From Twinkle, with Love
Page 16
He kind of turned his head away and bit the inside of his lips like he was trying to maintain some semblance of control. Arrrgh. Did he think I was being a total perv? What was that look about? “It’s—it’s okay,” he said, his voice strangled. “Um, take your time.”
Thankfully, my legs broke free and I was able to scramble up to a sitting position off of Sahil. I couldn’t look at him as I gathered up the dress and the capelet.
He was on his feet in half a millisecond, straightening his shirt without looking at me either. (I could see him from my peripheral vision.) “So!” he said, his voice high and squeaky. “I’m just gonna … pick out some props.” And then he walked off to the other side of the room.
“O-okay.” I stood looking after him, a giant tangle of feelings inside me.
Disappointment. Relief. Confusion. Exhilaration.
What was happening between us? Why did those annoyingly persistent butterflies hang out with me every time he was around? Why couldn’t my brain just remember that he was Neil’s brother and therefore 100 percent off-limits?
I put the capelet up to my face and made a long, tortured groaning sound.
“Are you … okay?”
Oh crap. Whipping the capelet away, I stared. Of course. Of course Sahil was back, and he’d seen me acting like the mayor of Freakville. “Oh, sure,” I said, smiling brightly. “Just … you know, I wanted to check if we needed to dry-clean these, but nope. Downy fresh!”
“Oh, okay.” He looked a little confused, but had the grace not to call me out on my dubious behavior. “Um, I was gonna go tell Violet some of the stuff we wanted. That cyclorama okay with you?”
He was talking about the curved backdrop with the evil moon. Arrrgh. I super didn’t want that one, but things were awkward and uncertain right now and I was feeling even more “puddle of embarrassed goo” than usual. “Sure,” I said, wishing I could rent a backbone from here too. “That works.”
“Awesome.”
While Sahil was downstairs, I finished picking out the rest of the costumes and a couple more props. We didn’t talk about what happened; the ride home was almost completely silent. It’s obvious Sahil thinks I’m a huge pervert and can’t stand me anymore.
The good news is we’re all set up to begin making our movie. The bad news is I’m turning my room into an airtight container from which escape will be impossible.
Love,
Twinkle
June 6
The Reel Deal Blog
Posted by: Rolls ROYce
The good news is Sparkle made full-on-body contact with me and didn’t run off screaming disgustedly. The bad news is I was so shocked I morphed into a wax museum exhibit of myself.
I can’t help but feel optimistic anyway. Because something happened today. Something shifted.
I’m not one to make up crap in my head. I can see reality pretty plainly. For instance, I know my brother is the epitome of the golden boy: He’s athletic and smart and Harvard bound and does SAT practice tests “for fun, dude.” Girls regularly swoon over him like he’s … oh, what’s that character who died because Kate Winslet wouldn’t scoot the hell over on that door? Oh yeah. Jack. Which is hilarious because we are the exact same from a genetic perspective, but I digress. Basically, everything has always come easy to him, and okay. Am I bitter? Nope. Do I like it? No, but I accept it. We all have our roles to play and stuff.
So you’ll believe me, then, when I say that something was definitely happening between me and Sparkle today. I’m not deluded. I know girls usually just dismiss me as “that geeky dude who has a thing for horror movies.” But she didn’t. The way she looked at me …
Okay, so I was having a hard time, no pun intended, when she was on top of me. I wanted to say something to her in the car, anything that would let her know that I was on board. Like: Sparkle, I am a lovelorn fool, so could you just put me out of my brain-numbing misery already by telling me what you’re thinking. Just a sliver of a thought would be nice.
But instead I sat there in silence. I’d glance at her occasionally, but that girl is a closed book.
That’s okay, though. I’m gonna make a game plan and go with it. What I need to do is come up with a campaign to approach this in an organized fashion so I don’t blow it. Oh! I just thought of a slogan: “I like you, too, Sparkle, but not in a needy way. Also, I’m the cool, geek-chic guy you never knew you always wanted.” Or something with less suckage, but that’s essentially the heart of the message. Never again will she say I remind her of my brother because he will remind her of me, instead. A subtle but very important difference, my friends.
I can do this. I am so there. I’m feelin’ it, as my friend Slide would say. Sparkle, here I come.
Sunday, June 7
My room
Dear Nora Ephron, Eep! Another e-mail from “N.”
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: An ode to you
Twinkle, Twinkle, little star
Right now you might be oh so far
But soon in your beauty my eyes will bask
And then at last you’ll see me unmasked
—Your Secret Admirer, N
There’s no doubt in my mind: It has to be Neil. Let’s dissect this poem, shall we?
First, my secret admirer says that we are “oh so far.” Ahem. Neil is away at a pre-Olympic summer swim camp. I never get to see him.
Second, N says “soon our eyes will meet again,” because Neil is coming back to school at the end of the month.
And third, “unmasked”? Neil couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. He’s trying to tell me he remembers that one time we danced at the masquerade ball back in sixth grade, just like I do! (Or maybe it was fifth? And did I dance with Neil? Minor details.)
This has to be Neil. It just has to. And if it is, then … I don’t know. I think I might expire from happiness or something, because if it is him, my shiny, future self might be materializing before my eyes. The movie stuff is going well so far, which means my message will get out to way more people than ever before. With Maddie as the lead, maybe most of the rest of the cast could be silk feathered hats too. Maybe they’ll finally begin seeing me. Maddie’s and my friendship will hopefully be back on the right track. And now Neil? It feels like the last piece of the puzzle has just landed in my lap.
Okay, so there’s a tiny part of me that’s like, okay, cool. Maybe Neil is e-mailing me. But … do I really want that anymore? I mean, my life is already pretty sweet right now for the first time in forever. I have new friends I click with. And … I like hanging out with Sahil. A lot.
But that’s crazy, isn’t it? This, Neil, is what I’ve wanted for so long. The part of me that isn’t ecstatic about the e-mail just needs to be squashed. Maybe the problem is that I’ve become too unfocused. Maybe I’m spending too much time thinking about Sahil when I need to be thinking about his brother instead. Sahil needs to remain just a friend. I can’t let it progress any further. No more looking deeply into his eyes. No more falling on top of him. Focus and maintain my balance. That’s what I need to do.
Love,
Twinkle
Eight
Sunday, June 7
Backyard
Dear Mira Nair, I walked out to get a snack and saw Dadi on the couch, reading Lentil Soup for the Reincarnated Soul, with Oso curled up like a little prawn by her feet. I asked her where Mummy and Papa were, and she said, “Papa is at the youth home.” Papa works as an aide at a center for runaway teens. He takes his work very, very seriously and goes in a lot even when he isn’t technically on shift. Which is good, because those kids don’t have any reliable adults in their lives. But sometimes I wish I had more reliable adults in mine.
“What about Mummy?” I asked, noticing that she’d purposely left that part out.
Dadi’s eyes got that shifty, darting look they do when she’s trying to cover something up. “She’s … sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s eight thirty.”
Dadi shrugged, looking pained. She held out one arm to me and I went to sit by her, curled into her side. “Your mummy has a lot of pain in her heart, Twinkle. I wish it did not affect you so, but I am afraid we must all carry our burdens in each lifetime. Sometimes we must carry a bit of our parents’ burdens as well.”
Thankfully, my legs broke free and I was able to scramble up to a sitting position off of Sahil. I couldn’t look at him as I gathered up the dress and the capelet.
He was on his feet in half a millisecond, straightening his shirt without looking at me either. (I could see him from my peripheral vision.) “So!” he said, his voice high and squeaky. “I’m just gonna … pick out some props.” And then he walked off to the other side of the room.
“O-okay.” I stood looking after him, a giant tangle of feelings inside me.
Disappointment. Relief. Confusion. Exhilaration.
What was happening between us? Why did those annoyingly persistent butterflies hang out with me every time he was around? Why couldn’t my brain just remember that he was Neil’s brother and therefore 100 percent off-limits?
I put the capelet up to my face and made a long, tortured groaning sound.
“Are you … okay?”
Oh crap. Whipping the capelet away, I stared. Of course. Of course Sahil was back, and he’d seen me acting like the mayor of Freakville. “Oh, sure,” I said, smiling brightly. “Just … you know, I wanted to check if we needed to dry-clean these, but nope. Downy fresh!”
“Oh, okay.” He looked a little confused, but had the grace not to call me out on my dubious behavior. “Um, I was gonna go tell Violet some of the stuff we wanted. That cyclorama okay with you?”
He was talking about the curved backdrop with the evil moon. Arrrgh. I super didn’t want that one, but things were awkward and uncertain right now and I was feeling even more “puddle of embarrassed goo” than usual. “Sure,” I said, wishing I could rent a backbone from here too. “That works.”
“Awesome.”
While Sahil was downstairs, I finished picking out the rest of the costumes and a couple more props. We didn’t talk about what happened; the ride home was almost completely silent. It’s obvious Sahil thinks I’m a huge pervert and can’t stand me anymore.
The good news is we’re all set up to begin making our movie. The bad news is I’m turning my room into an airtight container from which escape will be impossible.
Love,
Twinkle
June 6
The Reel Deal Blog
Posted by: Rolls ROYce
The good news is Sparkle made full-on-body contact with me and didn’t run off screaming disgustedly. The bad news is I was so shocked I morphed into a wax museum exhibit of myself.
I can’t help but feel optimistic anyway. Because something happened today. Something shifted.
I’m not one to make up crap in my head. I can see reality pretty plainly. For instance, I know my brother is the epitome of the golden boy: He’s athletic and smart and Harvard bound and does SAT practice tests “for fun, dude.” Girls regularly swoon over him like he’s … oh, what’s that character who died because Kate Winslet wouldn’t scoot the hell over on that door? Oh yeah. Jack. Which is hilarious because we are the exact same from a genetic perspective, but I digress. Basically, everything has always come easy to him, and okay. Am I bitter? Nope. Do I like it? No, but I accept it. We all have our roles to play and stuff.
So you’ll believe me, then, when I say that something was definitely happening between me and Sparkle today. I’m not deluded. I know girls usually just dismiss me as “that geeky dude who has a thing for horror movies.” But she didn’t. The way she looked at me …
Okay, so I was having a hard time, no pun intended, when she was on top of me. I wanted to say something to her in the car, anything that would let her know that I was on board. Like: Sparkle, I am a lovelorn fool, so could you just put me out of my brain-numbing misery already by telling me what you’re thinking. Just a sliver of a thought would be nice.
But instead I sat there in silence. I’d glance at her occasionally, but that girl is a closed book.
That’s okay, though. I’m gonna make a game plan and go with it. What I need to do is come up with a campaign to approach this in an organized fashion so I don’t blow it. Oh! I just thought of a slogan: “I like you, too, Sparkle, but not in a needy way. Also, I’m the cool, geek-chic guy you never knew you always wanted.” Or something with less suckage, but that’s essentially the heart of the message. Never again will she say I remind her of my brother because he will remind her of me, instead. A subtle but very important difference, my friends.
I can do this. I am so there. I’m feelin’ it, as my friend Slide would say. Sparkle, here I come.
Sunday, June 7
My room
Dear Nora Ephron, Eep! Another e-mail from “N.”
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: An ode to you
Twinkle, Twinkle, little star
Right now you might be oh so far
But soon in your beauty my eyes will bask
And then at last you’ll see me unmasked
—Your Secret Admirer, N
There’s no doubt in my mind: It has to be Neil. Let’s dissect this poem, shall we?
First, my secret admirer says that we are “oh so far.” Ahem. Neil is away at a pre-Olympic summer swim camp. I never get to see him.
Second, N says “soon our eyes will meet again,” because Neil is coming back to school at the end of the month.
And third, “unmasked”? Neil couldn’t be more obvious if he tried. He’s trying to tell me he remembers that one time we danced at the masquerade ball back in sixth grade, just like I do! (Or maybe it was fifth? And did I dance with Neil? Minor details.)
This has to be Neil. It just has to. And if it is, then … I don’t know. I think I might expire from happiness or something, because if it is him, my shiny, future self might be materializing before my eyes. The movie stuff is going well so far, which means my message will get out to way more people than ever before. With Maddie as the lead, maybe most of the rest of the cast could be silk feathered hats too. Maybe they’ll finally begin seeing me. Maddie’s and my friendship will hopefully be back on the right track. And now Neil? It feels like the last piece of the puzzle has just landed in my lap.
Okay, so there’s a tiny part of me that’s like, okay, cool. Maybe Neil is e-mailing me. But … do I really want that anymore? I mean, my life is already pretty sweet right now for the first time in forever. I have new friends I click with. And … I like hanging out with Sahil. A lot.
But that’s crazy, isn’t it? This, Neil, is what I’ve wanted for so long. The part of me that isn’t ecstatic about the e-mail just needs to be squashed. Maybe the problem is that I’ve become too unfocused. Maybe I’m spending too much time thinking about Sahil when I need to be thinking about his brother instead. Sahil needs to remain just a friend. I can’t let it progress any further. No more looking deeply into his eyes. No more falling on top of him. Focus and maintain my balance. That’s what I need to do.
Love,
Twinkle
Eight
Sunday, June 7
Backyard
Dear Mira Nair, I walked out to get a snack and saw Dadi on the couch, reading Lentil Soup for the Reincarnated Soul, with Oso curled up like a little prawn by her feet. I asked her where Mummy and Papa were, and she said, “Papa is at the youth home.” Papa works as an aide at a center for runaway teens. He takes his work very, very seriously and goes in a lot even when he isn’t technically on shift. Which is good, because those kids don’t have any reliable adults in their lives. But sometimes I wish I had more reliable adults in mine.
“What about Mummy?” I asked, noticing that she’d purposely left that part out.
Dadi’s eyes got that shifty, darting look they do when she’s trying to cover something up. “She’s … sleeping.”
“Sleeping?” I glanced at the clock on the wall. “It’s eight thirty.”
Dadi shrugged, looking pained. She held out one arm to me and I went to sit by her, curled into her side. “Your mummy has a lot of pain in her heart, Twinkle. I wish it did not affect you so, but I am afraid we must all carry our burdens in each lifetime. Sometimes we must carry a bit of our parents’ burdens as well.”
