Knives Out meets Never Have I Ever in this hilarious and twisty young adult mystery-comedy about an Indian American teen whose family reunion at a lavish manor falls into chaos after her grandma is attacked.
Nothings brings family together like attempted murder.
There are three things Jayshree Devi can count on happening at her annual family reunion: 1) her cousins will forget she exists, 2) her aunts will try to set her up, and 3) her uncles will get into a fight. What she doesn’t expect? An accident that lands her grandmother in a coma, throwing the family—and their matriarch’s sizeable fortune—into chaos.
When Jay discovers Grand Mom’s “accident” might not have been so accidental after all, she’ll have to dig through decades of secrets to find the truth. With the help of her (annoyingly perky) cousins and one of their (annoyingly hot) friends, Jay finds herself knee-deep in a mystery that’s even more tangled than her family tree.
But the closer Jay gets to answers, the closer she gets to finding her place amongst the relatives who once felt so distant. With Grand Mom’s life and fortune hanging in the balance, can Jay save her family and maybe hook up with a hottie while she’s at it?
Release date:
August 11, 2026
Publisher:
Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Print pages:
384
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Chapter 1 Chapter 1 I plan to kill Grand Mom with a long-range rifle.
My sister plans to kill her with a shark.
Mom plans to kill her by accident.
And Dad plans to use a pillow, since they’re very soft, and it’ll be “just like she’s going to sleep forever.”
Everyone laughed when Dad finally told us his plan two years ago. Each member of my big Indian family has a plan to kill Grand Mom. It’s like how you become an official family member. The best plans are both disturbing and funny. Many have been announced right here—at Shirasoni Hibachi Grill and Restaurant.
It’s day two of our annual family reunion. Our private back room smells entirely of griddled meat. Half the family is vegetarian (myself included), but we’re not the ones who make the decisions.
Seventeen of us total, and we’re just wrapping up. Broccoli has been flung, eggs spun, chicken bits hurled across the table. The young chef who cooked our meal is wiping down the griddle with a wet, white rag. Steam pours off the hot surface. The rag hisses with each grinding push. And little bits of his triceps pop out from under his shirt sleeves—pop, pop, pop.
“Will you get them already, Shyla!” That’s Grand Mom. She’s on my right, wearing a gold sari, black shawl, and jewel-studded necklace that looks five pounds, easy. Them refers to Prithi and Beks, my cousins, who’ve been missing for most of the meal. “I’m making my announcement in five minutes,” Grand Mom says. “Get them or don’t.”
That’s the only part of dinner left—Grand Mom’s big announcement. Everyone thinks it’s about her will. Grand Mom’s got three properties in downtown Bengaluru. They’re worth tens of millions. That’s how the whole kill–Grand Mom jokes started. If Grand Mom’s dead, the family can finally sell the properties, and everyone gets rich!
Not that anyone actually wants Grand Mom dead.
“Fine, I’m going.” Aunt Shy rises on my left, towering over the table in a yellow, single-color kurta. Aunt Shy is Prithi’s mom. She’s about five foot nine, tall for an Indian lady, and she wears big fancy heels so she’s taller than her husband, even. She’s my favorite aunt, and I stare up as she says, “Jayshree, you come too.”
My face contorts, and I point at myself. Me? People don’t really ask me to join things. They mostly ignore me and forget I’m here. That’s my role in the family—invisible Jayshree.
“Yes, you,” Aunt Shy says. “Come on, be quick about it. Prithi said they were going to use the bathroom. We’ll check there.”
I tell Aunt Shy, “Yeah, okay,” but in my head alarm bells sound because Prithi and Beks are definitely not in the bathroom. “Use the bathroom” is their code for We’re gonna go outside and make out.
And I know how that sounds. It’s like, Umm, so everyone in this family plans to kill Grand Mom, and cousins be making out?
And the answers are yes and yes, but it’s all good because Prithi and Beks are not blood related.
Prithi is a cousin on my dad’s side. She has a narrow face, sharp features, and bright brown eyes. She wears dresses at 10 a.m., holiday sweaters off the shoulder, things like that. She’s pretty and funny and bold, and when she talks, everyone listens. I’ve admired her my whole life.
Beks is a cousin on my mom’s side (the white side). She lives in the same neighborhood as Prithi, and since all our reunions are at Prithi’s house, Beks gets invited. Beks has freckles, a flame of red hair, a filthy mouth like a cat’s ass (Beks’ description, not mine), and I love her because she will stand up to anyone.
I hop up from the table, and Aunt Shy grabs my hand. I’m wearing dark jeans and a lavender long sleeve with ruffle trim. I’d never buy a frilly top like this, but Prithi tossed it to me a few hours ago. “You’ll look great in this. Put it on.”
That was really nice.
“Hurry back!” Grand Mom shouts. “There’s a special part of the announcement for Jayshree!”
The entire room goes hush hearing that. We have three tables, and Uncle Raj drops a single chopstick at his. The hollow clatter of it echoes from the floor until someone yells, “Who’s Jayshree?”
Probably my cousin Nirmal. Asshole.
I use that moment to yank Aunt Shy out of the room while avoiding all eye contact.
I guess a normal person would make a quick comeback or knock a water glass onto Nirmal’s pants or something. Instead, I’ve got this weird programming in me, like, don’t make a scene, don’t cause a fuss, don’t attract attention. It doesn’t make sense, because in soccer I literally knock people over to win a ball. But in real life, in group settings, I just—I can never find my voice.
We emerge into the restaurant’s main hall, and it’s like an assault on the senses. On our left, a stack of onion rings bursts into flames. Ahead, water sprays a griddle and smoke billows into the air. I leap right as a fireball engulfs another griddle slicked with oil, and behind me, a chef conducts music, using his metal spatula and salt and pepper shakers.
Grand Mom’s words replay in my head, and I decide to probe Aunt Shy. “Do you know what Grand Mom meant by—the special part in the announcement?” Grand Mom lives in Aunt Shy’s giant home, where all the reunions happen. If someone knows what’s up, it’s her.
“I don’t know, Jayshree.” Her words trail up in pitch, and I shake my head. Aunt Shy’s my most mischievous aunty.
“Okay. This way,” I tell her. “Prithi’s probably doing her makeup.”
Prithi is one hundred percent outside, whispering sweet nothings to Beks. Not about to lead Aunt Shy there, though. Maybe the cousins ignore me, but I’m no snitch.
“She is not,” Aunt Shy says. “She’s getting handsy with that cousin of yours, Becky, outside, and we’re going to stop them.”
Uhh, crap.
“What makes you think that?” I say, bumping into a cart of raw meat plates.
“Don’t play the innocent, Jayshree. I know they’ve been sexy-sexy for several family reunions. We all love Becky; I’m happy she comes to the reunions. But my god, can you imagine if Grand Mom knew? Or worse…”
She stops herself, and I’m left a bit confused. Also, I’m pretty sure Grand Mom encouraged Prithi to go for it with Beks.
“I don’t think Prithi should have to hide who she is,” I say.
“Of course not,” Aunt Shy says. “She can talk with me. We’re very close. Prithi told me she’s a lesbian three years ago. Good for her. My only request was that she still bear us a grandchild. Otherwise, I will be forced to take her vagina away.”
I crack up, knowing she’s joking and loving that Aunt Shy said vagina. No other aunty would dare utter the V word.
“And as for Grand Mom,” Aunt Shy says. “I plan to have her killed long before then.”
Grand Mom’s eighty-nine. She survived her husband and all her nine siblings. She has a very morbid sense of humor, which is where we all get it from. According to Grand Mom, she’s “unkillable,” which I think is not really a word… more of a mindset.
“How are you planning to kill Grand Mom?” I ask.
Aunt Shy looks me dead in the eyes. “Slowly.”
Damn!
“Okay, stop.” Aunt Shy halts me just right of the entrance. “Now, you go outside and tell your cousins to straighten up and come back for the announcement. I would go, but I don’t want to see any handsy-pansy. Get it?”
“Yeah.”
“Good, now get your coat.”
Aunt Shy turns and grabs the doorknob to the coat closet. She twists and—click, click, click. “Blasted thing is stuck!” She keeps twisting. “Lean your shoulder here, Jayshree.”
This is another role I play in the family. I’m the strong one, the sporty one. I can do pull-ups, which I think is cool, but they think it’s odd. I heard Mom say once, “We don’t know where she gets it.” Like it’s hard to believe I’m even part of the family.
In soccer it works out because I made varsity this year as a sophomore. But in the family, women are praised for their beauty, their smarts, their singing and dancing. Being physically strong is… not desirable. Not in women.
I snap back into the moment as Aunt Shy says, “Just put some muscle, Jayshree!”
Maybe there’s an occasional need for physical strength…
The blond teenage hostess wanders over. “Sorry, ma’am, it’s always getting caught. Do you need help?”
“No need. We’ve almost got it!”
“Ma’am…”
Aunt Shy is getting herself all worked up now, jiggling that doorknob. “Stupid restaurant. Everything is meat. Coat closets that try to steal your jacket.”
“Ma’am, really—it’ll just take a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute!” Aunt Shy yells. “My mother’s announcing the fate of our family in one minute! Now you ram this door, Jayshree. You ram it! Ram it!”
I throw a shoulder into the door like it’s a body I’m defending. Something shifts, the door swings into the closet, Aunt Shy and I tumble in…
… and that’s when the shrieking starts.
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