by Jen Calonita
“Kaitlin?” I look up. Austin is right in front of me wearing a rumpled blue dress shirt untucked with brown cords. “You okay?”
“What are you doing here?” I whisper, wiping my eyes. God, I hope he didn’t see me crying.
Austin gives me a strange look. “Uh…you invited us? Me and Lori.” I must look confused because he rambles on. “Lori said you wanted to apologize for the accident and for giving her the impression you liked me when you don’t.” He says the last part in a weird voice and then takes a seat across from me. “Is that the truth? What was all that stuff you said in the car the other day, then? Were you just laying it on thick to get a ride to Burbank?”
“No,” I fumble, getting more upset. “I do care.” I hesitate. “It’s just… it’s complicated.”
Austin runs his hand through his hair. “You’re so hot and cold. One minute I think you want to be with me, the next you’re telling Lori you can’t stand me.”
“I never said that,” I insist. “And so what if I do want to be with you? You’re with Lori. You’re not ready to make that stand. You’ve made that clear.”
Austin leans in close and ignores the question. “One second I think we can be friends, the next you’re calling my girlfriend behind my back. Why would you want to smooth things over with someone you can’t stand?” Austin’s blue eyes widen. “Unless you’re just playing me to rise up the popularity ladder yourself. ”
“Liz must have set this up!” I tell him, and the tears start flowing. “I didn’t even know you and Lori were coming! This has nothing to do with me.”
“Sure.” He shakes his head. “Maybe I was wrong about you. You are just like the others. See you around, Kaitlin.” When he gets up and turns around, he bumps right into Lori. She takes one look at my tear-stricken face and then at Austin’s angry one, and she erupts.
“What’s this?” Lori asks, folding her arms. Her glossy blond hair is big and curly, and she’s wearing a lilac dress from the new Marc Jacobs collection. She looks perfect. Sigh.
“It’s nothing,” Austin mumbles. “Let’s get out of here. I don’t want an apology from her. I wouldn’t believe it.”
“Well, I want one.” Lori’s eyes narrow. “And a promise that you’ll stay out of my boyfriend’s way. If you see him in the hall, walk the other way. If you get assigned as his partner in science lab, come up with a fabulous excuse to get out of it. I don’t want you breathing the same air as him, got it?”
“Lori,” Austin starts to say, looking taken aback.
“What, Austin?” I ask, holding my chin up high. “Do you actually have your own opinion you want to contribute to the conversation? I’m all ears!”
“What is she yapping about?” Lori asks.
“Nothing.” Austin grabs her arm, pulling her away from me. “Come on, Lori, let’s get something to eat.”
Suddenly I have the urge to scream so loud that the DJ would stop spinning. Liz, Austin… this isn’t going as well as I thought it would. Everyone around me is laughing and eating finger food and having a good time. Everyone but me.
“HOW DARE YOU TALK TO MY CLIENT WITHOUT CONSULTING ME FIRST!”
Hey, I know that voice!
“NEXT TIME YOU PULL A STUNT LIKE THAT, I’LL CALL PAGE SIX AND HAVE YOU CANNED SO FAST YOU WON’T EVEN HAVE TIME TO TAKE A NUMBER-TWO PENCIL WITH YOU!”
It’s Laney! She’s sitting alone at a booth two feet away from me. Her plate is empty, and she has a tall clear drink in front of her, but as usual, her pleasure comes from berating someone via cell phone. She looks exactly the same—pin-straight blond hair, lithe body, great clothes, and two Bluetooths glued to her ears. I’m so excited, I could race over and hug her. But I don’t. I bet this Laney doesn’t like hugs either. Instead, I listen to her continue to yell at someone. It’s like music to my ears. Laney is exactly the same in alter-Kaitlin-verse. So far she’s the only one.
I must be staring at her for a while because she looks up and gives me an appraising look. “Reese’s party, right? You won the Guitar Hero contest?”
Eee! Laney is talking to me! “I don’t think so.”
“I must know you from someplace.” She pulls the Bluetooths off her ears like diamonds and drops them in the oversized bag sitting next to her. She’s wearing a white wrap sweater and wide-leg black trousers with very high heels. She pats the seat next to her. “Are you an actress?”
“No.” Ouch. That hurt. I sit down next to her. “My name is Kaitlin Burke. I’m here with a few friends, but I’ve, um, never acted before. Although I think I could do better than Shayla Stevens.” God, I hope Laney doesn’t represent her.
She groans at the mention of Tom Cruise’s costar in the movie tonight. “Wasn’t she the worst? I know they like to pair Tommy with beautiful unknowns, but they couldn’t have found someone who could at least enunciate clearly?”
“It’s not like the lines were that complicated. How hard is it? ‘Quick! They’re on to us!’” I use a thick Russian accent, better than the one Shayla used, and look around frantically, bobbing and weaving my head as if bad guys are behind every table. “We need to find a safe haven until this smoke clears. If we don’t, I don’t think we’ll be around to do the second circus performance tomorrow.”
I miss acting. A lot.
“Impressive.” Laney appraises me. “That was very good. You’re also much prettier than Shayla. You have great bone structure, wonderful skin, and your tone is wonderful. Great name too.”
“Thanks,” I say, happy to bask in Laney’s glow. “Are you a casting agent?” This is fun!
Laney perks up. “God, no! I’m a publicist, and I have a lot of clients here tonight. Tommy is my boy. Did you like the film?”
I hesitate. “Yes.” It was okay, I guess, but Cruise playing a circus clown? I don’t see it.
“But?” Laney presses. She can read a person like a book.
What the heck. It’s not like I’ll ever see her again. “I liked the premise, but I thought Tom was too big a star to play a circus freak. The whole story would have worked if he did something different, like own a Disney-esque amusement park instead of a circus company. And Hulk Hogan as the bearded lady?” I shake my head. “Gerard Butler wasn’t available? He would have been perfect.”
“That’s what I thought!” Laney is flabbergasted. She takes a sip from her drink. “I pushed for Angelina in this thing too.”
I nod. “She would have been better in Shayla’s role. Someone Shayla’s age would have made an awesome sidekick, but I didn’t think the star tightrope walker was her thing.”
“I agree,” Laney whispers. “You sure you aren’t in the business? I could swear I’ve seen you in a Tide commercial.”
I’ve been in several, but I can’t say that. “I pay attention to the trades and casting news. Variety is bedtime reading.”
“Smart girl.” Laney raps her long, dark red fingernails on the glass table. “You and I should take a meeting. You don’t have representation, do you?” She looks at me smartly. Laney hates liars.
Alter-Kaitlin taking a meeting? God, if I could act while I was here, it would be better than finding my way to a nearby Sprinkles for a dozen cupcakes. “No,” I say, trying to hide my excitement. “Do you have a card?”
Laney pulls one out of a sleek black holder. In the real world, she has a Louis Vuitton one that I got her for her birthday. “Give me your info too,” she says as her Bluetooths start beeping again. I scribble it down on a piece of paper she hands me. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Have you ever eaten at STK? I’ll take you there this week. I want to introduce you to a few agents that would go gaga for you. Trust me.”
I love STK! Laney and I go there on the down-low without Mom. Mom never lets me order anything fried, but Laney does. She says I have a good metabolism. “Okay,” I agree.
Alter-Kaitlin has a meeting! Alter-Kaitlin could have a publicist! Alter-Kaitlin could even get an agent!
I’m in such a good mood, I say good-bye to L
aney and decide to look for Liz to smooth things over.
I find her on the other side of the restaurant, holding court with Austin, Lori, Ava, and Lauren. Ava is wearing pink satin and petting Calou, her puffball of a tiny dog, who is wearing a matching pink satin top. Ava’s blond hair is pulled back, and curls bounce around as she laughs. Lauren’s brown hair is done the same way. She’s wearing a Versace jumper that, if Alter-LAVA is anything like the one back in the real world, I’m sure was stolen. Both of them have a shoplifting habit, even though they can easily afford their threads. The girls are hanging on Liz’s every word, and she’s too engrossed in storytelling to realize I’m a few feet away. I guess it is crowded and dark enough not to notice one more person loitering nearby.
“Call the psych ward, stat, because Kaitlin needs to be committed,” I hear Liz say, and I stop short. “She must have really hit her head in that accident because ever since then she thinks she’s Mother Teresa.” Liz pretends to pray. “I have to right my friend’s wrongs.”
“Hysterical!” Ava laughs, and Calou barks in agreement. She feeds him a tiny filet mignon on a piece of toasted bread. “Seriously, Lizzie, why do you even chill with her? I knew she was no fun.”
“No, I mean, Kaitlin is fun, or at least she was.” Liz fiddles with her hoop earrings almost as if she’s in a trance. “Whenever we used to go to these things, she always chatted up the hottest star in the room. She’s so charismatic. Maybe that’s why I’ve overlooked this ridiculous makeover campaign she seems to be on.”
“You could so do better,” Lauren adds.
“I’ve never liked her,” pipes up Lori, who looks thrilled to be surrounded by D-listers. “She’s always stalking my boyfriend. It is so creepy.”
“She’s not creepy. You just don’t know her,” Austin surprises me by saying. They all look at him, and he glances down at the table and plays with a chicken kebob he hasn’t eaten. “Go easy on Kaitlin. She’s had a rough few weeks.”
“Go easy on her? Look what she’s done to you!” Lori hisses and her head whips around so fast, her curled hair looks like Medusa’s snakes. “Listen, Liz, I know it was you who invited us, not Kaitlin. Still, no can do with the apology thing. Your girl is cuckoo. I think I want to look into getting a restraining order for A.”
Ava snorts and grabs another pink drink from a passing waitress, who stops short to avoid toppling her tray. “Sweetie, so easy to get. I have several myself. ”
“You mean you have several against you,” Lauren clarifies. She sucks in her already tight stomach when a hot guy walks by but deflates quickly when he doesn’t give her a second look. “Not the same thing.”
“Maybe I need a restraining order,” says Liz as she munches on a small crab cake. “We’ve been friends all year, so I feel like I should help her, but now I don’t know.”
“You’re such a generous soul,” empathizes Ava, and she feeds Calou a cucumber roll from her plate.
“The last thing I need is to wind up on crutches like you, Austin,” Liz adds, as she looks from Ava to Lauren for approval. “Who knows who Kaitlin will run down next?”
They’re all so busy laughing, I don’t think they see me stomp over to the edge of their table and toss the remains of my smoothie at them full speed. It sprays out, hitting Liz, Lauren, and Ava the most. I can’t help but be the one to laugh now. I’m not the only one; Austin’s mouth looks like it’s twitching when Lori starts to sob into his shoulder about the pink goop in her hair.
Ava is the first to shriek, and Liz’s eyes widen in horror when she realizes who’s responsible for the attack. “You little freak!” Ava wipes the thick, pink goop from her eyes. “Laur, get her tossed from the party. Get security!”
“Don’t bother!” I snap. “I’m leaving.”
Liz is pale. She grabs my hand. “Kaitlin, I…”
“Liz,” Ava says sternly as a waiter hands her and Lauren white cloth napkins to dab their clothes with.
“Forget it,” I tell Liz and drop her hand. She looks away in embarrassment. “To think I thought you were my friend. And these two D-listers you so desperately want to impress?” I point to Lauren and Ava. “You don’t realize you’re heads above them. They know it, or they wouldn’t be hanging out with you.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ava says quickly, side-eyeing security as they approach.
“Kaitlin, I’m sorry,” Liz starts.
“Don’t be. You think I’ve changed?” I question. “You’ve changed. The Liz I know is smart, sassy, and cares more about her friends than she does an invite list.” I start to choke up. “She doesn’t make herself fit into this perfect little box to impress others. She stands up for herself, and that’s exactly what I’m going to do now. I’m out of here.”
Austin calls my name, but I don’t look back. Security is standing guard with a smoothie-spattered Lauren, whose Versace jumper looks almost tie-died with the smoothie clinging to the Lycra material. I feel so satisfied with myself that I storm right past them and head for the exit.
If there is anything I could leave in this alternate universe I’m trapped in, it would be Lauren and Ava. But I won’t let them hurt me—not here, not in the real world—and I won’t let them hurt my friends either. It’s time I take control of my real life. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m ready to fight for the things I love, like the right acting projects. And to refuse the things I don’t (losing my mom just to have a manager). I need to be the one in the driver’s seat. Nadine was right, just like she always is.
Nadine.
NADINE!
OF COURSE!
If anyone could get me out of here, it would be alter-Nadine.
I hike my sparkly red bag onto my shoulder and push through the crowd of onlookers. Liz tries to pull me back.
“Can’t we talk? Please? Where are you going?”
“Harvard.” I squeeze toward the doors and head to valet, hoping they can call me a cab. As angry as I was a few minutes ago, I’m smiling now. I know what I want, and I know how to get it back. Nadine can fix this. She can fix anything. I just have to track her down, and I think I know exactly where to look.
Note to Self:
Find out cost of ticket to Boston.
Get spending money.
Leave town. Immediately.
FIFTEEN: Boston or Bust
I find a pink duffel bag in the back of alter-Kaitlin’s closet, and I stuff it with a bunch of clothes, some one-hundred-calorie snacks, and the eighty dollars I found in the badly painted piggy bank on my dresser. I lug it down to Matty’s room and knock on the door.
I hear two locks turn—who needs double locks on their bedroom door?—before Matty appears in the doorway looking rumpled. His blond hair stands up on end, he’s wearing a baggy LEGO Star Wars tee and wind pants, and he has on wire-rim glasses. “What do you want?” he huffs. “I’m in the middle of a crucial battle scene in Hero War Battle of the Titans, and if I step away from the computer for more than fifteen seconds, Daryl from Cleveland might win.”
“I’m sorry to bother you, Matty. I need your help.”
“I told you—it’s Matthew,” he corrects me. “Since when does anyone call me Matty? I’m not two.”
He has a point. The real Matty thinks the nickname sounds “hip.” “I’m sorry, Matthew. I’ll be quick.” My eyes dart around the dark, messy room. The shades are drawn, his bed is unmade, and there are constellation maps on the walls and a picture of Albert Einstein. This kid should have “desperately seeking friends” stamped on his forehead. “Can I borrow some money?”
He views me skeptically. “So you and Liz can hit some party and not invite me? No way.” He starts to shut his door.
I put my hand up to keep the door from closing. “I’m not going out with Liz. This is something for me.”
“What are you buying?” he asks suspiciously.
“I can’t say.” If I tell Matty where I’m going, he’ll probably crack under pressure when Mom and Dad come looking, and th
en he’ll be in trouble right along with me. I can’t have that.
He scratches his head. His blond hair is in serious need of some styling. It’s way too long on the sides and too short on top. “I’ll bite. How much do you need?”
Umm…how do I say this without sounding suspicious? “Eight hundred dollars.”
I checked the flights going out of LAX to Boston, and a last-minute ticket to Boston is around six hundred dollars. Then I need cab and T (subway) fare, and some money to crash at a bad hotel. Even eight hundred is going to be stretching it, but how much can I ask for?
Matty laughs at me. Even his laugh is different. He sounds like a hyena. “Sure, let me just get that money out of my vault.” He gives me a withering look with our similar green eyes. “What do you need all that money for anyway?”
“I told you. I can’t say.”
“Then I can’t help you.” He starts to close the door again, but I stick my hand up to stop him. The door bounces against my flat palm, flies backward, and almost hits him in the face.
“It’s an emergency!” I sound desperate, I know. “This money could be life-changing for all of us.”
“Are you going to Vegas?” Matty asks, horrified. “You’re underage!”
“I’m not going to Vegas.” I cross my arms and try to keep my good foot from tapping nervously. “It’s nothing illegal.”
He mulls the proposition over. “Changing my life sounds good to me, but I don’t have that much cash. I can give you something, though. Close your eyes.” I start to protest. “Just do it. No peeking!”
I hear him poke around the room, a key turn, something slam shut, and then I feel money in my hand. I look down and see he’s handed me a hundred-dollar bill. It’s a start.
I grab his thin frame (no muscles on this Matty) and hug him. “Thanks, Matthew. You have no idea how important this trip is. Wish me luck, okay?” I pause. “And stall Mom and Dad, for at least the next several hours. Just say I’m out with Liz or at a study group.” He starts to laugh. “Okay, say I’m at a pep rally.”