Secrets of My Hollywood Life: There’s No Place Like Home

by Jen Calonita

  “That’s what I always say,” Principal P. agrees in solidarity. “I get so mad when people call it fluff ! FA was the first show to feature a gay couple in prime time.”

  “And they did some groundbreaking storylines about transgender couples and climate change,” I remind her.

  Principal P. breaks into a huge smile. “I had no idea you were a Family fanatic too!”

  That’s what FA fans call themselves. They were a very loyal bunch. Principal P. could have been their fan club president. She was the only person other than Liz who knew my true identity when I was at Clark, and she used to pump me for FA information.

  “I loved this episode, by the way,” I gush, pointing to the screen.

  Principal P. beams. “It’s excellent, isn’t it?”

  “I feel like Samantha finally got to break out of her comfort zone a bit this season, you know?” It’s a relief to talk about FA without someone offering me a straitjacket. “It was one of my favorite storylines when they had her go off the deep end and refuse to move to Miami.” I smile, waiting for her to respond.

  Instead Principal P. just stares at me, her mouth slightly agape. “I, it’s just…they moved to Miami two seasons ago and then moved back last season. Now the mansion has burned down again and they’re thinking of moving to Malibu.”

  Huh? “Oh. I guess I got this episode confused with an older one.”

  Principal P. blushes. “It is kind of similar to the episode they did when they toured their new home in Miami, isn’t it?” She wrings her hands together. “God, my friend Shelly is right. FA is jumping the shark!”

  I keep forgetting I’m the only one that knows these storylines already. I laugh heartily. “No, it’s not,” I insist when I see how upset she’s become. “I just got confused. I’ve been reading all these episode recaps in FA Fans magazine.”

  She looks hopeful. “Are they not moving to Malibu, then? I feel like the show is at its best when they live in the mansion, but Shelly said she read online that Alexis is dying for the show to do beach locations again. She gets a better tan from natural sunlight.”

  Now it’s my turn to blink rapidly. “I don’t know.”

  She grimaces. “The storylines just aren’t that good this year. Still…” She looks at the TV again as the show comes back on. “The episode only has five minutes left. Do you mind if we finish it?”

  “Of course not,” I say, even though it kills me to watch Alexis playing, well, me.

  Principal P. presses play and the two of us watch in silence. Paige is standing there, looking like the perfect mom, as usual. God, I miss Melli.

  Girls, whatever happened to having a big adventure?

  I’m engrossed in the dialogue. Some of it is similar to lines we had in the episode when we toured houses in Miami. God, the writers couldn’t come up with anything new? How do they get away with copying themselves? Other lines are brand-new. I don’t want to start over, I hear Alexis say. She is not a good actress, but I freeze listening to the words coming out of her mouth. I want to keep my life the same.

  As Paige gives what is supposed to be a heartwarming speech, I find myself roped in, listening to her every word as if she’s giving the advice to me personally.

  Yes, your boyfriend makes you happy, and your charity work, but what makes YOU happy, Sam? What needs to change in your life to bring that smile back twenty-four/seven? Just what I thought. You don’t know. But that’s okay, Sam, because whether you figure it out in our old home or a new home, I know you will find what’s missing.

  “Kaitlin, are you okay?” Principal P. asks me from somewhere far away, but I can’t answer. My mind is racing.

  Do I need change in my world? I’ve been so insecure since FA ended because I thought it meant the end of life as I know it. But from where I’m sitting now, I can see it really was for the best. I’ve tried so many wonderful things since FA—I got to do Broadway, I am on Small Fries, I’m going to do a James Cameron movie. I’ve become so anxious about what isn’t working in my life, I guess I’ve been blind to how lucky I’ve actually been.

  “I’m fine. Just getting wrapped up in the dialogue.” I choke back tears. “I’m still a little out of sorts. My head is so foggy I can’t even remember my schedule.”

  “You poor thing!” She quickly types something on her computer, and the printer next to it springs to life. “I can take care of that. I’ll print you a copy of it right now.”

  “Thank you,” I say gratefully.

  “Do you need a tissue?” Principal P. passes me one and looks at me sadly with big, gray eyes. “I thought you might be a bit weepy today. I may be principal, but I’m in tune with the student body and I know what everyone is saying.” She smiles sadly, and I notice her red lipstick is on a little crooked. “I’ve already made an announcement to the student body about last week’s accident. I want the gossip to stop. It was an accident and nothing more. Mr. Michaels is okay, and the other boys weren’t injured. Austin Meyers will be fine, thank God, even if he can’t play lacrosse this spring. I’m hoping he’ll run our spring carnival instead and that it will take his mind off sports. We’ll make a lot of money with the celebrity dunk booth Liz Mendes’s father is helping us put together.”

  “That is a big draw,” I agree. Liz made me do it last year, and I spent more time in that disgusting water than I did in the dunk chair. “Thank you for making me feel better, Principal Pearson.”

  “You’re welcome.” She blushes. “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Have you heard anything intriguing on the set? I know you’re interning at the show. That must be incredible.”

  “Incredible,” I repeat, my mouth twitching at the irony.

  The two of us are so busy talking that I don’t notice the first two periods fly by. Principal Pearson is fascinated by my stories about the cast (“My Family fanatics group would flip if they heard this!”), and she “refreshes” my memory about new storylines this season. The whole show seems to have been turned upside down, and I have to bite my lip really hard to keep from screaming when she tells me what’s gone on. Aunt Krystal having an affair with my character’s dad? Paige leaving Dennis for a CEO at a rival empire? Sara dating a teacher? BLECH. The Tom Pullman I know never would have approved these storylines. I can’t believe people are actually watching this garbage! After we’ve talked FA, we move on to celebrities and Principal P. asks me—a studio intern—what I’ve heard about different stars’ plastic surgery rumors, affairs, and money woes.

  “That Melli Ralton is stunning. Just stunning!” she marvels about my TV mom. “I’ve heard it isn’t all good genes, though.” She points to her nose and her chest. “But Melli says in every article that she’s never had plastic surgery, so I guess we’ll never really know for sure.”

  I know for sure.

  HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER ELEVEN: Plastic surgery is still a taboo subject in Hollywood, especially for women. There are two camps on plastic surgery: There are the Heidis of the world who use their time under the knife to get magazine covers and generate watercooler topics. Then there is the rest of Hollywood, the ones that swear their skin is as perfect as a baby’s bottom, even at the age of fifty-five. Aging is a worry for any star, but women tend to take the brunt of the burden. That’s why so many get a little lift, a little tuck, disappear for a month, and voilà! They look as good as new! Well, they think so. Personally, I would never do plastic surgery. I hate that surprised look so many stars have after they’ve gotten a face-lift. In Melli’s case, she has had work done, but she lies to protect her career. If Melli cops to a boob job or an eye lift, some casting couches may not offer her a seat. Melli knows to keep her mouth shut if she wants plum parts.

  Principal P. ’s jaw drops as I finish explaining my theory. “How do you know all this?”

  Hmm… maybe that was a bit too much info for an intern to know. “I’m doing a paper on celebrity culture for my psychology class,” I lie.

  The intercom buzzes and the two of us ju
mp. “Principal Pearson? Ms. Jasons says Kaitlin hasn’t shown up for her appointment. She wants to know if she came to school today and whether she is in your office? You were supposed to take Kaitlin to her appointment during first period.”

  My principal looks at her Timex watch. “Oh my! Look at the time.” She wags her finger at me. “I made you miss almost two periods, and I still haven’t gone over what I needed to discuss with you. No matter. We’ll tell your teachers we had a lot to talk about.” She winks. “Just don’t tell Ms. Jasons.” She clicks on the intercom button and asks her assistant to send Ms. Jasons to us.

  Who is Ms. Jasons? I take a shot in the dark, hoping Principal P. will give me a clue. “Is Ms. Jasons here to talk about the accident?”

  Principal P. fidgets slightly as she takes a seat behind her desk again and shuts off the TV. “No. We scheduled this appointment with you before the accident even happened. To be honest, Kaitlin, she’s worried. You haven’t had one meeting with her about college applications, and they’re due in a few weeks.”

  I sigh and slouch in my seat a little. The college talk keeps coming up no matter where I am. “Oh.”

  “We’ll sort it out,” she says and folds her hands across her large chest. I notice her red nail polish is the same color as my sparkly bag.

  There is a knock on the door, and Principal P. waves in a short, thin, strawberry blonde with wispy bangs and long hair. She smiles at us both. This must be Ms. Jasons.

  “Kaitlin, I hope you’re feeling better after your accident,” says Ms. Jasons kindly.

  “Yes, thank you.” I shift awkwardly in my chair, and it squeaks.

  “I apologize for doing this to you your first day back, but this is pretty urgent.” She drops a stack of folders on top of Principal P. ’s desk. “To date, you have not handed in one college application. They’re nearly due, so I thought we could discuss ones you’ve mentioned a passing interest in.” She fans a few out in front of me. “I’m happy to go over essay questions if you want. If I give you a deadline of two weeks, we’ll have time to do revisions, if necessary.”

  I wonder if Ms. Jasons is this reality’s version of Nadine. I stare at the large stack and my eyes glaze over. I guess the me in this reality isn’t sure what to do about college either. “I’ll take care of them,” I lie and pick up the folder on top. Boston University. Huh. Looks pretty. Austin likes Boston…no. No. I have to concentrate! What’s important is getting home, not college applications. Besides, at home the problem is the same: I’m too busy to worry about this. When would I have time to do any application other than the USC one I promised I’d do for Nadine anyway?

  Ms. Jasons clucks her tongue. “Yes, well, you’ve said that before, and you still haven’t turned anything in.” She looks at me sharply, and I’m slightly terrified. “I don’t want your applications to be late, Kaitlin. You’re the only student I have who has failed to complete this assignment. As you know, Clark Hall has an unprecedented record for graduating seniors. One hundred percent of the graduating class goes on to college. I would hate to break that record. I think we’ve been more than patient”—she looks at Principal Pearson—“but I will be forced to call your parents if you don’t get your applications in.”

  I feel my skin start to prickle. This is the same issue I have in the real world! I cross my arms defiantly. “I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Jasons, but going to college is my decision, no one else’s.”

  “That’s true,” Principal Pearson says softly, “but don’t you want to go to college, Kaitlin?”

  I look away. “I’m not sure.”

  She sighs. “Not to get too personal, but I’ve spoken to your parents at length. They want you to have the best education money can buy, which is why they saved so hard to send you and your brother to Clark Hall this year. They don’t want you to sell yourself short.”

  “I’m not!” I find myself insisting. “But I don’t have to go to college to keep that from happening. People can find great jobs without going to college too, you know. If I find a craft I’m good at that doesn’t require a degree, say, like acting, why should I take time away from that to go to school?”

  “Going to college isn’t just about finding a career, Kaitlin,” Ms. Jasons explains. She plays with the silver pen in her hand, clicking it open and closed. “It’s about finding yourself. ” She leans in closely, and I watch her whole face light up as she talks. “College is your chance to study subjects that you might not otherwise. Philosophy, fashion, literature from the 1800s, Greek myths. There are courses you can’t even fathom! Then, of course, there’s the social aspect. In college, you’ll meet people from all walks of life and backgrounds. You’ll learn perspectives you might never have if you hadn’t stepped outside your own world.” She smiles. “You might learn a few things about yourself too. Maybe you’ll find that being a history teacher isn’t what you want to do, after all. After a few semesters of psychology, you might learn that being a school psychologist is actually more up your alley.” I see a blush creep into her cheeks as she nervously brushes her light bangs away from her eyes. “At least I did.”

  Wow. I have to admit I just got a bit swoony at that passionate speech. If she’s lying just to get me to fill out some applications, then I should get her a job on FA right away.

  But why would she lie?

  Maybe there is more to college than just finding a career. I have always wanted to learn more about Greek myths and philosophy… and when I think about it, my favorite part about being at Clark Hall eons ago was actually sitting at a desk surrounded by people in the heat of discussion. When you’re one-on-one with a tutor your whole life, the only debate you have is whether or not you can postpone a pop quiz to do a phone interview with People.

  “A degree opens doors that would never open otherwise,” Ms. Jasons continues. “I think it’s great that you’re interested in being an actress, but it’s a very hard profession to break into. Don’t you want to have a backup plan if it doesn’t work out? That’s what a dual degree—in theater and another major—​could give you.” She pats the large stack again. “I’ll tell you what. Pick one application. Just one. Do that and I won’t call your parents. If you get through that first application, maybe I can convince you to do more.” She grins. “I can at least try.”

  I stare at the folders. “Okay,” I agree. I blindly pull an application from the middle of the stack. When I look down at the folder, my eyes widen.

  University of Southern California.

  That’s the school Nadine wants me to go to! And the folder looks exactly the same as the one Nadine gave me! How weird is that?

  “That’s a good school, Kaitlin.” Ms. Jasons nods approvingly. “They’d be lucky to have you. You’ll have no problem with this application or the essay.”

  “Is it ‘Does your life change you or do you change your life?’” I ask, holding my breath.

  Ms. Jasons looks surprised. “Why, yes, how did you know?”

  Here come the goose bumps again. “Someone told me.”

  The bell rings and Principal Pearson looks at me. “We should really let you get to class, Kaitlin. I’ll tell your teachers in the first three periods that I held you up.” I take the USC folder and look at Ms. Jasons.

  “We’ll be in touch,” she says. “Come see me if you need any help, but I’m sure you won’t. Let’s aim to go over everything next week, okay?” I nod.

  When I leave their offices and head into the crowded walkway, I feel a little lighter somehow. The University of Southern California application is tucked into my bag, and I rest my hand on it through the crutches.

  I wasn’t lying about doing that application for Ms. Jasons. In the real world, I don’t have a single application done, but suddenly I want to do them. I may not know how I’d pull off filming a show that tapes sixteen-hour days and going to college, but I want to give it a shot. Nadine would be so ecstatic to hear me say this.

  For the first time since I’ve gotten here, I feel
…excited. I don’t know if it was hearing that FA speech about the future or Ms. Jasons’s rousing pep talk, but I feel positive somehow that there is a reason I’m here for the moment. Even the dirty looks I’m getting from the people around me can’t get me down. That USC application has to be a sign that I’m going to get out of here. It has to be. I never get signs. If anything, I’m the one that…

  “OUCH!”

  I was so busy talking inside my head that I forgot to look where I was going. Now I’ve accidentally planted my crutch on someone’s foot.

  “I’m so sorry. Are you…” I look up to apologize and inhale sharply. “AUSTIN.”

  Austin. My Austin is standing right in front of me.

  TWELVE: Everything Is Not What It Seems

  Austin is standing right in front of me, and my good foot is glued to the sidewalk in a mixture of panic, terror, and pure adrenaline-fueled excitement.

  I don’t know what to do. My initial instinct is to burst into tears, throw my arms around him, and sob “Thank God you’re okay!” over and over along with “I’m so, SO sorry.” I want this Austin and the other one out there in the universe to know that even more than I want to get out of here. But freaking out like that would be a little dramatic, even for an actress.

  “Uh, could you take your crutch off my good foot?” Austin asks bluntly.

  “Oh, yeah! Sorry.” I can’t stop staring. There are so many thoughts running through my head, like the one saying I should kiss Austin as hard as I can and not let go. But that would be inappropriate.

  Darn.

  “That’s better,” he says when I lift my crutch, and then he smiles. Smiles! “I was wondering when I’d see you,” he adds, as if we’re friends. Are we friends here? “I wanted to talk to you before this whole thing spiraled out of control, you know?”

  I’m not paying too much attention to what he’s saying because all I can think about is that after almost a week of imagining this moment, Austin is right here! Standing in front of me! I take in every inch of him from the top of his blond head to his toes—okay, his cast. Ouch. His whole left leg is in a cast, and he’s on crutches, just like me. I did that to him. I put Austin in a cast, both here and probably in the real world too, and the guilt of that will never go away no matter how many times I apologize. The rest of Austin appears fine, thankfully. His hair looks exactly the same—long bangs, sort of wavy locks—and his face has that sun-kissed glow you get from spending hours on a muddy field. I don’t recognize the outfit he’s wearing, but I like it. He has on a red Abercrombie pullover and navy wind pants that are rolled up on his left leg.