Better You Than Me

by Jessica Brody

  “What’s going on?” I ask Ethan over the music.

  But he just shrugs and shakes his head. “No idea.”

  I do my best to try to block out the noise, but it becomes increasingly more difficult to do so. Especially when I notice that the attention of the room has shifted again. Now they’re no longer looking at their phones.

  They’re looking straight at me.

  I stand in the stall of the bathroom, staring down at the screen of my phone in disbelief. My hands are trembling as I read the headline of the Celebrity Spot article again and again. But no matter how long I stare at them, the words on the screen don’t change.

  Ruby Rivera disses “BFF” Carey Divine

  I scroll down farther, my palms sweating as lines of text seem to jump right off the screen and slap me in the face.

  “She has no talent…”

  “Our friendship is a sham…”

  “…all the Xoom! Channel’s idea.”

  “I actually can’t stand her…”

  “…thinks she soooo amazing.”

  The article claims I said these things about Carey. (Or rather, Ruby did.) They’re even in direct quotes, like it was pulled from an interview. But Ruby would never say anything like that in an interview. She said so herself. She’s always keeping the illusion of the friendship alive. And I certainly never said those things.

  Although for some reason, they seem eerily familiar….

  I scroll farther down and suddenly my heart stops beating. My jaw drops and I use my fingertips to zoom in on a single line of text on the screen:

  A source close to the actress says Ruby divulged these things to her on the set of her hit show, Ruby of the Lamp.

  On the set of her hit show…

  The bathroom stall starts to spin. The scene comes flooding back to me like a tidal wave.

  I did say those things.

  I remember now. The quotes are real. I said all that. Word for word. It was just yesterday, when I was sitting in my trailer with that group of extras. The girls I thought were my new friends.

  “Can you guys keep a secret?” I asked.

  They all leaned in, their eyes wide and glinting.

  “We’re not really friends,” I whispered, to which they all gasped in delight.

  “What?” Stacia asked.

  “Our friendship is a sham. It was all the Xoom! Channel’s idea.”

  “To pretend to be BFFs?” Claire asked, looking scandalized.

  “Yup. They thought it would help the TV movie we starred in together. But I actually can’t stand her. She has no talent, but she thinks she’s soooo amazing.”

  “I can’t believe it!” Gwen declared.

  I sat back and crossed my arms, loving all of the attention. “Well, it’s totally true. But you can’t tell anyone.”

  “We won’t,” Jordan swore, glancing around the trailer at each of the girls in turn. “Your secret’s safe with us.”

  I stumble backward and sit down on the toilet seat. I feel light-headed. I feel like I might faint. I stick my head between my knees and take deep breaths.

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  Those girls. They betrayed me. Or at least, one of them did. But which one? It’s impossible to tell. They all seemed super intrigued by what I was saying. And does it really matter which one? The damage is done. The big secret is out. And it’s all my fault.

  It’s like one of them snuck out of my trailer and wrote down everything I said. Or rather…

  I let out a low whimper.

  It’s like they recorded everything I said.

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  Oh gosh, I’m going to be sick. I spin around and thrust open the toilet lid. I try to retch but nothing comes out. No surprise there. Eva barely let me eat anything today. She was worried about my stomach bulging on the red carpet.

  I fall onto my knees and lean back against the bathroom stall as big fat tears start to well up in my eyes.

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  What am I going to do? Ruby is going to kill me. No, Eva is going to—

  “RUBY?” I jump when I hear her voice, followed by the click-clacking of high heels on the tile floor. “Ruby? I know you’re in here. Helga from Xoom! publicity said you ran off the red carpet and came straight here.”

  I hold my breath, hoping that maybe she’ll just go away. But then I notice my beautiful silk gown is spilling out underneath the door of the stall. Eva must notice it at the same moment, because she comes stalking toward me and bangs on the door.

  “Open up. Now.”

  She knows. I can hear it in her voice.

  I crawl over to the door and flip the lock. The door flies open a second later and Eva glares at me. “What do you think you’re doing? Get off the filthy floor! You’re going to soil your gown!”

  I pull myself to my feet, keeping my phone clutched in my hand.

  “It’s all over the news,” Eva says, spinning me around and brusquely brushing off the back of my dress. “It’s already trending.”

  “WHAT?” I screech.

  “Well, what do you expect?” Eva grabs me by the arm, guides me over to the sink, and scrutinizes my makeup, which has been totally ruined by the crying.

  I can’t believe this is happening. I was just trying to make friends! I was just trying to impress those girls. I wanted to feel, for one second, what it felt like to be popular and liked and the center of attention. And now it’s turned into this giant trending mess!

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  “Ruby!” Eva scolds. “Get ahold of yourself.”

  I close my mouth and hold my breath, willing myself not to hiccup again. Eva reaches into her bag, pulls out a bundle of emergency makeup, and goes to work on my face. Meanwhile, I open Twitter on my phone and let out a gasp when I see the hashtag #RubyvsCarey at the top of the Now Trending list.

  I click the hashtag and start scrolling through the various tweets, my heart pounding harder and harder with each horrible comment I read. Almost all of them are directed at Ruby.

  Or rather, at me.

  @RubyRivera after you learn how to sing, maybe then you can start dissing people for having no talent.

  @RubyRivera I never believed that BFF act for a second. You’re not that good an actress.

  @RubyRivera Why don’t you go back to Texas and leave Hollywood to the real celebrities?

  “Ruby!” Eva hisses. “Stop crying. I’m trying to fix your makeup.”

  I didn’t even realize I’d started crying again. I sniffle and try to keep my tears under control. But I can’t help it. Every time my gaze scans another hurtful tweet, the shock and pain is so strong, so deep, I feel like I might drown in it.

  How could people say those things about me? About Ruby? She’s the greatest. She’s the most talented actress and singer in the world.

  Eva finishes up my face and stuffs all the makeup back in the bag. She looks calmer now. More in control of her emotions. I wish I could say the same for myself.

  “How did this happen, Ruby?” she asks, sounding composed and diplomatic. “How did you let this happen?”

  I think about telling her the truth—that I spilled everything in that trailer—but I know she’ll just get angrier and I’m not sure I can take angrier right now. So I just shrug, hiccup, and say, “I don’t know.”

  Eva closes her eyes for a moment, as though she’s trying to summon strength from deep within. “Okay, we can’t let this affect us right now. We have an awards show to get through.”

  “WHAT?” I screech again. “You mean I still have to go out there?”

  “Of course you have to go out there,” Eva snaps. “If you leave now, everyone will know how much this is affecting you.”

  But it is affecting me! I want to scream at her. It’s affecting me because I now realize I can’t escap
e it. The betrayal. The humiliation. I thought I’d be safe from that in this world. I thought if I just left middle school, I wouldn’t be the loser I’ve always been. But it turns out I still am. It turns out my mistakes follow me wherever I go. And in that way, this is almost worse than the Ellas turning my hiccup into a viral video. Worse than everyone laughing at me in the hallway and calling me Skylar Belchman. Worse than anything! Because I did it to me and Ruby. I ruined both of us.

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  “RUBY!” Eva screams, startling me and I jump. But apparently, it’s enough to scare away the hiccups, at least for now.

  All I want to do is run home and put my head under the covers. Hide inside Ruby’s giant bedroom and not come out until this is all over. But apparently, that’s not an option. Not for Ruby Rivera. And so not for me, either.

  “C’mon,” Eva says, straightening out my dress and giving my hair a final fluff. “Put on your game face and let’s go.”

  I follow Eva toward the door of the bathroom and I notice how fast her expression changes the moment we step back into the theater lobby. It’s like someone has hit a switch.

  I try to mimic her transformation, but I can feel all the eyes on me, staring at me, judging me. Celebrities, photographers, producers. Everyone. I know what they’re all thinking. They’re thinking about that hashtag. They’re thinking the exact same things those mean tweeters wrote.

  My phone buzzes and I pull it out to see a text from Ryder.

  Nice going, Ruby. Way to ruin it for all of us.

  I’m starting to think Ryder Vance is a not a very nice person.

  “Smile!” Eva says brightly as she pulls out her phone and points it toward me. “Tween Choice Awards!” she trills, snapping photos of me in my amazing designer gown and flawless makeup and perfectly styled hair.

  I take a deep breath and smile, trying to draw out the last remaining shreds of Ruby Rivera inside me. Trying to tap into the seemingly infinite well of Ruby inspiration that I’ve always had access to. That has helped me through some of the toughest moments of my life.

  But now the well is empty.

  And so is my smile.

  The girls’ bathroom in the middle school gym reeks, but I don’t care. It’s the only place where I can be alone. I need to be alone. I need to figure out how this happened.

  And by this, I mean the picture I’m currently staring at on the screen of my phone. It was posted on Daniella’s feed ten minutes ago.

  It’s a picture of Skylar. Or rather, of me being Skylar.

  Or rather, of me failing at being Skylar.

  Because that’s exactly how I feel right now. Like a big fat failure. Like I’ve totally messed up. Skylar trusted me with everything. And I let her down. I’ve made her the laughingstock of the entire school.

  I try to take deep breaths as I stare at the photo.

  I recognize the setting. It was taken at the mall yesterday. Daniella snapped it when we were all hanging out in the Carousel Court, eating our frozen yogurts. I can see the carousel in the background, and in my hand, I’m holding my frozen yogurt cup. When the picture was taken, I was doubled over, laughing at something one of the other girls had said.

  Except now, in this picture, I’m not laughing.

  I’m throwing up.

  And there’s a giant pile of vomit on the table in front of me.

  And the caption reads:

  Looks like Belchman has been upgraded to Barfman.

  The picture has already gone viral. Okay, so not like celebrity viral, but like middle school viral. Two hundred people have already liked it and fifty people have already commented. But this is way worse than celebrity viral. This is worse than those mean comments that people post online about Ruby Rivera. Because those are strangers. They don’t know me. They just presume to know me. I’m just an easy target to direct their hate at. I can easily brush off those comments. But not this. This is personal. These are people Skylar goes to school with, has to see on a daily basis, has to sit next to in Language Arts class. This is a direct attack against her.

  Oh, who am I kidding? This is a direct attack against me. I was the one at the mall. I was the one who trusted the Ellas even though Skylar warned me not to. Even though I should have known better. I deal with this kind of stuff every day, and yet I ignored my instincts. Because I was the one so determined to prove something. Prove that I could do this. That I could be a normal kid, go to a normal school, make friends with anyone.

  And look where that’s gotten me!

  Tears sting my eyes. It’s not fair. The picture isn’t even real! They clearly Photoshopped it with one of those horrible photo-editing apps. They made something fun and innocent look like something horrible and embarrassing. They turned one of my triumphant moments—a fun-filled day out with new friends—into a nightmare.

  How could they do that?

  Why would they do that?

  Is it because I danced with Ethan? But that doesn’t make any sense. Daniella swore she didn’t like Ethan. She swore she turned him down.

  But then I remember what Ethan said on the dance floor: “I turned her down.”

  Is that true? Was Daniella just saying she didn’t like him to cover her own wounded pride? Well, how on earth was I supposed to know that?

  If Daniella is going to lie about liking a boy, then she can’t get angry at me for asking him to dance!

  I reread the caption of the photo again. I don’t think I noticed it the first time because I was too distracted by the fake contents of the photo, but now something is bugging me.

  Looks like Belchman has been upgraded to Barfman.

  What is this Belchman reference? Skylar’s last name is Welshman. Why are people calling her Belchman? With a flick of my fingertip, I scan back through Daniella’s feed, stopping when I reach a video. It’s not long. Just a few seconds, but it’s been set to play over and over again on an endless loop.

  It has over six hundred views.

  In the video, Skylar is standing on the stage in the middle school auditorium. She looks like she’s about to say something, but instead, she lets out a huge, booming, earth-shattering burp.

  Except it’s not a burp.

  It’s one of her super-loud hiccups. I remember them from the prop room. I remember how they seemed to shake her entire body. Just like in this video. My gaze drifts to the caption and my body turns cold.

  Welshman or Belchman?

  And suddenly I realize this was about more than just Ethan. This was about a group of very mean girls doing a very mean thing. Daniella wasn’t ever really my friend. She didn’t invite me to the mall or to the dance because she liked me. This whole thing was a trap.

  The Ellas were pretending.

  The way so many people in Hollywood pretend.

  The way Carey Divine and I have been pretending for the past year.

  Which is why I, of all people, should have recognized a fake friendship. But I didn’t. I was too blinded by what I wanted this world to be. I couldn’t see it for what it really was. I couldn’t see the truth.

  More tears spring to my eyes. Except this time they well up. This time, they fall. I try to swat them away, but it’s no use. They’re coming too fast. Too relentlessly. As I glance at my reflection in the mirror, I see the same girl I met in that prop room just a few days ago. The girl who cried on the floor in front of me. I thought she was a super-stalker fan. But no.

  She was just this.

  A girl being picked on at school.

  A girl being bullied.

  The word sinks to the pit of my stomach like a rock. Bullied. Skylar tried to tell me. She tried to reach out to me in that prop room, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit it. Or I couldn’t bring myself to listen. I was so convinced that her life was perf
ect. Or at the very least, better than mine. I was so convinced that she didn’t know what she had.

  But it was me who didn’t know what she had. It was me who needed convincing. And now I know. Now this horrible sick feeling in my stomach is all I need to understand what it’s like to really be her. To be that girl who doesn’t fit in at school. Who is teased mercilessly by her peers. Now I know.

  It’s awful.

  It’s sickening.

  It feels like the walls are caving in on you.

  It feels like you can’t breathe.

  I can’t breathe!

  No wonder she wanted to be me. No wonder she wanted to be anyone but her. She wanted an escape. Just like I do right now. I’m desperate to get out of here. Run from these crumbling walls and never look back.

  But that’s not what I do.

  Instead, I turn. I run into the stall. I kneel down in front of the toilet, and I throw up.

  This time, for real.

  Don’t look. Just stop looking. Turn off your phone and put it away.

  But I can’t! I can’t stop. It’s like driving past a car crash. You want to look away. It’s horrible and terrifying and awful, but you just can’t help keeping your face glued to the window.

  That’s how I feel right now. Like I’m driving past a car crash. Except I’m the car crash. And I can’t stop reading all the horrible tweets people are writing.

  I’ve already missed half of the Tween Choice Awards. They’ve already announced the award for “Best Almost-Kiss,” “Best Dog Costar,” and “Best Flash Mob Scene,” and I’ve barely heard any of it. My first Tween Choice Awards ever and I’m missing it! Because I’m so distracted by these hurtful things people are saying.

  I had no idea how many people out there absolutely hate Ruby Rivera. And now me! It’s like this one error in judgment has brought them all out of the woodwork. Like they were cockroaches lurking in the darkness, just waiting for me to screw up so they could finally share how they really feel.