“I know you do,” she said, leaning over to hug me. Then, holding me by the shoulders, “And he wants you. You just need to show him that his insecurities about his brother are unjustified. That you’re crazy about him and not Neil. That all of that Neil fantasizing stuff is in your past.”
I nodded. “Right. I can do that. I can, I can, I can.”
Maddie patted me on the arm. “Get to it, Juliet. Actually, no, wait. Juliet dies at the end, so … maybe don’t channel Shakespeare for this one.”
“Awesome. Thanks for … that.”
Maddie laughed and, grinning, I hopped out of her car, waved, took a deep breath, and walked toward the back of the Roys’ house.
When I was in the almost completely dark backyard, it occurred to me that if any of the neighbors happened to be looking out their window, I’d look very much like a thief. And that might not end so well for me. Before I lost my nerve, I jumped and grabbed the bottom limb of a giant bur oak tree and began to climb up. It had been years since I’d climbed a tree, but I didn’t have a choice right then, did I? This was my last-ditch attempt. My Hail Mary pass. My—
Owwww.
A sharp twig had just scratched the crap out of my bare leg. I could feel the blood beading there. I glared at the twig and then kept climbing until I was right outside Sahil’s window. The shades were drawn, so I couldn’t see in, but there was enough light emanating from behind the shades that I could tell he wasn’t asleep.
I held on to a branch with one hand and shakily reached the other hand toward his window. I knocked twice and then put my hand back on the branch. Do not look down. Do not look down, Twinkle, I told myself. Why had I neglected to consider my fear of heights?
No one opened the window.
Oh, great. So either (a) Sahil wasn’t home or (b) he’d decided, wisely, not to open his second-story window at midnight to any rando who happened to be knocking.
I looked down. Oh my God. I began to hyperventilate until those little black dots swam in front of my eyes. There was no way I was going to climb back down. No. Way. They’d just have to call the fire department whenever Ajit Uncle happened to come outside and find me in their tree. I could fall and break my neck. Oh my God. It felt like someone was pushing me out of the tree. My breath came out faster and faster, and the black circles grew. …
“Twinkle?”
I snapped my head around to see Sahil leaning out his window, staring at me, his mouth hanging open. “Hey, are you okay?”
There was a ringing in my ears now. “I, um …”
Sahil leaned farther out of his window, and then I felt his strong arms around me. “Hey. Come on. Careful …” He gently tugged and guided me until I was able to let go of the branch and clamber into his room. Leading me to his chair, he had me sit. “You don’t look so good. Would you like some water?”
I put my head down on my lap. “No, I’m okay. … I just got a little light-headed looking down at the ground.”
The black spots slowly receded, and the ringing in my ears was gone. And then it hit me: I’d been trying to stage a romantic, daring scene and I’d almost passed out and had to be rescued by the object of my affections. I sat up, my cheeks heating up. “Um … wow. This is embarrassing. Not how this was supposed to go.”
Sahil’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “What, um, what were you doing in my tree?”
I twisted my fingers together. My face was probably as purple as my idiotic skirt. “I was trying to be … you know. Dashing and gallant?” I forced a weak smile.
“Oh.” He frowned, apparently not impressed. “Hey. Your leg’s bleeding.”
I looked down to see the scrape on my shin. Wincing, I blew on it. “Oh, yeah. I scraped it on that stupid tree.”
“Wait here.” Before I could protest, Sahil had left the room, closing the door behind him.
I sagged back against the chair and looked around his room. Was this a dumb idea? Why had I come here? He’d already asked for space. … Would he think I was being disrespectful of his wishes? He wasn’t even fully looking at me. Besides, did guys even think things like this were romantic?? “Great, Twinkle. Maybe you should’ve asked yourself these questions before you played Tarzan outside his place.”
“Hmm?” Sahil asked, bustling back into the room with a bowl of water and bandages.
“N-nothing. Oh, no, you don’t have to do that. I’m fine.”
“I insist,” he said, kneeling before me and setting all of his first aid things on the floor.
We sat in silence as he washed my cut with soapy water and a washcloth, one hand grabbing the back of my ankle to raise my leg up. I tried not to concentrate on the feeling of his breath, light and warm, on my leg, or his fingers pressing on my bare skin. I’d missed his touch. I’d missed … just about everything. He put on some antibacterial ointment and then a big Band-Aid over the scrape.
“There,” he said, lowering my leg gently. “That should feel better.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, feeling suddenly like I might cry. I just wanted him to smile at me. I just wanted some hint of the things we’d shared with each other, that was all. I felt physically cold.
“Sure.” He set the water on his desk and then went to sit on his bed so he was facing me. He was dressed in this plain white T-shirt and gray sweats, but he still managed to look heart-stoppingly perfect somehow.
“Hi,” he said after a moment of silence, the expression in his eyes inscrutable.
I felt suddenly very shy. “Hi.”
“You did really well tonight.”
“We did.” I paused, rallying my ever-dwindling reserves of courage. I could do this. I had to do this, or I’d kick myself for the rest of my life. “But … that’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
Sahil’s face went still. “It’s not?”
I shook my head. Taking a deep breath, I went to sit by him on the bed. “Sahil, I … I’m so incredibly sorry I hurt you. That was the last thing I wanted to do, I promise.” I forced myself to keep looking into his eyes even when I wanted to look away because I felt so guilty for how I’d hurt him. “I know I kept the whole N e-mail thing from you, and that was wrong. The thing was … I was so confused. I was falling for you, but in my head, I’d built up this whole thing of how Neil was the one I should be with. How I wanted to give it a shot.” Sahil’s face fell, and I hurried to continue. “Mostly because I felt like being with someone like Neil would elevate who I was or something. Like it would show the world—and me—that I was finally visible. Make me special for the first time in my life.”
Sahil shook his head. “You are special, Twinkle. And you’ve always been visible. You’ve shined the brightest in any room. To me, anyway.”
I smiled and tears blurred everything. By now I knew this was true. Sahil saw me; he’d always seen me. “You’re one of my best friends, Sahil. When I was with you, I didn’t even think about Neil. I saw only you, and you were—you were more than enough. I don’t want this to end. I feel like we … we belong together, and I can’t imagine never holding your hand or laughing with you … or—or kissing y—”
Sahil’s hands were suddenly around my face, his body pressing into my body as he lowered his mouth to mine, his lips devouring my lips hungrily, his stubble scraping against my skin in the most delicious way. I wrapped my arms around him and pressed myself even closer, gripping him tightly, feeling his body heat completely envelop me.
When we finally pulled apart, panting, he smiled down at me, his hand drawing a strand of hair off my face. “You never have to imagine that again. Okay?”
My arms around his waist tightened. “Really?” I asked. “You forgive me?”
He kissed me gently on the eyelids, on the nose, on the earlobe. “Really. After you explained how it all played out for you, it dawned on me that the hang-up was mine, not yours. I was the one who needed to move past Neil’s shadow. I was still feeling inferior to him, and …” He paused and shook his head. “That’s
something I need to work on. But you know what?”
I shook my head.
“The movie helped me so much. Seeing all those people in that auditorium, taking in a movie I’d helped with in some way. …” He trailed off, his eyes far away. “I have a lot to offer too. I don’t need to compare myself to my brother all the time. I may not be talented in all the ways he’s talented, and that’s okay. We’re two different people.”
I stroked his cheek lightly. “Yeah. And I adore the person you are.”
Sahil grinned and pulled me closer. “Good. You’re stuck with me now.”
“Perfect. Because I have universes I want to explore, Sahil Roy. And I want you to be my partner through all of it.”
He looked deep into my soul with those liquid brown eyes of his. “Twinkle Mehra, it would be my privilege.”
And then we kissed again.
June 28, 5:13 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Ms. Mehra,
We found a clip of the movie your friend Preston “Skid” Matthews uploaded to YouTube. The Colorado Arts Organization was very impressed by the care and substance you poured into the film, and we wondered if you’d be interested in coming on our radio station to talk to our viewers. We think they’d be particularly interested in what your journey as a young female filmmaker has been like so far. Of course, we will compensate you for your time. Please have your agent or representative contact us at the information below.
Sincerely,
Melanie Stone
New Artists Division
Colorado Arts Organization
719-555-5655
June 28, 6:02 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Twinkle Mehra,
Your movie caught our attention here at WKBR Colorado Springs. We would like to invite you to our show to talk to our audience about what led you to make this movie, and the message you were trying to convey.
If you’re interested, please e-mail us back or call us at your earliest convenience.
Thank you,
Richard Wells
WKBR Production Assistant
719-555-7889
June 28, 8:44 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Hi, Twinkle!
It was fantastic to see your video from the festival at your school. Here at Just Sixteen magazine, we’re always looking for new talent, and yours shines! We would love for you to write an article, 800–1,000 words, about what led to you taking the initiative to direct a movie for the festival. We’d love something personal and fun!
If you’re interested, please e-mail us back. Compensation will be about $1/word. We hope to be working with you soon!
Sincerely,
Jamie Auburn
Arts Editor
Just Sixteen magazine
212-555-4321
Twenty-Five
Sunday, June 28
My room
Dear Twinkle Mehra of the future,
Hold on to this moment. You’ll want to remember how you feel. You’ll want to remember every tiny detail.
Right now you have eighty-eight e-mails in your in-box, all from people congratulating you on a job well done or people wanting to have you on to their shows or magazines or papers—people who want to hear what you have to say. People who think your thoughts are worthwhile. Your YouTube subscriber count is at three hundred and sixteen, and growing. Only a very small percentage are porn bots, and Dadi has promised she did not make any more accounts.
Just when you were still reeling from all the admiring words and gushing praise, unable to believe they were all for you, for your art, which you’ve worked at so tirelessly for so long, the doorbell rang. It was Sahil, who grinned gleefully and had you call your parents and Dadi into the living room.
When everyone was assembled, he handed you an e-mail he’d printed out, which is stapled below.
June 28, 1:32 a.m.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Dear Dr. Ajit Roy,
Your colleague, Dr. Faizal Ahmed, passed on the video directed by Twinkle Mehra. We here at the Mumbai Young Filmmakers Council are all in agreement that Miss Mehra possesses the unique ability to truly transform her characters on-screen in such a way as to spellbind her audience. Her mastery of camera angles and lighting, too, is rare in an individual of her age.
Due to her supreme skill in the arena of filmmaking, it is our honor to extend an invitation to Miss Mehra. We would love it if she could come to our facility here in Mumbai and give a talk on her experiences being a young Indian-American filmmaker in the States. We feel this would be of great value to the members of our institution, and Miss Mehra might benefit from meeting other young filmmakers as well.
Dr. Ahmed has informed us of her family situation, and therefore, we would like to also invite her parents and grandmother to be part of this event. All travel and accommodation expenses will be covered by us if the Mehra family can get their visas in order.
Thank you very much for bringing Miss Mehra and her work to our attention.
Sincerely,
Rachana Deshpande, Director of Events
The Mumbai Young Filmmakers Council
Future Twinkle, your hands shook as you finished reading the e-mail. And then you looked up at Sahil, who was beaming at you like he was filled with a thousand stars or maybe like he was the moon.
“What …? You did this?” you asked, your voice husky.
He nodded. “But I couldn’t have done it if you hadn’t blown everyone away with that movie.”
“Arey, yeh sab kya hai?” Dadi said, brandishing her rolling pin around at you and Sahil.
You handed her the letter and then said, “What’s happening, Dadi, is we’re going to Mumbai. We’re going to Mumbai, Mummy. You’ll get to go home again.”
There was utter chaos for a full minute as everyone talked over everyone else, and information was exchanged.
Mumbai.
Airplane fare covered.
Mumbai.
Yes, we’re going.
Yes, all of us.
Mummy stepped forward and hugged you, her grip so tight it left bruises on your shoulders. But you didn’t care. Because when she pulled back, her eyes were swimming in tears. “Thank you, beta,” she whispered, her hands on your cheeks. “Thank you.”
She didn’t say much else, but she didn’t need to. You heard it all anyway.
Papa clapped and hugged you, while Dadi—well, Dadi began prancing around the living room until you were afraid she would break a hip. But she only laughed when you told her that. “I knew it, Twinkle!” she crowed, holding her rolling pin above her head in a victory dance. “I knew it! Chandrashekhar told me there would be travel in our future and that you would be the catalyst!” And then she swept you up and danced with you up and down the living room.
When Sahil had been properly thanked (by being fed an obscene amount of food, of course) and said he had to go back home, you stepped outside with him on the front porch.
It was raining, hard, thunder snarling and rumbling and ripping through the sky.
You looked up at his face, so full of love and joy. “You did this,” you said, shaking your head, wondering how you would ever, ever repay him. Spoiler alert: You can’t. “You did this because of what I told you once, in your car. The Did You Hear game.”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I did this because I love you,” he said simply. “And because you deserve it.”
As you watched him run to his car, the rain soaking him to the bone, you wondered how you’d ever gotten so lucky. How one girl could ever deserve so much.
I don’t know if you’ll ever answer that question. But I do know you’ll work your entire life to be worthy of all that kismet has given you.
So remember this da
y. Remember this moment. And go explore the universes. They’re waiting.
From Twinkle,
With Love
Acknowledgments
I cannot believe I’m writing the acknowledgments section for yet another book. The first time it happened—my book in an actual bookstore, available to readers!—felt like a fluke. This feels like … chamatkaar. Or kismet.
This book could never have happened without my dedicated, hardworking agent, Thao Le, who is always, always on my side. A million thank-yous is never enough.
My editor, Jen Ung, is not just a genius word fairy, she’s also secretly a phone therapist. I could not have made it through without all of our very calming (and hilarious and petty) conversations. Thank you!
Thank you to the entire Simon Pulse team for their tireless support of and confidence in me and my work. I couldn’t have asked for a better publishing home.
To the amazing YA reader community, so many of whom I’ve loved getting to know on Twitter, Instagram, and at festivals and events—Vanshika, Kav, Mish, Mana, Kevin, Mary, Ash, Jill, Aditi, Maddie, Christy, Nancy, Stacee, Sasha, Nick and so many others—thank you so incredibly much for your support and love. This book is for you.
Some of my favorite people in the book world are indie booksellers. A big shout-out to the staff at Tattered Cover, Old Firehouse Books, One More Page Books, Hicklebee’s, Parnassus, Ripped Bodice, Strand, Changing Hands, Oblong Books, Odyssey Books, Quail Ridge Books, Red Balloon Bookshop, Lemuria Bookstore, The Book Stall, Village Books, Book People, Once Upon a Time, and all the other amazing indies out there. You’re really bookish fairy godparents in disguise, and I am so grateful to you.
A special thank-you to Aila, who designed the spectacular artwork for the pre-order campaign. I am in awe of your talent, and cannot wait to see where you go from here!
Thank you, as always, to my ever-patient, ever-loving husband, Tim. If our children inherit the writing gene, please accept my humblest apologies (and bribes in the form of gummy bears).
Last, but far from least, this book is especially for you. You, who stumble but refuse to fall. You, who refuse to dim your shine. The world desperately needs your voice, your courage, your heart. Twinkle on.
From Twinkle, With Love Page 25