“Thirty-six kinds of Post-it notes,” Brij said, still staring at me in wonder. Just wait till I told him what I had planned. I felt like a modern-day fairy godmother from Cinderella, only without that silly outfit. “And I have four different kinds of flags. And this.” He reached into his backpack and pulled out an actual personalized memo pad with NATH written across the top in this cursive font.
Perfect! I was planning their first date in my head already. It would be at Staples, naturally. Maybe in the office furniture section? Lots of comfortable seating available.
I wasn’t able to tell him that, though, because Ms. Langford’s Honors Speech and Debate class came in. Matthew Weir came to sit by Brij, and then they were discussing what it was like to be a five-hundred-level mage in a two-hundred-level wench world. Or something. I wasn’t really paying attention.
Love,
Twinkle
Thursday, June 4
My room
Dear Sofia Coppola,
Maddie and I are going to a paint-and-sip event tonight. Usually it’s just old married people or working women in their thirties who go there to basically get drunk and paint pictures (why are adults so strange?), but Maddie goes to these things to unwind. She says she didn’t inherit the Tanaka creativity gene (which she also says does not exist but is just a figure of speech and I shouldn’t get sucked into that misconception like so many laypeople do), but that’s not true. Even though we’re both following a template and we get a lot of help from the instructor, Maddie’s bridge at sunset (for instance) always ends up looking like a bridge at sunset and mine somehow ends up looking like a puppet with dentures or something.
She was by my locker after school this time, but she didn’t apologize for ignoring my call last night. It was like déjà vu.
“Hey,” she said, texting furiously while she talked.
“Hey. Oh, it’s working?”
She raised her eyebrows without looking up. “Huh?”
My heart raced for a second while I debated changing the subject. Then I went for it, feeling reckless. “Your cell. I called yesterday.”
She stopped texting. “Oh. Right. I’m sorry. I was at Hannah’s and she was upset about this final in chemistry. …”
I waved her off. “Yeah. Sure. Okay.”
Slipping her phone into her pocket, Maddie came up to me and put her arm around mine. “I’m sorry. But you can tell me about the movie tonight, can’t you?”
I looked at her sweetly smiling face and knew I should say something more. I shouldn’t just accept this weak apology. But did I mention before that I’m desperate to hold on to my old BFF/sister from another mister? I didn’t know how to not be Maddie’s friend anymore. “Sure,” I said, feeling all crumpled.
Artsy Fartsy has 50 percent off their admission for Teen Thursdays and Dadi gives me the ten bucks if it’s to spend some quality time with Maddie. Dadi acts like Maddie is her lost grandchild. That’s why I haven’t told her that Maddie and I hardly ever hang out anymore. It would devastate her. And then she’d probably want to burn a couple dozen candles and make me dance around them, and we all know that would end up with the cute firefighters storming our house again.
Anyway, I’m wearing my old Nora Ephron T-shirt (the unintentionally creepy one where her eyes have chipped off; I really should throw it out) with leggings tonight, my DIY glitter Keds, and my movie-reel earrings. I went downstairs to get a drink of water—dressing up makes me thirsty—and Mummy and Papa, both of whom were miraculously off work, were sitting at the kitchen table, reading and drinking chai, while Dadi fed Oso bits of Parle-G biscuits under the table. (Papa frowns on feeding dogs people food, so Dadi does it when he isn’t looking and he pretends he doesn’t know.)
So then Mummy looks up at my shirt and smiles and goes, “Oh. Princess Diana. Very nice.”
I’ve worn this T-shirt so many times. How could she think it was Princess Di? When have I ever expressed an interested in British royalty, a concept with which I don’t even agree on principle? I stared at her, realizing that it was because she’d never asked me, not once, who it was on my T-shirt. We don’t talk about my movies or filmmaking or anything of substance. So I literally didn’t even know where to start. It was this gigantic sign of how Mummy and I are like two ice floes, passing each other, cold and silent. Even when we try to make a connection, we can’t get any traction. That’s our relationship. It sucks, but what am I supposed to do?
Oh, and get this. Papa looked up from his book and his face broke into a grin. “You have leg pain?” he said, between guffaws.
You know, because my leggings remind him of compression bandages. Har de har.
Then Dadi looks at me and says, “Oh! Princess Diana! Chandrashekhar says she has a very regal and respected presence on the other side.”
I smiled. “That’s great, Dadi.” So what if she got it wrong? At least Dadi shows up. At least Dadi tries.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder if my mother and I are related at all. I bet I was dropped on her doorstep, like Harry Potter, and she just hasn’t figured out how to tell me yet.
I walked off to my room to look for my lightning bolt scar. Because that is the only way any of this makes sense.
And I didn’t even get my cup of water.
Love,
Twinkle
Five
Thursday, June 4
Artsy Fartsy
Dear Kathryn Bigelow,
Maddie’s in the bathroom. She always drinks way too much Sprite when we come here and then spends 10 percent of the time peeing. So I’m just hanging out, sorta painting (that’s the best I can do) and petting Roux, the adorable red Lab that belongs to the lady who owns this place. He keeps putting his gigantic head in my lap every time I pick up my brush and looking at me, like, You can’t resist this, Twinkle. Let’s be real.
Anyway, I’ve been subtly probing Maddie’s interest in Brij all night by asking sly questions, such as, “Hey, wasn’t that binder Brij made so cool?”
Maddie’s entire face lit up. “Oh my gosh, yeah, it was! Do you think he does that for every subject or just econ?” (Do I know Maddie or do I know Maddie? I asked Brij the EXACT SAME question in the library because I knew she’d want to know.)
I played it casual. “Oh, I’m pretty sure he’s a well-rounded organizer. Rumor has it he even has those Post-it flag thingies and a personalized memo pad.” Maddie was practically fanning herself. They should make a Hallmark movie out of their budding love story.
So now I’m trying to figure out what the best way would be to get Brij and Maddie together. I have to be sly, though. If I try to force it, Maddie’ll buck and run. Kind of like those wild horses that can never be tamed. They always end up kicking some well-meaning horse whisperer in the head and getting put down.
Hmm.
Thursday, June 4
Still at Artsy Fartsy, 2.5 Sprites later
Dear Claire Denis,
Maddie’s in the bathroom again. My field of sunflowers looks like a toxic waste dump, which might turn out to be a cool statement on society’s unthinking gluttonous exploitation of our planet’s natural resources. Maddie’s looks like Monet helped her paint it. It’s so unfair. Why did she have to luck out in virtually every department?
Hold on. Roux’s chewing on my journal. He is such an attention hog.
Okay, I’m back. The owner lured Roux away with a shriveled pig’s ear, which is apparently a canine delicacy? Dogs seriously have no standards.
So, anyway, Maddie and I were talking and being all open and honest, and she told me how she went to get fro-yo with Hannah, Victoria, and Francesca the other night. What sucks is Hannah’s having a birthday party at Victoria’s parents’ cabin in Aspen in two weeks but it’s on the same night that Mr. Tanaka has a gallery showing in Denver, so Maddie said she couldn’t go. Hannah didn’t understand and thought it was because Maddie was mad at her about sitting on her turkey sandwich that one time (it was in a sandwich bag, but sti
ll). The way Maddie tells it, Hannah pitched a little fit.
I knew I shouldn’t say what I was thinking. Hadn’t I learned my lesson at Mr. Tanaka’s birthday party? But the words were out before my brain could sound the alarm. “Why do you hang out with her?”
Maddie looked surprised. “What?” Her gold eyeshadow and purple silk dress made her look like royalty. I felt a little dowdy in my clothes, tbh, which was crap because it’s what’s inside that matters and I’d been proud of my T-shirt and glitter Keds at my house, parental comments aside.
“You can’t go because it’s important that you support your dad. So why can’t she understand that? Hannah sounds like a total jackass.” I stopped talking all of a sudden and my eyes went wide. Papa should have replaced my filter when he replaced our fridge’s because mine is obviously completely worn out. Speaking up about her dodging my call must’ve unlocked something reckless in my brain.
Maddie’s cheeks turned this light pinkish color. (Unlike mine, which turn a deep shade of purple instead. Dadi calls it my baingan, aka “eggplant,” look. I think she means it in an endearing way, though.) “I can’t just stop hanging out with her,” she said, stabbing her brush on the canvas, her charm bracelets clinking angrily together.
“Why not?” I was thinking “in for a penny, in for a pound” at that point, which, in retrospect, was totally stupid. I should have changed the subject to syncope in older adults to take Maddie’s mind off the fact that we are so far apart now on most issues that we practically live on different continents.
“Because!” Not meeting my eye, she kept stabbing at her canvas. “If I want to hang out with Victoria and Francesca and that whole crowd, I have to hang out with Hannah, too. It’s sort of a package deal.” She glanced sideways at me. “And Hannah is … She gets, I don’t know, possessive. Maybe it’s because she’s an only child and she gets lonely.”
I wanted to say, You so don’t have to put up with that.
Or: Is that why you won’t hang out with me around your other friends? Because Hannah won’t let you?
Or even: Hey, you may have noticed, but I’ve got a BFF spot vacant. No friendship with Hannah required.
But my fearlessness evaporated and I didn’t say anything. We painted in glum silence until Maddie sighed and put her brush down. She bumped my knee with hers under the table and smiled when I looked up. “So, you never told me how your meeting with Sahil Roy went.”
I let my breath out in a whoosh. Okay, so she didn’t pick up when I called to talk about it, but this was progress—at least she was asking now. “It was amazeballs.” I filled her in on the gender-swapped Dracula idea. “And he gave me a DVD of the original movie to watch at home.”
Maddie sat up straighter and clutched my shoulder. “Ooh! You guys should watch it in my home theater!”
Maddie’s home theater setup is epic. You didn’t need to shell out twenty bucks for a movie ticket at the real theater because you got all of that in much more lux surroundings at her place. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely! How about tomorrow night?”
“Sure!”
She grabbed her cell off the table. “What’s Sahil’s number?”
I’d memorized it in case I needed to call it at any point, so I gave it to her. She typed in the message, her fingers flying over the keyboard. Her phone beeped almost immediately.
Sounds good! How about 7?
I nodded and she confirmed with him and then set it aside. “Done.”
“Thanks, Maddie.” I clapped my hands together (gently, so the brush didn’t spray paint all over Maddie’s expensive dress). “This is going to be awesome. Sahil’s cool. I think I’m gonna enjoy working with him.”
She raised an eyebrow at me, teasing, and I waved her off (still being mindful of paint and silk). “Nah,” I said. “Sahil’s just Sahil.” Even if he is cute and totally gets my need to punch back at the patriarchy with excellently made movies.
“Riiiiight,” she said, arching her eyebrow even higher until it nestled into her bangs. “I forgot you’re holding out for the other Roy brother.”
“Shut up!” I said, laughing.
She’s right, though. I am holding out for Neil. I am holding out for that shiny, non-groundling future self I’d always pictured, the one people can’t just ignore. That future Twinkle Mehra? Maddie would never leave her behind.
Love,
Twinkle
Thursday, June 4
My room
Dear Valerie Faris,
I hung my toxic waste dump painting on the wall. It goes well right next to the shelf with my vintage 1950s Kodak Medallion 8 camera. (Dadi bought it for me at a flea market four years ago to remind me of “the vast unknowingness of the human experience and how you must always strive to capture it, Twinkle.”)
Oh, wait. My computer just dinged with an incoming e-mail. I love e-mail. I know most people my age are all about the texts, but as someone without a cell phone, I have to take what I can get. Brb.
OH MY GOD. YOU ARE NEVER GOING TO BELIEVE THIS.
I, Twinkle Mehra, wallfloweriest of wallflowers, have a SECRET ADMIRER.
This is not a drill.
I repeat: I have a secret admirer.
I printed out the e-mail, and I’m pasting it below:
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Hello!
Dear Twinkle,
Hi! How are you? You’re probably wondering who I am, and you will find out. Just not yet.
The first thing you should know about me: I think you’re pretty. And funny. And I like the way you wear your hair. PPC is a vast and germy pit stop on the highway of life, but you make it a little cooler. (I got your e-mail from the school directory, in case you’re wondering.)
Secondly, please don’t try to guess who I am. I’ll reveal my identity at the perfect time, but if you try to guess, I’ll have to fade away and this will be game over. :(So I hope you’ll play along!
I’ll write again soon!
Your secret admirer,
N
Do you see how he signed off? N!! And he called me pretty, just like you-know-who did at the lockers yesterday! Do you know what this means?
It’s Neil. It has to be Neil. IS IT NEIL??
I wrote back immediately. I’m stapling my response below.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: ????
Hi, N!
I know you said you don’t want to say who you are and I promise I get it (and I love surprises so it’s totally cool), but can you give me a hint?? You’re my first secret admirer and I don’t know all the protocol, but I’m hoping you’ll make an exception!
Love,
Twinkle
He hasn’t written back yet. I went and looked up Neil’s e-mail in the school directory, but there isn’t one listed. I mean, I know he’s using one he made up specifically for this purpose (if it’s even Neil), but I just hoped! AAAHHHH. I’m not gonna be able to sleep tonight.
Love,
Twinkle
FriYAY, June 5
Homeroom
Dear Nora Ephron,
N never wrote back. Grrrrr. I’ve chewed my nails to little stubs. It has to be Neil. He’s not at school, so I can’t even just go up to him and ask. I mean, not that I would. Because (a) that would be embarrassing if it isn’t him, (b) I am, after all, the Greatest Coward West of the Mississippi, and (c) I kinda like the mystery and he clearly does too, so who am I to ruin it?
You were always super good at showing the relationship between guys and women, Nora. I wish you were here to give me some advice. Because I feel like I’m in a movie and I’m the main character.
I’m used to being invisible, you know? Papa works a lot—he has since I was a baby—and Mummy’s always been … Mummy-like and distant. People at school constantly looked through me, but I didn’t care much because I had Maddie. But now she
’s semi-gone and … I’m not okay with being overlooked anymore. And all of this—Neil (potentially) e-mailing me, the movie, and my new friendships with Sahil and the rest of them? It feels like my life is finally getting on track.
Besides, what girl doesn’t want to be the object of someone’s affections, secretly or otherwise?
He-he-he.
Love,
Twinkle
Friday, June 5
Lunch
Dear Sofia Coppola,
I’m not sitting alone at lunch anymore. I’m sitting at Sahil Roy’s table, with him and Skid and Aaron! They just casually waved me over and I just casually walked there.
Maddie was watching me, so I waved. And guess what? She glanced at Hannah and bit her lip, like she was afraid to say hi or something. And then Hannah saw me and did this obviously fake laugh and grabbed Maddie’s arm so they could look at something on her phone together. And Maddie went along with it. Totally uncool, but that’s how it’s been—I’ve learned to accept that Maddie is completely different from the Maddie I know when her other friends are around. I’m hoping she’ll realize that this blows as a long-term strategy, but in the meantime, I just go with the flow.
Brij and Matthew came over too, even though the invitation was not exactly meant for them. Maybe Brij is trying to get some more info on Maddie, which I am okay with. Maybe he can loosen Hannah’s hold on her like I haven’t been able to. We scooted over and made room.
“Man, I do not want to do that project for Cultural Studies,” Skid grumbled, shoveling some pizza into his mouth.
“Show-and-tell for high school,” Aaron said, shaking his head and scoffing.
From Twinkle, With Love Page 5
