Landry in Like

by Krysten Lindsay Hager

  “Why?” I asked.

  “The day after I didn’t make it, Kyle came up to me and said, ‘Oh, Devon, you’re the best cheerleader ever,’ and Yasmin laughed like he was the funniest guy on the planet. He was so rude and I would never, ever have laughed if he said something like that to her.”

  Tori’s eyes widened. “He said that to your face?”

  “He pretended it was all a joke and like he didn’t mean anything by it, but it was so… you know… jerky.”

  “What a creep,” I said.

  “Can we change the subject?” she asked.

  I nodded. “I don’t want to make this all about me, but I have some news.”

  “Why would you say that?” Tori asked.

  “Ericka made a comment — whatever — I just don’t want anyone to think I’m bragging or—”

  “What? Spill it,” Devon said.

  I told them about the heart Vladi texted me and said that’s why I was worried Maggie might spread some rumor about me flirting behind his back.

  “Oh wow, that is so crazy,” Devon said. “That’s so amazing he did the heart thing. I hope those girls don’t take that gossip stuff too far. I’m sure it’ll be fine though.” Her face was super serious for a minute like she was thinking about it, and I didn’t get warm fuzzies from her expression.

  Chapter 26

  I got home and saw that Mom had texted me to call her when I got in. She said the store people liked photos of me in the communion outfit and they wanted to use it for a postcard ad for the store. An ad? Sure, it was of me looking like, ten years old, but it was still something major to put in my modeling book.

  I texted Ashanti, who was over at the high school for a cheer meeting. She couldn’t write much, but she said she was super excited for me.

  Peyton wasn’t at home, so I called Tori to tell her the news.

  “That’s great, so did you finish the social studies homework?” she asked.

  “Uh, no. I was talking to my mom about the whole contract thing. I haven’t started my homework yet.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, Erika’s here, so I better get back to our assignment.”

  “Okay, can you tell Erika about the ad?”

  “Sure, hold on.” Tori put the phone down for, like, a second and then came back on. “She said, ‘That’s nice.’ Anyway, gotta go. We have a ton of homework. See you tomorrow.”

  I stared at the phone in my hand. A ton of homework? We had all the same teachers. I had two assignments, and I had finished most of the math in class.

  I decided to call Grandma Albright next to tell her the news.

  “Oh, that’s lovely dear. Quite exciting. However, your father mentioned to me that you didn’t do well on your last math quiz. You can’t afford to let your grades slip if you want to get into a good college,” she said.

  I wasn’t even in high school yet. And who cared about one stupid pop quiz when I could be on the brink of fame and fortune? Okay, maybe not quite fame and fortune, but I had to start somewhere.

  “Dear, your cousin Lucy’s here. Why don’t you tell her your news?” she said.

  Lucy, my super-perfect, never-a-hair-out-of-place cousin with the amazing grade point average who didn’t give me the time of day? That cousin? Oh fun.

  “Hey, Landry,” Lucy said in a bored tone.

  “Hi, so… um, I am going to be in an ad for a store here. I’m super excited.”

  “Oh, so a local store then?”

  I didn’t like how Lucy said “local,” like it was a kid’s lemonade stand or something.

  “Yeah, but they have cute clothes and—”

  “Do you get a discount?” she asked.

  “No, but I’ll have my picture online and in a postcard ad.”

  “So just local stuff then?”

  There was that word again.

  “Yeah, but the ads will be—”

  “How much money are you getting for this?” she asked.

  Like, next to nothing, but I didn’t want to tell her that. Besides, Talisa Milan always said you had to be professional and respect the business you represented.

  “I’m not allowed to say.”

  “Who would I tell that would possibly care?” she said with an annoying laugh.

  Rude much? “It says so in my contract,” I said, thinking she’d be impressed by the word “contract.” It sounded so adult.

  “Whatevs. So what’s up with your math grade? I heard you’re, like, flunking out of school or something.”

  Way to be dramatic, Luce.

  “No, I—I got a seventy-eight percent on a pop quiz,” I said, feeling queasy for sharing too much information. Why did I just tell her that? It was none of her business.

  “Well, there goes any chance of getting into an Ivy League school,” she said sighing.

  I didn’t even know which colleges were considered Ivy League schools, but I told her I wasn’t interested in those anyway. I mean, hello? I was only in eighth grade.

  “I’m not worried about it. College is a long ways away.”

  “It’s coming sooner than you think, but you’re right,” she said. “You don’t need to worry about those since you can’t get into them with bad grades. I mean, seniors at my school who were valedictorians got rejected by them, so…”

  I didn’t even know for sure what a valedictorian was — like a straight A student? But I did get her meaning, which was, if smart kids couldn’t do it, then what chance did an average student like me have? I wanted to say, “Maybe I’ll just focus on my modeling career instead,” but I knew my mom would find out about that and pull me out of the ad, the agency, and quite possibly ground me for life if I did. Plus, I still had my big ad coming up with Talisa and Jem, so I couldn’t afford to take any chances of messing that up.

  “Well, I have to go. I need to do some homework,” I said.

  “Right. I’m sure it takes you a lot longer to do it, too. Bye, Landry. Good luck with your little ad thing,” Lucy said.

  It was a big day for me and yet I couldn’t have felt more worthless. I went to check my email and re-read the contract Mom sent me so I could see what was going on with the ad. It made no sense to me, but it was still official proof that someone out there liked me and thought I was pretty enough to be in an ad. It was like this one email was saying, “You’re not gross and disgusting.” I clicked “print,” so I could have it to look at when I felt blah later.

  I ran to greet Mom as soon as I heard her key in the front door.

  “Mom, did you read through my contract yet so we can sign it and send it back?”

  “Landry, I just walked in. I need to unwind,” she said, grabbing a bottle of iced tea.

  “But — but… what if they change their minds?”

  “Well, then it wasn’t meant to be,” she said, kicking off her shoes and taking a sip of her tea.

  “Mo-om, do you think Talisa Milan’s mother used to wait to read her contracts?”

  “Talisa Milan is going through business school to learn how to read her own contracts,” she said.

  “Fine. Whatever. I’ll just stay here forever in this house wondering what could have been had my mother read my contract and helped me to become a star.” I said. “And I would have bought you a house with my first big check.”

  “It’s lovely to see you’re not being dramatic,” Mom said smirking. “Let me have something to eat and then I’ll get to it. Now go do your homework.”

  “It’s done.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “No, honest. It is. I did it during class when Hakeem puked in the hall and my teacher had to go help him. He pukes a lot.”

  “What a charming story. Fine, go read or something.”

  I decided to call my Grandma and Grandpa Dombrowski to tell them about my ad. Maybe they’d be happy about it and not bring up my stupid math grade. Grandpa Bernie answered the phone and I told him I had some news, so he had Grandma Lily get on the other line.

  “Okay, we’re bot
h here now, sweetheart,” he said. “What’s your big news?”

  I told them and you would have thought I just announced I was running for President.

  “That is wonderful, Landry. Next stop, Paris and Milan.” Grandpa said. “When does it come out, and can you send us a copy so we can take it to church to show our friends?”

  Grandma said she wanted to talk to me alone, so Grandpa hung up. Oh no, was a math lecture coming?

  “Honey, I’m proud of your accomplishments and your mother has told me how grown up and professional you’ve been on all these jobs and competition things, but it’s still the fashion world and I worry,” she said.

  “Mom is there for almost everything, and whenever I did an Ingénue event they had a lot of people around to make sure we were okay and not getting into trouble,” I said. “It’s not like the scene for the older teens that model. I promise.”

  “That’s good to hear, but this world does expect you to, well, grow up a little faster. I know you have a good head on your shoulders, but I want you to make sure you hold onto the values you were raised with.”

  I wasn’t sure exactly what she meant by that, but I assumed it was about not drinking, acting stupid, or dating too many boys or something like that. It felt safe to just say, “Yup, don’t worry, Grandma.” It wasn’t like I was in Talisa’s league anyway, and my mom, with her hawk eyes, would never let anything happen anyway. It was almost sad how boring my modeling life was. It seemed like models would be going out to clubs and partying, but that must just be the older ones who weren’t under their mommies’ watchful eyes.

  “Well, Grandpa didn’t get to tell you, but he has been busy, too. Our neighbor, Jamal, had his car break down and needed a ride to school. He goes to a small college a half-hour away, so Grandpa drove him. Jamal just had one class that day, so Grandpa said he’d wait for him and give him a ride home. While he was there, Grandpa found out about a furniture making class. He was curious about it so he went into an office to ask, and it turns out the person teaching the class was right there and invited Grandpa to sit in. He liked it so much that the teacher suggested he sign up and take it as a non-credit course. He’s already made a small bookshelf, and he’s working on a little bookcase next.”

  “That’s great.”

  “He brought the school schedule home, and they have this introduction to painting class there that you can take as a non-credit course, too. It looks interesting,” she said.

  “That’s sounds fun. Did you sign up for it?”

  “Oh, me? No. I don’t paint.”

  “Isn’t it an intro class to learn how to paint?” I asked.

  “Well, yes…”

  “Then take it and learn how,” I said.

  “Oh, Landry, at my age you don’t just pick up a new hobby.”

  I asked why not and pointed out Grandma Anne had just taken up golfing after several of her friends did.

  “Well… I did mention it to a few of my friends, and they thought it sounded kind of silly,” she said.

  “Some of the people at school think my modeling stuff is stupid, but I try not to listen to them,” I said.

  “You run into that with friends? They don’t support you?”

  “Sometimes. People aren’t great about that kind of thing. But, I mean, if I didn’t do it anyway then I would have missed out on getting this ad and the chance to do one with my favorite models, Talisa and Jem.”

  “That’s true, but it’s different for me, honey,” she said.

  “How?”

  “Well, people kind of think it’s strange to step out of your comfort zone and, honestly, it’s probably a class full of young people. I haven’t touched a paintbrush since I was in school. I won’t be any good, and then my friends will have something to laugh at.”

  “So? They’re the ones missing out on trying something cool. Don’t let anyone talk you out of it. It might be super fun,” I said.

  “I could be terrible at it though.”

  “But what if you’re good? Like, amazing at it? You won’t know unless you go and try a couple classes out,” I said. “I almost backed out of an audition because I was afraid of what people would say if I tried and failed, but I didn’t and I got to be on TV… well, that didn’t turn out so great when I ran into that girl on the stage, but I did get some modeling experiences out of it and now I have an actual portfolio and credits.”

  “Well, I guess if my granddaughter can be brave and go on TV, then I can sign up for painting 101,” she said.

  And then it hit me. The whole frenemy thing where I held back from doing new things so people at school wouldn’t laugh at me or say, “I told you so” when it all went south—it apparently never went away. My grandmother was going through the exact same thing. There was no way I was going to let her miss out on this painting class. I was glad she was saying she’d sign up, but it also kind of depressed me that this sort of insecure friend thing was still an issue for someone who was a grandparent. Why couldn’t people just support each other in trying new things? It was so dumb.

  “Okay, I will sign up tomorrow. Maybe I’ll do a picture for you,” she said. “But, honey, just promise you’ll be careful with the modeling stuff and don’t do anything crazy. Talk to you soon. Love you.”

  I went over to Mom who was looking over the contract.

  “I’m not done reading it yet,” she said.

  “Whatevs. I was just talking to Grandma Lily,” I said, filling her in on the painting class. “Isn’t it depressing that even she has frenemy stuff to deal with?”

  Mom laughed. “Yeah, gotta love the supportive sisterhood sometimes. But there are people out there that will encourage others. You just need to find the right group. Find your tribe.”

  “I guess. She did say she’d sign up for the class. I hope she goes through with it.”

  “Grandma came from the kind of background where you didn’t make waves and take risks. Security was a big thing to her parents and grandparents. They all thought I was nuts when I wanted to go away to school and live in a dorm.”

  “They did?”

  “Yeah, it was hard for me to be a business major when I had cousins around the same age taking the safe route. All I heard was how amazing they were doing with their perfect jobs, their husbands who they had known since they were five, and their families who all lived nearby to support them,” she said. “Anytime school got hard for me, my cousins would all say, ‘I told you so,’ and that I ‘overreached’ with my goals. It was hard to keep pushing on.”

  “So how did you do it?” I asked.

  “Well, Grandpa would tell me not to listen to them. His family was a mix of risk takers and what I call ‘play-it-safers.’ He had a shot at a career in baseball but gave it up when he got promoted at his stable job that provided a good income. Then he met Grandma and realized settling down with a family and pursuing a baseball career did not go hand-in-hand, so he got married and that was the end of baseball. He didn’t want to see me give up on what I wanted either.”

  I nodded, surprised to hear that about Grandpa, but I wondered how a business career could be anywhere near as exciting as being a baseball player. Although Mom did seem to get super excited when she closed a big deal or got to be in charge of some major project at work. So maybe Mom’s career was like Grandpa’s baseball dream… just in a slightly more boring package.

  “Does Grandpa regret it?”

  She shrugged. “I think it’s more a ‘What if?’ or maybe an ‘If only’ kind of thing where you look back and wonder what would’ve happened if you took a different road in your life. I think he’s happy, but everyone wonders what might have been had they taken a big risk. I’m not going to lie to you. A lot of big risks end up in big failures — a lot of big failures.”

  Oh great. How uplifting. She would be the worst motivational coach ever.

  “But it’s the people who have a lot of big failures and keep going that become the big successes,” she said. “Always remember—�
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  And here came the lecture.

  “—you learn more from your failures than you do from your successes.”

  Okay, so every once in a while she made sense. But telling her that would only lead to hearing more lectures.

  “I had no idea Grandpa even thought about being a baseball player. I just thought he was super into the sport,” I said.

  She nodded. “Yup, he got a call back after a tryout and had scouts coming to see him play.”

  Wow, Vladi told me there were already scouts coming to watch him.

  “Grandpa said his friends told him it was a pipe dream and would tease him about trying to go pro,” she said.

  Sort of like my dad’s stupid unsupportive friends that told him medical school would be too difficult and tried to talk him out of it. I asked Mom if she knew about that.

  “Oh yeah, and I’ll never understand why, but your dad remains friends with some of them. But guy friendships are weird to begin with. They don’t see each other for ten years and then just drop in one day and act like that’s normal. Women go a month without speaking and think the other person hates them and has moved on and that they’re no longer friends,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “So this stuff doesn’t change when you’re older — at all? This is so depressing.”

  “Sorry to disappoint you on that fact.”

  “Did your friends at least support your college stuff?” I asked.

  She bit her lip. “I didn’t stay in touch with a lot of people from high school. The girls in my dorm were more into hanging out with boys and partying, and I was pretty focused at an early age. Plus, then I met your dad and he had a goal, too. He was the encouragement I needed to keep going. A lot of the girls I was friends with weren’t as serious about school, and not all that encouraging either. So that’s how I ended up getting married younger than I planned. Your dad became my best friend and my support system. Without him I might have given up when things got tough with business school and vice versa with your dad and med school.”

  I never knew that was why my parents got married so young.