My So-Called Bollywood Life(15)

    “Ms. Mehta—”

“Hear me out. One of the con artists professes his love for Basanti, this loud-mouthed, independent village girl. Basanti’s aunt is so not okay with this guy, so Con Artist gets super drunk, climbs a water tower, and threatens to jump unless Basanti’s aunt lets him marry Basanti. The whole town is yelling at him to not jump, and then also yelling at Basanti’s aunt to say yes to the marriage and to save his life.”

“I’m not sure I’m following—”

Winnie planted her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “The film club is the town, Mr. Reece. They’re watching me while someone has rejected me, and I’m begging Raj, who is Basanti, to pay attention. The only difference between me and the con artist in Sholay is that the town has no interest in helping me and I’m not drunk.”

“Stop right there,” Mr. Reece said, holding up a hand. “If this is you tattling on Raj, then I don’t want to hear it. You two are young adults and can work through your own differences.”

“In all the years we’ve known each other, Mr. Reece, have I ever not acted like an adult? My life is Sholay right now. I need an Amitabh Bachchan.”

    “A who?”

“The other con man in the story. Amitabh doesn’t exactly say that he’s helping, and as a front, it looks like he made the situation worse by telling the aunt some bad stuff. But everyone who has ever watched the movie knows that Amitabh has a key part in his con-man friend’s happiness. I need you to help convince Raj to talk to me. Subtly. Like Amitabh.”

“You’ll figure it out between the two of you, Winnie. Or Raj will. He seems to be doing a great job with not only communicating the film-club lineup, but everything else.”

“What? I made that lineup last year when I gave it to Ms. Jackson!”

“Raj shared it with me and walked me through it, something you should’ve handled instead of hassling Ms. Jackson to come back. Raj has many other commitments, and yet he’s executing the work for the club and festival—”

“Thanks to me,” Winnie said.

“Be that as it may…Raj is doing a bang-up job. He’s even taking the initiative of finding a festival headliner, which you’ve never thought to do.”

Winnie felt as if Mr. Reece had slapped her across the face. “I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What headliner?”

Mr. Reece sighed. “Instead of inviting the same judges we do every year, he wants to get someone with a little bit more clout using his father’s new connections. I know you’re butting heads with him, but a headliner could generate revenue for the club. It’s also in the bylaws as an option for club events.”

    “The reason our judges are the same at the film festival every year is because Princeton University gives us the auditorium for free if we support their film and drama department. That’s a huge expense we don’t have to cover with the fund-raiser. But if we need to pay for a location, the amount of money we have to raise goes up by almost five thousand dollars. We don’t have that much cash, which means we won’t have a venue.”

“I suggest you lower your voice, Ms. Mehta,” he said. “I think you need to appreciate your current role. You’re still leading the weekend club events. You sent the correspondence for this Sunday evening’s viewing. From what I can tell, Raj let you take charge of that while he handles the festival, like it should be. This isn’t a competition.”

“But it’s becoming one,” she said. “It feels like he’s edging me out of the film festival and you’re helping. I—I still have feelings,” she said, her voice hitching. “Like a leftover friendship thing, maybe, and you’re not making this easy for me to deal with while I’m trying to build my college application.”

Mr. Reece’s eyes widened in alarm. “Hold it. Crying is for the counselor’s office.” He pulled out a dozen tissues from the box on his desk and shoved them toward her.

Winnie picked up one from the pile and sniffled into it. “Okay.” She wanted to add jerk but knew that would be pushing it.

    “I think you better sit down with Raj, Winnie,” Mr. Reece said gently. “You can’t run to the faculty advisor for everything. That may have been how Ms. Jackson managed it, but not me. Let me know what you decide.”

He looked at her as if he was waiting for her to leave, so with the little bit of pride she had left, Winnie grabbed her backpack and ticked two fingers against her forehead in a salute.

“Well, I learned that I may be standing on a water tower,” she said, sniffling one last time, “but I don’t have anyone’s support today. Thanks for being so incredibly helpful, Mr. Reece. You are definitely not an Amitabh Bachchan.”

“Ms. Mehta—”

She was already shutting the door behind her and walking toward the nearest exit. When she rounded a corner, she saw a very familiar head.

The hallways cleared for Raj as he walked down the corridor. It was almost as if people were making way for royalty. Winnie rushed toward him, ignoring the crowd, who obviously didn’t treat her the same way. When she got to the door he’d passed through, her stomach dropped. The boys’ bathroom. Great.

Should she wait for him?