Faking Reality

by Sara Fujimura

  I expect to park Leo on the edge of the stage again, but this time he doesn’t release my hand. The DJ lowers the music as we take the stage. I accept the mic from him and come center stage. Though I can hear his breath quicken, Leo’s face stays more of a light tan this time instead of pink. I close my eyes and order High School Dakota to the back seat again. After a deep breath, DIY Princess Dakota takes the wheel.

  “Hello, Phoenix! You guys having a good time?”

  There is a sudden snickering from the audience, followed by mocking laughter. Stephanie swoops into the audience. I hope they have Leo’s mic muted, or our show just got a mature rating for language. The jerk with the rubber chicken in his hand winces as Stephanie drags him toward the door by his earlobe. Half a second later, two security guards grab another troll. Their buddy makes a run for it, but Mr. Udall and Iwate-sensei’s WWE-worthy tag team maneuvers leave the troll sprawled out on the floor trying to catch his breath.

  Blood rushes in my ears. I won’t let them shake me. I won’t let them penetrate my armor this time. I won’t let them win.

  I turn to Leo. He pushes up his sleeves. I shake my head at him. This is my fight.

  Leo mouths, “Kitsunebiiiii!”

  Since I don’t have Jay Yoshikawa’s magical sword, I adjust my tiara instead.

  “Anybody else?” I cross my arms and wait. I stare out into the audience and let the awkward silence sink in. “Because if the trolls and moles and agents of chaos are finished, the rest of us would like to get back to enjoying our evening with the people we love instead of stirring up hate.”

  There’s some murmuring from the crowd. Cell phones are out. The show’s not over yet.

  Nevaeh’s two-fingered, high-pitched whistle startles the crowd. “We love you, Dakota!”

  I find Nevaeh in the crowd and blow them a kiss. “Love you back, my friend!”

  Jax is the one who starts the “Ko-ty! Ko-ty!” chant. Not everybody is on board. I see several people duck out of the ballroom. When Leo’s voice joins Jax’s chant, I stop caring about what other people are going to say about my party tomorrow. Tonight, I want to create a perfectly imperfect memory for Leo and Nevaeh and all the people who will continue to be a part of my life long after the TV show and even high school are over.

  “Thank you!” I interrupt the chant until people quiet down again. “Now that we’re ready to move on from the drama, I have a special guest tonight. You’ve seen her burning up YouTube for the last year, but here she is to sing her first number-one hit and last summer’s favorite slow jam: Rayne Lee!”

  Leo, Aurora, and Nevaeh kept their promise. People gasp when Rayne Lee—wearing her trademark bedazzled school uniform, which wouldn’t pass any school’s dress code—struts on stage. Rayne Lee exudes confidence or arrogance, depending on who you ask. I’ve seen the tabloid stories about her. We’ve even been gossiped about on the same page multiple times. Apparently, both of us are dramatic and difficult to work with. Or we are both empowered, opinionated teen girls trying not to get steamrolled by the industry. Again, it depends on who you ask.

  “It’s truly my honor to come to Phoenix tonight to sing for America’s DIY Princess.” Rayne stands next to me. Her long nails sparkle against her bedazzled purple microphone. “I grew up watching your show with my grandparents in Fort Lee, New Jersey, and like millions of viewers from around the world, I feel like your family is an extension of my own. Dakota, I have a confession. I may have bedazzled a pair of safety glasses when I was ten and gone as you for Halloween.” Based on the good-natured laughter, I’m guessing that Phil cued up a photo of Rayne wearing the costume for the audience. “It’s all love, my sister. But from one diva to another, I’m gonna need you to get off my stage.”

  Rayne turns so the audience can’t see her and mouths to me, “Play along, okay?”

  I raise an eyebrow but nod. As I leave stage right, Rayne puts a hand on Leo’s arm to stop his retreat.

  “Wait. Not you though.” Rayne exaggerates looking Leo up and down. “Definitely not you.”

  As Rayne croons the beginning embellishment of “One Last Kiss,” Leo looks ready to spontaneously combust. Rayne bumps Leo’s shoulder with hers during the first verse in an attempt to get him to move with her. But he doesn’t.

  “You got this, Cinnamon Roll Prince!” Nevaeh yells from the base of the stage.

  The crowd hoots when Leo turns to face Rayne. She puts a hand on his shoulder. At first, I’m worried that Leo’s knees are buckling, but then I realize he’s wobbling on the downbeat. Rayne notices too and gives Leo a nod of encouragement. By the first chorus, Leo leans into the single-single-double pattern. He’s only dancing at about 50 percent, but this is still huge. Just like in the video, when Rayne sings about holding hands with her former love, she laces her fingers with Leo’s. I don’t think she expected him to spin her around in a ballerina-like turn, but that’s what’s in the video we’ve watched a million times. It’s what was in our choreography of this song.

  Yeah, I can’t compete with this. When they get to the bridge of the song, Rayne does her trademark vocal run into the stratosphere, before leaning into Leo until they are forehead to forehead. Quite a few people in the audience do the four finger snaps along with Rayne and Leo during the dramatic pause in the song. When the chorus kicks back in, she kisses Leo’s hand before turning on her heel and strutting away like she does in the video.

  Instead of sliding into her Lamborghini and peeling out, though, Rayne pulls me back onto the stage. As she starts the final chorus about waiting to find the love of your life, Rayne connects me to Leo. The audience loses it—I can hear Nevaeh’s ear-splitting, two-fingered whistle—as Leo wraps his arms around me. We throw out our original choreography and simply sway side to side. Just two best friends dancing with a popstar and three hundred other people in the room, and yet still somehow in their own bubble.

  “One last … kiss,” Rayne sings from the edge of the stage.

  Leo picks me up and swings me around. And this time, when my feet touch the ground again, he doesn’t kiss my forehead or my hand or my cheek. Instead, Leo kisses me on the lips in front of ALL. OF. AMERICA.

  “Happy Birthday, Koty,” Leo says when we break away.

  “Best. Birthday. Ever.” My lips say though I doubt Leo can hear me over the roar of the crowd.

  “Are they not the cutest?” Rayne says, returning to center stage. She gently herds us toward the side. “But for real, you guys need to get off my stage. Because I brought some friends along for this next number.”

  As Leo and I exit stage right, Rayne’s twenty or so “friends” wearing similar school uniforms take the stage from the left—though I’m pretty sure nobody but Rayne is actually, you know, in high school. The bumping bass line of her newest song ignites the JCC squad, who bounces around in a group, with Jordan the Camera Op filming it all.

  “YES!” Phil says, letting me know that my mic is no longer hot. “More of that, please. And nice save with the trolls.”

  “Speaking of trolls.” I’m about to rip Phil a new one when Stephanie storms our trio. Though her eyebrows furrow, Stephanie says calmly, “I need Leo for a moment.”

  “Fine. But I want him back in ten,” Phil says.

  Stephanie puts a hand on Leo’s back and guides him toward a quiet corner. I crane my neck to see what’s going on. My stomach falls to my toes when Leo suddenly clamps a hand over his mouth. He rips off his mic and runs for the door.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Phil grabs my arm as I start to go after Leo.

  “What’s going on, Stephanie?” I say as soon as she returns.

  “Leo’s grandfather has appendicitis.” Stephanie hands Leo’s mic to Phil. “The Matsudas are all in the ER, and doctors are prepping Grandpa for emergency surgery before his appendix bursts. Sasha is here to pick up Leo.”

  “He can’t leave. We’re in the middle of filming!” Phil says.

  “I gotta go.”

  Phi
l steps in front of me. “You can’t leave your own party. We’ve still got the birthday cake and presents part to do.”

  “I. Don’t. Care,” I say loud enough that camera phones rotate my way. Stephanie steps to the side to block their view.

  “Get over here.” Phil drags me by the arm to a secluded spot behind the stage. “Look, I’m sorry about Leo’s grandfather. I am. But we have a job to do here. What’s gotten into you? It’s like you’re trying to tank tonight’s show. Let me tell you, young lady, that is not going to happen. We are going to pull a three tonight if it kills me. And it just might.”

  “Is that why you sent Lindsay over? To boost ratings?” I yank my arm out of Phil’s. “I don’t care if we hit three million viewers tonight. Protecting my best friend is a hundred times more important to me than my ratings bonus.”

  “What a selfish little—” Phil takes a deep breath and hisses through his teeth. “I know this is a hard concept for an ‘it’s all about me’ teenager to understand, but this show is a group effort. If we do well tonight, you get a ratings bonus, and I get a promotion to executive producer next season. And then I never have to work in the field with bratty, entitled teenagers ever again.”

  “Hey! You don’t get to talk to Dakota like that.” Stephanie gives Phil a look that might actually melt his face off. “I will consult with the talent and her parents, and we will inform you how the rest of tonight is going to go.”

  Stephanie puts an arm around my shoulders and leads me toward the green room. I quiver with rage. Meanwhile, Phil throws his clipboard on the carpet, stomps around, and drops a couple of F-bombs. I hope somebody got that on camera, though it would undoubtedly get redirected at me: “DIY Princess Has Epic Tantrum at Her Birthday Party, Causing Production to Revolt.”

  “Dakota?” Dad stands up when Stephanie and I burst into our makeshift green room.

  I slump down on the couch next to Mom. “Leo just left the party with Sasha.”

  Mom waves her cell phone at me. “So I heard from Jen. I’m sorry, Dakota. You and Leo looked like you were having so much fun together.”

  “Yeah, Leo and Uncle Doug are gonna have a little man-to-man chat about that kissing part.”

  “Doug!” Mom says.

  “Later, of course.” Dad sits next to me and wraps his hand around mine. “Masao is going to be fine, Koty-Kat. People have their appendixes removed all the time.”

  “But what if something happens to Ojiichan, and I was too busy giving away designer handbags to people whose names I don’t even know? I would never forgive myself.”

  “I understand, honey. More than you know.” Mom’s eyes glisten. “When my dad was hospitalized for the last time, I chose to fly back to Phoenix the next morning instead of taking an overnight flight from New York City. I have regretted that decision ever since. I never got to tell my dad goodbye.”

  “Tamlyn, Masao has appendicitis, not the end stages of lung cancer,” Dad says gently.

  “But Masao is no spring chicken either,” Mom says.

  “I don’t know what to do, Mom. Part of me wants to race to the hospital to be with Leo, because he’s always been there for me. But if I leave, it will mess up everything here. I don’t want to hurt you guys or Stephanie. Though Phil can currently kiss my—”

  “Dakota,” Stephanie interrupts. “Hot mic.”

  Phil can listen in if he wants to. He doesn’t get a say in my decision.

  “What do I do, Mom?”

  My parents look at each other, then at Stephanie, and then back at each other.

  “I don’t know.” Mom wraps an arm around me and pulls me against her. “But whatever you decide, I will support it. This wouldn’t be the first time a show’s gone sideways on us.”

  “What? When has there ever been a problem that I couldn’t fix?” Dad says.

  “Got it, Phil,” Stephanie barks into the tiny walkie-talkie mic on her shoulder. “What do you want to do, Dakota? Because Phil wants you back on set.”

  All the unknowns swirl around in my head until I am dizzy. I don’t know what to do. I need Leo here to spark an idea so that I can build off of it. The green room’s TV is on mute, but Rayne’s energy pours through the screen as she travels around the stage. Rayne gets a lot of crap thrown at her too from the media and online trolls, yet here she is shining bright. Her spark is contagious.

  “Can you stay long enough to thank Rayne Lee? She’s a genuine fan of yours.” Stephanie points to a pile of merch sitting on a side table, including a T-shirt and a CD.

  My mind flashes to Leo and Rayne bouncing side to side on the stage. When his fear melted away, and he showed the world what I get to see every day. The Real Leo. I grab the CD and a gold metallic Sharpie off the table.

  “I’m on my way,” I say into my cleavage.

  I’m out of breath, but I slap the CD and pen into Phil’s chest and make it to the side of the stage just as Rayne finishes “Create Your Spark.” Sweat flies off Rayne’s forehead as she punches the air above her head on the final note. Based on the number of people now crushing the front of the stage, I think Rayne made some new fans tonight.

  Rayne continues to bow and throw kisses to the screaming audience as I take the stage. My smile may not be authentic, but the commitment behind it is.

  “Is she awesome or what?” I yell into my handheld mic. “Thank you, Rayne Lee. You have made this birthday one to remember. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.”

  “From one diva to another, it was my honor.” Rayne mock curtseys at me.

  “There is one thing before you go.”

  I hand Rayne my microphone. She quirks an eyebrow at me as I reach up and unpin the tiara. I pull the tiara—thankfully with none of my stunt hair still attached to it—off my head.

  I say into her bedazzled microphone, “My reign might be coming to an end, but yours is just beginning.”

  After I get the tiara pinned on her head, Rayne does her best Miss Universe impression, including over-the-top, fake crying. I accept her hug. Meanwhile, Phil raises his clipboard, which says CAKE on it in big black letters, and taps it like a woodpecker.

  “While I send Rayne off, I hope you guys will head into the other room for dessert by Sweet Lil Something Bakery. Then we’ll give away some prizes,” I say, and Phil nods at me. “Don’t forget to try some of Sasha Matsuda’s adorable rabbit-shaped manju.”

  So Phil won’t smack me with his clipboard, I link my elbow with Rayne’s and walk off the stage with her. As we pass Phil, I grab the CD and Sharpie.

  Once we are tucked away from the crowd, Rayne puts her hand on the tiara. “I’m guessing you want this back?”

  “No, for real. I want you to keep it. I mean, where am I going to wear it after tonight?”

  Rayne’s laugh sounds like little tinkling bells. “I’m sorry about the Halloween picture. Phil insisted that it was funny, but I don’t know.”

  “No, it’s fine. Because one day I’m going to be you for Halloween. So, be sure to wear the tiara and remember Leo and me fondly when you accept your Grammy one day.”

  “Speaking of … where’d your boyfriend go? I wanted to say thanks. At first, I thought he was going to pass out on me, but then he nailed it. He’s a good dancer.”

  “He’s not my … it’s complicated.”

  Rayne crosses her arms. “It’s complicated, or are you two making it complicated? Because clearly I’m seeing something that you aren’t.”

  “Probably more of the latter.”

  “Then stop making it harder than it needs to be. Listen to your heart.”

  “You want to write that in Sharpie across my forehead to help me remember it better?”

  “How about I write it on the CD instead?”

  “Would you be offended if I gave it to Leo to cheer him up?” I say as Rayne takes the CD and Sharpie from me. “His grandfather was rushed to the hospital tonight. That’s why he left so suddenly.”

  “To: Leo,” Rayne says as she writes on the pape
r insert. “Listen to your heart. Create your spark. Much love, Rayne Lee.” She signs her name with a flourish in both English and Korean characters before putting the CD back in its case.

  “He’s going to love it.”

  “You too, Dakota. Listen to your heart.” Rayne pokes me in the chest gently with her bedazzled index finger. “And send me your contact info so the next time I’m in Phoenix, we can hang.”

  “Yes!” And I do feel a spark—a genuine one. “I will take you to my favorite Japanese restaurant, Matsuda. And if things aren’t busy, you might even see a certain waiter dancing along to your song. Seriously, Leo was only at fifty percent tonight. You haven’t seen him go ham.”

  “You got it.”

  “Dakota.” Stephanie puts her hand on my arm. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you need to take this. It’s Leo.”

  Rayne squeezes my arm before walking away with Stephanie.

  “Talk to me, my dude. How’s Ojiichan?” I say.

  “Not good.” Leo’s voice wavers. He clears his throat and hardens his voice. “They were prepping him for surgery when his blood pressure spiked and his heartbeat became irregular. Until he is stable, they can’t do the surgery. But if they don’t do the surgery soon, his appendix might burst, and that’s also life-threatening.”

  I can see Leo in my mind, raking a hand through his hair as he lets out a frustrated sigh.

  “I feel so helpless, Koty.”

  “I’m sorry. I wish I could be there with you.”

  After a long pause, Leo whispers, “Yeah. I wish you were too.”

  My heart smashes into a million pieces.

  “Dakota, now.” Phil snatches Stephanie’s phone out of my hand, grabs me by the elbow, and drags me toward the cake room.

  “Hey!”

  When we get there, he shoves a microphone in my hand. Mom and Dad stand to the side of the cake. Though there is a convincing smile on her face, Mom’s knuckles are white from the death grip she has on the cake table. Dad, however, is not a good actor. They could do a whole show on his flubs, cringey dad jokes, and genuine-if-inappropriate comments. Santa is anything but jolly now, especially when Phil pushes a microphone into his chest too. With the camera rolling, we have no choice but to move forward with this pointless display of consumerism at its worst.