A Plan for Payback Is Formed In This Excerpt From Payal Mehta’s Romance Revenge Plot
It’s a truth universally acknowledged that high school is hard. It’s a period of big emotions and bigger decisions, where inexperienced teens must navigate complicated issues of love, friendship, and identity. This, of course, is part of what makes this time period fertile ground for all sorts of stories, ranging from unrequited crushes to revenge. We get both in Payal Mehta’s Romance Revenge Plot, a charming YA rom-com about an Indian American teen who’s had her heart set on popular boy Jonathan ever since freshman year. But when he tries to set her up with his Indian friend—simultaneously their differences in ethnic background make a relationship with Jonathan a no-go—Payal is determined to teach him a lesson. And she’s so desperate to succeed she’s willing to turn to her worst enemy for help.
The debut YA romance from Preeti Chhibber, author of the Marvel middle-grade series about a young Spider-Man, Payal Mehta’s Romance Revenge Plot is full of entertaining banter and familiar (beloved) tropes. Its entertaining premise is given additional depth by its sweet if occasionally naive heroine, and the strength of its larger messages around self-esteem and self-acceptance. Plus, don’t we all love that moment when we realize those strong feelings our heroine has for her supposedly mortal enemy isn’t actually hate at all?
Here’s how the publisher describes the story.
Payal Mehta has had a crush on popular, athletic, all-around perfect Jonathan Slate ever since he smiled at her in freshman–year Spanish class. At a party during spring break of her junior year, Payal finally works up the courage to ask Jon to hang out. However, her romantic plans are derailed when he vomits on her Keds. Twice. But when Jon offers to take her out to lunch as an apology, Payal is convinced this is the start of their love story.
Over chalupas and burritos at Taco Bell, Payal’s best jokes are landing as planned. Jon is basically choking on his Coke—and then it happens. “Do you have a boyfriend?” Payal is (finally) about to get the guy. And then he tries to set her up with his Indian friend. Payal’s best friends, Neil Patel and Divya Bhatt, are just as mad about the microaggression as Payal is, but they think she’s a little too hung up on him.
Determined to teach Jon a lesson by making him fall for her, Payal ropes in her archnemesis, Philip Kim, to help. It’s the perfect plan. Minus Philip’s snarky, annoying quips and lack of faith in its success. But as Payal lies to the people she loves, hides the too-Indian parts of herself in front of her crush, and learns that maybe Philip isn’t the worst, she starts to wonder if what she’s been looking for has been scowling at her all along…
Payal Mehta’s Romance Revenge Plot will hit shelves on September 24, but you can pre-order it right now. And we’re thrilled to be able to give you an exclusive early look at the story below.
Chapter 8
In the parking lot, the cool morning air mixed with our state’s famous humidity to make my skin feel extra clammy. I was not into it. I’d emailed Philip before going to bed to meet me before homeroom so we could go over whatever his idea was for the experiment. Our project deserved at least some of my focus, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wasn’t American25 enough for Jon Slate or for my parents or for…maybe anyone at all.
I leaned against the side of my car and knocked my heel against the tire. Why was I letting this affect me so much? I didn’t want to be the kind of girl who let a cute boy ruin her self-esteem. According to society, I was supposed to be strong and independent and not care about anyone else’s opinion but my own. But that’s hard. I scowled at the empty lot around me. Now I felt bad because of Jon’s ignorance and how easily he’d implied that I was only an option for his Indian friend and because I cared about what he thought. I let my head fall back against the roof of the Honda and stared up at the sky. There was a huge cartoonishly fluffy cloud passing by, and I wished on it to stop thinking about Jon Slate and his annoying opinions. The sound of wheels turning into the gate broke through my thoughts.
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25 Nothing like having a long history of your immigrant parents equating being American with being white. One might get some kind of complex or something.
Philip pulled into the spot next to me. I watched him get his things together and wondered if he ever went through the same thing I was experiencing—people making assumptions about who he was based on his culture. Like me, he couldn’t hide how different he was. He didn’t only hang with other Korean kids, though; his friend group was a mixed bag. If there was one commonality within his friend group, it was that they were people who liked to talk about being smart.
I wasn’t being mean; it was a fact. He opened his door and unfolded out of his tiny compact to join me in my leaning.
“How do you even fit in that car?” I asked, but I knew the question sounded more tired than biting.
“Very comfortably, Mehta. What’s up your butt?” I shot him a stink eye. But he didn’t even notice, choosing instead to survey the path to the school ahead of us. Like he was deliberately not looking at me. My stink eye shifted to a glare.
“Nothing, jerk. Tell me your idea that we probably won’t even do because I’m sure it won’t be good.” Philip laughed at me, and I glowered. He scrubbed at the back of his head before shaking it.
“Okay, we will not go into Payal Mehta’s weird psyche and instead I’ll tell you about my excellent plan to get us both A’s on this project.”
But before Philip could go into it, another car turned into the lot.
We both turned toward the sound, and then I did a double take. It couldn’t be. It was a Kia. A Kia containing a guy who’d thrown me into the depths of an identity crisis. Shit. I immediately dropped down to a crouch on the ground between my car and Philip’s. “Mehta?” Philip looked down at me, his bangs hanging forward so I could see thin black brows drawn together in confusion.
“Shhh!” I reached up and yanked on his sleeve to get him to duck down with me. He landed next to me with a thud.
“Ow—hey—what is happening right now?” He started to get back up, which could not happen.
“Just stay down, Philip. Please!” His eyes widened and he nodded, pulling his knees up and falling back against his car door.
“Okay, okay.” He was talking to me like I was a scared puppy. I did not care for it.
“Don’t patronize me! I just . . . don’t want to see . . . someone.”
Good job at explaining that one, Payal. He gave me a deadpan stare and then crawled to peek around the hood of his car to see who I could possibly be talking about. “Philip! No!” I said as emphatically as I could while still being quiet enough to not be noticed by Jon Slate.
“Is that . . . Jon?” Jon was making his way to the school doors. Why did this keep happening? He never came to school early, and now two days in one week? “Oh, right. I heard about the vomit thing. Things.” He looked back at me and how I was ducking my head extra deep into my hoodie. “This seems…excessive, though. Even for you, Mehta. Didn’t I see him give you a very public apology?”
I covered my face with my hands.
“Please stop talking,” I said into my palms before pulling my hands back down to see what was happening. Philip had turned back to watch Jon walk into the school. I fell onto my butt and sat on the cold, hard ground. Is this how it was going to be every time I saw him? Having to sit through the burn of inadequacy his words had manifested to run through my veins over something I couldn’t. Even. Change. Something I didn’t want to change!
“Okay . . . I’m standing up now if that’s alright with you.” Philip didn’t wait for me to answer. He stood and dusted off the knees of his black jeans. I stayed seated. “Seriously, Mehta, what is with the drama? Who cares about that pill?” He softened his harsh words with a hand out to help me. I sighed and took it, surprised by how strong his grip was as he pulled me up. He let go as soon as I was standing, and I stretched my fingers out before running them through my hair, pushing it off my face.
“It’s not the throwing up thing. That was….” I paused, looking for the right words to finish the sentence, before finally deciding on “whatever.” I pulled the sleeves of my hoodie over my hands. “He took me to lunch yesterday.”
“Oh damn. Is that where you were running to with your face looking like that?” Philip gave me an appraising look, one eyebrow cocked.
“With my face looking like what?” I challenged. That was one thing I didn’t regret; I’d looked cute yesterday! Philip looked away from me, and instead of answering, he went back to the subject of Jon Slate.
“Didn’t know Slate knew how to talk to people who don’t know the Big East schedule by heart.”
“Shut up. It was his way of apologizing, I guess. He was trying to do a nice thing. I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” Why was I telling Philip Kim anything? He was standing there in his annoying polo with his annoying bomber jacket with all the annoying pins stuck on it. The morning sun glinted off the shifting pins as he shrugged.
“I don’t know, man. So, he took you to lunch and now you have to duck between our cars like you’re on the run after a bank heist?”
I opened the back door to my car and sat, legs hanging over the edge. “I thought it was a date, and he thought it was a great time to set me up with his other random brown friend.”
“Oh . . . Yikes.” Philip had stayed leaning against the driver’s side. The open door was between us. “That’s…shitty.”
“Yeah.” It was surprising that Philip was being nice. I didn’t trust him. “Look, it was humiliating, but please don’t use this against me.” He moved to throw his arms over the door and leaned down, resting his chin on his crossed arms. There was a small bemused smile on his face.
“Against you? I’m not your enemy, Mehta.”
I looked up at him and was immediately disoriented by the angle. His cheekbones looked like they could cut glass. “Aren’t you?” I had to ask. We’d been competing forever. He tilted his head to the right.
“Feels like Jon Slate’s more of an enemy than I am. That was a fucked-up thing he said to you.”
“You don’t think I’m overreacting?” More cars were pulling in, and the lot was starting to fill up. Soon Neil would get in and find me so we could dissect the entire afternoon. But for some reason, I wanted to get Philip’s perspective. He wouldn’t lie to me, because he had no reason to spare my feelings.
“No. Look, Mehta. I know we screw with each other over grades and shit. But I am telling you that that wasn’t cool.” It was a strange kind of relief, being validated by someone you constantly disagree with.
“Thanks, Philip.” I put my fingers through the handle above the window and pulled myself up. After shutting the door, I turned to look him in the eye. “But if you say anything about this, I’ll take you down, cool?”
His cheek indented in a telltale sign that he was biting the inside to keep from laughing. The scar under his eye disappeared as his eyes scrunched with suppressed mirth.
“Philip! Seriously!”
He raised his hands in acquiescence. “Okay, okay. I swear that I won’t say anything.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket to look at the time. “And now that we’ve spent the whole morning talking about your boy issues—”
“Hey!” He continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “We don’t have time to go over the experiment. Lunch?”
“Payal!” Neil was waving to me from the stairs to the school. I pulled my backpack onto my shoulders and nodded at Philip.
“Yeah, that works. Let’s meet in the media center.” He shot me a quick thumbs-up before rushing off to do whatever it was that Philip Kim did before class started.
***
“Well, now you can put Slate into the thanks-but-no-thanks column, right?” Neil had been trying to find the bright side of yesterday’s fiasco since I met up with him at the stairs leading up to the door. It was exactly what I did not want to go through.
“I guess.”
I took stock of the people we passed in the hallway while we walked to class. It was South Florida, so it wasn’t like there weren’t a decent number of non-white kids at the school. That didn’t stop so many of us from feeling the minority label pretty hard. When I was little, I’d endured taunts about weird smells or being dark or ugly, but as I’d gotten older, it seemed like people had realized that those jokes weren’t that funny. Or maybe it was the mainstream proliferation of yoga and chai, who knows. Whatever the reason, they’d stopped, mostly.
At the very least, I’d stopped hearing them.
If I was being honest with myself, I did always wonder if there were cliques where the jokes continued. I took another look around. Was it just me or was the hallway more monochromatic than I remembered? I’d spent my whole life knowing I was Indian, but it had rarely felt like a reason for me to be an outcast at my high school26. I mean, there had been that month in ninth grade when Kevin Miller had called me Curry Pie for a week, but he was kidding, and it was harmless. At least that was how my teacher had described it when I told on Kevin. So I brushed that kind of stuff off. And it wasn’t like the real world, where the words I feared were terrorist or un-American’ Honestly, I’d take Curry Pie over terrorist any day of the week.
“Payal, are you listening to me?” I looked to my left in surprise to find it vacant of my best friend. Neil had stopped walking and was several feet behind me, tapping his foot. He was unconcerned by the crowds of kids trying to get around him. My kingdom for that confidence.
“Umm, no. But I’ve had a very trying day and it’s not even eight o’clock yet.”
He gave me his best Uncle look. “That’s not an excuse, but I will agree you’ve had an eventful few days.” He shook it off and resumed. “What I was saying was that Slate’s as beige as I thought, and we are moving on from that silly little crush. Come on.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the walk to our classes.
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26 Even when people were being trash in the real world, the microcosm of my life was fine. Is this what they mean when they say rude awakening? Because this was rude as hell.
“It sucks that what he said isn’t even about me. It’s about some garbage preconception.
That sucks. It’s like I’m not involved at all. I don’t like feeling like nothing I do matters.” My shoulders slumped, and I dropped my head.
“Oi, mere jaan27, let’s pull back a little. He’s a sheltered, myopic, ignorant dude who, honestly, isn’t good enough for you.”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Mom.”
“No, seriously. You’re too good for him.” We reached Neil’s homeroom, and he paused a few steps away from the door. “I’ll see you at lunch?” He asked. I shook my head.
“I can’t. I have to meet up with Philip Kim about psych.”
Neil grimaced and walked backward into the door to push it open. “Ew, okay, well, text me when you’re done.” With that, he disappeared into biology with Dr. Raiford, and I was left to make the rest of my way to class on my own. I stretched out the straps dangling from my backpack and held them taut while I headed to my own homeroom. The crowd around me was shrinking as kids dropped into their classes, but I still kept my measured pace, thinking and thinking and thinking.
The whole situation really was unfair. Why should I give up on a crush I had for the entirety of my high school experience because Jon didn’t see how great I was for someone like him? If he didn’t like me, or my personality, fine. But he what? Didn’t know Indian people could date white people, I guess? He assumed, without any of my input whatsoever, that because of where my parents were from, I was not a viable option for his dating life.
I stopped short. How was that acceptable?
You know what? It wasn’t! I felt my eyebrows tightening in a way that my mom said would give me wrinkles at the injustice of it all. Jon didn’t get to categorically decide who was appropriate for me to date. What kind of modern woman would I be if I let him? No one could make that decision but me. I was in charge of my own destiny! As I reached my class door, I squared my shoulders and made a decision.
Jon Slate was going to fall for me.
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27 A beautiful sentiment because we are each other’s lives . . . and not because we are dangerously codependent.
Payal Mehta’s Romance Revenge Plot
Kokila
An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York
Copyright © 2024 by Preeti Chhibber