My So-Called Bollywood Life(60)

“Yo,” she said from the door.

“I’ll be out of your way soon,” Henry said. His voice was so cold that it heated her temper in return.

“Hey! Why the hell are you mad? You call me a friend but then lie to me.”

“Well, you hurt my friend and my girlfriend. Duh.”

“So, what, I’m automatically the bad guy? You don’t even know my side of the story!”

He stopped what he was doing and faced her. “Life isn’t like one of your Bollywood movies, Winnie. You can’t press the pause button on a remote here. You should’ve told Reece to screw himself. I thought you were smart enough not to believe in a stupid horoscope.”

“I’m so sick of self-righteous jerks telling me what to believe in and what not to believe in, what to do with my life and what not to do. No one knows how important my janampatri reading is like I do. I grew up with it, not you. It’s a part of my culture, not yours. And yeah, I have a tendency to compare everything to a movie. It makes me happy, and it’s worked for me. So screw your stupid judgmental standards,” she said as she walked over to the closest projector and kicked it. A booming sound echoed through the room, and the film on the screen flickered before normalizing.

    When the rattling sound died, Winnie pressed a finger to one nostril, breathed in, and then pressed a finger to the other nostril and breathed. She then sucked in her stomach and pushed it out in a few quick short pants.

“What are you doing?” Henry said after a moment.

“My grandmother does it. It’s supposed to help with stress,” Winnie said, and then tried breathing through her nose again. When she felt like her head wasn’t going to explode anymore, she stopped and opened her eyes. “There.”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Do you feel better?” he asked. He was standing in the same spot as before, with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Yeah, actually. Who would’ve thought all that weird stomach breathing worked? Anyway, listen. I didn’t do anything to you, and for what it’s worth, after a week I know that I screwed up with Dev. I screwed up with Bridget, too, but you guys should’ve told me, Henry. Not cool.”

He blushed but nodded. “Yeah, okay. I should’ve said something.”

“Good,” she said. “Now I have to ask you a favor.”

“A favor?”

    “Yeah, I need you and Eric to help me. When I first started working here, Eric and Dev mentioned something about flash screenings. I haven’t seen one since I’ve been here, but from what I understand, they sell out.”

Henry grabbed the back of the chair he was sitting in, flipped it around, and straddled the seat. “Yeah, but mostly in the summer. Why are you asking…oh. Winnie, this is a holy baby Shah Rukh Khan moment!”

Winnie laughed. “Exactly. In a Bollywood movie, the hero has to do something big to show the heroine that he’s fighting for her, right? This is gender-role reversal. I’m fighting for my hero.”

Henry’s lips parted in an O, and then he grinned. His whole face lit up. “I’m in. What do you need?”





21





SATTE PE SATTA / SEVEN ON SEVEN





Whether the movie is the Hollywood original or the Bollywood remake, the message is the same: go big or go home.





Winnie sat in Mr. Reece’s office, in the same chair that she always seemed to occupy when there was bad news afoot.

“Are you sure this is your final decision?” Mr. Reece said.

“Yes. I’m positive.”

“Winnie, I don’t understand. I’m glad you’re still part of film club, but leading the film festival has been something you’ve worked toward for months. You spent a lot of time begging me to bend the rules. Is it that easy for you to give up?”

“No, it’s definitely not easy,” she said with a snort. “But I think you’re wrong about all of this, and I can’t stand by my beliefs and still be in charge of your festival. So I’m out. But I’m not giving up altogether. That’s the second part of what I wanted to tell you. I’m going to host my own festival.”

    She had the pleasure of watching his mouth drop. “I’m sorry. I swear I thought you said that you were going to host your own film festival.”

“Yup,” she said. The idea had become more of a reality after she’d told both Eric and Henry her preliminary plans. She had a place, a crew, and a week to pull it together. “I have pretty much everything set up, but I am missing one crucial part. That’s where I’m hoping I can ask your help.”

Mr. Reece took off his glasses. “Why do I feel I’m not going to like this?”

“Well, that really depends on you. The student film festival is only able to accommodate twelve shorts. We haven’t informed the applicants who didn’t make it yet. Instead of giving them some bad news, I was hoping, with your support, that I could offer the strongest contenders a spot in my festival. Before you ask, this doesn’t break any rules. I checked.”

He frowned, his eyes narrowing on hers. “You want to use school submissions for your own personal use?”

“With the permission of the filmmaker,” she said.