From Twinkle, With Love

by Sandhya Menon

  I can’t believe it. Our lead actress, and she was hiding in plain sight. Also? I get to work closely with my ex-best friend again. Do you know what this means? Maddie’s going to see how much fun we have together, she’s going to remember all the good times, and things might just go back to normal. This is going to rock.

  Friday, June 5

  My room

  Dear Mira Nair,

  Holy crap. This night just keeps getting better.

  So, out on the balcony, we were all so excited that we kept discussing what we were going to do next. So Maddie said, “Costumes! We need costumes!” And I said, “Well, okay, but Thoroughly Thespian is the only local place that sells theater costumes that don’t look like Halloween rejects, but you have to be famous or have an agent to shop there because all their stuff is so professional.” Sahil pulled up the Thoroughly Thespian website and we all drooled over the stuff they have to offer.

  I said, “See? It’s perfect. It would take our stuff to the next level.” Then I sighed. “Oh, well. Guess we’ll have to go to Goodwill or something.” I know I sounded like a brat when I said that because there’s nothing wrong with Goodwill and I shop there lots, but for such a life-changing project, I wanted something a little more special.

  Then Sahil studies my face and he says, “Hey, it’ll be okay. We’ll come up with something good.”

  So I sort of shrug and force a half smile and say, “I know.”

  Then he nods, picks up his cell phone, and begins typing something.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, frowning.

  He smiles super mysteriously. “They’re open till ten tonight.” Then he pushes speaker and I hear, “Good evening. Thank you for calling Thoroughly Thespian. How can I help you?”

  And I stare at him and then at Maddie, who’s staring at me, and then I stare at him again and he puts one finger on his lips and says in a confident but snooty voice, “Yes, hello. This is the Zenith Talent Agency calling on behalf of Twinkle Mehra. Ms. Mehra is in the Springs for just a few days and would love to stop by to sample your wares for her newest movie.”

  I clapped a hand over my mouth to keep from laughing, and Maddie giggled and stepped away to get ahold of herself.

  “Right,” the female voice on the phone said, sounding suspicious. “Who did you say you represent again?”

  “Twinkle Mehra, darling,” Sahil said, sitting back and kicking his feet up on the table. “She’s very avant-garde, very new, but so up-and-coming. You know, there’s already Sundance buzz for this project and you would be credited. Of course, if you’re too busy, Karen at Perfect Props in Denver already has her scheduled first thing tomorrow.” It was like watching a magic trick. Sahil had completely transformed, his confidence like new clothes on him.

  “No, no,” the voice said quickly. “We would love to have, er, Ms. Mehra come look at our, er, wares. What time is good for you?”

  I almost peed my pants just like that one time at Maddie’s. I couldn’t believe Sahil was pulling this off. “Let me check her schedule …,” Sahil said, riffling the pages of my notebook, which was on the table, and looking at me questioningly. Anytime is good, I mouthed. He nodded and got back on the phone. “How does eleven a.m. tomorrow sound?”

  “Perfect,” the voice said, sounding relieved. “We’ll see you then.”

  “Excellent. See you soon.” Sahil pressed end, swung his legs back down, and we all burst out laughing at the same time.

  “Oh my God,” I said, kicking his shoe. “I can’t believe you did that!”

  “I think you need to be in the movie,” Maddie said, almost choking with laughter. “You were so smooth! ‘Twinkle Mehra, darling’!”

  “No, no, I’m just the producer,” Sahil said, chuckling. “And part of being the producer is taking care of my director.” He winked at me.

  “This is so cool of you,” I said.

  “I just want to make a great movie,” he said, reaching for his lemonade slushie and shrugging. “And I want to support you so you can bring your vision to life as much as possible.”

  Something inside me blinked awake. Here was someone who was so passionate about his art, he refused to let small things like obscurity hold him back. He just leaped into it, somehow knowing he’d make it all work.

  I want that, I realized. I want to be honest and brave and confident in my art.

  Laughing a little, I said, “You know who you reminded me of a little right then, with your legs on the table and everything?”

  He grinned. “Michael B. Jordan. I get that a lot, actually.”

  “No,” I said, swatting at him. “Neil. You had that same confident, ‘you will do as I ask’ air that I could never pull off in a million years.”

  His smile got dimmer and dimmer as I spoke. “Oh,” he said, itching his ear. “Right.”

  I glanced at Maddie and then back at him. “Are … are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” He forced another smile, but I could see his heart wasn’t in it.

  There was a beat of silence, but no one rushed to fill it. I looked at Maddie again, but she shrugged lightly. Sahil was looking off into the distance.

  “You guys,” I said finally, eager to break this weird little moment. “We could have costumes from Thoroughly freaking Thespian tomorrow! We’re so legit!”

  “We’re so legit it hurts,” Sahil said, holding up his glass of lemonade, thankfully having shaken himself out of that stupor. Maddie and I clinked it with ours. “To new partnerships,” he said, but he was looking just at me.

  “To new partnerships,” I said, grinning. “And fabulous costumes.”

  “And lead actresses!” Maddie said, and then we all laughed again and happily slurped our slushies.

  Things are finally falling into place and I’m over here like, Is this life? I can’t wait for tomorrow! Saturday-morning costume shopping—huzzah!

  Love,

  Twinkle

  Seven

  Saturday, June 6

  21 days until Midsummer Night!

  My room

  Dear Valerie Faris,

  I should not be allowed to talk to boys. There should be a federal law. The Twinkle-Versus-Cute-Boy-Communication Act. You may think I’m being dramatic, but I assure you I’m not.

  This is what happened: Sahil picked me up at ten thirty this morning. He came in and said hi to my parents and Dadi and called them “Uncle and Auntie,” which made their day. Dadi offered him some of her Parle-G biscuits, which she only does to the most deserving visitors—and Oso. (That’s because we have to go all the way to the Indian market in that shady plaza with the exotic fish store. It’s owned by this guy with orange hair and gold teeth who freaks Dadi out.)

  He looked nice today too. He was wearing a cool Blair Witch Project T-shirt, which I secretly coveted the entire day. And his hair was gelled. I’d never seen it like that before, but it suited him. I kept sneaking peeks at him as we drove from my house to his place.

  It was hitting me, for the first time, how … um, attractive I find Sahil. I mean, I know he and Neil look alike. That’s the whole thing with identical twins. But it wasn’t just about his nice shoulders or his hair or his square jaw. It was like something happened last night. I saw what Sahil’s made of on the inside, and … I don’t know if this is gonna sound gross, but his insides match mine. I don’t know how else to explain it. I see what he’s made of, and it’s the stuff I’m made of too, I think.

  But that doesn’t help me with the whole “leave the groundlings behind and get on Maddie’s level” plan. Only Neil fits into that plan. It’s not that I need him to get to Maddie. It’s just that if I date someone like Neil, things will be so much easier between me and her.

  We drove past the city to this tiny town north of the Springs. It’s where Sahil and most of the other, richer people live, and I realized something.

  “Wait. Is this where Thoroughly Thespian is?”

  “Yep, just five minutes away. Why?”

  “Don’t
you live up here, too?”

  Sahil nodded, looking a little confused.

  “You didn’t have to drive all the way down to get me and then come back up here. I could’ve asked my dad to give me a ride.”

  “Nah, it’s okay, Mehra,” Sahil said, grinning at me. “I couldn’t leave my director hanging like that.”

  My face felt hot and sweaty. “But … I mean, I can get my own rides. Just because I don’t have my own car doesn’t mean you need to bail me out or anything.” I swallowed. I half couldn’t believe I’d said all that out loud—actually calling attention to the fact that I don’t have much money. But the other half of me was proud for speaking out.

  “Twinkle.” Sahil looked at me as long as he could without driving off the road. “I just wanted to hang out with you. I like spending time with you. All right?”

  My cheeks were still hot now, but for other reasons. “All right,” I said softly, feeling a little shy.

  He smiled at me, and even though I knew it shouldn’t, it felt like moonbeams straight through my heart.

  We pulled into the parking lot and walked up to the store, which is this weird warehouse-looking thing with rusted metal steps leading up to it. “Huh.” I tipped my head back and took it in. “Are you sure we’re in the right place?”

  Sahil checked the GPS on his phone. “Yeah. Unless the Google gods have steered us wrong.”

  Shrugging, I reached out and pulled the door open. It creaked like we were in a haunted movie. I stepped into the space—and gawked.

  I was expecting something dinky and dark, to match the outside. But this space was enormous, all of it brilliant white. It was like being stuck on Iceland. Not that I’ve ever been to Iceland. But the name implies a land of white ice, and that’s exactly what this looked like.

  Along the wall, oversize mannequins with blank white faces stared at us with their eyeball-less eyes. They were all dressed in gorgeous costumes, with Victorian-era thick, brocade dresses and fancy, elaborate hats with fake fruits and birds on them.

  “Yikes,” I said at the same time that Sahil said, “Awesome!”

  I shuddered as he ran up to one and poked it in the face. “Those things are so freaking creepy.” I sidled over to a shelf along the wall and picked up what looked like a solid gold staff with rubies encrusted on the handle. “This, on the other hand, is cool.”

  Sahil bounded over to me. He was an oversize puppy in a pet shop, running from toy to toy. “It is!” He reached behind me, his arm sliding over my shoulders, to grab something else off the shelf. “And look at this!” He showed me a hypnotizing mask that looked like it had raindrops (made out of crystal and light-blue gems) pasted in an ombré pattern down the right side.

  “Wow,” I breathed, running my fingers along the bumps of the rhinestones. “That is stunning.”

  Suddenly it hit me. We were here, in this fabulous warehouse with all these incredible things surrounding us that we could pick and choose from, because of Sahil and what he’d done last night. I reached out and squeezed his arm on an impulse.

  He looked at me, surprised.

  “Thank you,” I said, grinning up at him. “This is …” I shook my head. I needed a thesaurus. “What’s a word for ‘so awesome it makes you speechless’?”

  “Hmm,” Sahil said, a small smile at his lips. We were so close I could smell his soap. Focus, Twinkle. “Grab?”

  I laughed. “This is extremely grab, then.”

  We were both looking at each other, and slowly, our smiles faded. My heart trip-hammered. Sahil took a step toward me.

  And then I remembered.

  I had a secret admirer—N. And he might just be Sahil’s twin freaking brother. Also? I have a grand, master plan to leave my current self behind by joining the ranks of the silk feathered hats. And I’m beyond tired of being a groundling and blending into the walls all the time. What about N/Neil being a part of that dream? What about all of that?

  I put my arm down quickly and stepped away, doing that tittery-nervous laugh I do when I’m super uncomfortable, like that one time I walked in on Mummy and Papa and I’m pretty sure they were doing it. (In my defense, none of the Mehras knock because Mummy, Papa, and Dadi say that is a silly Western rule that has no place in our house.) In that case, I’d wanted an extra pillow out of their closet, but I’d just done the silly tittery laugh thing and stumbled backward, closing the door behind me super quick. Here and now, I ran over to the other wall and began to stare at a peacock-themed tapestry as if it were the lost treasure of Tutankhamun.

  Sahil cleared his throat, like he was going to say something, and I just thought, Please, Sahil, there cannot be anything between us, so can we just ignore that ripple of electricity between us? when someone behind us said, “Hello? Can I help you?”

  I recognized the voice from the phone call yesterday. We both spun around. Sahil straightened his shoulders, and I could see him morphing into Agent Sahil again. “Hello,” he said, all snooty. “I’d rung yesterday. This is the talented Twinkle Mehra, come all the way from Sweden just for a few days.”

  Sweden? Did he think I could speak Swedish? At least I was wearing these cool skinny-fit black trousers and a mustard-yellow polka-dot top that Maddie had gotten me once for a gallery showing we went to together for one of Mr. Tanaka’s girlfriends, so I looked the part of worldly European filmmaker. Even if, inside, I was a trembling mound of teenage insecurity.

  “Oh, yes,” the woman said, eyeing both of us up and down like we were trolls who’d come tearing out of the forest—a little disgustedly, but also warily, in case we were a big deal. “I am Violet Hayes.”

  That could not be her real name. Violet Hayes? Like Purple Haze? Anyway, focus. It was time to play the part. I squared my shoulders, held out my hand, and said, “Enchanté.” Crap. That was French, wasn’t it? “Um, bienvenue.” Nope, still French. And also not making sense anymore. “Uh … thanks for having us.”

  Violet, who was tiny and thin and had a lavender-colored pixie cut, smiled haughtily. “It is my pleasure.”

  Why do you look like you ate a rotten lemon, then? I wanted to ask but didn’t. I don’t have a problem communicating with women. Just cute boys.

  “Miss Mehra’s working on her first movie, which will explore gender relationships in old cinema,” Sahil said, stroking an imaginary beard.

  I bit the inside of my cheek and tried not to laugh. Ms. Haughty Smile turned her icy blue eyes on him. “Indeed,” she said. “Well, I could escort you around or …”

  “No, we can find our way,” I said, a little too quickly. Then I added more coolly, “Gender relationships are a very … private matter for me.”

  She nodded, bowed—bowed!—and then left us.

  Sahil and I grinned at each other and then whispered, “Yaaaay!” and then we began to explore.

  We quickly found that everything we wanted would be on the second floor. Instead of white floors, this level had a black stone floor with threads of red glinting in it. Very Dracula-y. All the props were dark and mystical too. Sahil was immediately drawn to a cyclorama—a curved backdrop—of a landscape that had a moon painted on it that looked like it was screaming.

  “Oh my God, I need this,” he said, his eyes lighting up. Then, when I looked at him, he said, “Um, I mean we need this?”

  I laughed. “Are you joking? I think something like that is the one that fits our vision.” I pointed at a flat scene, this one with just a regular moon. “It even has lights from a distant village against those hills.”

  “Oh, well, we can talk about it,” Sahil said, because he obviously disagreed with my artistic vision, which is a huge mistake, but whatever.

  I left him to drool while I went off to the far-right side, where tons of racks of costumes were hanging, all of the clothes in shades of deep purple or inky black or blood red. I’d riffled through about fifteen different dresses and was just about to give up when … You know how TV shows have brides shopping for these overpriced white dresses a
nd they always say some variant of, I knew the moment I saw it that it was the One? And it sounds like they’re talking about their fiancés, but they’re talking about a frothy mixture of tulle and lace? And it feels sort of ridiculous? Well, I apologize to all the brides I ever judged before because I so felt that.

  My heart beat faster. My palms got sweaty. And I knew. It was the One.

  “Sahil?” I called, my voice quavery. He came over, and I held the dress against me. It was tight to the ankles and then flared out in a swath of purple-black silk, and it came with a little faux-fur capelet. It was perfect.

  “That’s it,” he said, a slow smile spreading across his face. “That. Is. It. You found it.”

  “And look,” I said, pulling the capelet off the hanger to show him. Unfortunately, because I’m a total klutz, I dropped it on the floor.

  Sahil and I both went to get it, and as I reached over, his legs got tangled in the long dress I was holding. He began to fall, his eyes wide and panicked, and he reached out and grabbed my arm.

  I yelled out some expletive or other, trying to find my center of gravity, but it felt like I was on an ice rink without skates on. Stupid, slippery dress.

  And then we were lying on the floor, and somehow I was on top of him. My hair made a curtain around his face. In the hazy corners of my mind, I knew I should be completely and utterly humiliated. I mean, my boobs were pressed into his chest. I could feel his thigh muscles under mine.

  His face was flushed, his eyes wide, like a cornered bunny. “I—I am so sorry,” he said. “That was just, um … I’m so sorry.”

  “No, it’s—it’s fine,” I said, my own face getting hotter and hotter as I tried to get off of him. Only the dress had somehow trapped both our legs inside it and all I was doing was gyrating uselessly on top of him. Oh my God, Twinkle, my brain yelled. Could you make this any more awkward? “Sorry,” I said now. “I’m really … I’m trying …”