Likely Story!

by David Levithan

  And then, as Likely Story’s theme played on the heels of Good As Gold’s, I gave myself a boost, stepping my shoeless feet onto each of his, the better to kiss him the way I’d seen Francesca and Alexis kiss him countless times on screen, the way I’d secretly and not-so-secretly wanted to since the day I first laid eyes on him.

  Lips close, then touching.

  Lips touching, then pressing.

  Lips pressing, then staying.

  At last.

  The nearby zoo of fans was on the verge of rioting, some rooting for us and some rooting against us. As we unpeeled, I nuzzled his neck and finished the thought that was continuously looping in my head.

  “Dallas, I really, really loathe you.”

  He laughed and kissed me again, harder.

  Kimberly burst from the theater. “Mallory, this is it! You need to—Oh.”

  Dallas and I broke apart, beaming.

  “Put your shoes on and let’s go.”

  “My heel’s broken,” I said with a laugh. All of a sudden there was no more drama, and the Emmy in my hand no longer felt as heavy. Especially when Dallas swept me up into his arms, lifting me like a bride.

  “No worries, Kimberly,” he said. “I know how to make an entrance.”

  Somebody shouted. “What about Keith, Mallory?”

  And then another voice said, quieter and closer, “Yeah. What about Keith?”

  Dallas swung us around—and there he was.

  “Keith!” I gasped. “You came.”

  He looked shocked and angry and disappointed and floored, the Emmy ticket still dangling in his hand. “I figured I wasn’t being fair to you. Silly me, huh?”

  “Mallory!” screamed Kimberly, spinning from the door. “You won!”

  The wave of applause wasn’t as strong as when we’d won for writing, but it wasn’t anything to shake a stick at, either.

  “Mallory, we have to go,” said Dallas, putting me down and touching my arm.

  “We’re talking here!” Keith yelled. I’d seen that look on him before. This was the one reserved for fender-bending paparazzi.

  “No, you’re talking. We’re going,” Dallas replied, offering me his hand.

  I looked at Keith.

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  I took Dallas’s hand.

  At practically the same time, Keith drew back his arm and threw a punch, connecting with the bridge of Dallas’s nose. Dallas stumbled into me, and I tumbled over, losing control of the Emmy I’d moments ago considered light as a cloud. As the winged muse careened end over end above me, I heard my mother’s voice echoing over the microphone from the theater. “I’d like to accept this award on behalf of my daughter….” Then the Emmy landed on my head with a clang. And I blacked out.

  “Mallory?”

  I woke up before I opened my eyes. The pain zipping back and forth across my head saw to that. A paper sheet crunched beneath me, and a hot light shone down from above. I pressed the back of my hand to my eyes.

  “Mallory? How are you feeling?”

  “Like I caught a harpoon to the head.” I ventured an open eye. Keith sat beside me inside an otherwise empty ambulance. He sported a black eye and a blood-spattered shirt to offset his blue tuxedo.

  “Do you want something for the pain?” He rummaged around in some drawers. Every clattering instrument was a sonic boom. “They’ve got Vicodin.”

  “It’s okay,” I said, sitting up. “I get the feeling I’m going to need my wits about me.”

  “The EMTs are outside, taking a look at Dallas. They want to check you out for a concussion but think you’re fine. You want me to get them?”

  “Keith. Relax.”

  We looked at each other for a moment. I nodded at his shirt. “Whose is that?”

  “Dallas’s,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t know so much blood could come out of a guy’s nose. They’re saying he might need plastic surgery.”

  “At least he landed one in your eye.”

  “That was Tamika, actually. She came back out to drag you up onstage and saw what happened. Dallas was too busy looking after you to come after me, so she did the honors.” He paused for a second, his shoulders drooping. “Dallas is a good guy.”

  “So are you,” I said. “That was never the issue.”

  He looked to the floor of the ambulance. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. And tell you I’m sorry I ruined the Emmys. You should have been on that stage tonight.”

  “I was. It’s okay. I said everything I needed to say up there. There’s still plenty I need to say to you.”

  “No need,” Keith replied, looking back up at me. “I think we understand each other now.”

  This is what I wanted: another Mallory, one who I could send off with Keith. I knew she’d be happy. I knew he’d treat her well. But there wasn’t any way to duplicate myself to get both of the things I wanted. There was only one of me, so I’d have to go with the thing I wanted more. Which was Dallas. Both Keith and I knew: It was Dallas.

  I moved to stand up, and it was like the air was trying to push me back down.

  “I’m a little shaky, still,” I said. “Help me out?”

  Keith held out his hand shyly. We’d been together off and on for over a year. But now that we were apart, the slightest touch felt off. He opened the doors in the back of the ambulance and we looked out at the Kodak. I turned to him.

  “See you in school, Rick?”

  “Absolutely, Ilsa.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. I half expected the chopping Casablanca whir of airplane propellers and the foggy dreams of lives not lived to drown out the sad goodbye sounds. But they didn’t. I heard—and felt—it all.

  I found Richard, Greg, Kimberly, and Gina around the two EMTs, one of whom was wrapping Tamika’s knuckles while the other, a little farther away, applied an ice pack to Dallas’s face.

  “There she is,” said Tamika, alerting everyone to my consciousness.

  “How’s the head?” Richard asked. He held his Emmy like a baby. I hoped Tamika had gotten a picture.

  “I can walk and talk, but the Emmy jolted my creative center. I may need a week at a spa on Maui to get it realigned,” I told him.

  “It’ll have to wait. Stu called. The network’s very pleased. They think ratings are going to skyrocket.”

  I looked him in the eye. “You know that’s not the reason I did any of this, right?”

  He nodded and actually grinned. “I know,” he said. “And I like you all the more for it.”

  “I need to go check the other patient,” I said.

  “It’s about time,” Tamika chimed in. Gina and Greg nodded their agreement.

  As I got closer, I could see that Dallas looked like a complete horror show. The EMT had just finished taping up his nose, and his tux looked like it had spent two seasons as an extra on Grey’s Anatomy.

  “Wow,” I said. “You wear my damage well.”

  “I always knew you were trouble, Hayden,” he replied. “Serious, wonderful trouble. The question is: Will you still loathe me when the bandages come off and I look like a building fell on my face?”

  “Truth? I’ve always been a little intimidated by your beauty, Mr. Best Younger Actor. So this will probably just make me loathe you more.”

  Even under all the bandaging, I could see his smile. That, at least, hadn’t changed.

  “Any chance of getting that first lesson in tonight?” I asked.

  “As long as you don’t mind stopping at the ER on the way,” he replied, tossing aside the ice pack.

  “You’re driving,” I told him. The destination didn’t matter. There would be a story wherever we went.

  This was, I imagined, just the start.

  And I could have left it there. I could have followed him into the nearest sunset. I could have taken his hand and walked past all the cheers and the boos, past all the reporters and photographers, right out of the Kodak Theatre and out of Hollywood and down to Mexico, where we could sail
off into the future. But not yet. There was still one more thing I had to do.

  “Have you seen my mother?” I asked. “Is she in the pressroom announcing to the world that I’m not really her daughter after all?”

  I expected Dallas to make a joke, but instead, he just pointed to a spot behind me. I turned and saw her there, leaning against the building, keeping an eye on all of us.

  “I’ll be back,” I said.

  “And I’ll be here for you,” Dallas promised.

  I had to trust in that.

  And, just then, I did.

  I had no idea what she was going to say to me. Or what I was going to say to her. I just knew it was time for something to be said.

  The lights from the ambulance were playing over us. Red—blue—shadow. Red—blue—shadow.

  I was ready for an attack. I was ready for a joke. I was ready for her to say I’d ruined her night, or made her night. I was ready for her to look at me like she didn’t know who I was. I’d seen all those things before.

  But instead, she asked, “How are you feeling, really?”

  “I’m okay,” I told her. “I promise. Why are you over here?”

  “I didn’t want to get in the way. But I didn’t want you out of my sight, either.”

  Red—

  blue—

  shadow.

  Red—

  blue—

  shadow.

  “What’s the last thing you remember?” she asked.

  “Wondering why you were accepting the Emmy for Best Show. And what you were going to say.”

  She regarded me with a cool stare.

  “You can watch it later. I don’t do second takes.”

  I leaned against the wall next to her. I was too tired to say anything back.

  “Suffice it to say,” she went on, “it wasn’t as brilliantly worded as your speech. But it was just as heartfelt.”

  I sized her up. She was 5′6″, 110 pounds, sixty years old, and faultless in appearance. She was also rigid, domineering, sarcastic, mean, inconstant, narcissistic, generally untrustworthy, and, let’s face it, an alcoholic. But she’d given birth to me and midwifed my show. She was my mom. The only one I’d ever have. She was worse than most people conceived, but not as bad as I’d said. I had to take what I could get.

  “I have your Emmy in the limousine,” she told me.

  “I told you already. It’s yours.” Any other daughter would have hugged her mother right then. I felt the impulse but held back, fearing she’d shrink away.

  “Oh, I know. I meant your Emmy for Best Show. I’m not giving up the other one. I worked very hard for it. With difficult material, I might add.”

  “You wouldn’t have me any other way,” I said.

  And while she didn’t smile or pull me close, she did nod.

  “You’re right. I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

  Red—

  blue—

  shadow.

  Red—

  blue—

  shadow.

  She reached out and put her hand under my chin, lifting it so I would look in her eyes. I’d seen her do this many times over the years—to her daughter Diamond on Good As Gold, to both Jacqueline and Sarah during their guidance sessions on Likely Story. But she’d never done it to me. Not once.

  “I think it’s time I told you about your father,” she said.

  I matched her gaze. It was somewhere between looking at a stranger and looking at a mirror.

  “Yes,” I told her. “I think it’s about time.”

  Turn the page

  for a peek at

  never-before-seen

  pages from

  TROPICAL HOSPITAL—EPISODE #10502

  EMMY SUBMISSION

  BEST WRITING

  (ACT THREE-D) TROPICAL HOSPITAL NURSES’ STATION.

  ([NIGHT] DR. MARGO CHILDRESS BURSTS FROM A CUBICLE, HARRIED)

  MARGO

  Nurse Lonny, come quick! Sir Randolph is sick! He’s developed a prehensile tail and is swinging from the – Lonny?? (SEE LONNY, ON HER HAUNCHES AND LEANING OVER UNCONSCIOUS DR. NICKELTON, YANKING AT HIS SCALP) What are you doing to Dr. Nickelton? Can I get you some tweezers?

  LONNY

  (PLUCKING A FLEA FROM HIS HAIR, SHE DROPS IT INTO HER OPEN MOUTH. CHIMP-LIKE) Ooh ooh ahh ahh!

  MARGO

  Dear God! What on our green earth –?!

  TEX

  Margo! (REVEAL TEX, JUST ARRIVED ON THE ELEVATOR, SWEATING IN HIS SAFARI JACKET AND PITH HELMET, MACHETE SLUNG OVER HIS SHOULDER) Stay away from Nurse Lonny!

  MARGO

  Tex! You’re alive! I thought you’d died on the veldt!

  TEX

  It’ll take more than a white rhino charge and a war in Zaire to stop me! I came back, Margo. For you. (ON THEIR LOOK OF LOVE, FADE)

  (ACT FOUR-D) TROPICAL HOSPITAL NURSES’ STATION. ([NIGHT] MARGO TEARS HER EYES OFF HER LONG-LOST BETTER HALF)

  MARGO

  I love you, darling, and I want to hear all about how you survived your tumble over Victoria Falls, but Nurse Lonny is –

  TEX

  (GRIM) – Grooming Dr. Nickelton.

  MARGO

  (ROLLING UP HER SLEEVES) And destroying his lustrous new hair plugs in the process. It took him decades to perfect the transplantation process. I can’t let his hard work go up in smoke. (SHE TAKES A STEP TOWARD LONNY)

  TEX

  Margo, no! (LONNY BARES HER TEETH AND BEATS HER CHEST) She’s too far gone! Get back! (BUT IT’S TOO LATE. LONNY TAKES A FLYING LEAP AT MARGO. JUST AS SHE RAISES HER FISTS ABOVE MARGO FOR A MERCILESS BEATING, CUT TO BLACK)

  (ACT FIVE-D) TROPICAL HOSPITAL NURSES’ STATION.

  ([NIGHT] LONNY IS ABOUT TO MAUL A HELPLESS, SCREAMING MARGO. SUDDENLY LONNY’S EYES ROLL BACK IN HER HEAD AND SHE GOES LIMP, KEELING OVER ON TOP OF MARGO)

  MARGO What happened?! (SEE LODGED IN LONNY’S BACK: A BLOW DART)

  TEX

  (POCKETING HIS BLOWGUN AND UNCEREMONIOUSLY ROLLING LONNY OFF OF MARGO) I did.

  MARGO

  (THROWING HERSELF INTO HIS ARMS) You always do. Oh, Tex, thank you for saving me.

  TEX

  Don’t thank me, thank Chief Mutombo. He taught me all the ways of the bush when his tribe nursed me back to health after … the accident.

  MARGO

  I can’t wait to meet him. But first, we have to figure out what’s wrong with Lonny and Sir Randolph and Dr. Nickelton.

  TEX

  I’m afraid I already know what they’re afflicted with, Margo. This is something I’ve seen once before during my adventures in Rhodesia. There’s no saving Lonny, and possibly everyone else. They’ve been infected with the deadly Monkey Brain Virus. (ON MARGO, STRUCK, FADE)

  (ACT SIX-D) TROPICAL HOSPITAL NURSES’ STATION.

  ([NIGHT] MARGO IS HORRIFIED)

  MARGO

  Monkey Brain Virus?! But that can’t be! MBV was eradicated in Borneo years ago!

  TEX

  Somehow it survived.

  MARGO

  It’s as tenacious as you are.

  TEX

  (LOOKING DEEP INTO HER EYES) It must love something … or someone … very deeply to cling to life the same way I did.

  MARGO

  Oh, Tex – let me cling to you. (THEY FALL INTO A PASSIONATE KISS AS PATIENTS ACT LIKE APES ALL AROUND, BOUNDING IN AND OUT ON THEIR KNUCKLES, FIGHTING FOR SUPREMACY, AND LOOKING FOR TERMITE MOUNDS. THE LOVERS BREAK FROM THEIR KISS) More of that later. I have to find a cure for MBV! But first, a banana. (TEX ALERTS)

  TEX

  A banana?

  MARGO

  A big yellow banana. Chiquita, if possible. But Dole will do in a pinch.

  TEX

  But you’re allergic to bananas.

  MARGO

  And synthetic fibers. I know. I can’t explain it, though. I need a banana, desperately.

  TEX

  (WRACKED) Don’t you see? A baffling yearning for bananas is the first symptom of MBV. (SEE MARGO, REELI
NG) You have it, Margo. You’ve contracted Monkey Brain Virus. (ON MARGO, FADE)

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  DAVID LEVITHAN has a newfound appreciation of soap operas because of Mallory and Likely Story. He’s the author of a few books, including Boy Meets Boy; The Realm of Possibility; Are We There Yet?; Marly’s Ghost; Wide Awake; How They Met, and Other Stories; Love Is the Higher Law; Every You, Every Me; Every Day; and, with Rachel Cohn, Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist, Naomi and Ely’s No Kiss List, and Dash & Lily’s Book of Dares, and, with John Green, Will Grayson, Will Grayson. He lives in New Jersey. His identical twin was not separated from him at birth. Or so he thinks. Visit his website at davidlevithan.com.

  DAVID OZANICH suffers from amnesia and may or may not have graduated from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with degrees in film and dramatic writing. When not entangled in steamy love triangles, he makes films and writes plays. His play The Lightning Field premiered in New York and won the GLAAD Media Award, among others. His favorite band is Steely Dan.

  CHRIS VAN ETTEN graduated from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with the intention of becoming an actor. Luckily, he came to his senses and became a member of the Emmy Award–winning team of writers at ABC’s One Life to Live instead. Despite his day job, he has just one personality.