The second part of this author’s note talks about something a little more serious: the heart of this book, beyond just the inspiration. This book follows the main character, Mina Rahman, on her journey as she grapples with her mental health, being diaspora, and navigating complicated familial relationships, all of which is very in tune with my own experiences. While this story is very fun and chaotic and just a little bit ridiculous, this is also a story about gaining agency and survival and making the best of what you have. It reflects one singular experience—because we are not a monolith and we never will be, which is why it’s important to read widely and expansively, to get a whole scope of everyone’s different experiences—and one girl’s path to finding herself. At the end of the day, I believe this is a book about hope and perseverance and love, love, love. The love you have for your family, the love you have for your friends, the love you have for your significant other, the love you have for your home, and, most importantly, the love you have for yourself.

So as you embark on Mina’s journey, I hope you know that you are loved. You are fiercely, tenderly loved. As someone once told me when I was a teenager: There are people you may not even know yet who are waiting for you with open arms, and they will love you unconditionally. Trust me. Keep your head up.

And I did. I hope you will, too.

All the love,

Tashie

Opening

Opening

“I’m not a bad person for wanting.”

—MINA RAHMAN

(SCREENWRITER, COUNTING DOWN WITH YOU)

1

The world looks better when it’s caught on film. It’s an indisputable fact. With the right lighting, the perfect angle, and a filter or two thrown in, something ordinary can become phenomenal.

As my younger sister puts on an impromptu fashion show in my bedroom, I itch to record it, to keep this memory forever rather than just in this one moment.

But when I give in to the urge, pressing Record on my phone, I come face-to-face with a scowl.

“Stop filming me, and tell me what I should wear to school,” Anam says, shoving my shoulder and jostling my phone. My sister prefers to live in the moment, shaking her head in exasperation whenever she sees me recording, but that’s never stopped me before.

“I can multitask,” I say, making a face at her. She sticks her tongue out, and I roll my eyes, though we both know I don’t mean it. I’ve never been able to hold a grudge against her for more than a few hours.

Anam nudges me again, so I set down my phone on my bedside table, beside a stack of unfinished scripts. When I turn back to my sister, I take in her maxi dress and high heels combination with appraising eyes.