Star Daughter(60)

“Sheetal,” Leela said kindly, gesturing to the woman next to her, “this is my niece Kirti. She runs an organization in India that helps promote female artists. It’s because of her that I picked up my paintbrush again after my husband died.”

“Guilty as charged!” Kirti smiled. “One look at her old paintings and I knew I couldn’t let her throw away all that passion, not when she has so much to say about women and power and patriarchy.”

“I may be eighty-one,” Leela said, returning the smile, “but I’m just getting started. Why shouldn’t people know who I am?”

Before she’d even finished speaking, Sachin was introducing his companion. “My darling Jürgen was actually the one who pushed me to do this. He said it would be a waste for my talent to go uncelebrated.”

Sheetal bit down hard on the inside of her lip to keep from replying.

“The art world needs to be shaken up,” Jürgen announced. “It’s time it really examines its obsession with postmodern overtones and self-congratulation in the transgression of boundaries by majority voices. It is imperative we find innovative new ways to incorporate the current cross-cultural bleeding together of underrepresented voices and its impact on our narrative vision for the future.”

Words, Sheetal thought. So many words. She was pretty sure those were actual sentences, even, which blew her mind, seeing as how they didn’t mean anything.

“Plus you’re dying for that vacation house on the Amalfi Coast,” Sachin teased. “Don’t forget that part.” With Jürgen at his side, he seemed calmer, less moody than he’d been in the library. He darted a glance at Jeet, then back at Jürgen, who tapped him on the nose.

Sheetal relaxed back onto her cushion. Maybe she could actually survive this.

“My turn,” said Jeet, resting his arm on his knee just as a server approached Sheetal with a thali full of food.

“But I didn’t even order yet,” she protested.

The server set the plate before her. “No need—your house left instructions as to your diet. You are to have particularly caloric meals to provide you with extra fuel for your training as a star.”

Suddenly the food didn’t look so great. Nani had done what? And she’d let Sheetal find out in front of the other champions?

Priyanka was smirking, like she’d been proven right yet again. “Just one of us, huh?” she mocked. “What would you know about struggle, with your perfect little star family?”

“That’s not how it—” Jeet cut himself off. “Never mind.”

Sheetal stared at him. What did he think he knew about her family? What did any of them?

“You were going to tell us something,” Dev prompted. He kept avoiding Sheetal’s gaze. She felt herself getting mad, the flame at her core kindling. Why was he being like this?

“That’s right.” Jeet’s voice deepened. “I’m a writer. I want people to read my stories and carry them around in their heads. I want to change how they see the world. There’s literally nothing I wouldn’t do to have what I want. Nothing.”

The intensity with which he said that made everyone grow quiet. Even Dev seemed caught off guard.

Jeet must have noticed the shift in mood, because he laughed and elbowed Dev. “Unlike my cousin here and his music, I take my writing seriously.”

Dev shot him a dirty look. “Dude, calm down. This isn’t reality TV. You don’t have to throw me under the bus to prove yourself.” They stared at each other, and Sheetal held her breath, nervous.

Finally Jeet nodded. “You’re right. I got carried away. Sorry, bhai.” He held out his fist for Dev to bump.

Dev did. “It happens.”

“What about you, Sheetal?” Kirti asked.

“Yeah,” Priyanka goaded, “what about you?”

Sheetal realized she’d finished half her thali without really tasting it. “Uh—”

Priyanka’s lip curled. “‘Vacation house.’ You know why I’m here? My family in India has made Kathputli puppets for generations. They were known for it. But no one has time for old things anymore, and my grandfather had to sell his land and the studio where he made the puppets to keep us afloat. But I promised him I was going to bring back his legacy, and I am.” Scowling at Sheetal, she jumped to her feet. “No cheating star is going to stop me.”

She pivoted on her heel and flounced out.

No one said much of anything after that.





19


Sheetal knew she should’ve been asleep an hour ago, but she couldn’t relax, not with Priyanka banging away in the next suite. What was she doing in there?

It was a riddle for the ages how Minal, who’d gone to bed while Sheetal was still at dinner, could sleep through that. Who needs company? she thought, hurt. She hadn’t even gotten to tell Minal about being inspired. Or—her breath caught—to ask if she’d ever inspired any of Minal’s art projects. It was possible, wasn’t it?

Priyanka’s parting words jabbed at her again, digging in like fishhooks. But Sheetal couldn’t worry about other people trying to help their families. Even if she knew exactly what that felt like.

Her pulse ticked relentlessly. Two days left. Two days until her birthday. Two days until she had to win this competition for her own family.