Celebrity

by Linda Gerber

  I cried for days after he left. He and I used to do everything together, and I missed him terribly—even though he always managed to get me into trouble. He’d dare me to do crazy things, and I could never resist the challenge. I’d have to do whatever he said so he wouldn’t think I was a baby. Then he’d do something even crazier to show me up, and it kept going from there. He was my best friend. And then one day he was gone.

  He never said good-bye when he left. Never wrote, never called. Sometimes I’d see Ireland listed among the visitor stats on my blog, and I wanted to think it was him, but I never knew for sure.

  I made lists and lists of all the things I would tell Logan if I ever saw him again, but now that he was standing right in front of me, I couldn’t think of a single word to say. I mean, a lot had changed since he left. I had changed. And, by the look of him, so had he.

  This Logan still had the same easy grin as the boy I once knew, and the same mischievous glint in his eyes, but his dark hair was longer—just brushing the top of his collar now—and his face had become more angular. Sharper somehow, like it was just coming into focus. So, he was still my Logan, but he was also a stranger.

  How was I supposed to greet an ex-friend/stranger? Hug? Handshake? Punch in the face? While I stood there like an idiot trying to figure it out, Bayani pushed past me and gave Logan one of those chest-bump, slap-on-the-back kind of guy hugs. “Hey, man. Welcome back. Good to see you again!”

  “Thanks, Yans,” Logan said, using his old nickname for Bayani. He slapped Bayani’s back in return, and then, when they were done male bonding, he reached out a hand to Victoria. “Miss Chen. How have you been?”

  Victoria pressed her lips together to hide a smile as she shook his hand. “My. So formal, Logan.”

  It’s Da’s fault.” He grinned and shrugged one shoulder. “He said I had to ‘behave myself.’”

  “And don’t you forget it, boyo,” Cavin said, smacking Logan on the back of the head.

  By the time I had recovered enough to say anything, my moment to greet Logan smoothly was gone. Dad had already started introducing Logan and Cavin to Mateo and Señor Ruiz-Moreno.

  “Futbol fan?” Mateo pointed to the logo on Logan’s shirt. It showed a green soccer ball with the words FAI IRELAND above it.

  “Always,” Logan said.

  Mateo’s eyes lit up. “You know Los Che?”

  “Of course. I watch La Liga.”

  I just stood there feeling stupider by the second. It’s like they were speaking a foreign language. (Okay, so they were speaking a foreign language. Plus neither one of them even seemed to remember I was still there.) Leave it to Logan to spoil everything. Mateo was my…. playdate. Or at least he had been before Logan came along and Mateo forgot all about me. I gave up and left them to go over to stand with my dad.

  He and Cavin were skimming over the itinerary Bayani had prepared. “The train ride to Buñol takes around forty-five minutes, so that should give everyone time to get settled in before we need to set up for the cook-off segment.” He glanced at Cavin. “You going to be up for that?”

  “Sure, and why not?” Cavin answered, patting his stomach. “Food trumps sleep every time.” He chuckled at his own joke and then turned to Logan. “Right, son. Come get the bags.”

  Logan tucked his duffel under one arm and hefted a suitcase in each hand. I was about to offer to get the other bags for him, but Mateo beat me to it and grabbed everything that was left.

  They don’t need me, I thought sourly as they carried the bags to the front door. I hated feeling like an outsider. Even more, I hated not being able to define the bitterness I felt as I watched them go. I couldn’t decide if I was angrier at Logan for stealing Mateo, or at Mateo for abandoning me, or at both of them for leaving me out. All I knew was that Logan had been in Valencia only ten minutes, and Mateo had already forgotten I was alive.

  “You’re not concentrating,” Victoria said when I gave the wrong definition for our third vocabulary word in a row.

  I sighed and slumped over the table. Because of the festival the next day, we wouldn’t be having lessons, so Victoria had decided to cram homework into every free minute before we left for Buñol. Which meant while everyone else had free time before going to the train, I was stuck doing stupid vocabulary.

  Not only that, but I couldn’t stop running the day with Mateo through my head again and again, reliving every laugh and smile, right up to the point when Logan took him away. It didn’t matter how many times I played it back, the end result was always the same. I hated the way it made me feel—angry and sad and happy and hopeful all mixed up together so that none of it made sense.

  Victoria closed her book. “What is it?” she asked. “We may as well talk about it, or we’ll never get anything done.”

  Even if I had wanted to spill my guts to Victoria, I wouldn’t have known where to begin to talk about it. Everything I was feeling was foreign and new. So I just settled for a simple question. “How do you know if you really like somebody?”

  “Oh,” she said. “I see. Well, I think it might be different for everyone, but for me, I feel a kind of zing when I’m with someone I truly care for. It’s like an electric current—quick and tingly and thrilling. Any particular reason you’re asking?”

  “Just curious,” I said, suddenly very interested in the worksheet in front of me.

  Victoria watched quietly for a moment and then mused, “What a pleasant surprise to have Logan back with the show.”

  I glanced up. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “What’s he been doing the last couple of years, I wonder?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I grumbled.

  “Ah.”

  That’s all she said. Just ‘ah.’ But it sounded like it meant a whole lot more. And that made me defensive. I felt like I had to explain why I was upset, even though I didn’t understand it myself.

  “He never wrote,” I said.

  “Did you write to him?”

  “I e-mailed a couple times. Sent some letters with Cavin. But Logan never wrote back. When he left, he was just gone.”

  She nodded and started fitting her books into her bag. “Did I ever tell you about my friend Sylvie?” she asked. “She lives in Barcelona. When we were in school, we were the best of friends. We did everything together.”

  Like Logan and me, I thought. Subtle.

  “When we graduated,” she continued, “I began traveling and teaching, and Sylvie moved to Spain. We’re still very good friends, and I stop in to visit her whenever I’m in Barcelona, but we seldom make contact in between.”

  “Will you see her this trip?” I asked.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact, I’ll go to visit her after we return from La Tomatina. But the point is that a friendship is a valuable thing. Too valuable to give up just because you don’t have a tether to each other when you’re apart. A true friendship is one you can pick up where you left off and move forward without looking back.”

  That sounded all fine and wonderful and everything, but I bet Sylvie wasn’t elbowing in on Victoria’s cute new Spanish friend. I didn’t want to talk about it anymore.

  “You should probably rest now,” Victoria said. “The cook-off doesn’t start until late this evening, and I understand you were up quite early this morning.”

  “Oh, my gosh.” I threw up my hands. “Is there any detail of my life that everyone doesn’t know?”

  “Of course not.” She stood and settled the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “See you tonight, Cassidy.”

  Travel tip: In Spain, appearance is very important. A foreigner who wishes to make a good impression will try to show good taste in dress.

  The airline called. They said they’d found our bags, but they wouldn’t be able to deliver them until after the time we had to leave to catch our train. Dad made arrangements for the luggage to be sent straight to Buñol, but the airline couldn’t guarantee what time they’d get it there.

  When he told me the news, I slo
gged to my room and dropped onto the desk chair. The universe sure had a stupid sense of humor. I finally meet a guy worth crushing on and make my big debut in front of the camera, and I had nothing to wear but my torn shorts and scarf sarong.

  It’s the kind of thing Logan and I might have laughed about once upon a time. But I didn’t want to think about Logan. I didn’t want to dwell on my missing clothes. Neither one was going to do me any good.

  At least I could update my blog without worrying about what not to wear. Or about old friends dropping in. Or new friends dropping out. I pulled out my laptop and booted it up. There wasn’t much time left before we had to leave for the train, but if I hurried, I could get a quick entry posted with the video from that morning.

  I copied the images from my phone to my computer and flipped through them on the screen. The last picture to come up was the one I had snapped of Mateo in the market plaza. A warm tingle rolled over me when I saw him smiling out at me from the computer screen. Not quite the zing Victoria described, but it was definitely something.

  A knock on the door startled me out of la-la land, and I jumped to switch screens just before the door opened.

  My mom poked her head into the room. “Five minutes, Cassidy.”

  She made me promise I’d be ready to go, as if I had anything to do to get ready. It’s not like I had a suitcase to pack. I did want to get the blog post done though, so I started the video uploading while I zipped up my backpack to take on the trip.

  It took so long for the video to finish uploading, I didn’t have time to do much editing once it did. If I was lucky, I’d barely be able to smooth out that spot where I’d had to grab my phone before it dropped into the—

  Aw, man! I leaned closer to the screen. Some idiot had pulled a delivery van right in front of the Door of the Apostles while I was filming. I mean, you could still see the door and the cathedral and everything, but a van in the picture kind of spoiled the medieval mood I thought I had captured on film that morning.

  Perfect. I sounded like Daniel. The video would do. I typed up a quick description of the sights and sounds and posted the blog and signed off just as Dad knocked on the door and said it was time to go.

  I should have been paying closer attention.

  Bayani had tried to reserve a train

  car for the crew to ride together, but of course the day before the Tomatina Festival was not a good time to try to hog seats between Valencia and Buñol. It’s also not a good time to haul suitcases and equipment onto the train. Señor Ruiz-Moreno volunteered to drive and take everyone’s stuff to Buñol, which was cool and everything except for the fact that he took Mateo with him.

  “Don’t worry,” Bayani teased. “You’ll get to see him there.”

  “Shut up,” I said. I’m known for my great comebacks.

  The train was packed. We were lucky to find enough seats for everyone, let alone sit in the same car. A lot of other people were left standing.

  Victoria pointed to where Logan was stuffing his duffel onto the overhead rack. “I’ll bet Logan could use a seatmate.”

  “I’m pretty sure his dad’s sitting with him.” I slipped past her to take the empty seat next to where we were standing and scooted over to the window. According to Victoria, I should just be happy Logan was back and forget how he never answered my letters and e-mails for two years. I might have been willing to consider that if he hadn’t shown up unannounced with no apology and stole the attention of my possible zing.

  “Just as well,” she said, taking the seat next to mine. “We can use the time to work on your vocabulary lesson.”

  Homework was a lost cause. I couldn’t concentrate on words when all I could think about was Mateo. And Logan. And Mateo and Logan. And me, left out. Between that and the lulling rhythm of the train, there was no way I could focus on the flip cards Victoria was showing me.

  It took a while, but she finally gave up. “Perhaps this is not the best idea.” She tucked the cards into her bag and stood. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to go speak with Cavin for a moment.”

  “But he’s sitting with Logan,” I said stupidly.

  “Precisely.” Victoria left me with a smile.

  I let my head fall back against the seat. Great. What was I supposed to say to Logan? Thanks for ignoring me while you were gone. Oh, yes, and since you got back, too.

  I didn’t have time to think about it too much, because just then Logan parked himself on the seat beside me.

  “Man, it’s hot in here.” He flapped his shirt. “You hot?”

  “Mmmm,” I said.

  “You remember when we were in Spain last time? Freezing our butts off in Granada?”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Pretty much different this time around.”

  “Mmmm.”

  “Da says you’re to be in the show.”

  “Look, Logan. No offense, but I’m really tired.” I closed my eyes, hoping he’d get the hint that I didn’t want to talk.

  It worked for a few minutes. It probably would have worked longer if I’d been able to keep my eyes shut. But if I kept them shut, I couldn’t see him, and I wouldn’t know if he was watching me or ignoring me or making faces at me or what. So I opened one eye a crack. He was watching me.

  “What?” I demanded.

  “I knew you weren’t asleep.”

  “You did not.”

  He just smiled at that. “Just like old times.”

  I closed my eye again. “Not really.”

  “How’ve you been?”

  “Phenomenal.”

  He didn’t say anything again for a long while, until finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. I opened both eyes. He grinned like he’d just won some supreme challenge. I wanted to hit him.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Dork. What did he think was wrong? If he didn’t know, I wasn’t going to tell him.

  Until he sat there and watched me all quiet again.

  “I never heard from you,” I said finally.

  He nodded slowly like he had to consider my words before answering. “I never heard from you, either.”

  “Not true. I e-mailed. I wrote letters.”

  “Never got ’em.”

  I clenched my jaw and looked away.

  “Hey,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you?”

  “Truly. I didn’t mean to make you mad.”

  “I’m not mad,” I snapped.

  He coughed to cover his laugh.

  I had to admit, it was just like old times. This was our pattern: he’d joke, I’d get mad, he’d laugh, I’d get madder. Mom used to tell me he teased only because he could get a “rise” out of me. The only way to stop it would be not to fall into the trap.

  “Okay, so maybe I was a little mad. But I’ll get over it. Truce?” I held out my hand, and he shook it.

  “Deal.” He hesitated for a minute and then added, “I would’a written you a message, but the comments on your blog were turned off.”

  “You read my blog?” Maybe those Ireland hits in the stat counter actually were him. He hadn’t completely forgotten about me.

  I almost let myself get misty about it, but then he shrugged like it was no big deal. “I should get back,” he said, standing. “Nice talking to you, Cass.”

  Victoria came back to sit by me just as the scenery outside the train began to scroll past the window slower and slower. Crossing gates ding, ding, dinged as we rolled up to a little station. A red sign at the side of the tracks said BUñOL.

  “Well, here we are,” Victoria said. I think she kept talking, but I had tuned her out. Because there, standing on the platform with his dad, was Mateo.

  I pressed my hand to the glass. Mateo saw me. He waved, and I went all fizzy inside.

  The train hadn’t even come to a stop before people started crowding into the aisle. I grabbed my backpack and jumped up to join them, but Victoria didn’t move.

  “Not so fast,” she said. “Daniel said h
e wanted to get some shots of you and your parents arriving at the station once the train has emptied out a little.”

  I sighed and sank back down in my seat. Logan gave me a cheerful wave as he and his dad passed by. Minutes later, I saw them outside on the platform, walking over to where Mateo and his dad were standing. It just figured that Logan would get to Mateo first.

  By the time Daniel was ready to film my mom and dad and me waving to the camera, the train was completely empty. Even Victoria had left us to join the rest of the crew. On the platform, Mateo and Logan were already talking and gesturing with their hands, completely oblivious to us. As much as I had wished to be in front of the camera, I wished even more I was over there with them instead of fake-smiling for Daniel.

  “Cassidy, darling,” Daniel said as he squinted at me through the lens, “I need you to smile. This is supposed to be a happy moment.”

  I watched Logan air-kick an invisible soccer ball to Mateo, who air–head butted it back to him, and I sighed. Yeah. Ecstatic.

  Still, I did what I had to do—wave and smile like a homecoming queen, and pantomime how delighted I was by my first sight of Buñol.

  Daniel made my mom and dad and me climb off the train at least five times before he was satisfied with the shot. I’d been smiling for so long my cheeks were beginning to hurt. Cavin and Bayani were no help. They chatted on the platform with Señor Ruiz-Moreno, not even paying attention to us. Great directing skills.

  Daniel didn’t let up until Señor Ruiz-Moreno said it was time we leave for his brother’s house. Daniel looked like he was going to follow us there, until Bayani gently suggested they get settled at the hotel before going to set up for the paella cook-off.

  “Son,” Cavin called to Logan, “it’s time we were going, as well.”

  Suddenly, I found a reason to smile. Cavin and Logan were staying in the hotel with the crew, of course. Only my mom and dad and I would be staying at Mateo’s uncle’s house. Which meant Logan couldn’t monopolize Mateo all afternoon.

  Logan said good-bye to Mateo and almost walked right past me on his way over to his dad. Then, like he suddenly remembered I was there, he turned and gave me a chin jerk. “See you tonight.”