tub of water and wrapping my arms around my waist. My pajamas were cotton, and it was chilly enough that I had immediate goose bumps. Dadi, meanwhile, looked like she may as well have been sipping a sloe gin fizz in the Bahamas. (I don’t know what a sloe gin fizz is, but it sounds like something you’d drink on a beach in the Bahamas.) “What are you doing, Dadi?” I asked. “Do you want me to get you a sweater?”

  “Great things are coming your way, Twinkle,” she said, like that was any kind of answer to my two very sensible questions. Her eyes glinted in the dim light. I was awed for a second, goose bumps rippling down my skin. Her words sounded … fortuitous. Like she knew something the rest of us didn’t. I was captivated, struck silent.

  Until I saw the fortune cookie wrapper. She crumpled up the fortune she’d been reading and slipped it into her pocket.

  I sighed. “Dadi …”

  Dadi grabbed my arm and yanked me closer to the tub. “Dekho. Look. And stop making your skeptical face. Don’t you see them? Hamaare poorvaj.”

  Hamaare poorvaj. Our ancestors. I raised an eyebrow and watched my reflection doing the same. Huh. Dadi was right; my skeptical face was very skeptical. “Our ancestors are … floating in the water?”

  Dadi sighed. “Twinkle. The water is a conductor of the heavens. I’m listening for messages.”

  I tried to smooth my eyebrow down and only partly succeeded. “Right. Messages.” Dadi was afraid of the voice mail feature on our landline, but sure, messages coming through water from our ancestors she had no problem with.

  She grabbed my face with her cold hands. Her soft, iron-gray hair undulated in waves. Dadi was very pretty, even if she was around sixty-five. I bet she was a total babe when she was my age. “The decision you were asking me about yesterday? It will change your life. Our lives. They have spoken.”

  Okay, so I knew this was all nonsense. I knew better than to put stock in what Dadi said after one of her “sessions.” I was a girl with a modern education, with parents who were both thinkers and readers, and a best friend who was the next Marie Curie. But I couldn’t help it. I was immediately sucked in. “Really?” I breathed. “They said that?”

  Dadi nodded sagely. “Indeed they did. But you must be unafraid, Twinkle. You must live life as if you cannot get hurt.”

  “I will, Dadi,” I said, feeling a ripple of excitement pass through me. “I will.”

  And I wasn’t only saying that, either. I am director, hear me roar.

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Thursday, June 4

  Library

  Dear Haifaa al-Mansour,

  Mrs. Mears sent me and Brij to the library. You know why? Because we’re the only two people in class who haven’t completely lost our sense of humanity.

  Mrs. Mears and the school board are evil. They want us to dissect fetal pigs.

  I tried telling Mrs. Mears that pigs are social, intelligent creatures. Some scientists think they’re even more intelligent than dogs. I mean, there’s a reason I don’t eat bacon. Then Brij said, “And also? They’re gross. My family is Brahmin, and therefore vegetarian.”

  So she told us that we could both be excused. Brij on the grounds of religious tolerance and me on account of I’m a conscientious objector. We’re supposed to do a report on germ line cell mutations in fruit flies instead. To which I say, fine, school board and Mrs. Mears. You can take away my will to live, but you can never take away my conscience.

  Brij keeps looking at me over his computer. He-he. Let me see if I can get a rise out of him about Maddie.

  Ten minut
es later, still the library …

  Brij Nath is so into Maddie. This was how our conversation went:

  Me, sitting in the empty chair next to Brij’s: “Hey. How are ya?”

  Him, looking at me with big eyes: “Um … good?”

  I smiled. “So, I liked your econ binder. Maddie, too.”

  He continued staring at me. (Probably overcome with the mention of Maddie.)

  Me: “So … do you organize all kinds of stuff? Or only econ notes?”

  He actually gulped. Like in the cartoons. “N-no, I organize everything. Math notes, computer science notes, bio notes. Oh, and my MTG cards.”

  Okay, I had no idea what MTG cards were. But I rallied. “So notes of every kind, then.” He and Maddie have so much in common. “Do you have, say, special markers?”

  He was still staring at me like he couldn’t believe we were having this conversation. It was cute. You know, in a completely fraternal way. “I do,” he said faintly.

  “And how many different kinds of Post-it notes do you have?” If it was beginning to sound like an interview, that’s because it was. I was hatching this genius plan while we talked. It had started out fun and games, but imagine if Maddie and Brij did go out? She’d be forced to spend more time with the groundlings. And maybe the Twinkle-Maddie unit would even make a comeback. And what if Neil and I start to go out? What if the groundlings and the silk feathered hats start mixing because of Maddie going out with Brij and me going out with Neil? The entire social structure at PPC would collapse and chaos would reign! (but in a good way). Like how much healthy chaos you caused by becoming the first female Saudi director, Haifaa. Disruption can be really good, right? I could get my best friend back. This had to happen. I was going to make it happen. I mean, sure, Brij was no tattooed Japanese-American artist, but love did weird things to people.