I drag one of the whole strawberries decorating the top through the pile of whipped cream and pop it into my mouth. “Yum. I want to eat the rest of this, but I also don’t want to go into the kitchen to get a fork. If you wanted to stay for dinner, maybe we could share this for dessert?” I drag the other strawberry through the cream and eat it. “Never mind. I’m not sharing this, but you can still stay for dinner.”
This pulls a small smile out of Alex. “That’s fine. I have the rest of the apology cake at Mom’s house. Unless Ricky ate it while I was gone, which is a possibility.”
I put the lid back on the container and put it behind me. When I turn back, Alex has his hands open and resting in the space between us. I put my hands in his. We sit in uncomfortable silence for what seems like an eternity.
“I officially committed to Duke,” Alex says. “Now, my entire family is disappointed with me. Yay.”
My insides jumble with the news. “Oh.”
Alex’s shoulders droop. “And you too. Awesome. Batting a thousand today, Santos. Well, at least you are taking it better than I thought you would.”
“How did you think this was going to go?”
“Maybe a few tears. A declaration of undying love?”
“From you or from me?”
“Ow.”
I can practically hear the whoosh of the barriers flying up around me. I take my hands back. “What if I was the one leaving for Duke? Would I get a few tears? A declaration of undying love?”
Alex chews on his bottom lip for a minute before answering. “I would miss you. But if your family was as messed up as mine, I would understand why you wanted to leave.”
“I understand why you want to leave. I was at the game, remember?”
“That’s not what you are asking, though, is it?” Alex drops his eyes. “The reality of the situation is this: I can’t let myself fall in love with you. Because if I do, then I won’t want to leave Phoenix.”
“Got it. Plus, I’m a sophomore, and you’re a senior. We should have known this relationship had a limited shelf life from the get-go.” I slide my legs off the table. “Thanks for not dragging it out any longer than necessary.”
“Dakota, wait.” Alex grabs my arm to keep me from retreating. When I look down at his hand, he immediately removes it. “I’m sorry.”
About using me or breaking my heart? I decide to go with the less painful of the two.
“We were originally going to go with an actor anyway. I mean, this is reality TV. You can still be my dance partner if you want. Play your role, collect a paycheck, and then we’ll go our separate ways. No harm. No foul.”
“Why can’t we still hang after the party? I’m not leaving until August.”
“Because the longer we do this, the harder it is going to be to say goodbye.”
“You say that, but I’ve noticed that you’ve yet to say the L-word either. Even on Valentine’s Day.” When I don’t immediately answer him, Alex scoffs. “Of course, it’s the other L-word.”
“It’s not Leo,” I say, though the Leo Situation definitely makes things more complicated.
“Yes, it is. It’s always been Leo. It’s always going to be Leo. I guess it’s a good thing I’m leaving then.”
“IT’S NOT LEO. IT’S ME.” I lower my voice a few decibels before the whole neighborhood knows my business. “You don’t know what it’s like not being able to trust anybody. I have my parents, Stephanie, Nevaeh, and the Matsudas. That’s it. Everybody else just wants a piece of me. And when I fall for their flattery and am gullible enough to give them a piece of me, then they turn around and stab me in the back or break my heart. Every. Freaking. Time. Once people get their fifteen minutes of fame or their fat paycheck from the tabloids or the power trip of being the one who knocked that diva Dakota McDonald off her pedestal, then they’re done with me. So, no, I’m not going to let myself fall in love with you either because you might hurt me too. You know what? Congratulations, you already have.”
Alex’s face is as white as if I had crammed the tres leches cake into it.
“Did Austin Webber hurt you at Homecoming?” Even though Alex’s voice is gentle, That Boy’s name still impales me. “Like beyond the embarrassing part of the video?”
I can’t stop the hot tears burning my eyes.
“Yes, I saw the video.” Alex drops his eyes. “The original one. The one SNL took and warped into a parody with the rubber chickens. And I may have even felt smug at the time about some spoiled, arrogant little TV princess getting her comeuppance. But now I know the real Dakota McDonald. She’s amazing. And she didn’t deserve it. Any of it. I hope your parents sued his.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh because that’s not what happened afterward, despite what the tabloids reported.
“Austin’s family moved to New Mexico to escape the negative press.” I’m not lying. I’m repeating bad information.
“Good, now I won’t have to find Austin and give him a beatdown.” Alex puts one hand out, palm up, between us. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’ll do whatever it takes to get off that long list.”
No, he won’t. And it would be unfair to ask him to because this is reality, not reality TV.
I put my hand on top of Alex’s, palm to palm, but our fingers both stay open. My phone pings. And then again. And then multiple times.
“Sorry.” I wipe my eyes on the sleeve of my shirt and pull my phone out of my back pocket. When I unlock the screen, I find five texts from Leo and one from Aurora. Before I can read them, Leo calls.
“Leo, if you are calling to fanboy about Ava Takahashi being at Hebi Con again, I’m going to seriously kill you.”
“Dakota!” Leo barks at me. “Do not read Aurora’s text. Delete it right now.”
“Why?”
“Just delete it.”
“Fine.” I tap on it and see I’m so sorry, Koty. The best defense is a good offense on top of the hidden picture.
“Did you delete it?” Leo says frantically.
“Oh no.” Alex shows me the screen of his phone. “Vanessa says it’s all over school. My school.”
“Kuso,” Leo swears, obviously overhearing Alex.
“I gotta go. I’ll call you back later.” I hang up on Leo and open Aurora’s text and the attached picture. Then I pour salt into the wound by enlarging it so I can read the tabloid article under the picture of Alex and me kissing in our Valentine’s Day oasis. Because Alex is eighteen, there is no bar across his eyes. Being with me made him a target for the vultures too.
If these walls could talk indeed! It seems our favorite DIY Princess, Dakota McDonald, has not only rebounded from her freshman year heartbreak but now she’s found love yet again, this time with a tuxedo model. An anonymous source close to the If These Walls Could Talk camp told us that Alexander Santos (18) was a last-ditch effort to find Dakota, known for her diva behavior, a date for her over-the-top sixteenth birthday bash being filmed in late April. A trained Latin dancer, Santos was brought in as arm (and eye!) candy, but during one of their many private lessons, young love bloomed. We can’t wait to see Dakota and Alexander take a twirl on the dance floor at her upcoming Sweet Sixteen party. Here’s hoping the ITWCT team battens down the hatches before our young starlet takes the dance floor, so there are no more unfortunate poultry-esque wardrobe malfunctions this time.
“I’m sorry, Dakota. You know this ‘anonymous source’ wasn’t me, right? Because, if I was going to start a rumor about myself, I would at least get my own name right. Dakota? Are you okay?”
Blood rushes in my ears, but even then, it’s not loud enough to drown out the mocking roar of laughter in my head.
* * *
That Boy tells me how beautiful I look as we slow dance at Homecoming. He’s a senior. I’m a lowly freshman. I’m thrilled that he even talks to me in art class, much less wants me to go to Homecoming with him. Leo is skeptical of the match. I ignore him. Leo’s salty that he can’t go because of work. That Boy talks me into ditch
ing my bolero jacket, even though I might get busted at any moment for breaking the dress code rule about no bared shoulders. That Boy’s hand slides the spaghetti strap of my dress off my shoulder.… That Girl—his ex—told me in the bathroom that she’s not mad at me for coming to Homecoming with That Boy. They broke up months ago. That Girl says that the rumors about me aren’t true. I’m actually cool. That Girl says I should come dance with them. In the center. In the circle. Nah. That’s not for me. The tabloids would have a field day if they caught wind of me dancing with That Girl and all her cool senior friends—underwear flashing both accidentally and on purpose. “Maybe later,” I lie and hide in the bathroom stall for a good ten minutes. I return to That Boy. “You owe me,” That Girl says to him before walking off. It’s nothing. She’s just jealous. Let’s dance. Slow. He pushes the spaghetti strap off my shoulder. That’s the cue. That Girl. That Girl’s friends. Phones hit record. That Boy picks me up and swings me around. My short dress rides up in the back, over my butt. They laugh. They film. It creates a perfect storm. I grasp at my now too-loose bodice. My strapless bra shifts. One of my silicone “chicken cutlets” falls out the side of my dress. The crowd roars and pulls out their phones too. That Girl picks up the chicken cutlet and throws it at her friend—the one who’s allowed to go to Rocky Point with them after graduation if she helps That Girl get the footage for the tabloids. I scream at That Boy to put me down as the epic game of Chicken Toss continues. Finally, my feet hit the floor again. My hand presses to my lopsided chest. I wait for the floor to open up and swallow me. A hundred people film it all. “Leave her alone!” Nevaeh peels off their black-and-silver fringed jacket. They wrap it around me. “We’re leaving.” That Boy races after us. Apologizing. Swearing that he had nothing to do with That Girl’s plan. Don’t be mad. It’s all a joke. I can’t catch my breath. I can’t speak. My newish friend Nevaeh drives us to a place we both know. Aurora bursts out the front door of Matsuda. Leo two steps behind. I burn with shame. Nevaeh recounts the story. The wound opens wider. I shake harder. My chest burns, desperate for more air. Leo opens the car door. He takes a knee. “Koty, are you okay?” His voice cracks. His eyes are wide with fear. The dam breaks. “NOOOO!” The sob stuck in my chest explodes out. Tears flow freely. Leo’s strong arms pull me to a stand and encase me. Protect me. But it’s too late. “I’m sorry.” He repeats over and over. “Why didn’t I listen to you, Leo?” I hold on to him for dear life. So many cameras. So many people laughing at my humiliation. So many people cheering my fall from such a high pedestal. Celebrating the way I smash into a million pieces. Celebrating how I turn to dust under their stomping feet. Mrs. Matsuda’s face white as chalk when she pulls me away from Leo.“Dakota? Are you okay?”
* * *
“Dakota? Are you okay?” Mrs. Matsuda’s voice deepens into Alex’s.
I release my body from the hunched ball I’ve become. I use every trick and technique Dr. Berger has taught me in the last year to come back from the edge. To pull all the millions of pieces back in until I am whole again. Bruised and battered, but back in one piece.
“I’m getting Ms. Stephanie.” Alex scrambles off the picnic table.
“Wait. I’m okay-ish.” The tightness in my chest decreases by ten percent.
Alex reaches out to hug me but stops himself. Worry flashes behind his kaleidoscope eyes.
“You can hug me. In fact, I would like that.” I slide off the table and wrap my arms around Alex’s waist.
Alex’s arms encase me. He sways us gently until all the pieces of me return one by one.
“I’m sorry about the tabloid,” I say.
“It’s not your fault. Ms. Stephanie warned me that it could happen since I’m technically an adult.” Alex pulls me tighter into his bubble. “Also, people at my school have been trying to ID you since the baseball game. Now the truth is out.”
“Why does everything have to be so hard?” I step back from Alex. “When do I get to fall in love with someone who both loves me back and is going to be here for the long run?”
“I’m sorry. I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I hope I don’t look back one day and kick myself.”
I scoff. “I hope you do.”
“Okay, I kind of deserved that. How about, I hope you look back one day and remember me fondly. That I was the guy who helped make your Sweet Sixteen perfect. So perfect that the haters had absolutely nothing to say.”
“The haters always have something to say. And if they don’t, they’ll make stuff up about you, Alexander.”
“True.” Alex puts his forehead against mine. “Will you trust me?”
I don’t want to pretend that a few words and a well-timed hug are all it takes to earn my trust. I’ve been burned before. Badly.
When I don’t answer, Alex says, “Will you give me Leo’s phone number?”
“Why? Please don’t start drama with my best friend.”
“No drama, I promise. If we’re going to make this Sweet Sixteen perfect, I’m going to need Leo’s help. Leo and his sisters and Nevaeh too. Anybody else who should be on the ultraexclusive Team Dakota?”
“Would it be weird to say my Visual Arts teacher?”
Alex wrinkles his nose. “Maybe a little. But we want Ms. Stephanie and Leo’s parents on backup too. Maybe your teacher could play on the B-team with them?” Alex pulls me in tight. “Trust us. Let us show you that there are people in the world who love you just the way you are.”
I let the words hang.
“Yeah, I said it, McDonald. I love you.” Alex pulls me in tighter. “There. Are you happy? You broke me.”
“I don’t want to break you.”
“I don’t want to break you either.”
“But in August—”
“Let’s deal with August five months from now when it is, you know, August. Until then we’ll take it day by day. Okay?” Alex kisses me gently. “You got this. And if you don’t, you know who to call.”
I know Alex is talking about himself, but based on the sadness that crosses behind his eyes, Alex knows I’m still going to call Leo too.
Chapter
26
I talk my parents into letting me stay home from school for the rest of the week to give the buzz a chance to die down. I go see Dr. Berger twice. I come back to the things that ground me. The things that make me feel confident and safe. I sketch and ink the AKAGI HOUSE sign with the font I designed to turn in to Mr. Udall on Monday. Though I bow out of the Raising Hope Tenth Anniversary Gala, Stephanie reports the fundraiser she helped plan makes over a hundred thousand dollars. She insists that women like her sister—mothers who need shelter after escaping abusive relationships—appreciate the little things that make their new reality less scary, like a dollhouse for their children to play with. Instead of wearing an expensive dress and a fake smile, I spend the evening at home finishing the dollhouse video and posting it.
True to his word, Alex assembles Team Dakota, which included calling Leo. Six people get booted off my party list after Aurora reports they revived the “Bok bok!” meme of me. I presume it’s the one where I have one hand on my lopsided chest and my other hand has a rubber chicken photoshopped into it. Nevaeh helps me pick out the perfect tiara, and sends me every wombat video ever created on the planet. Leo hand-delivers our takeout dinner order from Matsuda every day promptly at five and dissects an episode of Kitsune Mask with me over root beers. And Alex insists that we keep our dance practice date on Friday after school.
“Once more. I messed up that part in the middle.” I hike up my skirt poofer—according to Stephanie, it’s technically called a crinoline—and sit down on the kitchen floor to adjust the strap on my bedazzled, three-inch heels. “And thank you for not laughing at my outfit.”
I sent Nevaeh a selfie before Alex arrived. Their response to my cinched T-shirt and jean shorts combo mixed with my bedazzled heels and skirt poofer was MY EYES!!!!
“You look beautiful no matter what you wear.” Alex, red-faced
and sweating, flops down on a barstool at our kitchen counter. “And so what that you turned left instead of right. It’s okay. We’re the only two people who know what the choreography is supposed to be. Trust that I’m going to make you look good no matter what happens.”
I flop on my back to catch my breath. Sweat drips down the sides of my temples and pools in my ears. I should have put my hair up. “What if I totally wipe out in these ridiculous shoes?”
“Then I will”—Alex slides onto the floor next to me like he’s stealing home plate—“make it look intentional. And—” The skirt poofer creaks a little when Alex rolls over and does a high X-shaped push-up over top of me. He lowers himself and kisses me. When he pushes back up a moment later, my head is still spinning. “Do something to make them forget all about your fall.”
“What fall?” I ignore the skirt poofer’s protests and tug at Alex’s shirt until he lowers himself back down.
“Well, this is all kinds of awkward,” Leo’s voice suddenly echoes through my kitchen.
Alex laughs, but my face burns. In one smooth motion, Alex rolls to his feet and pulls me to a stand. I yank the skirt poofer back down.
Leo clears his throat and holds out the insulated bag. “I have your order.”
“Thanks.” I take the bag from Leo. “Have time for a root beer?”
“I don’t want to interrupt Alex and your”—Leo rotates his hands around—“whatever that was.”
“Dance lesson,” I say.
“Riiiiiight.”
“Says the King of PDA.” I hand Leo a root beer. I pat the barstool until he sits down.
“You’re lucky your mom went into her office after intercepting me at the front door.” Leo takes a chug of root beer. “I mean, she won’t even let us watch Kitsune Mask in your room anymore.”
I give Leo a DUDE?!?! look. Yes, it’s true, but he didn’t need to say that in front of Alex, especially because Alex has never been in my room.
Faking Reality Page 24