The Paparazzi Project

by Kristina Springer

  After fourth period, I head for my lunch table with Tessa, toting my brown sack lunch. A senior girl named Claire is sitting with Tessa today. Which is pretty unusual. Tessa likes us to eat lunch alone and usually scares off anyone who tries to sit down. She never has played well with others. Sometimes it feels like an honor that she wants me all to herself. And sometimes it feels like she’s suffocating the life out of me.

  “Hi, Claire,” I say as I sit down at the table. “Hey, Tess.”

  “Claire’s in my gym class,” Tessa tells me, apparently feeling the need to explain her presence.

  “Cool,” I say. “Oh, score! Be right back.” I turn on my camera and race over to the soft-serve machine.

  Snap, snap, snap. There are three other paparazzi standing around, taking pictures of the same subject I am. Tony Hernandez. He slipped on something wet on the floor and is lying on his back, his chocolate and vanilla swirl all down the front of his shirt. He doesn’t look too happy. But it’s a good shot nonetheless.

  “You guys all suck,” he says, still just sitting there. No one has even tried to help him stand up.

  We all start laughing. It is pretty funny. We’re just like the real paparazzi surrounding a celebrity and pissing him off.

  “Hey,” this girl named Brandi from class says to Tony, “you should charge at one of us and try to break our camera. That’d make an awesome shot.”

  “Or give me the finger,” Max from class says. “Then I can blur it out later. Come on, please?”

  Tony hoists himself up to his feet and grabs a fistful of napkins from a nearby napkin dispenser. “I’m not going to break any of your cameras. I’d probably have to pay for it and get a detention to boot. Just go ahead and take your pictures. I don’t care.”

  We do just that and keep snapping as he storms off into the boy’s bathroom, presumably to clean up.

  When I get back to the lunch table Claire and Tessa are smiling at me.

  “I was just telling Claire about your class project,” Tessa says in a surprisingly good mood.

  “Yeah, it sounds like fun,” Claire says.

  “It’s a blast,” I agree and mean it. At first I was very leery of the whole thing but I’m actually enjoying myself now. Especially the time I get to spend with Chas because of it. “So, you seem happier,” I say, turning toward Tessa.

  Tessa nods. “I am. Mike finally called. He’d overslept this morning. He thinks he’s coming down with a cold or something. His mom just dropped him off at school about a half an hour ago. You know—” her face changes like she just got a great idea, “—I should pick up some chicken soup for him after school and bring it over.”

  “That’s sweet,” Claire says.

  I twist my lips. Yeah, too sweet. Especially for Mike. I just know he’s up to no good. I’d better get on tailing Denise now and find out what it is.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better anyway,” I tell Tessa.

  There’s a bit of a ruckus, and I turn to see what’s going on. Madison is marching through the front doors of school and into the cafeteria, a group of girls, like an entourage, surrounding her. She’s wearing sunglasses, even though she’s inside now, carrying a frappe, and looking like she owns the room. Some of the paparazzi kids take her pic and what the heck, I do too. I’ve gotta hand it to Madison, she’s really getting into this project. I’d almost say she really thinks she is a celebrity now. And maybe she is? At school, anyway. I bet kids around here think she’s more popular now just from all of us chasing her around for pictures. Well, good for her.

  Personally, I’m happiest avoiding the limelight and letting people like my sis or Tessa go ahead and have it. I’m not drop-dead gorgeous like Tessa or a prodigy like Emma. I’m not someone my parents are going to brag about. I’m sure they’re not sitting up at their fancy-pants dinner parties with other doctors and professors and saying, “Well, my Livvie, she…” What? My Livvie does what? Not much. So why point that out to people? If I stay out of the center of attention then nobody will ever notice that I’m not really that special. That’s the theory, anyhow.

  “I am seriously jealous,” Claire says. “I wish I had your project and could take fun pictures of people for a grade instead of this awful research paper I’m working on. Ugh, I’ve been at the local library every night for the last two weeks.”

  “Me too,” Tessa says. “Lucky Livvie.”

  “Well, Lucky Livvie needs to work and since you have some company for lunch, if you guys don’t mind, I’m going to go trail a couple of my celebs. I need more pictures to bring to my meeting with Chas this afternoon,” I add, hoping that sounds like a convincing excuse. Really, I’m going to go hunt down Denise.

  “Okay,” Tessa says. “If I don’t catch up with you later I’ll stop by your house after school.”

  Claire smiles. “Bye, Livvie.”

  “Bye, guys.” I pick up my lunch and head out of the cafeteria.

  I walk up and down the halls, not sure where Denise is this period. I’m not really supposed to be in the halls wandering around like this, but I already have my excuse ready. Food poisoning from lunch and I’m on my way to the nurse. No one tries to stop me though, so I mentally file the excuse away for another time.

  I peek in the library, study hall, and music room. I think Denise must be in choir or band or something. I’ve seen her go in here before. But nope, no sign of her yet.

  I stop in to use the bathroom and just as I’m about to flush I hear someone turn on the sink. I peek out and see that it’s Denise. She’s studying her reflection in the mirror. She gathers all her big poofy hair onto her right shoulder and examines her neck.

  Oh my gosh! She has a hickey! I don’t take time to think but turn on my camera, jump out of the stall, and snap a picture of Denise looking at her hickey in the mirror.

  “Yes!” I say a little too loud, and Denise whips around and looks at me, startled.

  “No, no,” she says, clearly upset, taking a step toward me.

  But it’s too late. I’ve got the picture. And now I don’t know what to do. I have to get out of here before Denise tries to chat me up and get me to delete the picture or not use it in the weekly summation report. But at the same time I really, really want to wash my hands. I mean, ew.

  “Livvie…” Denise starts.

  I make a flash decision and run out of the bathroom, camera safe in hand. I’ll wash my hands in the water fountain. No one ever said this job was glamorous.

  Chapter 10

  It’s 3:30 on the nose when Chas walks into the library and slips into the seat next to me.

  “Hey, Livvie.”

  “Hey, Chas.” I notice a flyer on top of his pile of books. “What’s that?” I ask, nodding to it.

  He glances down. “It just talks about how the Art Institute has free visiting days all this week. I sorta like art,” he explains with a shrug.

  “I sorta like art too,” I return.

  “Yeah? Like what?”

  Ah, crap. He’s putting me on the spot. I haven’t technically been back to the Art Institute since I was maybe twelve. I try to recall some of the paintings. “Um, the ones where the chick always has one boob hanging out are interesting. I don’t know, something about that always cracked me up. Like, was one hot? Did they all have an unfortunate wardrobe slip just as they were being painted? Are they pulling a Janet Jackson/Super Bowl stunt?”

  Chas laughs. “Yeah. That’s the Renaissance period. It was a trend for a while there. So, got any good shots for me today?” he says, thankfully changing the topic.

  I give him an excited look. “Oh, do I.”

  I upload my pictures onto his laptop and we hover close to each other, looking through each one. My right leg is tingling just from being so close to him yet I’m super conscious not to bump into him.

  “This is a really good one of Joey,” Chas says. “His face says everything he’s thinking. Just like Mrs. B. said to look for.”

  “You see it?” I say,
suddenly delighted. Wow, Chas is so in touch! He can see the love on Joey’s face, the yearning, the…

  “Of course I can see it,” Chas says, interrupting my thoughts. “He has gas.”

  “You big dork!” I say, and smack myself on the forehead. “That’s not what that look says!”

  Chas laughs and playfully bumps into my shoulder with his. “I’m playing, I’m playing. He likes your friend, right?”

  I smile at him and bump into his shoulder in return. I hope that’s okay. What’s the proper protocol after a boy bumps you? “So you do see it. Good. I don’t like working with callous, insensitive people.”

  “Callous,” he repeats. “Nice word choice.”

  “What? I studied for SATs,” I reply.

  “You know ‘callous’ and ‘insensitive’ mean the same thing, right?”

  “Excuse me, Shakespeare. We can’t all be honor students like you,” I say. “Someone has to make you look good.”

  “I’m just messing with you.”

  “I know, I’m messing back,” I return. Is this where we get to bump shoulders again?

  He smiles his adorable smile at me. And then unfortunately gets back to business. “Okay, what else have you got for me?”

  “Well, get ready for the pièce de résistance. Oh.” I stop and look at him. “That’s French for ‘really freaking awesome highlight of the day.’”

  He shakes his head. “All right, all right, show me.”

  I pull up the picture of Denise looking at her hickey in the mirror and watch Chas’s expression.

  “Sweet!” he says excitedly. “We can use this on the cover. We can speculate where she got it from, who she’s dating, will she bring him to prom, and so on. We can drag it out for weeks—it’ll be great.”

  I nod and look at the picture blown up on Chas’s laptop. I lean in close to examine the hickey. And yep, just as I suspected when I saw it briefly in the mirror. It’s from Mike. I’ll have to show Tessa the picture. And I’ll have to show her before it gets in the report. This isn’t going to be pretty.

  I park my car on the right side of the driveway and head into my house. Tessa’s already there, sitting in the kitchen eating apples slices with Emma.

  “Finally,” Tessa says. “What took you so long?”

  “You know I meet Chas after school every day now,” I reply.

  “Ah, Chas, your lover.” She laughs, obviously cracking herself up.

  “Ignore her,” I say to Emma. “She took too much of her medication again. It’s one pill in the morning, one in the afternoon, Tessa.” I spin my index finger in a circle at the side of my head, representing the crazy sign to Emma. “Come on, let’s go to my room,” I say to Tess.

  “Can I come?” Emma asks.

  “Not right now, Em. Tess shouldn’t be around humans when she’s in this state,” I tell her. “And you need to get ready to leave for piano.” To Tessa, I point to my room with a nod and she walks off in that direction.

  Emma scrunches up her face. Sometimes I wonder if she doesn’t get sick of all this piano business—the lessons, the recitals, the endless hours of practice.

  “Well, thank you for the collage you left on my bed today,” Emma says before I can take a step. “I like that it’s shaped like a bowling ball and pin, and I like the pictures of us in it. The one I took of you falling after you let go of the ball is funny.”

  I give her a quick hug. “Glad you liked it,” I say, smiling. She’s a good kid. She can’t help that my parents focus whatever attention they have when they’re not working on her. Her talent sorta demands it. Whereas I fly under the radar. I get decent grades, help around the house, and do what my parents ask without fuss. I’m so good I’m practically invisible. But that’s just how things are and it’s fine, really. I’ll be going to college soon anyway and be completely on my own, making all of my own decisions. I’ll be well-prepared. “Hey Em,” I say. “After your piano lessons tonight, want to meet in my room for a game of Scrabble?”

  Her face lights up and she nods. “Yes!”

  “Great, I’ll have it all set up for when you get back.” I wink at her and head for my bedroom.

  Once inside, I go to my laptop and upload the pictures I took today so I can get it over with. Just show Tessa the picture of Denise and let her figure out what she’s going to do from here.

  I pull up the hickey pic and step away. “Okay. Take a look.”

  Tessa sits down at my desk and stares at the picture of Denise, and I brace myself for a massive Tessa freakout like none other.

  But it doesn’t come.

  “Tess?” I say slowly. But Tessa’s just shaking her head, smirking.

  This is very weird.

  “What?” I ask hesitantly, scared she’s having some sort of psychotic break.

  “What a cagey slut that girl is. Who’s the poor sucker she’s moved on to now?” Tessa asks, turning to look at me.

  My jaw drops. Shut. Up. Tessa thinks Denise is dating a new guy.

  “Huh?” I finally manage to say.

  “Who do you think gave her the hickey?”

  I look at the picture and then at Tessa’s face again. Does she really not see it? The giant hickey in the shape of Texas? The same one Mike’s given Tessa twenty times before? Has she never studied her own hickeys before? Of course, maybe if you’re getting hickeys on a regular basis you don’t study them like your never-been-hickied friend would. But still, it’s definitely Mike’s hickey. I’m positive.

  Dang, she really doesn’t see it. Now what?

  Chapter 11

  It’s Wednesday afternoon, and I’m sitting at a table in the cafeteria, flipping through the pictures on my camera. It’s my free period and I have nothing to do today. Oh sure, I could do my history homework, but what fun would that be? And it would waste valuable celebrity stalking time. I’ve got dirt on Denise and the cute pics of Joey. And I got some great pictures of Brittany looking really crabby and tired yesterday. I was thinking we can title it, “Brittany Griffith—Severe Weight Loss Crisis.” And then talk about how the muffin incident sent her on a rapid decline and she hasn’t been able to eat a single carbohydrate since. We can say something like, “Sources say she’s currently five pounds less than she should be for her frame.” That would cheer her up. I don’t really think she lost weight, but in the shot she’s sporting black skinny jeans and does look pretty thin.

  I still need something new on Garrison and anything at all on Talia. Her office supply shopping trip was seriously snooze-worthy stuff. Since I don’t know much about Talia, I head for the school library to scour old yearbooks and see what kind of stuff she’s into.

  Daniels, Talia. Daniels, Talia…I run my finger down the list of names in the index of last year’s yearbook. Bingo. There she is.

  Daniels, Talia: Honors Society 9, 10, 11. Cricket 9, 10. Physics Club 9, 10, 11. Student Council Treasurer 11. Latin Club 9, 10, 11.

  Wow. Talia seems smart. And kinda boring. And what is cricket? This is frustrating.

  Livvie’s Reflective Journal: Entry #5

  I think I’ve found a flaw in this class project, Mrs. B. Celebrities, real celebrities, are interesting. They do interesting things, hang out with interesting people, eat interesting food, and dress, you guessed it, in interesting clothes. There are tons of things to take pictures of real celebrities doing. Not all of our class celebrities are interesting, however. Take Talia Daniels. I’ve tried to get some dirt on her but she doesn’t do anything anyone would care about at all. What should I take a picture of? Her getting another A on a test? Her doing the student council bookkeeping? Her conjugating verbs in Latin? Zzzzzzzz. Sorry, I about put myself to sleep even writing that. Seriously, considering she came up with this class project, I think it’s her duty to live an interesting life during the duration of it. I’d dock her points if I were you. If by chance you do this class project again next year, maybe you should screen the celebrity applicants beforehand to ensure that their lives are not dreadful
ly boring. Your paparazzi will thank you.

  “Hi Chas, sorry I’m late,” I say, slipping into the seat next to him at 3:40.

  “No problem,” he replies, “as long as you’ve got something good for me.”

  “Ugh. That’s just it. My pictures suck today. No one was doing anything. Do you think Garret and Madison broke up? I didn’t catch them together even once today. That’s strange, right? And Talia, man, what a bore. I just can’t get anything good on that girl.”

  “Hmm.” Chas twists his lips in thought. “Well, we do have enough, technically, for a report this week. But I wouldn’t mind getting one or two more shots. What about getting Garret and Madison apart—like, talking to other people? We could always go with the angle that there’s trouble in paradise.”

  “Ahh, I like the way you think.” I nod. “Ok, I’ll work on it.”

  “And,” Chas continues, “Talia is assistant director in the fall play. Maybe you can hang out at their after school rehearsal today and see what you can get. Maybe she’s temperamental and freaks out at an actress or something. Who knows?”

  That’s strange. How does Chas know Talia’s schedule? And has he met her? She’s about as temperamental as a clam. Hmph. I glance at the time on my phone. 3:41p.m. Well, Tessa is probably at my house already, wanting to chat. But I could always stop in the auditorium for a few minutes and see what Talia is up to.

  “Okay, I’ll go now.” I stand to leave and Chas stops me.

  “Hold on.”

  I raise my eyebrows, waiting.

  “Are you busy with your sister again this weekend?” he asks.

  I’m momentarily stunned. That came clear out of the blue. He’s trying to ask me out again. Don’t mess it up, don’t mess it up! I yell in my head. “No, not at all. She’s going away. Far away. Visiting my grandma. In Kansas. Has to take a plane. Won’t be back for days. Nope, nope, not busy at all. Not me.”