Donut Go Breaking My Heart

by Suzanne Nelson

  “Good,” I said. “That’s all … great.” So why did I feel so incredibly lousy about it? And why was it that, for all Kiri’s gushing over her hopes for ‘falling in like,’ there was something in her tone that nagged at me, something that rang insincere? “Kiri, just don’t …” I tripped over my tongue. “Don’t mess with him. He’s a nice guy, so if you don’t really like him, then—”

  “Of course I won’t!” She rolled her eyes. “Give me some credit!”

  Mrs. Seng popped her head into the trailer door. “Kiri! There you are! What do you think? The donuts are just going to arrange themselves on tables?”

  “I wish,” Kiri mumbled.

  Mrs. Seng glared at her. “Sheyda will go down to Donut Planet for me without complaint, but you? You grouse over everything.”

  Then Mrs. Seng was gone, leaving Kiri staring after her, irritation simmering on her face. “She’ll never get me. She would’ve been happier having you for a daughter.”

  “She never means what she says,” I said gently.

  Kiri shook her head. “Sometimes I think she does.” The comment sat between us with a new and strange awkwardness. I wrestled with trying to understand it, but then Kiri broke the silence with a glum, “I’ll see you after you’re done filming.”

  Once the trailer door clicked shut, I sat back in the chair. I wished Mrs. Seng wouldn’t always compare me to Kiri. I wished I’d tracked Cabe down at lunch and talked to him myself. I wished I could’ve been working on my model right now instead of prepping for an afternoon of camera lenses. I wished a lot of things that didn’t have any hope of coming true.

  * * *

  “Okay,” Jillian said from her director’s chair, “are you two comfortable?”

  No! I wanted to shout. I gave Cabe a quick side glance. He was staring at the floor. We were standing behind the counter at Doughlicious, about to shoot our scene. I was full of dread.

  “So,” Jillian continued, flipping through the script in her lap, “Marie and Prince Dalton are talking about the school dance, and Marie asks him if he’s going to invite anyone. She’s trying to figure out whether he likes Tia or not, but he’s trying to avoid the question. You’re both getting frustrated.”

  Well, that won’t be a long shot, I thought. The set fell silent, the cameras began rolling, and Jillian called “Action!” I started stocking the glass display with donuts the way Jillian had instructed me to.

  “You know the Winter Formal’s only two weeks away,” I recited from memory, feeling nervous. “Brian asked Tia if she would go with him.”

  Cabe, playing Dalton, frowned. “Did she say yes?”

  “Not yet,” I said. “There’s someone else she’s been hoping might ask her. Someone like you?”

  Cabe fussed with the display. “She shouldn’t get her hopes up about me. I’m not the guy she thinks I am. My life is … complicated. She wouldn’t understand.”

  Ha! That sounded familiar. “I bet she would,” I countered. “If you took the time to be honest with her. You can’t expect her to read your mind.” Oops, that wasn’t in the script! I’d just blurted it out. I waited for Jillian to call “Cut!” but she was gesturing madly to keep the cameras rolling.

  “What if she doesn’t like the truth?” Cabe asked.

  “Don’t you think you should let her decide that for herself?” I was way off script now, but I couldn’t stop. “You’re not being fair. You’re shutting her out without giving her a chance.”

  His eyes widened in surprise, and he opened his mouth to respond. “Hang on a second, Sheyda—er, I mean, Marie …” He blushed, waving his hand at the cameras to stop shooting. “Sorry! I blew it.”

  “No!” Jillian shot up from her chair. “That was good. Sheyda, I can see how nervous the cameras make you.”

  “I know,” I admitted. “It’s hard …”

  “Just keep trying. Hopefully it’ll get easier. In the meantime, you two are better together when you’re off script, and we’ve got what we need for now. Let’s take a ten-minute break.”

  I relaxed as the crew sprang into motion, adjusting lighting and moving cameras to set up for another scene. Cabe was instantly surrounded by his team of makeup artists, one of them muttering to him, “I’ve never seen you perspire like this. Since when do you get nervous? We’re going to need more powder, people!”

  Cabe’s eyes flicked to my face, and I thought I detected a blush deepening across his cheeks. My heart raced, and I ducked my head, looking for a distraction. That’s when I noticed Jillian watching a playback of the scene we’d just finished on her laptop. I inched closer and she waved me over.

  “Take a look.” She handed me her headphones. “Tell me what you think.”

  I slid on the headphones as she restarted the clip. It gave me a strange, out-of-body sensation, watching myself on the screen. I’d thought for sure I’d look like a complete novice. I did have a deer-in-headlights expression in my eyes, and I mumbled some of my words. Still, I wasn’t nearly as stiff or awkward-sounding as I’d feared. There was another problem, though.

  I pointed to the screen. “That napkin dispenser is distracting. Cabe looks like he’s talking to it instead of to me.”

  Jillian nodded. “You’re right. I was just thinking the same thing. We’ll have to edit it out.” She smiled at me. “You’ve got a good eye.”

  “Thanks.” I blushed. “I love set design. It’s what I want to do. Well, what I’m trying to do.” I told her about my plan to apply for the design camp at NYU.

  “No more acting in your future?” Jillian asked.

  I shook my head. “I think everyone can tell it’s not for me. But,” I added quickly, “it’s more interesting than I thought it would be.”

  Jillian laughed. “Hey, you’re hanging in there, and we’ll be done shooting before you know it. In the meantime, don’t be shy about sharing design thoughts. Why don’t you come early for Sunday’s shoot? You could work with Trish, our set designer, for a bit, maybe get some pointers. And if you show Trish and me your plans for your model, I’ll consider writing you a recommendation for the program.”

  I felt a rush of joy. “Really? Thank you, Jillian! That would be so great!”

  She glanced over my shoulder. “Um … but now I think somebody might be waiting to talk to you.” I turned to see Cabe a few feet away, trying to seem very involved with something on his cell phone but doing a horrible job of looking convincing. I nearly laughed. It was the first bad acting performance I’d ever seen him give.

  I decided I’d be brave, so I took a few steps toward him. “Hey. I think I might’ve thrown you off during the scene.”

  “No worries. If Jillian says it worked, then I’m happy.” He paused, still fiddling with his phone. “Sheyda, I’m sorry. About this morning. I’ve gotten into a horrible habit of assuming the worst of people. Paparazzi paranoia, I guess. And I took it out on you, which wasn’t cool.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “The truth is that this media storm is my worst nightmare. I’d never seek it out on purpose.”

  He nodded. “Yeah. Kiri said that at lunch today, too. But I should’ve listened to you this morning.”

  “I was only trying to tell you that … you don’t have to worry about that with me.”

  “Ouch.” He laughed softly. “So the idea of being my mystery girl is that repulsive, huh?”

  “No! Of course not!” My face was blazing now. “I’d love to be your girl—” Omigod, WHAT?!? “I mean, I didn’t mean …” I was going to die of humiliation. Right here. Right now. “I only meant that I’d never fake it for fame.” I sneaked a peek at him, thinking he’d look horrified. Instead, he was grinning. “If I liked you, it would be for real,” I added softly. “That’s all.”

  “Good—I mean—I’m glad you’re, um, for real.” He looked up at me from under his long, dark lashes. “There aren’t a lot of people I can trust. But I’m glad Kiri set things straight.”

  I nodded. “She looks out for me.”

/>   He tilted his head, studying me. “Maybe you don’t need looking out for as much as you think you do. You didn’t need to send her—”

  “I didn’t send her. She volunteered.” Suddenly, I saw a chance to put in a good word for Kiri. “She’s been your biggest fan since, well, forever.”

  He smiled. “I kind of got that impression,” he whispered. “She’s nice, but man, can she talk. If I hadn’t had to leave for my meeting with Mr. Baldwin, she might still be going.”

  “That’s Kiri.” I laughed but felt baffled. The way he was talking about Kiri, it didn’t sound like he was falling for her. I felt a strange surge of hope, followed instantly by a stronger surge of guilt.

  “Cabe, Sheyda, we’re ready for the next scene.” Jillian’s assistant was calling us over.

  Cabe nodded, then turned back to me. “So if we’re going to be friends, we’ll tell each other the truth. I promise I won’t doubt you again, and you promise to come to me yourself when you need to talk to me.” He held out his hand, waiting for me to shake on it.

  “I promise.” I slipped my fingers into his. It could’ve been my imagination, but our hands seemed to rest against each other a little too long, until it felt like less of a handshake and more like hand holding. My breath caught as Cabe slid his hand away, but for the rest of the afternoon, I thought I could still feel the lingering warmth from his fingertips brushing mine.

  I pressed the last step into place on my model staircase, careful to keep the glue from oozing over the sides. Then I sat back in my chair, stretching. I had to be at Doughlicious for filming by eight a.m., so I’d set my alarm for five to get up and work on my model.

  “It’s Saturday, for crying out loud,” Mina had grumbled when my alarm went off. She still hadn’t earned her cell phone privileges back, and it was making her extra grouchy. I’d instinctively reached for the switch on my desk lamp, ready to turn it off for fear of making her mad. But then I’d stopped myself.

  “This is the only time I have,” I’d said to her. I nearly added a “sorry,” but held it in. The fact was, I didn’t have anything to be sorry for. If Mina could keep me awake blaring music so loudly that even her earbuds couldn’t contain the sound, then I had every right to work on my model. Mina grumbled some more, but eventually, amazingly, she got out her English assignment and started reading.

  “What do you think?” I asked her two hours later, gesturing to the miniature spiral staircase I’d created. It was for the futuristic part of the Romeo and Juliet set. I’d designed it to be suspended from the stage’s ceiling to give it the appearance of floating. Once the glue was dry, I was going to spray paint the stairs gold-and-red.

  Mina inspected the staircase from all angles, the scowl on her face momentarily disappearing. “It’s fantastic, Sheyda,” she said sincerely. “You’re so talented. Really.”

  I smiled at her, feeling a warm glow. “Thanks, but you don’t have to say that.”

  “Believe me, I know I don’t. Sometimes, it really peeves me that you’re so creative.”

  “What?” I almost laughed, thinking she had to be joking, but I saw from her expression that she meant every word. I was shocked that she was being so honest. My hopes lifted. Maybe we could finally stop tiptoeing around each other and get into our sister comfort zone again. “You’ve always had more friends than me. You’re braver, and cooler, and …” I shrugged.

  “It’s not about that.” Mina flipped absently through the pages of her English book. “Do you know one of the best things about hanging out with Rehann and Josh?”

  I shook my head.

  She gave a small smile. “They don’t really know you,” she said, “so they can’t make any comparisons.” She sank back onto the bed. “Going skiing with them will let me blow off so much steam. Mom and Dad won’t be hovering 24/7, and I can relax and be myself, you know?”

  “But … you can’t go on the ski trip.”

  Mina blinked, then nodded vehemently. “I know.” She dropped her eyes to the floor. “I was talking hypotheticals.”

  There was a sudden tap on the bedroom window, and Rehann appeared on the fire escape, waving at Mina. “Are you coming?” Rehann mouthed to Mina.

  Mina nodded and grabbed her hat and coat from the closet.

  “Where are you going?” I demanded.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Minas’s eyes flashed impishly as she threw open our bedroom window. “One of us should be having some fun, so …” She grinned. “I’m happy to take one for the team. And don’t you dare tell Mom and Dad anything!” She climbed through the window with Rehann’s help, and then the two of them disappeared down the fire escape.

  I shut my eyes. This was not good. Neither one of us was ever allowed to go anywhere in our neighborhood without our cell phones. I thought about telling Mom and Dad she’d left, but then Mina would know that I’d ratted her out. She’d never speak to me again if I did that. Besides, I thought as I checked the clock, I was supposed to be at Doughlicious for the filming in a little while. I’d just hope that Mina stayed out of trouble. She’d never done anything really risky any other time she’d snuck out. She wouldn’t now. Would she?

  * * *

  When I got to Doughlicious I went in search of Jillian. She’d asked me to come early to meet with Trish, but now my heart thrummed with jitters. What if I did something stupid and blew my chance to impress her?

  I found Jillian and Simeon watching in frustration as Trish and the prop assistants scurried about like ants, carrying all manner of donuts, chairs, and tables. The dining part of the shop was practically gutted, leaving only black-and-white-checkered flooring and the pink booths.

  “Whoa.” I surveyed the wreckage that used to be Doughlicious. “Mrs. Seng is going to freak when she sees this.”

  “Never you mind dear Mrs. Seng,” Simeon said. “I knew she wouldn’t be able to handle this, so the studio’s paying for her to have a spa day. She’s being wrapped in seaweed and bliss as we speak.”

  I laughed. “Is Kiri with her?”

  Simeon frowned. “Poor girl’s on donut duty. She’s been handing them out to the crew since dawn. And pouting. She really does nail tween angst. It hasn’t gone unnoticed.”

  “Really? So maybe she has a shot at some roles?”

  “Ah, ah, ah.” Simeon waggled his finger at me. “All I will say is”—he nodded toward Jillian—“the powers that be are watching.”

  “That would be so great for her. Donuts aren’t her MO.”

  “Understood. And I’d be sympathetic, if I weren’t dealing with this travesty.” He swept his arm across the room. “A royal ballroom, it is not.”

  I looked at him blankly. “Huh?”

  “You’re teaching Cabe how to dance today,” Jillian reminded me. “Cabe, or Prince Dalton, would only know formal ballroom dancing, right? But he’s about to take Tia to the school dance. So Marie”—Simeon pointed at me—“is going to teach him to dance, as practice.”

  My cheeks flushed. I’d forgotten that moment in the script. Dancing together meant being close to Cabe … really close.

  “Sheyda?” Simeon was staring at me with a slightly amused, quizzical expression, as if he were trying to work out a puzzle. “Okay?”

  I could only nod.

  “But we’re having a problem working with this narrow room,” Jillian said.

  Trish, the set designer, added, “We wanted to give you two as much floor space as possible, but the light in here’s way too harsh, and the counter gets in the way of everything. We don’t know how we’re going to frame this shot.”

  I looked around and felt my mind shifting into design mode. After studying the sparseness of the room for a few seconds, inspiration struck. I took a deep breath and risked saying, “Maybe now there’s too much space?”

  Trish raised an eyebrow. “Explain?”

  “Well … this isn’t in a royal ballroom, so we should play up the clutter.”

  Trish gestured around the room. “Show m
e.”

  Heart racing, I grabbed one of the donut platters from a passing assistant and set it back on the display counter. I kept going, setting up a tower of donuts near the cash register.

  “Good start,” Trish said. “I’m thinking we add tables and chairs, too. See how the room seems unbalanced now?” I nodded, and we carried a couple of tables and chairs back into the dining area.

  I hurried to the cleaning closet and returned with a mop and bucket. “If it’s closing time, Marie and Dalton would be cleaning,” I said. “While they danced, they’d be bumping into tables and chairs, or maybe knocking over the mop leaning against the wall.”

  As I talked, my insecurity faded. Trish gave me suggestions, pointing out some pitfalls we needed to avoid with the cameras, things I never would’ve thought of on a theater’s stage. I started to get a sense of how different movie sets could be from drama sets, and how much I had yet to learn. It was eye-opening and exciting.

  Within a few minutes, the shop had taken on the chaotic feel of closing time, complete with a stack of dirty dishes behind the counter and washrags resting on tables. I stood back, scanning the room for anything amiss.

  “Bravo you,” Simeon said, and I glanced up, startled out of my intense focus. Jillian and Trish were nodding in approval.

  “This is just what the scene needed,” Jillian said. Cabe, too, had walked in at some point while I was working, and now he was smiling at me in appreciation.

  “Makeup’s looking for you,” he said. “But you’ve been busy. Teaching everyone a thing or two about set building, huh?”

  I shrugged, blushing. “With a lot of help from Trish.” Trish smiled at me. “It’s not a big deal.”

  Simeon overheard me and tsk-tsked. “Au contraire, cherie. When you save the studio time, you save it money. And you’ve just helped save us at least an hour. Don’t downplay it. Own it!”

  I smiled, then hurried toward the door, mumbling, “I better get to makeup.”

  “Modest to a fault, that one,” Simeon said to Cabe. “But lovely. Don’t you agree?”

  Cabe caught my eye, but I spun on my heel and was out the door before I could hear his response. I pressed my palms into my cheeks, trying to cool them down. What was happening? The way Cabe had looked at me just then? Had he been about to agree with Simeon? What if he had? My luck felt too impossibly good, Cabe’s glance too impossibly encouraging.