From Twinkle, with Love
3.5/5
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About this ebook
“Cinematic.” —Teen Vogue
“Funny and sweet.” —Buzzfeed
“Dazzling.” —Bustle
Three starred reviews for this charming romantic comedy about an aspiring teen filmmaker who finds her voice and falls in love, from the New York Times bestselling author of When Dimple Met Rishi.
Aspiring filmmaker and wallflower Twinkle Mehra has stories she wants to tell and universes she wants to explore, if only the world would listen. So when fellow film geek Sahil Roy approaches her to direct a movie for the upcoming Summer Festival, Twinkle is all over it. The chance to publicly showcase her voice as a director? Dream come true. The fact that it gets her closer to her longtime crush, Neil Roy—a.k.a. Sahil’s twin brother? Dream come true x 2.
When mystery man “N” begins emailing her, Twinkle is sure it’s Neil, finally ready to begin their happily-ever-after. The only slightly inconvenient problem is that, in the course of movie-making, she’s fallen madly in love with the irresistibly adorkable Sahil.
Twinkle soon realizes that resistance is futile: The romance she’s got is not the one she’s scripted. But will it be enough?
Told through the letters Twinkle writes to her favorite female filmmakers, From Twinkle, with Love navigates big truths about friendship, family, and the unexpected places love can find you.
Sandhya Menon
Sandhya Menon is the New York Times bestselling author of When Dimple Met Rishi, Of Curses and Kisses, and many other novels that also feature lots of kissing, girl power, and swoony boys. Her books have been included in several cool places, including Today, Teen Vogue, NPR, BuzzFeed, and Seventeen. A full-time dog servant and part-time writer, she makes her home in the foggy mountains of Colorado. Visit her online at SandhyaMenon.com.
Read more from Sandhya Menon
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Reviews for From Twinkle, with Love
114 ratings12 reviews
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5This was a quick, fluffy read from the author of "When Dimple Met Rishi", but I much preferred Dimple. Twinkle felt younger than sixteen and was often very immature and shallow. Her insecurities became annoying and she was forever putting herself and others down. The term 'groundlings' was used far too frequently and it quickly started to grate on my nerves every time it was used.The secret admirer sub-plot was weak and it was far too easy to predict who it was. It was unnecessary and just filled up pages without adding to the book in any way. I was also disappointed with Twinkle's film. I was hoping for something original, not just a gender-reversal retelling of Dracula. There was potential to make this a really powerful part of the book, but the author took the easy road and there was very little focus on the filmmaking process.Sahil was a sweetie and I thought Twinkle treated him badly on more than one occasion. He lived too often in the shadow of his popular twin brother, Neil, even though he was a talented film producer, very loyal and a genuinely nice guy.However, my favourite character was Twinkle's grandmother, Dadi. She was very refreshing and rather zany, and she brought humour to the book. I often found myself smiling at her antics. Although Sahil and Dadi were great characters, for me the others were fairly one dimensional and flat, and I never connected with them.Sadly, after enjoying "When Dimple Met Rishi" so much "From Twinkle with Love" was a disappointment.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/52.5 Stars. This had some promising ideas, they just weren’t explored to the extent that I would have liked.Twinkle, an aspiring filmmaker, agrees to make a short film with Sahil, an aspiring critic, in hopes that it will not only set the stage for her career, but also elevate her status at school, landing her dream guy (Sahil’s twin), and wining back her best friend who’s grown apart from Twinkle. Aside from Sahil’s texts and blog posts, the book is mostly told from Twinkle’s point of view through journal entries written to her favorite female filmmakers. A clever concept, however, it mostly just stayed a concept as the entries/Twinkle’s experiences don’t really reflect or touch on these ladies’ films. I felt like Twinkle and Sahil’s romance and their characters would have benefited from having more of Neil (Sahil’s twin, Twinkle’s crush) in the story. With so little Neil, for the most part you’re just told that Sahil is in his shadow, you don’t often get to really feel the weight of that shadow on Sahil. And maybe a few more scenes of Twinkle interacting with Neil could have given the reader a glimpse of him beyond the superficial, so when Twinkle acts like she has this big choice to make between the brothers, it might have actually seemed like a big choice had she gotten to know Neil even a little, it might have seemed like there were higher stakes for Twinkle and for Sahil if she’d forged some sort of personal connection with Neil, too, instead, her struggle to choose made her seem shallow. Twinkle’s tension with her best friend was perhaps resolved a bit too easily and tidily, but emotionally their friendship woes were more interesting, more complex, and more real than the romance, where the awkwardness between Twinkle and Sahil often had a staged feel, the awkwardness between Twinkle and Maddie had an authentic bittersweet note to it. Much like with this author’s When Dimple Met Rishi, I found myself disappointed to be presented with a heroine who has a passion in her life (a passion that is not a boy) and yet, like Dimple, we hardly see Twinkle doing this thing she’s passionate about. Other than a temper tantrum, we barely see Twinkle on her movie sets, those moments are mostly glossed over/summarized as opposed to shown. We’re told throughout the book what a talented filmmaker Twinkle is, unfortunately we’re rarely shown her talent in action. When the estranged best friend is cast in the lead role, when Twinkle is trying to gain confidence in life and her future as a director, and when the producer, Sahil, happens to be her crush’s insecure brother who is crushing on Twinkle, that’s a juicy movie-focused set-up only to have more scenes take place on a hike, at a carnival, and at parties than in the making of the movie. The strongest conflict and comedy probably could have been mined from the film making, and it might have provided a source of inspiration to see a young woman actually direct, write a script or take an active role in the editing of her own film rather than leave the job solely to a boy. It seemed like there was an opportunity to tell a more original story by centering it around this girl making a movie instead of veering into contemporary romance clichés like having to take shelter from a storm. That hike may have made sense had they been scouting locations, but no, during the deadline for a movie, they somehow had time to just go off hiking for seemingly no purpose other than to get “romantically” caught in a storm. I know From Twinkle, With Love is marketed as a romantic comedy, that was the reason for the secret admirer, the getting caught in the storm, the carnival, etc., but to me, those things didn’t add much to the story. I can’t help feeling that there was a way for this to still be a romantic comedy and at the same time truly showcase the most appealing aspect of the story, seeing a girl striving to succeed in a field that isn’t all that open to females yet.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This novel is on the 2019 Lone Star list; it is realistic fiction with a lovely romance thrown in.Twinkle considers herself a groundling who one day will be a brilliant film director. Groundlings were the audience members at a Shakespearean play “who would have to stand in the front of the stage and got called out (unfairly, IMO) for being rowdy and smelly and having the mange or whatnot” (2). Twinkle calls the rich kids in her class the “silk feathered hats.” Twinkle doesn’t feel that her life is going well. Her best friend doesn’t spend much time with her anymore; instead, Maddie, the best friend, spends her time with the silk feathered hats. One thing that Twinkle thinks differentiates her from them is that she is from a poor family; she doesn’t have a cell phone, cannot afford coffee at a popular hangout, or buy anything extra. She also feels unloved at home. She spends most of her time with her Dadi (grandmother), but her parents are absent a lot. She envisions a future where she is a silk-feathered hat. She imagines dating Neil, the most popular boy who is great at literally everything. Consequently, she’ll get her best friend back. Of course, her future-future self will then become a brilliant film director. The future looks great--it’s the now that’s the problem.Sahil has been crazy about Twinkle for years, but she doesn’t know that. He knows that she is talented and after she notices him, suggests that she enter the Midsummer Night Arts Festival. He has film abilities as well and would like to produce her film. He even has ideas as to what the film should entail. They begin to work together and Twinkle sees how wonderful and smart and cute and kind and talented Sahil is. She just can’t quite commit because she’s had her fantasy idea in her head for quite a while. The other problem is that the famous Neil is Sahil’s twin brother. She’s also a little bitter about her best friend and the silk feathered hats. Directing this movie will show everyone how great she is instead of them. This is her chance!Twinkle’s journey isn’t a straight line. She meanders about as she gets to know all of these people she’s judged from afar. My favorite character if Victoria. She is a well-grounded (pun-intended) silk feathered hat, knowing exactly who she is and accepting of others and who they are. I also like Sahil. These two character show how to be a friend. If you don’t have friends like them, you need to find some additional friends!This is ultimately a novel about relationships, particularly friendships. The “lesson” is that true friends talk with honesty to each other, not in a hurtful way, but in a way to make us better people. If we truly have good friends, we need to listen to them. Sometimes we don’t make the best decisions and need to be called on it gently by our friends. Also, be someone who uplifts people.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This was a cute YA contemporary romance. I enjoyed it and read it very quickly. This should appeal to YA contemporary romance fans.The story is about a girl who is really into film making and gets talked into making a film for a school festival. Along the way many social and romantic antics ensue. The book also has some coming of age themes about getting to know yourself and getting comfortable with who you are.This was a super easy read, I read it in one sitting. The characters were fun and lovable.Overall this was a well done feel-good YA contemporary romance. It was fun and easy to read and a great light diversion. I would recommend to fans of YA contemporary romance. If you enjoy books by Stephanie Perkins, Jennifer E. Smith, or Simone Elkeles you will probably enjoy this book.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Sandhya Menon, with only two books, has become my go-to for nerdy girl teen romance.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5This book has some major character development, which is great! In the beginning of the book Twinkle really annoyed me. I mean her actions and thoughts made her sound more like 13 instead of 16. She was SO naïve, it made sense to a point because it did seem like she had lived a pretty sheltered life but it was still annoying. She definitely gets better as the story goes along and as she has new experiences. Then she starts getting really full of herself and was annoying all over again! Overall really cute book with as I said great character development and Sahil was totally swoon worthy!
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Twinkle is no Dimple--cover similarities aside, the stories are different. Twinkle is a budding filmmaker and the novel is set up in an epistolary style as she pens her innermost thoughts to various female directors. Add in Sahil's very thinly disguised blog posts (thank goodness for zero page views) and the story flows very easily. It wouldn't be a teen romance without unrequited love, and in this case, it is Sahil's much more suave twin brother. When Sahil asks Twinkle to work on a film for the Midsummer Night Arts Festival, she does it both for a chance to show truth to her classmates and get closer to Neil. (the brother) I didn't actually like all of Twinkle's actions during the book, but Sahil's adorable dorkiness makes up for it.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Twinkle Mehra wants to be a filmmaker, but her ventures thus far have been limited. When Sahil Roy, aspiring film critic, suggests that she produce a film for her school's Midsummer festival, she agrees: not only will this give her a chance to develop her art, but maybe it will bring her closer to Sahil's crush-worthy twin brother Neil. As they work on the project together, Twinkle can't deny that she has feelings for Sahil -- but Neil could be her ticket into the popular clique at school, and that's a dream she's not quite ready to give up -- especially since she's been getting secret admirer emails from someone who signs his name "N." When Twinkle starts power-tripping and her world begins to fall apart as a result, will she be able to pick up the pieces and learn from her mistakes?I enjoyed this book even more than When Dimple Met Rishi. Sahil is adorkably sweet and almost too perfect. Twinkle goes through a slightly over-the-top bout of self-centered nastiness in the middle of the book, but pulls out of it in a way that redeemed the character for me. If you like lighthearted realistic YA books, I'd recommend this one.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5A copy of this became available through my library and I grabbed it. I'd read and really liked When Dimple Met Rishi.Although I didn't love this quite as much as I loved Dimple, I'd still recommend it. This one is set in high school so it reads less mature (but age appropriate and would recommend to girls maybe 14-17. Dimple/Rishi is set in early college and would recommend to more mature readers, maybe girls 16-19.Not that they're only enjoyable for/at that age.What I love about both of these books and this author:1) Her main characters (the female protagonist and her male love interest) are Indian - it's nice to see more diverse representation in characters. 2) She writes strong, young quirky female leads. Dimple is into coding. Twinkle is a filmmaker. Both follow their passions (unconventional and not typically female-heavy career interests) and don't settle. Both are unapologetically intelligent, driven and passionate about following their dreams and interests. Both are imperfect though--they mess up in relationships (both romantic and friendships in realistic ways and learn from it).3) Both girls (and their love interest) come from conservative and loving Indian families and parents. Family is important in the culture and to the characters and while there is some tension between the less traditional protagonists and their more conservative family members, it's handled with grace, respect and resolved in a healthy way.4) She writes conservatively age-appropriate romances. In the case of Twinkle/Sahil, there's kissing and that's about as far as it goes. Dimple/Rishi are older and it goes further, but all 'sexual' scenes are handled in a gentle and respectful way and most importantly - the portrayals of relationships are all healthy and both parties equal.5) Friendships (girl/girl, girl/boy, boy/boy) are handled in authentic ways, even when there's conflict and tension.6) Perhaps most importantly - while the female protagonists are somewhat unconventional in their career/professional aspirations, they're fairly traditional in their romantic pursuits. Although the focus is on the females and the story told primarily from her perspective, there's no boy bashing! The girls are built up for who they are and the characters make choices about boys that seems right for them and true to themselves. Shows in a gentle and non-preachy way that it's possible to be pro-female without being anti-male. That's really important for girls to know and sadly, isn't always the cultural message that's pushed forward these days.What I liked less about this book is in the construct of the plot itself. I didn't think the author's choices worked quite as well here. But, without belaboring those details, I read the whole thing and it worked well enough. These are stories that would be good for a girls' book group or as a readalong if mentoring a girl around this age.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Fans of WHEN DIMPLE MET RISHI will not be disappointed in Sandhya Menon's newest book. The main character, Twinkle, is another Pakistani-American girl who is the off one out of her class at a charter school in Colorado. Most of her classmates are wealthy, upper-class "feathered silk hats," as Twinkle refers to them, so she feels like an outcast because her family is not even close to upper-class. Her dad works in a youth home and her mom is a substitute teacher. When her best friend, Maddie, starts hanging out with one of the feathered hats, Twinkle feels pushed aside and ignored, not just by her friend, but by her family as well.
Twinkle cooks up a plan to date Neil, the most popular and good looking boy in school, in order to get into the popular crowd and win Maddie back. Her plan is to make a movie with Neil's twin, Sahil, and win over Neil along the way, but she ends up falling for Sahil and making things worse between her and Maddie. Twinkle has to face herself, her family problems, and her friends before she can make things better between her ex-best friend and the boy she is falling for.
Twinkle is easily the most relatable character I have ever read; she is real and even when she knows she is doing something wrong, she can't stop herself. She allows her newfound director power to go to her head and loses sight of her original vision. Isn't this something that we all do? I loved getting to know this character and watching her growth. I also cried alongside her when she realizes how she feels about her mother's constant ignoring her and when she sees that Sahil truly cares for her.
Overall, Sandhya Menon did an outstanding job! - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I just finished From Twinkle With Love, and man, that last chapter has me choked up!This story is a rom-com readers delight! It has every element that you would ever hope for in a story. The characters have you hung on every word on the pages. The plot has you rooting and cheering along. The twists leave you in awe, and the romance leaves you breathless.Such a sweet, and clean love story.How I love this writer and the stories I have read. She is definitely a favorite now, and now on my auto-buy list!If you have read anything by her yet, I urge you to do so.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Just okay, so predictable. I had high hopes for this one.
Book preview
From Twinkle, with Love - Sandhya Menon
One
Monday, June 1
Homeroom
Hello, namaste, buenos dias, and bonjour, Mira Nair!
The basics.
Name: Twinkle Mehra
Age: Sixteen
Occupation: Sadly, a junior at Pikes Peak Charter in Colorado Springs. And ugh, the only one who’s still sixteen. Mummy and Papa obviously thought they’d birthed a prodigy when they stuck me in kindergarten a whole year early . . . ha. But that doesn’t matter. If you learn only one thing about me, it’s that I think I have a filmmaker’s soul. Like you, Mira. There are so many universes I want to explore with my camera.
BFF: Maddie Tanaka. Well, used to be, anyway. Now it’s . . . complicated.
Crush: Duh. Neil Roy. Since forever.
So, now that we’re acquainted, can I just say that I’m a huuuuge fan? Like, the biggest. I mean, okay, I’m not deluded. I know you’re never going to read this in a million years. But somehow, writing to you in here feels like you’re listening.
This diary was a birthday present from Dadi, by the way. She was all, Take this, Twinkle. Put the words of your heart in the pages as you put the images of your heart in your movies.
As far as grandmothers go, she’s pretty cool (and pretty kooky, but that’s a story for another day). Anyway, it sat in my desk drawer for about nine months, but then I thought, Why not? What’s it going to hurt to try to journal? I thought writing to my fave female filmmakers would be way more fun than writing to myself. Or to one of Dadi’s soul bearers from beyond the veil.
(Too long of a story to go into right now.)
Some might call people like me losers. I myself prefer the term groundlings.
See, in Shakespearean times, these were the poor people who would have to stand in the front of the stage and got called out (unfairly, IMO) for being rowdy and smelly and having the mange or whatnot. And then there were the snooty people in the back, who got to sit in, like, covered areas and look down at the groundlings and feel all superior in their silk feathered hats. But Shakespeare would never have gotten famous if he hadn’t appealed to the groundlings.
Here’s a little secret, though: I wouldn’t completely mind if I were something other than a groundling. It’s not like I’m silk feathered hat material or anything, but still. To be even one social status level above the one I am right now would change my life because I’m pretty sure it would give me my best friend—who is now definitely one of the silk feathered hats—back. And bonus: It would help transform me from Invisible Twinkle to someone people recognize, maybe even someone who tells stories others want to hear.
So now I’m sitting here in homeroom and Hannah Macintosh just took off her six-hundred-dollar shoes (I know because she told the entire class that’s how much they cost in Milan) to show Victoria Lyons her pedicure. If I were a teeny bit braver, I’d go over there and ask, Hey, Hannah, did you steal those shoes? I only ask because it seems you like taking things that don’t belong to you, like my best friend.
Maybe I’ll ask Dadi if she knows any incantations that’ll grow me a courage gland.
Oops, there’s the bell. More soon.
Love,
Twinkle
Still Monday, June 1
AP Bio
Hey-o, Sofia Coppola.
I’m sitting here trying not to expire of totalicus boredumus while Mrs. Mears explains the life cycle of the royal walnut moth, aka Citheronia regalis, aka kill me now. And you wanna know what Maddie’s doing?
Drawing a six-color diagram of said life cycle. With gel pens. I guess she doesn’t make mistakes? Even Mrs. Mears, the biologist, didn’t draw us a diagram. But Maddie probably wants to be thorough. Oh, and she’s written her name at the top of the page with her new markers (she gets new stationery and school supplies as often as regular people get new . . . Um, actually, I don’t know where I was going with that. She just gets them a lot), along with the date, and underlined everything three times.
Maddie wants to be a physician-scientist. Yeah, that’s really a thing. Being a plain old doctor or a plain old scientist isn’t challenging enough, so she decided she wants to combine them. But I’m thankful. Because if I ever get a rare disease that causes my butt to break out in fluorescent hives or something totally rando like that, I know Maddie’s the only one who could save me. She’s sort of a genius.
It must run in the family. Her dad, James Tanaka, is a world-famous artist who regularly challenges ideas of the mundane with his mixed-media pieces and has gallery showings in the United States, Tokyo, Paris, and London (literally what it says on his website in the about
section). Plus, Maddie’s ultra-rich. She lives in one of those old neighborhoods in Broadmoor in a giant mansion.
That’s one thing that hasn’t changed even after Maddie gave up her groundling membership and became one of the silk feathered hat people. She’s still super ambitious. I haven’t been to her house in months, but I bet she still has that poster board she made of her five-year plan. It has pictures of the Johns Hopkins campus, where she wants to go to college and med school, places she wants to travel (Shanghai, Tokyo, Mumbai, Edinburgh, London), and pictures of the type of boy she wants to date (Japanese-American like her, with tattoos and not taller than 5’10"; she says she wants to meet him in the second year of medical school).
Meanwhile, I’m like, maybe I’ll waitress/travel after high school? Or go to film school at USC if I can get a scholarship? Or live in my parents’ house forever, decrying the death of the arts?
Maybe that’s why our friendship is as doomed as the Globe Theatre. Maybe I’m not ambitious enough for Maddie. Or cool enough. Or confident enough. Or, or, or.
A lot of your films were about being on the outside looking in, Sofia. I wonder what advice you’d give me. How do I step over the threshold and join my best friend again?
Oh, crap. Mrs. Mears is giving me the evilicus eyeicus. I better go.
Still later on Monday, June 1
My room
Hi again, Sofia!
You’ll never believe who I saw today at Perk (full name: Perk Me Up Before I Go Go, but who has the time to say all of that?) drinking coffee and lounging like the half-Indian, half-white god he is.
Neil. Freaking. Roy.
It’s a travesty, but the only class we share right now is AP English. He’s pretty bad at it, for someone who’s definitely headed to Harvard. He once asked Ms. Langford why Hester in The Scarlet Letter didn’t run away from her town in basically a big F U to society. He implied she was being dumb. And I was like, Neil. How do you not get that Hester wants to stay there and find out what the scarlet A means to her? She clearly wants to try to determine her own identity in an agentic manner versus accepting one that’s forced upon her by a patriarchal society. I even opened my mouth to say that. But then I closed it. Being a human belonging to the wallflower genus, I’m kinda used to swallowing my words instead of speaking them. (Dadi says it’s because my aatma is made of gauze and feathers, whatever that means.) And anyway, this was Neil.
So when I saw him at Perk, I almost walked right into the display by the door, but I stopped myself just in time. He was sitting there, his legs splayed like he owned the place. Patrick O’Cleary and some of the other guys from the swim team were with him, too, all of them talking about the upcoming season and how Neil wouldn’t be at school because he was going to some pre-Olympic training camp for the rest of the month.
I love swim season. Neil, in swim trunks. Broad male shoulders glistening with water. The smell of chlorine. Neil, in swim trunks.
Okay. Here’s something I’ve never told anyone: My crush isn’t just because of Neil’s looks or his hypnotizing athleticism or the fact that he’s a future physicist genius. It’s because if someone like Neil Roy went out with me, the other silk feathered hat people would want to hang out with me too. Like Maddie. Maybe I’d come out of my shell, bringing my camera with me, and people would finally listen to the stories I have inside me. I’ve always felt like I was meant to be more than an invisible wallflower. This could be my ticket to an alternate life, Sofia, a way to become one of the insiders.
I walked up to the counter, overly aware that Neil was behind me now. Was my back sweaty? Was my T-shirt sticking to me? Could he see my cringesome ratty beige bra through it? Curse you, eighty-degree summer days, when I have to walk everywhere and live in a house with no AC. I casually loosened my braid so my hair could cover what my T-shirt might not. Then I tossed a strand over my shoulder and hazarded a look at his table.
Huh. He hadn’t even noticed me.
I deflated a little. I was that overlookable? I glanced around the café at the other silk feathered hats. None of them had noticed me, either. I deflated even more, until I was about half my original size.
My gaze passed over Neil’s identical twin brother, Sahil Roy, who apparently had noticed me and was now smiling, his face bright and happy. He sat at a table with his best friends, Skid (white, short, and wiry) and Aaron (the only black and openly gay person in our class; seriously, diversity, PPC. Look it up). They were being quieter—and geekier—than Neil’s group while discussing that new alien movie, which goes without saying. They’re total groundlings too. I smiled back.
"Can I help you?"
The thirtysomething mustachioed barista behind the counter was staring at me in a way that meant he’d probably had to ask that more than once. His name badge read STAN.
Hi, Stan,
I said. Can I get a small iced mocha? I have this.
Rummaging in my pocket, I fished out the coupon I’d gotten for winning an essay contest before winter break and handed it over.
He barely looked at it before handing it back. It’s expired.
No, no, it’s not.
I pointed to the fine print, my palms getting sweaty even at this tiny amount of confrontation. See? It says June first is the last day to claim this. And it’s June first.
Stan’s mustache twitched spitefully as he pointed to the finer fine print. See that? It says June first at five p.m. And it is now
—he checked his wristwatch—five twenty-four p.m.
Twenty-four minutes. He was denying me for a lousy twenty-four minutes. Okay, Stalin,
I muttered as I stuffed the coupon back into my pocket.
He leaned toward me. What did you say?
Oh God. His mustache quivered indignantly, almost independent of his face.
Uh . . . nothing. I said, um, thanks, Sta-an.
I stretched his name into two syllables to make the lie more believable and smiled weakly.
So, are you gonna get anything or not?
he asked, eyeing me like I was a bug he’d found swimming in his perfect coffee.
I looked at the menu and sighed. It was almost five dollars for the coffee, which was my lunch allowance for the week. If I bought it, I’d have to do without at school, and hungry Twinkle was hangry Twinkle. No, that’s okay,
I said, my cheeks hot. In that instant, I was kind of glad about my invisibility powers. At least none of the silk feathered hats had heard how Twinkle Mehra couldn’t even afford an iced mocha.
In my hurry to escape, I almost smacked face-first into a muscled chest. OHMYGOD, my brain shouted as I tipped my head back and took in those light-brown eyes, that thick lacy fringe of eyelashes. IT’S HIM IT’S NEIL OHMYGO—oh, wait. My brain registered more details, like the red skull on the black T-shirt. The smile that was half shy, half awkward, not at all like Neil’s full-on, sear-your-retinas-with-its-strength-but-you-won’t-even-notice-the-pain-because-it’s-so-glorious smile.
Oh, hey, Sahil,
I said, trying to go around him. ’Scuse me.
Wait. I could buy you that coffee?
he said, pivoting to see me. Um, if you want?
I stopped and looked at him, feeling that cringy-hot feeling I always get when people call attention to money. Specifically, how they have it and I don’t. That’s . . . nice, but you don’t have to do that.
No, no, I want to,
he said, putting his hands in his pockets and then taking them out again. Um, heat wave.
Huh? Was that supposed to make sense? You . . . what?
I . . . just meant there’s a heat wave outside. You definitely need an iced coffee.
Then he grinned suddenly, this thing that set all his teeth on display, and leaned back. It all had a very rehearsed vibe.
I opened my mouth to (a) tell him eighty degrees and a light breeze hardly qualified as a heat wave and (b) point out that he was edging dangerously close to the napkin holder. Sadly, I was too late delivering point (b).
Sahil sent it flying to the floor, and the napkins went everywhere. He stared at the mess for a minute in silence. And then we both ducked down to clean up the mess, knocking heads (of course; how else would two groundlings clean up a mess?) and groaning.
Oh God, I’m so sorry,
Sahil said as I rubbed my forehead.
That’s okay.
I stuffed the remaining napkins back into the holder and then stood up to face mustachioed Stan, who was watching this unfold with unadulterated glee beaming off his annoying, dictatorial face. Um, yeah. I’ll have that iced mocha after all.
I figured it was easier to just accept than risk another mini disaster. I smiled at Sahil. Thanks.
He waved me off. Ah, no, no worries.
And then I’m pretty sure he asked me a question, which I didn’t hear because it was then that Neil Roy began to walk toward me.
No kidding.
His eyes were locked on mine and everything.
At least, that’s what I thought at first. But then he got closer and I saw he was looking at his brother, Sahil. Just Sahil.
Yo, I’m heading over to Patrick’s,
he said. Can you catch a ride with someone?
Sure,
Sahil said, turning back to me.
And then Neil Roy winked at me. Winked. At me. Hey,
he said, all casually, running a hand through his soft (it looks soft anyway), thick black hair. How’s it going?
Neil Roy asked me a freaking question. And I responded by gawking at him. What should I say? Something cool and casual and maybe even a little bit funny?
The seconds ticked by. I realized I was still standing there with this idiotic, glazed smile on my face. OH MY GOD, TWINKLE, JUST SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING.
But by the time I’d decided to rejoinder with a perfectly acceptable, Pretty good, and you?
his back was already to me. And those bulging calf muscles were taking him to the door.
Uh, Twinkle?
I blinked Sahil back into focus, trying to ignore the thudding disappointment at my own geekiness. Yeah?
Neil smoothly tossed a balled-up paper napkin into the trash from across the room, and then he and his friends walked outside together. His back wasn’t sweaty. And the other guys had their heads swiveled toward him, constantly watching him, listening to what he had to say. See? That was the sort of guy shiny, future Twinkle Mehra should date.
. . . business card.
Crap. I’d missed what Sahil was saying—again—because I was ogling his brother. Anyway, context. Come on. Look around. Look at his face. What might he have said? Oh, right. He was holding out a business card. I took it, frowning slightly.
Sahil Roy, Film Critic, it said. There was a phone number below it.
You’re into films, aren’t you?
he asked, tugging at his T-shirt.
Am I into films? Ha. Ha ha ha. Only like Bill Nye is into science. Mm-hmm,
I said. Definitely.
Sahil smiled his shy/awkward smile. Cool. I am too. You should think about joining the film club sometime.
He rubbed the top of his ear. And that’s, uh, my cell number there.
He cleared his throat and then coughed violently, choking on his own spit. I patted him on the back while he stared at me, his eyes wide.
Do you need some water?
I was starting to get worried about the color his face was turning.
He shook his head and walked back to his table, where his friend Skid, sighing, handed him his cup of water. Aaron tossed me a smile and I nodded back.
Coffee.
I found Stan holding out my cup and I took it. Thanks.
I walked up to Sahil’s table. Hey, uh, thanks again for the coffee. I gotta go, but it was nice seeing you guys.
Aaron and Skid held up a hand and Sahil cleared his throat. Sure, no problem,
he said, all hoarse and funny-sounding. Take care.
I giggled. How could two brothers be so different, honestly? You too.
I looked for Neil once I was back outside, but he was long gone. Ah, well. Our Bollywood romance would have to wait.
One day, though. One day I’ll be the Alia Bhatt to his Shahid Kapoor.
Two
Tuesday, June 2
AP Economics
I was ambushed today.
Okay, so maybe ambushed
is too strong a word. But I was definitely, in no uncertain terms, reminded of my groundling status.
I walked into the girls’ bathroom with Maddie at lunch, expecting to have a quiet chat. I’m not exactly sure why we walk together anymore. We don’t sit together at lunch since she left Camp Groundling. She sits with Hannah and Victoria and Francesca and all the other girls who aren’t on the lunch program. I sit in the back by myself. Well, maybe I do know why we still walk together. Maybe if we spend enough time together, I’ll figure out why she feels like I’m not BFF material anymore. And if I figure it out, maybe I can fix it.
Anyway, it’s not so bad, sitting in the back by myself. The only slight drawback is that I’m one table over from Brij Nath and Matthew Weir, both of whom slurp cafeteria chili and gargle it in the back of their throats as a joke. It’s just as horrifying (and oddly hypnotic) as it sounds.
They’re also computer geniuses who like to brag that they could hack into this pathetic excuse for a secure network
anytime to change their grades. Except they don’t need to because their grades are already beyond an A. I think PPC had to invent a new grading system for them and Maddie. Oh, and there’s a rumor that Brij had to leave his last (expensive private boys’) school because he felt they were mismanaging their fundraiser money by putting in a third tennis court. So he hacked into their database and rerouted all the money to the Worldwide Fund for Nature. Which, naturally, earned him an expulsion.
Maddie and I pushed open the door to the girls’ bathroom on the third floor, and inside, instead of it being all quiet like it usually is, I found Hannah Macintosh and Francesca Roberts leaning over the sink, putting on mascara. My heart dropped to the floor.
Heya!
Hannah said, running over to give Maddie a big hug without even glancing at me. She smelled like ripe plums, which suited her. Seriously, what dark arts do I have to do to smell and look good in everything? Did you know this bathroom is always empty at lunch? Apparently people are too lazy to hike up here from the cafeteria!
I know! It’s, like, the best.
Maddie laughed and walked to the third—and last—sink and pulled out her makeup bag from her backpack.
I lounged against the wall and checked my fingernails. Mainly I did this because I’m too poor for my parents to get me a phone and I didn’t want to stare at them while they did their makeup. Also, I don’t wear makeup. I don’t have anything against it. I just don’t get it.
After a minute of Maddie, Francesca, and Hannah chattering about Hannah’s upcoming seventeenth birthday party and how she wanted a diamond bracelet (a conversation to which I could contribute nothing because, hello? Just imagining my parents’ faces if I asked for a diamond bracelet makes me want to burst out into maniacal laughter), Maddie caught my eye in the mirror. Recapping her mascara, she said, Oh, hey. Twinkle saw this thing about diamonds on the History Channel.
Seeing my confused face, she continued. Remember? Weren’t you telling me about that a couple weeks ago? I can’t recall exactly what you said, but . . .
Oh. I got it. Maddie was trying to give me a conversational in. I straightened, ready for the challenge. Oh, yeah. So, conflict diamonds are a real thing. The diamond industry estimates they make up to fifteen percent of the diamond trade and children are forced to work in extremely horrifying conditions to mine them. The toll on local communities is enormous. Not to mention the environmental devastation because of soil erosion . . .
I trailed off when I saw Francesca and Hannah staring at me blankly, like I was speaking in Elvish. Maddie was sorta wince-smiling, like, Great. Good effort, Twinkle. A+. Now please stop talking.
After a slight pause, Francesca smiled and said, Cool,
and then they went back to their conversation. I slumped against the wall, wishing I at least had to pee so I’d have something to do.
You know what? Scratch that. Hannah would probably just judge me on my pee splatter patterns or something.
After Hannah and Francesca hugged and air-kissed Maddie a million times (and invited her to walk with them instead, an invitation she dodged while darting nervous glances my way; YES, I HEARD THEM, MADDIE), we made our way to classes with about five minutes left.
I felt myself unwind as we walked, until my shoulders were shoulders again and not ear barricades. We rounded the corner and passed Patrick O’Cleary and Callum Truesdale (he of the Caveman Callum fame—more on that in a minute) who were saying:
Patrick: Dude, Midsummer Night’s on the twenty-seventh. We should definitely do that one idea we had last weekend.
Caveman Callum (CC): Oh, you mean how each of us could chop a different fruit onstage? Showcase our strength as swim-team studs?
Patrick: Yep. I’m gonna do a pineapple. Unpeeled.
CC: Dude. Epic. *fist bump and grunting follow*
Okay, Callum doesn’t grunt. And he isn’t a caveman (not technically, anyway). But he got his nickname because one time, in third grade, Maddie and I were playing on the jungle gym at recess when Callum came over and began to taunt us. He was saying stuff like how Maddie and I weren’t real Americans and how my parents were fresh off the boat.
And then he accidentally-on-purpose hit me with a basketball.
Maddie and I looked at each other, and in one coordinated move, we hopped off the jungle gym and walked over to Callum like we were in a music video. Maddie pinned his arms behind his back (he was pretty scrawny back then) and I kicked him in the shins until he howled. Guess what? He never bothered us again.
That was all cool. But my favorite part was when Maddie and I began to call each other sisters after that. And ever since, Callum’s been Caveman Callum. (To me, anyway. Maddie stopped calling him that when she stopped being a groundling. I hold grudges a