by Nisha Sharma
She was just imagining things because of what Pandit Ohmi said to her that night. None of this was real. But since she was dancing with Shah Rukh Khan and she had nothing to lose, she asked, “You got any advice?”
He pulled her up and in Hindi said, “In life, if you want to become, achieve, or win something, then listen to your heart. If your heart doesn’t say something to you, then close your eyes and take the names of your mother and father like a mantra. Then watch. You’ll achieve everything, and whatever was difficult will become easy. Victory will be yours.”
“Now you’re quoting Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham! That’s the most noncommittal advice ever, Shah Rukh,” she said. Since he was in her dream, she figured she had the right to call him by his first names. “The title of the movie is noncommittal, too. ‘Sometimes Happiness, Sometimes Sadness’? Come on.”
“It works,” he said with another laugh.
“And I’m assuming, since you’re a parent and all, that you’re telling me to listen to my folks. But this is my dream, and I do what I want!”
“You always have, dost.”
Friend.
He let go of her hand and started backing away toward the cliff, and fog began rolling in. Winnie waved at the fog, trying to keep him in sight, but Shah Rukh Khan’s image faded as he slipped into the cloud. The only lingering part of him was his voice.
“Remember, Winnie Mehta, fighting fate never works. I’ve made a career out of proving just how powerful destiny can be.”
* * *
—
Winnie jerked up in bed. She could feel the dampness at her hairline and on her neck.
“Holy baby Shah Rukh Khan,” she whispered. What was she supposed to make of that?
She powered up her laptop, which was sitting on the pillow next to her, and rubbed her eyes, trying to clear her vision. After a few clicks, she squinted at the screen to make out the last few movies she’d streamed.
“Come on, where are you?” she said into the dark. She knew it had been years since she’d watched Baazigar, but she had to have seen Kabhi Khushi Kabhie Gham recently. When she couldn’t find the movie in her active playlist, she checked her archives.
She hadn’t watched it in ages, either.
So why had she dreamed about it?
There was only one way to find out. She clicked on the movie title and put in her earbuds. With a yawn, she settled in against her pillows, hoping that rewatching the film could help her make sense of what she’d just dreamed.
3
STUDENT OF THE YEAR
★★★★★
High school hallways are always shot in the same way. Groups of people whispering and huddled in corners. Oddly enough, the only thing different from real life is the background music that follows the heroine around like a rain cloud.
The Princeton Academy for the Arts and Sciences was a selective institution that thrived on excellence in acting, dance, music, and film as well as STEM programs. At any given moment, someone could burst into song in the cafeteria, jeté down the hallway, or pull out an AP Physics textbook.
Winnie squeezed through a group of cute-bots wearing leotards and UGGs before she reached her locker. Since the first bell, she had forced herself to be polite, sometimes flippant, sometimes funny about the whole Raj thing. No one thought for a second how much her pride, or even her heart, was hurting. Now she needed a moment to chill, so she concentrated on the collage of her favorite Bollywood actors centered inside her locker door that she’d put together that morning. Her senior year class schedule was pasted above the collage, and a list of upcoming Bollywood and art-house movies were below, followed by her blog review calendar. At the bottom were key film-club event dates she’d scheduled at the end of her junior year with the faculty advisor, Ms. Jackson.
She ran her hand over a random sticky note that had the name of a local movie theater, a date, and the words ’80s movie night along with Say Anything circled in red pen. Bridget’s obsession with eighties movies rivaled her love for Jane Austen, and seeing something other than a Shah Rukh Khan blockbuster was always a great distraction.
Winnie was exhausted from her sleepless night, but the first meeting for film club was in half an hour, and because Raj had changed to STEM classes, Winnie still hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to him. She’d sent him a text with film-club-related questions in second period, but he’d yet to respond.
She was working through potential scenarios on how the first meeting would go, tossing books in her bag, when someone tapped her on the shoulder. Winnie jumped and muffled a shriek.
“Whoa,” Bridget said, pointing at her face. “Put that fake smile away. It’s creepy.”
“Bridge. You have no idea how happy I am to see you,” she said, pressing a hand to her thudding heart. “People are still talking about my breakup! You’d think that something like this wouldn’t be a big deal.”
“Well, scandal, especially between film-club presidents, needs some discussion time.”
Winnie rolled her eyes. “Even Rebecca Peterson stopped me today.”
“Isn’t she the one who always put out your Bunsen burner in Gen Chem because of her mouth breathing?”
“That’s the one.”
“Apparently, she tells people that it’s helpful when she plays the sax. I bet her mouth blows up like a blowfish when she sucks in air and holds her breath, sort of like Miles Davis. Was it Miles Davis who played the sax? I should text my mom. She’ll know.”
“Focus, Bridge.”
“Yeah, okay. What did she say?”
“She asked what was going on. I told her it was all true and that Jenny ‘Dick-in’ even tattooed Raj’s name on her body in Sanskrit characters, the same way that Chase Evans tattooed Rebecca’s name over his heart.”
Bridget grinned and shoved Winnie’s shoulder. “Poor Chase! Sax-y Rebecca is going to be all over him now.”
“I felt bad, but honestly, what am I supposed to say? That I asked for a break first? I doubt people want to hear about my head trip. Like, I’m not sure if I’m mad about the way the breakup happened or about no longer having a boyfriend. I’m definitely hurting because I’m not going to have my soul mate prophecy like my parents, but was it stupid of me to believe in star charts in the first place? And Raj’s fan club is going to tar and feather me if I admit that Raj isn’t the same guy that I started dating years ago, and that I’m not sure I even like the person he is now. I feel none of that big blockbuster, drama-style grief, either. It’s all confusing. I’m in the middle of an ocean, like Tom Hanks’s volleyball.”
“Speaking of Raj, have you talked to him?”
“No!” Winnie said, slamming her locker door. They started walking toward the auditorium. “Can you believe it? I’ve known him since I was six freaking years old and I saw him every day for three of the past eleven years. Because of his new schedule, it’s as if we don’t even go to the same school. Do you think he’s angry I took my stuff? He should at least say something to me about it, right? Or at least about the bracelet he bought me.”
“I doubt he’ll mention it. He always let you do the confronting. At least you don’t have to worry about film club, since you and Ms. Jackson have already set the calendar. She’ll have your back about the festival, too. All you have to do is think about how you’re going to look when everyone sees you together onstage.”
They were halfway to their destination when Winnie saw a familiar face. Henry Donald Richardson V, his shoulders hunched, his skinny arms held tight to his side, kicked his locker before opening it. Winnie noticed that his Tardis T-shirt had seen better days, and his black painted nails matched the exact shade of his black shoulder-length hair.
“Hi, Henry,” Bridget called out. “Looking good.”
He fumbled with his bag and dropped it. “Hi.” He flushed when Bridget wiggled her fingers at him.
Winnie shot Bridget a questioning look before she asked Henry, “Heading to the meeting?”
“Nope. Raj can
suck a mother ship. I’m leaving film club.”
“What?” Winnie choked out. “Why? We need you and your techies!”
“Not according to Raj. Dude said he’d handle all the tech stuff himself along with his new mathlete freaks because I told him he was acting like a prick these days.”
“No!” Winnie and Bridget said in unison.
“He’s not one of us anymore. I refuse to put up with his crap any longer. You probably know how that feels more than anyone, Winnie. I gotta get home. It’s good seeing you.”
“Hey, if you ever want in, please call me! You and the AV tech-sperts are always welcome.”
Henry walked backward, his arms spread wide. “You guys should get going. If the meeting is about to start, you don’t want Raj to change the film club into one of the science clubs, too.”
Winnie watched him leave. “Holy baby Shah Rukh Khan. This is really happening.”
Bridget gripped Winnie’s upper arms and shook. “Keep it together, Mehta. You were doing so well.”
She pulled out of Bridget’s grip. “You think shaking me hard enough to loosen my cavities is going to make me better?” Winnie muttered. She took in a deep yoga-like breath, and started down the hall again. She hadn’t been this nervous even when she got the acceptance letter from NYU film camp.
“Don’t think about it,” Bridget said. “Just walk in, swinging your hips, with that smile on your face. You’ll stun and scare them all.”
“I guess. It’s the only ammunition I have right now. At least Ms. Jackson knows how much work I put in last year, so hopefully if I start to babble, she’ll cover.”
They’d almost reached the double doors leading into the auditorium that had been Winnie’s favorite place for years until the day she’d asked Raj for the space she needed to think. That was right after he told her he wasn’t going to apply to NYU. He wanted to go to a fancy engineering school in Boston, and he expected her to go with him.
“You can do this. I know you can,” Bridget said, taking Winnie’s backpack from her. “You’ve always been a talker. Even if you’re broken up, you’ll be able to figure it out.”
“Yeah? Okay. Okay, you’re right. Bridge? I don’t know what I’d do without you. I owe you,” Winnie said.
Raj. The film festival. The stupid prophecy. Everyone watching. All of it was running through her head as she flung open the doors to the auditorium and put on her most brilliant smile for the show.
The members took up the first three rows, facing a lean Indian guy onstage. His hand froze midair.
That’s right, she thought. Hello, Raj, I’m back.
She sauntered down the aisle, putting in an extra swing to her swagger. It was do-or-die time. “Am I late?” she said cheerfully. “Sorry about that. Thanks for waiting for me, guys.”
Raj stood on the stage, under the spotlight, something he’d grown fond of over the last year. It had been a couple of months, but he looked like he had when she’d last seen him. Even from a distance she could see his gelled hair, tight jeans, and designer polo shirt.
If her life was a movie, a strain of horrible violin music would be playing in the background while images of past regrets whirled like a rotating screen around her head.
“Hey, Raj. Hey, everyone!” Her smile froze when she saw Mr. Reece sitting in the front row. She faltered midstride.
“Mr. Reece.”
“Ms. Mehta.” He stood up, adjusting his tweed jacket over his Captain America T-shirt and pushing at the bridge of his glasses. “Nice of you to finally show up.”
“Uh, are you stepping in for Ms. Jackson? Is she sick?”
“In a manner of speaking,” he said. “If you’d been on time, then you would’ve heard when I announced that Ms. Jackson is expecting, and can’t commit to any extracurricular groups this year. That’s why you get me. I know you’re so excited to have one of us science geniuses as your faculty advisor, but as a former stunt double for Wil Wheaton, I do have film experience. Raj asked me this morning if I was interested.”
Winnie’s dread ballooned, but she managed to choke out, “Ms. Jackson didn’t say anything to me. Raj didn’t check with…great. This is…great.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Come now, Ms. Mehta. In the three years I’ve had you in my science classes, you’ve never shied from the truth.”
This time she did smile. As teacher and student, they’d had a love-hate relationship. Most of the time, Winnie had tried to love him, while she was sure Mr. Reece hated her. “Did you get my present from camp?”
“I do enjoy a good three-D puzzle of the Death Star. But I don’t know how many times I’ve had to tell you that my acting mentor was in Star Trek, not Star Wars.”
“It was a joke.”
“Ha ha. As bribes go, you should’ve sent a fruit basket like everyone else.”
“Bribe is such a dirty word, Mr. Reece,” Winnie said. “After all those mandatory classes you and I have been through over the years. I like to think of it as incentive.”
“It didn’t work.”
“I still got an A in physics last year.”
“That’s because I grade on merit, not on taste,” he said. Some people in the audience started laughing.
She ascended the stage and scanned the familiar faces of other board members in their class, the pitying expressions of underclassmen, and the supportive smiles of a few people she was grateful she could count on. She turned to Raj.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hey, Winnie.” He tried to smile at her, too, and shoved his hands in his front jeans pockets. Winnie felt the tears burn in her throat. Oh shit, she thought.
A piercing whistle snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts. Dev Khanna lounged in the back row. His molasses brown eyes fixed on hers, and for one moment something clicked in her head, like a frame locking into place.
Dev and she had been sharing weird looks since the beginning of freshman year. They’d been on their way to becoming friends—she’d been sure of it—but then he’d stopped talking to her when she started dating Raj, probably since Dev was the only person who hated her now ex.
“Thanks for that, Dev!” she shouted. The sound of laughter had her striking a pose automatically, hoping that no one noticed that her hands were still shaking.
“Your ex looks way better now that you’re not with her, Shah!” Dev called.
The auditorium boomed with laughter, and although Winnie’s insides were twisted, she kept smiling. Raj, on the other hand, looked like he was about to commit murder.
“Okay, everyone. Settle down,” Mr. Reece said. “We have an agenda to stick to.”
“Why don’t you start,” Raj said. He reached into his pocket for his phone. “I was going to read your text anyway if you weren’t going to…show or something. And sorry about Ms. Jackson. I should’ve known she’d forget to tell you in person. She sent us both an email early this morning.”
“Oh. Well, I should’ve checked my email, I guess.”
She smiled at the audience as brightly as she could. “It’s a new year and we have the calendar of movie showings on the group site. All we have to do is make sure we have the projector and donation box set up at each event.”
Winnie went through her talking points, fielding questions from Mr. Reece and making notes on her phone when she had an action item. Raj stood silently at her side, with his legs braced.
“Do you want to add anything?” she said when she finished.
He shook his head. “You’ve got this.”
“Great. The last thing I wanted to talk about is our biggest event. The film festival!”
Cheers erupted in the auditorium. Winnie grinned. “I checked the submission portal, and it looks like students from all over the U.S. are already sending in their shorts. We’ll have sign-ups on the group site for the committees. Now, we usually do things like a car wash, an international bake sale, or a screening, but we are going to try something different this year. The film club is hosting a school da
nce. It’s in a couple months, so please plan on attending. We need the extra funds for our operating budget. I’ll let you know when I do—”
“Wait,” Mr. Reece said, standing up. “I thought one of you handled the film festival and the other oversaw the club activities.”
“Well, the job has a lot of crossover, so Ms. Jackson assigns co-presidents to take care of both. That way everything is covered and all projects have a backup.”
“But that’s against the rules for student clubs,” Mr. Reece said. “There can only be one president, and all major events have to be led by another member of the club.”
Winnie looked at Raj. “But that’s always how film club has worked. Since we were freshmen.”
Mr. Reece shook his head. “I’m going to have to talk to Ms. Jackson about this, because it sounds like there is an imbalance of workload here. School rules are school rules.”
Winnie felt a sinking sensation in her stomach again. Before Winnie could comment, she saw Bridget waving from the crowd. Let it go, she mouthed.
Winnie had to count to five before she responded. “Okay, then, next week we’ll talk about the festival location at Princeton University.”
“That’s fine,” Mr. Reece said. He looked at his wristwatch. “Since I have to leave for a prior obligation, we can call an end to the meeting. Raj, thanks for the opportunity again. I think this is going to be a great year. Winnie, I appreciate your control on the Star Trek jokes.”
“I aim to please.”
“Right. Okay, thanks, everyone. Enjoy the rest of your day.” He gave Winnie a pointed look and then jerked his chin up at Raj as if he was bro-ing it out before he left, using the side aisle of the auditorium. Winnie turned to talk to Raj, but he was already grabbing his bag and bolting without a backward glance.