From Twinkle, With Love(54)

He paused, his eyes wary. “Yeah?”

I had a million things I wanted to say: I’m sorry I freaked out like that; I don’t know what came over me. Or, I think Lewis is a total buttmunch, but I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin and I definitely shouldn’t have been so mean to him, and I’m not sure why I was. Or even, if I was being 110 percent honest, I’m a little scared of how I’m changing. Because I am starting to think I’m better than other people. Because of my talent. And I don’t know how to stop because it feels good, for once, to be the one on top. It feels good to not be on the bottom being crapped on. When have I ever, ever been in this position in my life? When have people ever needed me for anything? When have they ever had to listen to me or else? So maybe I flew off the handle. But I wonder what anyone else in my position would’ve done.

But in the end, all I said to Sahil was, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

His face sagged a little, like I’d let him down. “Yeah. See ya.”

I feel like I’m in some Alice in Wonderland production where I can’t tell what’s right and what’s wrong, what’s up and what’s down. Is it wrong for me to get mad at Lewis’s obviously sexist comments? At the fact that he wasn’t taking it seriously? I don’t think so. But I think I took it too far. I shouldn’t have said those things about his dad. I know that. It was wrong. The truth is, I have power for the first time in my life. And I can’t seem to stop it from going to my head. It scares me, Mira. I don’t want to turn into someone I hate. But I also don’t know what to do about it.

Love,

Twinkle





Friday, June 19

Honors Calculus


Dear Nora Ephron,

Today we got a nice little reprieve from the horror that is calculus. Mrs. Smith told us we could go to the library to “research one prominent figure in the field” (really she had a head cold and just wanted us out of her hair, I think). I was kids-cartoon-character-level happy. I mean, any day that I don’t have to spend cooped up in a classroom under fluorescent lights learning about open versus closed intervals is a good day.

Then, on impulse, I decided to check my e-mail. I mean, today was the day. The day N and I were meeting at Perk. I’d been feeling this low level of excitement/nerves all day, but that was all it was: a low level. I figured rereading his old e-mails might make me feel something more. And when I logged in to my account, I had one new e-mail from late last night. Pasted below.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Perk

Hi Twinkle,

I’m sorry, but I don’t think I can meet you at Perk today. I will explain soon. I hope you can forgive me.

—N



That was it. That’s all he said. Not even the courtesy of a plausible excuse! What the heck? Am I not even worth an “I’ve got swimmer’s ear” or “My house is on fire”??

I sat there and stared at the e-mail for the longest time, feeling my cheeks burning. I could feel the rage bubbling up again. First Lewis, now N? Did Neil think I was another disposable girl from the long line snaking outside his door? Did he feel that, as a groundling, I should just be grateful for any attention he threw my way? I may have flown off the handle with Lewis, but I felt fully justified in my anger toward N now. Here’s the thing: I was a freaking filmmaker. I was a director. I had talent, and I was out to change the world. I did not deserve to be treated this way and I wouldn’t stand for it anymore.

I balled my fists on the table in frustration. And then I pounded out a reply.

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Subject: Re: Perk

Fine, N. We don’t have to meet. I want you to know, though—this is totally uncool. You do not just cancel on someone at the last minute. What if I hadn’t seen your e-mail? And what sort of a non-explanation is “I’ll explain soon”? But you know what? If this is how you treat people, good luck ever being happy in life.

—Twinkle



I wavered a second before hitting send, but then I did and sat back, breathing hard. Neil had to know I wouldn’t stand for his crap. I wasn’t that person anymore.





Friday, June 19

My room


Dear Haifaa al-Mansour,

I was in a bad mood when I got home. I mean, I had planned to go downtown to the library and hang out reading romance novels to put me in the mood until it was time to meet N at Perk. But instead I’d ridden the bus home and had a whole afternoon of hanging out with Dadi to look forward to.

I walked in the door and Dadi looked up from her book (Who Moved My Tofu?) and immediately said, “Uh-oh, someone has a thundercloud face.”

I glared at her and walked to the kitchen to get a snack. “I do not.” Outside, Maggie the dog was barking her little head off, probably pining for Oso. “Does that dog ever shut up?” I slammed the drawer shut after I got a spoon for my yogurt.

Dadi waited till I was back in the living room to respond. She had set her book aside and was watching me with her head cocked. “Are you all right, Twinkle?”

“Fine. I’m just gonna be in my room.”

“But there’s a documentary film I thought we could watch together,” Dadi said. “The TV guide said it’s ‘essential viewing for anyone interested in a career in films.’”