by Lele Pons
We decide to take a nap and I fall into an intense, feverish sleep. I dream that I’m at a park with my great-grandmother Camilla who I’ve never met in real life, and we see Jackie and John F. Kennedy drive by in a long black car with big open windows. I never think about my great-grandmother, I don’t even know much about her, but I guess she’s in my subconscious somewhere . . . sometimes the human brain is too weird for me to handle.
When I wake up, Alexei isn’t in bed anymore, so I go downstairs to look for him. He’s at the kitchen table on his laptop working on an e-mail. I approach him from behind so I can put my hands over his eyes and surprise him, but before I can do that I glance over his shoulder and see that the e-mail is to somebody named Staci. I’m pretty sure it’s a scientific fact that nine out of ten times somebody named Staci is always a person your man is cheating on you with.
“Who the hell is Staci?” I snap. He turns around, more startled than surprised.
“She’s nobody! It’s nothing, Lele, calm down.” He tries to grab my wrists to subdue me, like I’m some kind of rabid horse.
“No! I will not calm down. I knew you were into other girls and this just proves it.” I tear free from his hands. “I’ll be taking this with me, jerk.” I slam the computer closed and hold it to my chest, then run and jump out the kitchen window as it bursts into flames, Mission Impossible–style.
“You’re always so dramatic!” Alexei calls after me, going down with his house in a fiery blaze.
• • •
I wake up in a cold sweat mumbling, “No, no!” Arms flailing.
“What is it? Are you okay?” Alexei is looking down at me, concerned and confused.
“Oh.” I blink, try to reorient myself in the room, in reality. “Oh, it was just a dream. Thank God, it was just a dream.”
Wow, I really need to get it together before I do something terrible.
42
That Friend Who Always Wants to Be Fashionably Late / When Someone Says Your Name Wrong
(9,000,000 Followers)
Okay, so I’m not the most emotionally stable young lady, but I am internet famous and in this day and age that means something. It means that whether I’m sane or crazy, people wanna hang with me. And, as it turns out, not just any people, but Nickelodeon people. That’s right, I’ve been invited to a Nickelodeon party in South Beach and it’s such an exclusive party that I don’t even get a plus one! Either it’s exclusive or I’m just not as important in real life as I am in my own head. Either way, Lele flies solo tonight.
Now, I’ve always been a big Nickelodeon girl. Growing up in the 2000s you had to pick a side: Team Nick or Team Disney, and I was always the former. Don’t get me wrong, I loved the Disney Channel original movies, Lizzie McGuire, and That’s So Raven, but nothing on Disney could compete with Hey Arnold!, Rugrats, All That, The Amanda Show, Drake & Josh, Doug, and, don’t forget, SpongeBob, whom I adore. If you’re a Gen Z kid you remember when Disney got ahold of Nickelodeon’s Doug and made it totally weird. Doug’s pants got baggier and Roger went from poor to rich and Connie got skinny and Skeeter got a new shirt and the opening sequence was all different! Okay, if you’re not from Gen Z it may not sound that horrible, but trust me, it was traumatic.
Being a nineties kid and a Nickelodeon girl, it is crucial that I look 100 percent amaze at this party tonight. Because I know you love listening to me ramble on, and because maybe you too might be in my position one day, here are the fifteen simple steps for getting yourself on fleek for a fancy Nickelodeon party.
1. Forty-minute workout. (Get your arms and abs looking fit.)
2. Shower thoroughly. (Scrub your entire body down with, you guessed it, body scrub, to make your skin look soft and radiant.)
3. Shave. (Take your time shaving every bit of unwanted hair off your body. Go slowly and act carefully, because even the smallest nick will be a huge black mark against your fleekness level. And you certainly can’t use Band-Aids tonight.)
4. Blow-dry your hair. (Turn those tangled locks into smooth, steamed strands of gold.)
5. Straighten your hair. (Iron out any kinks. Be merciless.)
6. Curl your hair. (Why did you just straighten your hair if now you’re going to curl it? If you even have to ask then there is nothing I can do for you.)
7. Spray a very light mist of hair spray. (Keep those loose though gorgeously buoyant curls in place.)
8. Apply a layer of liquid foundation over your entire face. (Smooth out any bumps or redness, anything that might give away the fact that you are a human being.)
9. Apply eyeliner. (And smudge it for a smoky effect.)
10. Apply bronze eye shadow on your lids. (Gradate it so that it’s lighter closer to your nose and gets darker going out. DO NOT SKIP THIS STEP OR YOU’LL BE SORRY.)
11. Apply mascara. (Your eyelashes are much shorter than they’re supposed to be, trust me. You want your lashes to look like spiders are stuck in your skull and are struggling to get out.)
12. Apply red lipstick.
13. Wipe the red lipstick off so that it doesn’t look like you’ve put lipstick on. (It looks like your lips are naturally rosy, or like you’ve spent your day eating cherries.)
14. Choose an outfit. (This is by far the hardest step. You must choose something classy yet fun, sexy but sophisticated, flawless but also effortless. It is customary to spend more time looking for the right outfit than you spend at the actual party.)
15. Take a selfie. (This is for Instagram so that everyone knows how fabulous your night was. If you don’t post it to Instagram, how are they going to feel like you’re better than they are? This photo has to be just right, so you’ll want to take a couple dozen before choosing the right one and filtering the hell out of it, and don’t forget the Snapchat too!)
That’s it, you did it! You are Nickelodeon-party ready! Or maybe you’re not, but I definitely am.
• • •
Unfortunately, after all that prepping, quite a few hours have gone by, and by the time my Uber drops me off and I take an elevator to the penthouse, the party is over. Can you believe it? I spent so much time getting ready for a Nickelodeon party that I actually missed the Nickelodeon party. Note to self and readers: pick five out of the fifteen steps and just stick with those.
The penthouse is in Brickell Key and overlooks the whole city, which sparkles wildly below. I walk through the house admiring the marble and silver and carved lion heads as people filter out, leaving a field of bottles and cigarettes and glitter behind. Looks like it was quite the party—I wonder why everyone left.
“Hey, are you Lee Lee Pons?” someone calls as I’m making my way back to the front door. I turn around and guess who I see: Josh Peck from Nickelodeon’s Drake & Josh! I’m so starstruck that I almost forget to be mad at him for mispronouncing my name. Almost.
“Actually,” I say. “It’s Lele . . . Drake.” For a second he’s stunned, then he laughs.
“Are you trying to insult me by pretending you don’t know the difference between me and Drake Bell?”
“Maybe.”
“You’re ridiculous!” He seems impressed. “Enjoy the party?”
“Yeah. I mean, no, because I got here too late.”
“Too bad. It was dope.”
“Hey, why’d it end so soon? It’s only like eleven thirty. I thought this is when parties start.”
“It is when parties start. This was sort of a pre-party, we’re all headed to the Mondrian now.”
“Ohhhhh. Okay, I get it.”
“You should come.”
“Yeah? Yeah, okay.”
“All right, Lele, let’s go.”
• • •
By the rooftop pool at the Mondrian I get a text from Darcy:
Hey, you comin over?
Dammit, I forgot I said I’d come hang with her after the party. I text back:
At a dope after party at the Mondrian, come!
Then I slip my phone into my navy-blue Givenchy fold-over purse
and order a club soda with cranberry juice from the bar.
“Been here before?” Josh asks, drinking a Corona. I don’t know if it was the harsh Nickelodeon lighting or the fact that I watched Drake & Josh before I hit puberty, but it’s not until right now that I notice Josh is kinda cute.
“No, uh— I don’t go to a lot of parties that aren’t, like, high school parties. I guess.”
“Well, you do now,” he says. “Cheers.” We clink glasses and I look out onto the crystal-blue pool, black letters spelling out “Mondrian” projected onto the surface—black, rippling light. Well, I do now, I think to myself. Wait, is this my life now? Is this how it’s going to be? Mansions and luxury hotels and Nickelodeon stars calling me out at parties?
For the first time the reality of it all starts to sink in. My new life is thrilling and glamorous, but what about my old life? Is it gone forever? I can’t help but feel scared, like I’m on a bus and it’s racing uncontrollably toward a cliff. Snap out of it, I tell myself, look where you are! You better start being grateful, otherwise you won’t have to be on a bus going off a cliff because I will throw you off a cliff. I’ll throw you off this balcony right now if I have to, so get it together!
Whoa, the voice in my head is kind of a bitch.
43
When Bae Mistakes Your Name with Someone Else’s/ The Notebook
(9,000,230 Followers)
Things aren’t getting any less weird with Alexei either. After the Mondrian I take an Uber to his place and he drops a rope ladder so I can climb up to his room. He puts on some Dashboard Confessional and we start making out. I get super into it and I almost think tonight could be the night until . . .
“I love you, Nina.” NINA? Who the F— oh, that’s right, his EX-GIRLFRIEND.
“Nina?! Are you serious right now?” I’m beyond annoyed.
“No! I mean Lele, you know I didn’t mean it. Old habits. I was with her for three years.”
“Yeah, that’s right. That’s a long time to be with someone, Alexei. And you probably still do love her.”
“I don’t know . . . I hadn’t thought about it.”
“I’m going home.” I put my jacket back on. “I want to be alone.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Lele? You’re the one who’s been at a party with another guy all night. How do you think that makes me feel?”
“I don’t have feelings for any other guys and when I’m making out with someone I put in the effort to make sure I know their name.” And with that, I climb back down the rope ladder. I know this sounds dramatic, but you have to understand, if I would have stayed things would have only taken a turn for the worse. If anything you should be proud of me that I’m learning how to control myself.
• • •
For one sweet second I’m finally cozy and snug in my own bed after a long night, but once I’m asleep the nightmares start again:
I’m hanging off a bridge with white, raging waters gurgling violently beneath me. The only thing saving me is Alexei’s hand, which I cling to for dear life.
“I don’t wanna die, I don’t wanna die!” I scream, looking down at the water that now seems to be hundreds of miles away.
“Don’t worry, Nina, I’ll never let you go.” Niiinaaaaa, Niiinnaaa, Niiiinnaaa. The name echoes over and over, blending into the sound of the rushing water.
“Nina?” I scowl at him. “Oh hell no.” And with those words, like a magic spell, our places are reversed: he’s hanging off the bridge, clinging to my hands.
“I didn’t mean it!” he pleads. “You know I only love you!”
“It’s too late for that now,” I say, letting go of him.
“Lele, no!!!!!!!!” He falls and falls and falls and falls. The sight of him falling breaks my heart—I wish I could get him back but, just like I said, it’s too late for that now.
• • •
The scene shifts in the way that dreams do—swiftly and hazily so that I don’t know where one setting ends and the other begins. Now, Alexei and I are standing on a dock in the pouring rain—it’s just like The Notebook, except contemporary, almost sci-fi.
“I waited for you for seven minutes!” I cry out, soaking wet from head to toe.
“I tweeted you five times!”
“You tweeted me?”
“It wasn’t over!” he laments, fists clenched.
Relieved, exhausted, I lean in to kiss him. Just one kiss and all this chaos and heartbreak will be over.
“It wasn’t over,” he repeats. “But now it is.” He steps away at the last second and instead of kissing him I fall face-first into the frozen lake.
When I wake up my heart is pounding and I feel sick to my stomach. Something is seriously off in my mind, I’ve never been this anxious in my entire life.
44
How You Fight with Your Best Friend
(9,400,000 Followers)
In English on Monday, Alexei is distant and a little chilly; he greets me with what you could call a cheek-kiss, although I don’t think it even counts as that. But at least he acknowledges me—Darcy, on the other hand, does not.
“Hey, Darcy, what’s going on?” She darts out as soon as the bell rings but I manage to catch up to her.
“I don’t know, Lele, you tell me.” She walks ahead.
“Slow down, slow down. Where are you so eager to get to?”
“Class. Second period. I believe you should be on your way too.”
“Stop walking so fast, I want to talk to you! Why are you being like this?”
“Fine, you wanna talk about it?” She stops in her tracks. “You totally ditched me on Friday.”
“What are you talking about? No, I didn’t.” Did I? Friday at the Mondrian was a blur, it’s hard to be certain what went down.
“We had plans to hang out after your VIP party, remember? You just never showed up. You didn’t even have the decency to tell me you were ditching me, you flat-out stood me up. I texted you to make sure everything was okay and you didn’t even respond!”
“Wait, that’s not true,” I say, remembering. “I did text you back. I told you to come to the Mondrian. That’s where I was. But then you didn’t text me back.”
“I never got a text from you,” she says coolly.
“Wait.” I take my phone out and open up the text exchange with Darcy.
“Look!” I show her. “I tried to text you but it didn’t send! Look, right here, proof!”
“Great, well next time make sure to hit Send. It’s kind of a crucial part of sending a text.” She turns and keeps walking.
“You’re still mad at me? I tried seeing you, I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“You really don’t get it, do you? We had plans. And you just dropped them because you got invited to do something better. Sorry I’m not as exciting as a bunch of has-been Nickelodeon celebrities, but you don’t treat friends like that. I know you think now that you’re famous life is just gonna be a ball, but you still have to keep your commitments, you’re still a human, you know, you’re not invincible and you can’t go around doing whatever you want just because you have money now.”
“Whoa, that is so unfair, you’re way out of line. This was a mistake that happened one time and you’re totally attacking me for it. Give me a break, it’s not my fault you feel uncool and unexciting. And you’re not being such a good friend either, how about instead of being jealous and bitter you try being happy for me, because that’s what a good friend would do.”
“You are seriously so self-obsessed, you honestly can’t see how what you did was messed-up. Fame has gone straight to your head and I don’t recognize you anymore.”
“So I was supposed to be a loser my whole life?”
“Oh, so now people who aren’t famous are losers?”
“Ugh, no, I didn’t mean that. You’re seriously overreacting!”
“I tell you how I feel and you tell me I’m overreacting?! Go to hell, Lele.”
“Bitch!” We look l
ike we’ve just slapped each other. With a huff and a scowl we turn away and walk in opposite directions.
What a crazy bitch, I think to myself as I anger-walk to second-period history. She thinks she has a right to try and hold me back from having fun and living my life? She’s not the boss of me. She’s not my mom: I don’t have to check in with her; I don’t owe her an explanation. And the way she just attacked me like that! She didn’t even give me a chance to explain! It’s not fair, this is the most exciting time in my life and she’s trying to make me feel bad about it! Right? This is a really great time in my life, isn’t it?
• • •
During history I stare out the window and think about the party Friday night and how scared I felt. I’ve been catapulted into a new world and in some ways I’m having to leave my old life behind. But I don’t want to, I don’t want it to be like that—it feels so lonely. And it must feel lonely to be in Darcy’s shoes too, having a friend get famous. If I were in that position I would be totally afraid that my friend was going to move on and leave me behind. Is that how Darcy feels? Is that why she overreacted? Did she even overreact? If I’m being totally honest with myself, I probably would have acted the same way. Agh, I should have been more sensitive to her feelings. If people got mad at me every time I “overreacted” there’d be nobody left in my life.
In third-period calculus Darcy pretends like I don’t exist. She takes out her notebook and blue sparkly pencil and scribbles away attentively as if she doesn’t even care we’re in a fight—no, worse, it’s as if she doesn’t even remember she ever had a friend named Lele. Are we in an alternate version of reality where Darcy and I never met?
“Darcy,” I whisper over her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. I know I’m the one in the wrong here. Let me make it up to you.”
“Shh.” She turns around, glaring. “I’m trying to focus. I need these notes.”
“But can we talk after class?”
“No. I’m not ditching school to deal with your drama. Unlike you, I actually need good grades if I want to have a bright future.”