Five Days of Famous

by Alyson Noel

  They’re just like everyone else here in Tinsel Hills—interested only in how I can benefit them.

  Plum is probably the closest thing to a friend that I have in this place. And it’s entirely possible she’s been trying to nudge me toward the truth all along—in her own highly judgmental, sarcastic way, of course, which made it all too easy to tune her out.

  I consider calling her—Dougall insisted on adding her number to my new phone in case his battery ran out and he was desperate to reach her—but after the look she gave me tonight, just after the ring was revealed, well, even though she was the only one willing to tell me the truth, I’m way too embarrassed to call and admit she was right about everything.

  As it turns out, I really am the worst kind of sellout.

  Willing to turn my back on everything I knew and loved just so I could continue deluding myself.

  My real parents would never have let this happen.

  My mom would have been outraged.

  My dad would have ordered Ezer to leave.

  Even Holly wouldn’t have wanted me to make a fool of myself on TV.

  Or maybe she would have. But at least she wouldn’t have acted like the someday ring was great news.

  The Greentree Holly would have shaken her head and said, “Nick—seriously, are you really that big of an idiot?”

  Just thinking about my Greentree family has me missing them so much. I think I finally realize that it’s better to be a real person than a flashy, hollow shell of one who lives a fake life. I roll off my mattress and barrel straight for the closet, where I plow through endless racks of designer clothes until I finally locate something from home. Then I slink back to bed with my hand-knit Christmas sweater clutched to my chest, relieved that I’ve managed to hang on to one small piece of the past.

  There’s a tentative knock on my door, followed by my mom asking for permission to enter.

  If I close my eyes, I can hold the moment and pretend it’s really her.

  My Greentree mom.

  But as soon as I open them again and see her perfect blond head poking in, the illusion is shattered.

  “Nicky?” Her voice is so cloying it grates on my nerves. “You’re trending on Twitter again!” She grins brightly, like she’s the bearer of great news.

  I roll my eyes and turn onto my side so I can no longer see her, but she doesn’t get the hint and comes around to perch right beside me.

  “Nicky.” She runs a long, manicured nail over my sleeve and clasps my hand in hers. It’s the only real motherly act she’s displayed, and it makes me second-guess everything I was just thinking.

  Maybe I’m just confused.

  Maybe being constantly manipulated by Ezer has left me paranoid.

  Maybe I was wrong about her.

  Determined to give her a chance to prove she really does have my best interests at heart, I lift my chin to face her. But instead of saying something comforting, or even asking how I feel about everything that just happened, she crinkles her nose, takes a long withering look at the sweater still clutched in my arms, and says, “You’re not planning to wear that…are you?”

  I look at the sweater, try to see it through her eyes—same way I used to see it—as a complete and total embarrassment, something better left hidden. But I can no longer get there.

  I shake my head, figuring if I give her the answer she wants, then she’ll leave me alone. “After all, it’s better for me to trend on Twitter than my sweater, right?” I study her closely, watching as she fidgets and frowns. Ashamed by how I was so easily swayed by her actions, I failed to notice she was still empty inside.

  She lets out a tight, high-pitched laugh and traces a nervous finger along the gold-and-diamond necklace I gave her. All the while she’s patting my arm like you do when you’re trying to appear comforting but all you really want to do is run far away and never look back.

  Then she gets to her feet and heads for the door, acting like it’s merely an afterthought and not the true purpose of her visit when she says, “Oh, and, Nicky—do you think you could front me some money? I’m a little short, and I won’t have time to get to the bank now that the holiday rush has begun.”

  The question hangs heavy between us. Both of us know the show pays her plenty—way more than my real family would make if they owned a whole string of Dashaway Home and Hardware stores.

  Still, I just point to my wallet and watch as she clears it of every last cent.

  At first it seemed cool to be in charge. Living on my own with no curfew, no rules, no one to get in the way of my fun.

  But the truth is, I don’t need parents who depend on me.

  I need parents I can depend on.

  Once again Ezer was right: Dashing Nick Dashaway is just another corporation with a slew of employees, including my family.

  When the door closes behind her, I make sure to lock it.

  I can’t afford any more intrusions. It’s time to plan my escape.

  DECEMBER 24

  12 Hours, 32 Minutes, and 2 Seconds till Christmas

  NINSLEY

  By the next morning Tinsley and I are officially boyfriend and girlfriend.

  I learned this via Twitter, where our relationship status is trending.

  Depending on which Hollywood blog you read, we are either the most adorable couple on the planet—or the absolute lamest.

  There’s even a Twitter account for Tinsley’s ring, with nearly a million followers.

  It’s projected to hit five million by the end of the day.

  And don’t even get me started on the Facebook fan pages and Tumblrs.

  Not to mention that in the short span of time since the episode aired, more than a few of my most ardent fans have sent Tinsley death threats.

  Ezer thinks it’s great.

  Tinsley too.

  All I know for sure is that the fans have renamed us Ninsley, and I’m not sure how I feel about it, other than really, really weird.

  I’m sitting by my pool when Ezer comes out to join me. “Nick!” he says. “Great news!”

  I don’t even bother to acknowledge him, but it’s not like he notices.

  “We did it, kid! It’s official—we hit number one and number two!”

  I shrug, unable to fake that I care.

  “Hello? Did you hear me? The acoustic version hit number one—the studio version follows at number two! We own the charts, and the ratings went through the roof. Just like I predicted, ‘Someday’ had a million downloads before the credits stopped rolling. The media is in an absolute frenzy. Everyone’s begging for interviews. You have no idea how much money you’re about to make between now and New Year’s Day. And the whole someday-ring scene”—he leans in so close I’m overcome by onion-bagel fumes—“genius. The girls are swooning. They all want to be Tinsley!”

  “You mean the ones who aren’t actually threatening to kill her?” I look at Ezer, watching as he dismisses my words with a wave of his hand as though he doesn’t find the threats the least bit disturbing.

  “Crackpots, haters, and trolls are all part of the business. Tinsley knows not to take it seriously. She knows I’m looking out for her. She’s also savvy enough to know it’s the first sign of hitting the big time. Success breeds contempt, Nick. Always has, always will. There’s no place for small minds in a big life. You gotta learn to ignore ’em. They’re just sad little people with lives so miserable they project their hate elsewhere rather than taking a good, long look at themselves. The important thing is, at this very moment you and Tinsley are the names on everyone’s lips!”

  I lift a hand to shield my eyes from the sun so I can see him better. “Really?” I say. “That’s the important thing?”

  Ezer makes a face like he doesn’t have time for my nonsense. “You’ll thank me once you see the amount of money pouring into your bank account. Every time someone downloads your song, a cash register rings and an angel gets his wings!” He laughs at his joke for a lot longer than it warrants.

&
nbsp; “Did Tinsley know about the ring?” I ask when he finally reels it in.

  His face changes, switching from delighted to not-so-delighted in a handful of seconds. “What’re you implying?”

  “Just asking a question I’d really like answered.”

  Ezer’s lips jerk to the side. It’s one of his giveaways, and it’s all I need to confirm my worst suspicions about him, about Tinsley, about me.

  He rubs a hand over his chin and levels his gaze right on mine. No hiding, no nonsense. Finally. “What do you want me to say, Nick? I thought you understood how this works. If you’re worried I’m going to rush Tinsley down the aisle at thirteen, think again. I wouldn’t even consider it at eighteen, or twenty-one for that matter. So you can breathe easy. You don’t have to marry her, Nick. You don’t even have to see her after the show wraps tonight—other than for your contracted appearances, and of course when we begin filming The Lazy Daze of Dashaway Summer Sizzle. I think we can both agree, the timing works perfectly. Everyone loves a Christmas love story, not to mention a summer romance.”

  “And Tinsley’s fine with all this? She’s totally on board with pretending to like me and kiss me for the sake of the cameras?” For some reason the question sets me on edge. I guess because I’m not sure I’m ready for the answer.

  But what I don’t ask is: Is that why Mac Turtledove disappeared so fast—because he couldn’t help her become famous as quickly as I could?

  “Listen, Nick. The only reason I didn’t fill you in sooner is because you have the soul of a true artist and it makes you emotional. It’s what makes you a star—that ability to deeply immerse yourself in every experience. But it also keeps you from seeing things in a much broader, more logical way. Trust me, Nick, I’ve got it covered, and I always have your best interests at heart. So why don’t you try to pull it together? We’ve got our Christmas finale to film in a matter of hours, and I need you on board. There’s a huge surprise for you, Nick. And don’t look at me like that—this is one I know you’re gonna like. What do you say—you with me?” He leans closer, slaps a hand over my kneecap.

  I meet his gaze and force myself to hold it until he’s the first to look away. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m all in.” The lie comes easily.

  “Glad to hear it.” He grins and gets to his feet, blocking the sun in a way that casts a long, solid shadow to spill over me. “It’s a busy day. There’s a lot to prepare. But you get some rest, Nick. I need you in shape for tonight.”

  He’s barely turned away when he starts barking into his phone, leaving me to wrestle with the truth I was trying to avoid.

  The only reason Tinsley kissed me is because it was scripted.

  8 Hours, 16 Minutes, and 11 Seconds till Christmas

  BYE-BYE, BIRDIE

  A few hours later the only progress I’ve made is to chase the sun from my lounge chair to the edge of the pool, where I sit with my legs dangling knee-deep in the water, watching as a song sparrow uses the shallow end like it’s his personal birdbath. This is how Tinsley finds me.

  “Nick?” Her voice is tentative, her approach cautious, like she’s afraid the slightest disturbance might set me off. “Lisa said I might find you out here.”

  I continue to watch the sparrow, my feet circling and churning the water.

  “Nick?” She kneels down beside me. “How long have you been sitting like this? Your feet are seriously waterlogged.” She chases the words with a laugh that sounds more nervous than anything, and luckily she has the good sense to end it before it can really take hold. “You okay?” She places a hand on my leg.

  I lift my gaze to meet hers, then focus on her hand resting on my jeans, that ridiculous sapphire someday ring glinting in the unnaturally bright sun until it practically blinds me.

  “Oh, this.” She lifts her hand between us. “It wasn’t until I saw the look on your face that the reality set in. It was cruel to dupe you like that. But with the cameras rolling…well…I guess I just decided to follow the script and hope you’d play along, which you did, and I owe you big time for that.”

  “You don’t owe me anything.” I move my focus to her lips, remembering our kiss, but only for a moment before I return to watching the song sparrow fluff its feathers and take short drinks from the pool. “I mean, it worked, right? So what’s to feel sorry about? It’s my bad for not realizing sooner that I was just a pawn in your game.”

  “It’s not a game, Nick.” The words are sharp, and the look on her face is about as serious as I’ve ever seen. “This has been my dream for pretty much my whole entire life. I take it very seriously. I thought you did too.”

  “I did seriously dream of a different, better, much cooler life. I fully imagined myself living pretty much exactly like this.” I gesture toward my sunshine-filled, palm tree−lined, fantasy yard. “Turns out, it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

  She twists nervously at the ring on her finger, as though she’s afraid I might try to snatch it, taking her long-held dream of fame along with it. And that’s when I realize just how much she has riding on this.

  But I’ve got a lot at stake too.

  “This life is borrowed,” I say. “It’s not really mine.” I have no idea why I’ve decided to confess, other than it feels so good to speak the truth for a change after so much pretending. But to Tinsley’s ears, my truth probably sounds cryptic and weird. It’s completely out of context. And while I have no idea how to make her understand, that doesn’t stop me from trying. “My life wasn’t always like this.” I attempt to explain the unexplainable. “I wasn’t always an International Superstar. I wasn’t always Dashing Nick Dashaway.”

  She mashes her lips together, drags her shoulders up toward her ears. “Well, everyone has to start somewhere….”

  “That’s not what I mean.” I’m suddenly overcome with the desperate need to be understood. “Up until five days ago, I lived in a place called Greentree, where I was a nobody. Invisible. An unpopular, overlooked Brainiac Nerd who couldn’t get a single girl to look at me or like me, much less kiss me. Or, at least, not the kind of girl I wanted to kiss,” I add, remembering Plum.

  “Oh, I highly doubt that!” Tinsley plants an overly bright smile on her face—the kind that’s normally reserved for when you accidentally start a conversation with a crazy person and are forced to mentally calculate the quickest escape route while trying not to alarm them. But I’m too far gone to stop now.

  “You acted like I was invisible.”

  She shifts uncomfortably, looks over her shoulder toward the house. “Nick—this is getting weird.” Her gaze is flat and discouraged. She’s reached her limits, and she hasn’t even heard the best part.

  “Trust me, it’s about to get even weirder….”

  I tell her about Josh Frost, the talent show, the magical cupcake, the bizarre Christmas trolley, the crazy driver with the tie-dyed red-and-green sweat suit and long white dreadlocks. I tell her that I’m pretty sure I’ve ended up in another dimension, another version of my life, but Tinsley’s expression tells me she’s simply stopped listening.

  “Nick, I think we’re all a little exhausted.” She cuts me off, eager to be done with this. “But if we can just get through tonight’s taping, we’ll be free to finally relax and enjoy what’s left of the holidays.”

  “And how exactly will we do that? Will Ezer script some nice romantic moments for us to share where we just so happen to have cinematographers on hand to capture every photogenic second, ensuring that Ninsley remains the number one couple the world is obsessing about? Will we head off on a snowy, romantic vacation together—just you, me, and Ezer?”

  Her face pales. Her fingers continue to twist nervously, but it’s not like it stops me.

  “And, by the way, I can’t help but wonder how Mac Turtledove feels about Ninsley becoming a thing. How exactly did you explain it to him? Or did Ezer do that for you?”

  It’s cruel, I know, but if I’m going to be honest, then I admit it’s intended that way. I
’m trying to push her into getting so upset she’ll spill all the horrible truths she insists on keeping from me.

  Or maybe I’m hoping she’ll tell me I’ve got it all wrong. That despite how it looks, despite all the scripted nonsense, it really was her choice to kiss me. Maybe I’m hoping that she’ll say all those things in a way that makes me believe them. So I can at least leave this place knowing I experienced one true thing out of so many fake, scripted ones.

  In the end, she doesn’t say anything. She just sighs in frustration, which says more than words ever could, confirming that my suspicions were true.

  Turns out, she’s not at all the person I wanted her to be.

  She never really cared about me.

  It was all just pretending.

  Tinsley rises to her feet and leaves me to watch the song sparrow in silence.

  He hops around a bit, takes a couple more sips, and trills so joyfully his whole body shivers. Then, after fluttering his wings, he lifts into flight—soaring beautifully, high and free—before crashing straight into the pool house window and snapping his neck, his lifeless body tumbling toward the cement.

  5 Hours, 54 Minutes, and 13 Seconds till Christmas

  PLAYER GETS PLAYED

  When I slide into the back of the limo, I make a mental inventory of all of my interactions with Sparks, hoping I haven’t been too big of a pain, not counting the times in the beginning when I may have gone a little overboard with bossing him around. He’s an integral part of my plan, which means that now, more than ever, I need him as an ally.

  “You remember that place—that trolley stop—where you picked me up five days ago?” I push my face close to the divider, wanting to get a better look so I can gauge his reaction.