Something Real

by Heather Demetrios

  I smile. “Get some sun for me?”

  “Yeah.”

  Chuck shoos her back into the van, then narrows his eyes at me. “Do you remember what I told you?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” My voice is edged with barely contained contempt.

  “Okay, then.”

  Bastard.

  Chuck gets into the third van with Lacey Production Assistant on his heels, and the last MetaReel camera slowly edges backward, the lens still trained on Benny and me. Confetti litters the sidewalk, and students stand around the area, staring unabashedly. Benny, Patrick, Matt, and I are in the middle of it, staring down the camera.

  The vans start up and then they’re gone.

  “Well,” Benny says, “that’s a wrap.”

  * * *

  “Chloe. Put down the packing tape.” Mer is holding one of the wine coolers she filched from her mother’s stock in one hand and a box of brownie bites in the other. It is so weird to see her standing in my bedroom.

  “Mer, I don’t care that it’s my birthday. Seriously. What if they come back early? I need to—”

  She gives me an arch look. “Okay, fine. I know when my powers of persuasion aren’t enough.” She turns and yells down the hall. “Patrick, she won’t stop. It’s your turn now.”

  “They’re back?”

  Patrick and Tessa had gone into town to pick up Chinese takeout for all of us while Benny and I packed.

  I hear Patrick come up the stairs, and Mer holds up her hands. “These will be downstairs for you.”

  I give her a wan smile. “Thanks, Mer.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She winks and steps aside for Patrick to come into the room. He shuts the door behind him and immediately gathers me into his arms.

  “I got your favorite,” he murmurs. “And cheesecake might be involved, too.”

  “Thanks,” I mumble against his chest.

  He looks around the room. “You got a lot done.”

  I nod. “Well, there are thirteen kids. Someone’s gonna want their own room.”

  He smooths back my hair and looks down at me. “Not your problem. So.”

  He reaches up to turn off the overhead light. The room suddenly feels less empty. My desk lamp is dim and casts an orange glow. “I hear I’m supposed to convince you to come downstairs.”

  I shiver as his fingers travel down my arms. “Um. This won’t convince me to ever leave this room.”

  “Hmm. How do you feel about cold Chinese food?”

  I pull him to the bed. “Sounds delicious.”

  Half an hour later, we manage to get downstairs. As soon as we walk into the kitchen, Tessa rolls her eyes.

  “I told you it was a bad idea to send Patrick up there.”

  I scowl at her and put my tangled hair into a messy bun. “I had a box to finish packing.”

  She stuffs an eggroll into her mouth. “Uh-huh.”

  Benny shoots Patrick a look, and he shakes his head. “I don’t break my promises.”

  “What promises?” asks Mer.

  “Nothing,” I say. My face grows warm as I pile orange chicken and fried rice onto plates for us. I decide not to mention how close we’ve gotten to breaking that promise.

  “Ohhh,” says Mer, knowingly. She gives Patrick a sympathetic look. “Bet you wish you’d never agreed to that.”

  Patrick raises his hands. “No comment.”

  “Anyway,” I say. “Thanks for coming over, guys.”

  “It’s your birthday!” Mer says. She hands me a wine cooler, then lifts hers up. “To Chloe and Ben’s independence day!”

  “Hell, yeah,” says Matt.

  Tessa moans after she takes a long swig. “I have drunk Asian face, don’t I?”

  I take in her bright red cheeks and nod. “But it’s cute.”

  “Ugh.” She shoves her wine cooler away and fills a glass with water.

  There’s cheesecake and presents and a tipsy tour of the house. It’s strange to be here with my friends, with Patrick. To walk around without cameras. It feels empty, cavernous. In all my life, I’ve never been home when there weren’t at least eight people around—I don’t know what I’m going to do without the chaos. I know I complain about them a lot, but I do love my family. There’s something special about living in a house that hums with the energy of so many people. It’s certainly never boring. I’m sure I’ll love the quiet of Tessa’s home at first, but I can already feel the creeping loneliness that’s only going to grow each month as we get closer to graduation. Where will I live when Benny and Tessa go off to college?

  “Penny for your thoughts?” asks Tessa, linking her arm through mine.

  We’re in the basement now, and the guys are playing foosball. I check my phone, just to make sure my mom didn’t call. Nope. Two missed calls from Lex, one from Farrow™, one from Dad.

  “Just thinking about how I’m going to be a lonely old cat lady living all by myself someday,” I say.

  Tessa shakes her head. “Not if Patrick has anything to do with it.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I watch my boyfriend score a goal with expert precision. Is there anything he’s not good at?

  “Chlo, that boy has forever written all over his face when he looks at you. A cat lady you shall never be.”

  I wish that made me feel better, but it doesn’t. Everything is going to change this fall. Everything.

  The grandfather clock in the living room chimes eleven, and people start getting ready to go. Tomorrow is, after all, a school day. One that Benny and I have every intention of skipping. There is a certain amount of satisfaction in knowing I can write a note to excuse myself.

  “You’re sure you don’t want to sleep at my place tonight?” Tessa asks as she puts on her All-Stars.

  I run my hand along the mantel with the thirteen pictures. Will they keep ours up?

  “Yeah, but thanks. We’ll be there tomorrow. I want one more night to … you know.”

  She gives me a hug. “Happy birthday, friend.”

  Patrick and I linger out by his car long after everyone has gone. Benny’s inside, taking a shower.

  “I wish I could stay over,” he says, holding me against him. “I really hate the idea of you sleeping all alone tonight.”

  I’m so drained and buzzed and broken, I know I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow. Still, it’d be nice to be in his arms.

  “Why can’t you have parents who want to be cool and let you spend the night at your girlfriend’s house?”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, my parents would definitely not be down with that.”

  “I am so tired of rules,” I mutter.

  He kisses my forehead. “Good thing we’re gonna graduate soon.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Happy birthday.”

  He gives me a long, lingering kiss and then gets into his car. As I watch him drive away, the enormity of what Benny and I have done and the horrible scene outside school hits me all over again.

  I’m finally free of Baker’s Dozen. So why do I feel as bad as ever?

  * * *

  www.celeb.com

  BREAKING NEWS:

  Bonnie™ and Benton™ Baker Leave Baker’s Dozen

  BY HAUTE COCOA

  Oh, cast of Baker’s Dozen, how I love you. Whenever I feel like complaining about my family, I just have to TiVo yours and, suddenly, I feel better.

  I don’t know why last night’s news that Bonnie™ and Benton™ Baker have moved out and quit the cast of Baker’s Dozen is such a shocker. HELLO! Did anyone else see the diary episode or watch the Kaye Gibbons fiasco? Unfortunately, Mama Bear still doesn’t get why B&B said sayonara. “My heart is broken,” tweeted Beth Baker-Miller. But that didn’t stop her from going on a cruise to Mexico.

  I swear, Baker’s Dozen is America’a answer to the telenovela. The drama never stops! Not only have B&B moved in with BFF Tessa Lee, they’re planning to go to court, too. Rumor has it that the two reality TV stars are suing Me
taReel for damages, including unpaid wages and defamation of character. ¡Ai ai ai!

  “My clients have the right to privacy and to be paid for the work they have done,” said their lawyer, Melinda Greenberg. Not only that, they’ll be helping out the ACLU with their lawsuit against MetaReel. I heart the drama!

  No doubt MetaReel producer Chuck Daniels is pissed—and not just because he has a mullet. Hey, Chuck, 1981 called—it wants its hairstyle back!

  This is what Chuckie said about the show’s future: “We’re reevaluating if it makes sense to keep on doing the show. This came out of left field.”

  Oh, hell no! You can’t cancel—how else will I know that my family is relatively normal? And what would I do without Beth’s televised Botox treatments? One thing’s for sure: Baker’s Dozen is more exciting than ever.

  Tell celeb.com what you think:

  Sour Grapes: Bonnie™ and Benton™ are totally overreacting.

  Just Deserts: MetaReel deserves to pay through the nose. Viva B&B!

  * * *

  SEASON 18, EPISODE 3

  (The One with the Letters)

  Living with the Lees is an adjustment, but I couldn’t have asked for a better interim life. Mr. Lee is gregarious and kind; Mrs. Lee is an amazing cook and probably the smartest woman I have ever met. Tessa’s little sister, Casey, is sweet, too—but she makes me miss the triplets. Though Tessa wanted me to share her room, I insisted on being in the guest bedroom with Benny. I didn’t want living together to affect our friendship, and I knew I’d be underfoot if I invaded her space like that. Besides, it’s comforting when I wake up in a strange room to see my brother a few feet away. He and Mr. Lee clicked right away, and for the first time, I realized how hard it must have been for Benny to grow up without a real father figure around. I often walk in on them playing cards, talking politics, or discussing Benny’s college options. I’d never seen him like that with Kirk or Dad.

  It’s been three weeks, and I still haven’t heard from my mom. Lex says to give it time, but I don’t know if I can ever forgive Mom for the life she chose for us. I’m so angry, so bitter. The day after my birthday, Benny and I were careful to take anything we didn’t want to part with out of the house. We didn’t say it, but I think both of us knew this was a forever kind of thing. It was hard leaving. I spent half the morning writing notes to my siblings and putting them on their beds with chocolates I’d bought at the gas station up the street, and I left my winter formal dress on Lex’s bed—I knew she loved it, and she’d get way more use out of it than I would. Benny and I cried the whole way to the Lees’ house. They welcomed us with open arms and pizza.

  It’s hardest at dinnertime. It’s weird, sitting around this little table of six people, calmly discussing the day’s events. I’m so used to the pushing and shoving and there never quite being enough food to go around, so you always have to raid the cupboard after dinner for a snack. Not to mention dinner preparations; at my house, the kitchen was an industrial hive, where all of us were put to work and had designated duties. At the Lees’ house, each night is a little different, but deviating from a routine doesn’t create total chaos.

  I watched the show last week for the first time since the notebook-throwing episode. I was so homesick that I had to check in, even if it was only in the way millions of other Americans could. Benny didn’t want to, so I went over to Patrick’s house, and we watched it in his room. I cried the whole time. They talked about us a little, but the show was all about deciding who was going to get our rooms. Someone from the home improvement network came over and redesigned all the bedrooms, too. I was glad Benny hadn’t watched it—part of me was certain Chuck had organized that episode for the express purpose of hurting us.

  My dad and I have talked a few times since I left. Suddenly he’s part of my life. He’s insisted on helping Benny and me out financially, which is something I’m not too proud to refuse. I know my college fund is going to be used eventually, but since I don’t even know if I’m going to college, I’ve stopped obsessing over it.

  “Guess what?” Mer bounds into Schwartz’s class, looking even peppier than usual.

  “You’ve just won the lottery?” asks Tessa.

  “No…”

  “You found the cure for cancer?” I ask.

  “Not quite…”

  Patrick shrugs. “I’ve got nothin’.”

  Mer waves a piece of paper she’d been hiding behind her back. “I GOT IN!”

  “Ohmygod!” (Me and Tessa)

  Mer starts jumping around. “NYU, NYU! Can’t you picture me on the subway? Ohmygod, I’m gonna live in the Village and get a hot poet boyfriend and go to diners at four A.M.”

  “And be on Broadway,” adds Tessa.

  Mer starts belting a Broadway tune about her being one singular sensation, and we laugh and applaud.

  I really am happy for her, but my smile is plastic, a mannequin’s too-shiny grin. Any day now, the rest of them will have their letters. They’ll be clutching their bright futures and dancing around. Except me.

  Smile. Nod. Repeat.

  I try to ignore the fluttering in my chest and the beads of sweat that scatter across my forehead—my body’s version of an early warning system. Halfway through Schwartz’s class, I know I’m about to have a full-on panic attack. I raise my hand, surreptitiously wiping the sweat above my lip on the sleeve of my shirt.

  “Can I get the pass?”

  Schwartz gives me a concerned look, then nods. “Sure.”

  I get out of the room as fast as possible and burst into the infamous stall where I first saw the tabloid and slide down to the floor, pressing my back against the cool tile. My chest tightens, and I struggle to catch my breath. I wish I’d had the guts to be honest with my mom back in November and tell her I needed help with these, but I’d been afraid of my panic attacks being the subject of one of the episodes: “The One with the Psychiatrist.” So for months now, I’ve been pretending I don’t get them when actually I feel like I’m having a heart attack about once a week. Sometimes Diane Le Shrink’s breathing thing helps, but it doesn’t always. I count to ten. Exhale.

  I check my phone—it feels like I’ve been in here for hours. Another minute of deep breathing and then I’m back on my feet. The walls are still closing in on me, but I think I’ll be okay. I splash some water on my face and dry it with the brown paper towels that smell vaguely of baby spit-up. When I get back to class, everyone’s in the middle of some activity with partners. Patrick’s eyes follow me with concern, but I smile smile smile and, “So what did I miss?”

  The next week it’s Tessa. Stanford. Benny and Matt both get into USC by the time spring break rolls around. Each time it happens, I Smile, Nod, Repeat. Patrick doesn’t say anything about Columbia, and I’m terrified to ask. But it’s no use. I’m living on borrowed time. In a few months, he’ll be gone.

  “So why didn’t you apply to a school?” Diane Le Shrink asks me this a few days before spring break.

  “I don’t know,” I wail. “I couldn’t think, with all the cameras around. It’s like I didn’t have the mental capacity to deal with it or something.”

  “But what about now? I’m sure there are still some schools that would consider you.”

  I twist Patrick’s ring around and around my finger. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin. And what would I major in? And how would I pay for it?”

  I’m not great at school, but I’m not bad at it, either. I’m sure if I tried I could get into a semidecent one. Something beyond community college. But I’m not ready to do it all again—meeting people, lying about my past. Maybe that’s what it comes down to. It’s too daunting being me.

  Diane gives me a spiel about financial aid and scholarships and don’t I have a college fund, but I’m tuning her out. I think she can tell because she switches tactics.

  “What about a job?”

  “Yeah, I’d love one, but I can’t work here because of the show. So then I have to go somewhere, like maybe ano
ther country, and find an apartment and live by myself and get a cat—”

  “Why would you get a cat?”

  “Because it’s my destiny.”

  Diane gives me a long, thoughtful look. “What about traveling?”

  I open my mouth to reject this, when something stops me. Out of all the things she’s mentioned, I finally feel something lift inside me. A shift. And the burden I’m carrying feels a little lighter.

  “Where would I go?”

  Diane shrugs. “Anywhere. Do you have a passport?”

  “Yeah.” In season seven, my family went to Paris, and in season eleven, we went to Costa Rica. My heart falls a little as I realize I’ll have to beg Lex to be my go-between to get it.

  “Okay,” Diane says. “Then you could go abroad—maybe learn a language or volunteer. Or you could travel around the States. Do a road trip with a friend.”

  “Ride into a sunrise,” I whisper.

  “Pardon?”

  I shake my head. “Nothing. Just thinking out loud.”

  That night Patrick and I go to the park. Now that it’s spring, the weather is mild. A slight chill gives an edge to the night, but the air smells like grass and flowers. We haven’t been here together since our very first date, which feels about a million years ago.

  “Hey, where are you?” he whispers.

  We’re up in the jungle gym, cuddling under a thin blanket. My eyes slide to his, and I let myself get a little lost in them. With just a street lamp to see from, they look like two black pools. I already feel like I’m saying good-bye.

  “I’m here.” I smile, knowing that’s not what he meant.

  Patrick takes a breath. “I got into Columbia.”

  And I know, duh, I know he did, but hearing him say it is the last nail in the coffin, the icing on the cake, the last straw, and oh, hell, I hate my life so much.

  “That’s great. I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.”

  I throw my arms around him, but his muscles are tense. I look up, rest my hand against his cheek.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Chloe, you’re killing me.” He sits up, pulling me with him. “You can be fake with everyone else, but not with me, okay?”