From Twinkle, with Love
Page 33
Also, unintentional relationship potential—Aaron and Matthew! Apparently they already know each other from an LGBTQ youth group they’re both a part of. Matthew’s bi, but he doesn’t talk about it at school (who can blame him? PPC thinks diversity means talking about Martin Luther King Jr. once a year in February). So they already knew each other and sat together, but then I kept seeing them touching each other and laughing at all these inside jokes. So maybe Maddie and Brij won’t leave here in a relationship, but I’m counting Matthew and Aaron under my “win” column.
Side note: Matthew pulled me aside and, rubbing the back of his neck while his face turned bright red, he said, “Hey, T-Twinkle. I just, I want to apologize for what I said the other day.”
“When? When you said my braid bun looked ‘like a coiled-up cobra drawn by a kindergartner’?”
He turned even redder, like he was surprised I’d quoted him word for word. He clearly didn’t know about my grudge book. “Ah, I need to apologize for two things, then. That and how I said you wouldn’t understand what Brij was talking about with the firewall the other day when we were doing our fundraiser. It was pretty uncool of me.”
I smiled at him. “But it’s pretty cool of you to try to fix things. So apology accepted.”
(I love when people surprise me in a good way.)
Oh, and I helped Skid with a girl problem. Apparently there’s this girl at the public high school, Portia? He basically said, “Twinkle, Portia’s my future wife. I just know it.”
To which I replied, “Skid, seriously? I didn’t even know you wanted to get married.”
And he said, “I do, but only to Portia.” And then he whipped out his phone and showed me a picture and wow. She’s this incredibly gorgeous black girl, with curly hair to her waist and the most fabulous taste in clothes. Way out of Skid’s league, if I’m being totally honest.
He isn’t bad-looking. He’s just a little … skinny and sallow. And short. Not exactly your typical dreamboat. She looks like she’d be at home dating, I don’t know, a Hollywood actor’s son or something.
So he asked how he could get her to notice him (their families go to the same church), because he wanted a girl’s opinion, and I told him what I value in my perfect guy: that his love for me would make him selfless; that he’d want to be better just for me, and that he’d challenge me to be a better person in return. Like, for Skid, that could mean getting her a juice if it gets hot in church or handing her a Bible if she forgets hers. And then to just use that interaction as a springboard for other interactions. He loved that idea.
And then I realized that’s exactly what Sahil did for me the first time we talked. He bought me that coffee because he saw that I couldn’t afford one myself. He saved me from having to leave the coffee shop empty-handed and humiliated in front of all those silk feathered hats. He could be my perfect guy. But his brother could help me feel like I’d finally left groundlingdom behind, the thing I’ve been dreaming of for as long as I can remember.
It sucks. I keep looking at Sahil and he keeps looking at me and our hands have brushed a thousand times as we both reach for the same pencil or highlighter. But that’s it. We haven’t talked about anything else, like what it means that we kissed twice or how I told him I like him and he told me he likes me or anything.
I keep telling myself this is a good thing. Because N and I are meeting in a week and then maybe my brain and my heart will stop fighting. When I see Neil’s face—it has to be Neil; the universe isn’t that cruel—things will fall into place once and for all.
I hope.
Okay, I better get back in there. Those free-market structures aren’t going to … build themselves.
Love,
Twinkle
Fifteen
June 15 The Reel Deal Blog
Posted by: Rolls ROYce
There are two types of people: those who kiss and tell and those who kiss and run. I would like to be the former, but sadly, due to my kissing partner, I have been forced to become the latter.
I am delirious with joy that Sparkle and I kissed. Twice. Every time I see her, I want to pick her up. I want to swing her around. I want to scream to the world that we are together at last. But I can’t. Because she doesn’t want me to. And I am but a servant to her wishes and whimsies.
Slide says I’m being a wuss. A-man says straight people are weird. I suspect they’re both at least partially right. But what neither of them sees is how my brain completely short circuits when I think about her. Or maybe they do. I don’t know. I mean, Slide did call me out today because I kept spacing out in calculus and we have our final on Wednesday. All I can say is that Roger Ebert said it best: First love is sweet and valuable, a blessed, if hazardous, condition.
Speaking of Ebert, we are nearing completion on filming; in fact, we should be done by Friday, and then Slide and I will edit the thing to show at the festival. And you know something? I kick butt at being a producer. I thought I was all about being a film critic, but I’m great at putting out fires and getting my director anything she needs to do her job. I even weigh in on scene blocking and storyline issues. The other day someone—let’s call her The Lion—even came to me for a costume issue. (The green wasn’t the right kind or something and it was clashing with her hair, but still. It was important to the actress and she sought my counsel! We decided that she could wear a lighter shade of green. I mean, the film’s going to be black-and-white, so no skin off my back, but she was insistent and said knowing she didn’t look her best was interfering with her creative output. And then she proceeded to fuss over everyone else’s costumes—buttoning sleeves and hitching up hemlines—and helped us look sharper as a group). It’s like I’m slowly gaining a modicum of respect. Like people see me as an expert of sorts. It feels for the first time like I’m moving away from the shadow of my brother and coming to stand in my own light.
As for Sparkle … She sees me for me. When she looks into my eyes, I can tell she’s just as captivated by me as I am by her. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but when we’re working together, I feel alive, like I’m me in a way I’ve never been before. Man, I can’t believe I just typed that. But it’s true. Sparkle sees me as I am, without seeing my brother first.
So all I can do is be patient and wait for her to realize what I’ve known for a long time: We’re meant to be together. It’s so obvious. I know she’s going to come to the same conclusion, no matter what it is that’s holding her back.
Monday, June 15
AP Bio
Dear Lynne Ramsay, Mrs. Mears was having us watch a video about mitosis (or was it meiosis? Something with cells, anyway) and she let us all sit wherever we wanted. I was kinda hoping Maddie would want to sit with me even though we haven’t talked since she told me I shouldn’t go to Hannah’s party. But she and Hannah ended up across from me, and I sat with Matthew (who began passing me notes; I was so surprised I didn’t even realize the piece of paper he handed me was a note until he cleared his throat and nodded meaningfully at the paper). Matthew’s note enclosed. But that’s not even the most surprising part. As I was scribbling my response to Matthew, I overheard Maddie and Hannah’s whispered conversation (I have batlike hearing). It went something like this:
Hannah: So what was up with you and Nath at the library?
Maddie: What do you mean?
H: Lewis told Desiree that you two were huddled together whispering or something?
M: *laughter* Um, no, I was just being nice to him. …
H: Okay, because you don’t want to ruin things with Lewis. I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask you to go out the night of my party.
M: I told you, it’s not like that with Lewis and me.
H: But it could be. Unless you want Nath instead?
M: *laughter, more frantic and fake* No, obviously not. I felt sorry for him, that’s all. He’s Twinkle’s friend.
H: Ugh, I don’t know why you even hang out with her anymore. Anyway, so wear something hot to my party, and I’ll make sure you and Lewis hook up.
M: Okay, but can we talk about this later? I need to watch this video.
Side note: Matthew pulled me aside and, rubbing the back of his neck while his face turned bright red, he said, “Hey, T-Twinkle. I just, I want to apologize for what I said the other day.”
“When? When you said my braid bun looked ‘like a coiled-up cobra drawn by a kindergartner’?”
He turned even redder, like he was surprised I’d quoted him word for word. He clearly didn’t know about my grudge book. “Ah, I need to apologize for two things, then. That and how I said you wouldn’t understand what Brij was talking about with the firewall the other day when we were doing our fundraiser. It was pretty uncool of me.”
I smiled at him. “But it’s pretty cool of you to try to fix things. So apology accepted.”
(I love when people surprise me in a good way.)
Oh, and I helped Skid with a girl problem. Apparently there’s this girl at the public high school, Portia? He basically said, “Twinkle, Portia’s my future wife. I just know it.”
To which I replied, “Skid, seriously? I didn’t even know you wanted to get married.”
And he said, “I do, but only to Portia.” And then he whipped out his phone and showed me a picture and wow. She’s this incredibly gorgeous black girl, with curly hair to her waist and the most fabulous taste in clothes. Way out of Skid’s league, if I’m being totally honest.
He isn’t bad-looking. He’s just a little … skinny and sallow. And short. Not exactly your typical dreamboat. She looks like she’d be at home dating, I don’t know, a Hollywood actor’s son or something.
So he asked how he could get her to notice him (their families go to the same church), because he wanted a girl’s opinion, and I told him what I value in my perfect guy: that his love for me would make him selfless; that he’d want to be better just for me, and that he’d challenge me to be a better person in return. Like, for Skid, that could mean getting her a juice if it gets hot in church or handing her a Bible if she forgets hers. And then to just use that interaction as a springboard for other interactions. He loved that idea.
And then I realized that’s exactly what Sahil did for me the first time we talked. He bought me that coffee because he saw that I couldn’t afford one myself. He saved me from having to leave the coffee shop empty-handed and humiliated in front of all those silk feathered hats. He could be my perfect guy. But his brother could help me feel like I’d finally left groundlingdom behind, the thing I’ve been dreaming of for as long as I can remember.
It sucks. I keep looking at Sahil and he keeps looking at me and our hands have brushed a thousand times as we both reach for the same pencil or highlighter. But that’s it. We haven’t talked about anything else, like what it means that we kissed twice or how I told him I like him and he told me he likes me or anything.
I keep telling myself this is a good thing. Because N and I are meeting in a week and then maybe my brain and my heart will stop fighting. When I see Neil’s face—it has to be Neil; the universe isn’t that cruel—things will fall into place once and for all.
I hope.
Okay, I better get back in there. Those free-market structures aren’t going to … build themselves.
Love,
Twinkle
Fifteen
June 15 The Reel Deal Blog
Posted by: Rolls ROYce
There are two types of people: those who kiss and tell and those who kiss and run. I would like to be the former, but sadly, due to my kissing partner, I have been forced to become the latter.
I am delirious with joy that Sparkle and I kissed. Twice. Every time I see her, I want to pick her up. I want to swing her around. I want to scream to the world that we are together at last. But I can’t. Because she doesn’t want me to. And I am but a servant to her wishes and whimsies.
Slide says I’m being a wuss. A-man says straight people are weird. I suspect they’re both at least partially right. But what neither of them sees is how my brain completely short circuits when I think about her. Or maybe they do. I don’t know. I mean, Slide did call me out today because I kept spacing out in calculus and we have our final on Wednesday. All I can say is that Roger Ebert said it best: First love is sweet and valuable, a blessed, if hazardous, condition.
Speaking of Ebert, we are nearing completion on filming; in fact, we should be done by Friday, and then Slide and I will edit the thing to show at the festival. And you know something? I kick butt at being a producer. I thought I was all about being a film critic, but I’m great at putting out fires and getting my director anything she needs to do her job. I even weigh in on scene blocking and storyline issues. The other day someone—let’s call her The Lion—even came to me for a costume issue. (The green wasn’t the right kind or something and it was clashing with her hair, but still. It was important to the actress and she sought my counsel! We decided that she could wear a lighter shade of green. I mean, the film’s going to be black-and-white, so no skin off my back, but she was insistent and said knowing she didn’t look her best was interfering with her creative output. And then she proceeded to fuss over everyone else’s costumes—buttoning sleeves and hitching up hemlines—and helped us look sharper as a group). It’s like I’m slowly gaining a modicum of respect. Like people see me as an expert of sorts. It feels for the first time like I’m moving away from the shadow of my brother and coming to stand in my own light.
As for Sparkle … She sees me for me. When she looks into my eyes, I can tell she’s just as captivated by me as I am by her. I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve this, but when we’re working together, I feel alive, like I’m me in a way I’ve never been before. Man, I can’t believe I just typed that. But it’s true. Sparkle sees me as I am, without seeing my brother first.
So all I can do is be patient and wait for her to realize what I’ve known for a long time: We’re meant to be together. It’s so obvious. I know she’s going to come to the same conclusion, no matter what it is that’s holding her back.
Monday, June 15
AP Bio
Dear Lynne Ramsay, Mrs. Mears was having us watch a video about mitosis (or was it meiosis? Something with cells, anyway) and she let us all sit wherever we wanted. I was kinda hoping Maddie would want to sit with me even though we haven’t talked since she told me I shouldn’t go to Hannah’s party. But she and Hannah ended up across from me, and I sat with Matthew (who began passing me notes; I was so surprised I didn’t even realize the piece of paper he handed me was a note until he cleared his throat and nodded meaningfully at the paper). Matthew’s note enclosed. But that’s not even the most surprising part. As I was scribbling my response to Matthew, I overheard Maddie and Hannah’s whispered conversation (I have batlike hearing). It went something like this:
Hannah: So what was up with you and Nath at the library?
Maddie: What do you mean?
H: Lewis told Desiree that you two were huddled together whispering or something?
M: *laughter* Um, no, I was just being nice to him. …
H: Okay, because you don’t want to ruin things with Lewis. I’m pretty sure he’s going to ask you to go out the night of my party.
M: I told you, it’s not like that with Lewis and me.
H: But it could be. Unless you want Nath instead?
M: *laughter, more frantic and fake* No, obviously not. I felt sorry for him, that’s all. He’s Twinkle’s friend.
H: Ugh, I don’t know why you even hang out with her anymore. Anyway, so wear something hot to my party, and I’ll make sure you and Lewis hook up.
M: Okay, but can we talk about this later? I need to watch this video.
