Never Have I Ever

Hey, gods. It's Devi Vishwakumar,

your favorite Hindu girl in the San Fernando Valley.

What's a-poppin'?

It's the first day of school, and I thought we should have a check in.

I think we can all agree that last year sucked

for a number of reasons.

So I thought of a few ways you guys can make it up to me.

One: I'd like to be invited to a party with alcohol and hard drugs.

I'm not gonna do them. I'd just like the opportunity to say:

"No cocaine for me, thanks. I'm good."

Two: I'd love for my arm hair to thin out.

I know it's an Indian thing,

but my forearms look like the frigging floor of a barber shop.

And lastly, most importantly,

I'd really, really like a boyfriend,

but not some nerd from one of AP classes.

Like a guy from a sports team.

He can be dumb. I don't care.

I just want him to be a stone-cold hottie, who could rock me all night long.

Thanks for considering. I love you guys.

As she said, this is Devi Vishwakumar.

She's a 15-year-old Indian-American girl from Sherman Oaks, California,

and it's her first day of sophomore year.

And I am legendary tennis player, John McEnroe.

Point to Mr. McEnroe.

Wow, I look great there.

Now, you may be asking yourself:

why is sports icon John McEnroe narrating this tale?

-Dammit! - It'll make sense later, I promise.

Her story starts when her parents, Nalini and Mohan,

moved to the United States in September 2001.

Not a super chill time to be a brown person in America.

Yes!

Devi worshipped her father.

And while he and her mother stayed true to their Indian roots...

No, no, no, thank you. We are vegetarians.

...Devi was all-American.

But shortly after this barbecue,

things got complicated for this little family.

At Devi's spring orchestra concert,

Mohan had a heart attack.

Mohan!

Somebody call 9-1-1!

Somebody call an ambulance. An ambulance, please!

Mohan!

He died.

Devi was devastated,

but things were about to get even worse.

A week later...

Devi's legs stopped working.

There was no medical reason why, but they were definitely not working.

And now, she was in a wheelchair.

Just because Devi is confined to a wheelchair,

does not make her any less human.

As far as we know, it's not contagious.

But she wouldn't have to go through it alone.

Her two best friends took the situation in stride.

Well, maybe not in stride, but definitely in character.

One day, you will walk again.

If not, I will build you legs.

This is Fabiola Torres, captain of the high school robotics team.

And this is Eleanor Wong, president of the drama club.

This is worse than if it were happening to me.

In protest, I shan't use my legs either.

Aside from her friends,

there was only one other person who could raise her spirits...

and also her heart rate.

Paxton Hall-Yoshida, the hottest guy at Sherman Oaks High.

I know it's a little weird for me to be saying that,

but come on, look at this kid's jawline.

And as it turned out,

three months after Devi's paralysis set in,

Paxton's chiseled face actually worked a miracle.

Come on, dude. Give me a turn.

Just like that, she could walk again.

So today, Devi returns to high school.

Can she shed her old identity

as the paralyzed Indian girl,

whose dad dropped dead at a school function?

It's not likely.

Those things are pretty unforgettable,

but with working legs comes a whole host of new possibilities.

So go get 'em, Devi!

Devi, are you still praying? Our gods have other stuff to do, you know?

I was about to ask for good grades.

Now, grab your textbooks. We need to go.

Devi,

that textbook has been blessed. If it touches the ground,

I have to take it back to the priest.

I don't have the time to go to Rancho Cucamonga today.

It's fine. I caught it.

Oh, Devi!

I made you a lunch.

That's Devi's cousin, Kamala.

She moved in after Mohan's passing to complete her PhD at CalTech.

Devi is not a fan.

I don't bring lunch on Tuesdays. It's square pizza day.

Devi, don't be rude to your beautiful cousin.

I'm not that beautiful.

Sorry. Are you a model?

Oh, thank you so much.

No. I'm a biologist.

I could never be a model. I'm too curvaceous.

I know this sounds crazy, but would you want to get dinner?

Hey, buddy, keep it moving.

Take your broke-ass bike and get out of here.

This can't keep happening.

Our recycling bins can't take much more of this.

How long is Kamala gonna stay with us?

As long as it takes for her to finish her studies. Why?

She's just so... Indian.

Like, the other day,

she said she was gonna open the TV instead of turn on the TV.

Devi, she's family. She's bettering her life.

You could actually learn a bit from her.

I bet she doesn't let her textbooks fall on the floor.

Oh, my God. It never touched the ground!

As Devi walked into school for the first time,

it was impossible not to notice everybody staring at her.

But it didn't matter, because she had her squad.

Have you seen the nurse's new haircut? I love it.

No, I have to check it out.

Guys, sophomore year is gonna be our year. I can feel it.

Sophomore actually means "wise fool" in Greek,

so it can really go either way.

Oh, my God. I just realized

that this is our last first day of sophomore year we'll ever have.

-I'm gonna cry. -Right.

This reminds me of a problem I want to talk to you guys about.

We're not cool.

Uh, would a not cool person wear... one dangly earring?

Was that a choice, or did you lose your earring on the bus?

I didn't ride the bus. I rollerbladed.

Who says we're not cool?

We're the only students who get to eat in the teachers' lounge.

Yeah, we can't do that anymore.

We need to eat with kids our own age.

Guys, don't you want a better high-school experience?

I mean, last year was a freshmen shit-fest.

Are you saying that 'cause of your mobility issue?

What? No. Nobody even remembers that.

'Sup, FDR?

Well, nobody will remember that once we're cool.

Which brings me to my plan.

This year, we're rebranding.

We are glamorous women of color, who deserve a sexy high school life.

Fabiola, you are naturally snatched,

but you dress like a helpful Honda guy.

What are you talking about?

The janitor said I reminded him of his nephew.

Favorite nephew.

Eleanor, could you chill out on your spontaneous show tune singing?

Well, if you refuse to change your personalities,

I guess we'll just move onto step two, and get boyfriends.

Boyfriends?

I have chosen attainable, yet status-enhancing people

for each of us to date.

Fabiola, you get Alex Gomez.

-Ugh! - Suck it, Gomez.

I can't go out with Alex Gomez. He's like a foot shorter than me.

Yeah, but he has a hot face.

You'll be like Zayn and Gigi.

-Who are they? -Zayn and Gigi.

Are you out of your goddamn mind? Forget it.

Eleanor, you are gonna date Boris Kozlov.

The Russian exchange student?

He's eating an onion.

Yeah. He's international and sexy.

You could write a play about it.

Hmm, intriguing.

Who are you going for?

Jonah Sharpe.

Oh, my God, Tiffany. Where did you get that top? I'm gagged.

Uh... Jonah Sharpe is gay.

But technically, he's not out yet, and he's pretty popular,

so I'll be his beard until I can springboard off of him

to a straight boyfriend.

You know you sound like a sociopath, right?

Sociopaths get shit done, Fab.

Now, go sit next to your marks, and lock 'em down.

Hi.

Hi.

Hey, Jonah. You smell great today.

Thank you. It's Forever by Mariah Carey.

Oh.

This disgusted reaction belongs to Ben Gross, Devi's nemesis.

Because Devi and her friends were an ethnically diverse group

of academically-focused, um...

I can't think of a better word for "dorks."

The rest of the school called them the gently racist nickname, the UN.

It was widely known to have been created by Ben.

Do you know when you can't use your legs for no medical reason,

it's called psychosomatic?

Which, my dad says, means fake.

Ben Gross's father, Howard, whom he idolized,

was a top entertainment attorney in Beverly Hills.

This allowed Ben Gross to dine out for years

on the fact that Blake Griffin was at his Bar Mitzvah.

And he and Devi had been vying for the number one spot in the class

every year since the first grade.