Reel Life Starring Us (15 page)

“We'll go find Sasha this weekend. It will totally make things better.” I smile. “For both of us.”

She shrugs and keeps wiping her eyes.

“Are you allowed to go into the city by yourself?” I ask. I hope this doesn't make me sound like the biggest baby and loser in the entire world, but I just got here. I don't know what people are and aren't allowed to do. I don't even know what I'm allowed to do!

“Yeah. I do it all the time.” She makes a snotty face. “Are you?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, I've been in the city a million times. We used to come in from Massachusetts, like, every other weekend.”

“Really?” She squishes her eyes together.

“No.” I laugh. “I just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

She laughs and shakes her head like I'm totally crazy. I
don't even know what I'm saying anymore, but I can't worry about it now.

She puts her head down on the library table and whines, “Ugh, everything is just so annoying. It was easier when I was stuck at home with mono!”

I've been meaning to ask her this since I met her, but the time never seemed right. Now I have to. “I don't get it. Do you like it here or not? Everyone thinks you've got the best life ever and you live for this school. But from what you say, it doesn't seem that great.”

She sits up and folds her arms across her chest. “Everyone thinks I have the best life ever?”

I nod. The way she's staring at me, I feel like I shouldn't have brought this up, but it's too late now.

“Who's ‘everyone'?”

“I don't know. Mostly the three people I talk to: Maura, Katherine, and Trisha.”

“They don't know what they're talking about.”

I lean back. “Come on, Chelsea. You know you're popular. The most popular girl in the grade.” I pause and notice her confused expression. “You know that, right?”

“You sound like some kind of cheesy video that they make us watch in health class.” She takes her phone out of her pocket. “I gotta go. E-mail me the plans for finding Sasha Preston.”

“You'll see how awesome it's going to be,” I tell her. And I really, really hope I'm right about this one. This feels like my ultimate test, and I need to pass.

The next few days fly by because I'm so excited about going into the city with Chelsea.

But I'm also thinking about Ross Grunner and his friends' ranking of the girls in our grade. Where would I be on that list? I wonder.

My mind always seems to go back to Ross—even when I was thinking about something totally different just a minute before. The little groups of freckles on his face are so cute, and every day when we're in social studies, I wonder if he's going to pass me a note again.

Maybe focusing on him is a good thing, because it's keeping my mind off the fact that my parents don't know I'm going into Manhattan. They think a girl from my grade invited me over for the day. I made up a name for the girl—Fiona Baker. That way, just in case they try to find her number, they won't be able to and they'll call my cell. The last thing I need is them calling a girl's house.

I didn't mean to lie to them, but I couldn't risk them saying no to this plan.

I'm not the kind of girl who lies to her parents.

Rockwood Hills is so messed up. I can tell it's changed me. But it's my parents' fault. They're the ones who made us move here.

From my Internet research I learned that Sasha Preston is shooting her first movie. It's called
Reckless Abandon
, and it's about a girl in her thirties and her younger sister who leave their fancy New York City lifestyle to travel cross-country and change their lives.

It sounds like something my mom would love. And it's cool that Sasha can do TV and movies at the same time. More people will know about her when she's in movies, not just the kids who watch
Sasha Says So
.

They're shooting today in SoHo, where the girls live at the beginning of the movie. SoHo stands for “South of Houston.” Houston is a street in downtown Manhattan, and they pronounce it “House-ton,” not “Hugh-ston.” I had to look up where the neighborhood is because I didn't want to have to ask Chelsea about everything.

“We need to take the C or the E subway to Spring Street,” I tell her as we're getting off the Long Island Rail Road at Penn Station, this huge train station right in the middle of Manhattan. Tons of trains and subways all come through here. It's really confusing, but I try to follow the signs for the subway.

“For a girl who's not even from here, you really know a lot about the city,” Chelsea says. “I never know where I am. We always take cabs. Well, I mean, we used to. I don't know what I'm saying.”

I know what she's saying, but I don't tell her that. Still, I wonder how long she's going to keep dropping hints about her dad losing his job before she just tells me.

Or how long I can go without spilling the beans.

Keeping secrets is really not my specialty. I'm kind of impressed that I've gone this long.

As we're walking through Penn Station, I spot Kendall and all those girls with a group of ladies, probably their moms.

Kendall is really easy to spot. She has a bright red Burberry coat even though all the other girls have black. Plus her hair is the color of lemonade. It almost looks fluorescent, but in a good way.

Chelsea's walking really fast and I don't think she notices them. She would know if they were coming into the city today, wouldn't she? Is it possible that she chose hanging out with me over them?

I decide not to say anything. I already feel messy enough with my hair in a ponytail instead of blown out like theirs. And my green poncho is like a dirty dish towel next to their beautiful raincoats.

As much as I want all of them to see me with Chelsea so they can see that I really am a viable addition to the group, I don't think this is the right time.

We buy MetroCards at the touch-screen machine and walk down the stairs to the C and E platform.

I'm going on and on about what it'll be like to see Sasha and how much I hope we get to talk to her, and how long we should wait if people try to kick us out and all this stuff. I know I'm talking too much. But I'm so excited that I can't help it.

“So we'll say we're doing a report for school,” I tell Chelsea. “People won't say no to that, right?”

Chelsea pops a piece of gum in her mouth. It smells fruity and delicious. “A report on Sasha Preston? She's not, like, Audrey Hepburn. I mean, she's famous but she's not really report-worthy yet. Is she?”

“No, we'll say we're doing a report on movie shoots. We're taking a film-studies class.” I clap my hands—I'm so proud of my white lie. But I'm also a little scared at how good I'm getting at lying.

“Yeah, right. A film-studies class in middle school?” Chelsea scoffs. “Like that would ever happen.”

“We had one in my old school, actually.” I pause and wonder if I should e-mail Mr. Doylen, the teacher. Maybe we could have a class like that at Rockwood Hills one day. “We'll
say we go to another school. We'll make something up.” I lean back against one of the pillars.

“Chelsea?” we hear someone say. We both look up at the same time. It's Kendall, and all the other girls and their moms are behind her. “Are you going to the trunk show?”

Kendall looks at me and barely smiles. She doesn't say hi.

I hope she doesn't think I'm stealing her friend. We can all be friends. I sound like a cheesy children's show, but sometimes those characters, even though they're usually in bizarre animal costumes, have the right ideas about life.

“No … um … I decided not to,” Chelsea says. After an awkward moment, all the other girls rush up to hug her like it's been years since they've seen each other. The moms go on and on about how pretty her hair looks and how her coat looks brand-new and all these things that seem to be so weird for moms to get so excited about.

And then they all ask her about her mother, and where she is, and what she's doing.

The moms don't even look at me. They don't notice me. Or maybe they do but they don't realize that I'm with Chelsea.

I don't know if I should introduce myself or not.

It's not like their daughters are even saying hi to me.

“So what are you doing in the city today?” Molly asks. Her hair is blown straight, too, and her lips are extra glossy.

“Working on the thing for school,” Chelsea says, and looks down the platform to see if the train is coming. “Actually, I should really be in the front of the subway for where I'm going, so I gotta go.”

She walks away and doesn't make sure that I'm behind her or with her or anything. I follow along, though, because why would I stand here by myself?

“They never take the subway. They were following me,” Chelsea says when we get to the other end of the platform.

“That's kind of psychotic.” And what I mean is that Chelsea is kind of psychotic if she thinks that. Plus I'm still annoyed that she didn't even acknowledge that I was doing the project with her. She didn't even acknowledge that I was standing with her.

“I know. They are psychotic.”

She doesn't even get what I'm saying.

Right then, I'm tempted to go home. I lied to my parents, and I feel bad about that. And all the lying isn't even worth it, because Chelsea doesn't even care about the project, or care that I'm here, or care about anything.

Finally, the C train pulls into the station and we get on. Chelsea sits down, and I sit across from her.

I don't understand how the people here have the power to make me feel so bad about myself. I feel like life should be getting better. But it just doesn't seem that way.

Sasha Preston piece of advice: People are happier when they're wearing comfortable shoes, especially when walking around all day.

I am the psychotic one.

I'm the one who can't get a handle on things, who decides to be nice to Dina one minute and then completely ignore her the next.

It's just that I couldn't introduce her to all the moms, because they wouldn't get it. They'd think I abandoned their daughters, just like my mom has abandoned them, even though that's totally not the case. Really, it's their daughters who are abandoning me, and they're the ones who are abandoning my mom.

We get off the train at Spring Street, and I'm happy it has stopped raining, since we have to walk a few blocks to
where Dina thinks the shoot is taking place. I really have no idea how she found out all of this information. I think they generally like to keep these things pretty secretive.

Dina has a way of finding things out, and it kind of scares me when I think about it too much.

There are silver trailers parked all around Spring Street and lots of trucks and lights and all these people wearing headsets that make the set seem totally official and important. Some people are gathered around on the corner trying to get glimpses of the actors and actresses.

I don't think they're all here for Sasha Preston. Ben Affleck is in this movie, too, and he's a big deal. I think he's the guy Sasha's older sister ends up marrying. They meet on a farm in Montana or something. Once Dina said we were coming to the set, I just couldn't help researching the movie a little bit.

“Where is she?” I ask. I expect Dina to know, but how can she? All I know right now is that I've gone from depressed to excited in less than ten seconds. I've pretty much stopped thinking about Kendall and Molly and their moms, and I'm not thinking about things at home, either.

Being near a movie shoot is exciting—it's impossible to focus on anything else. And I want to tell Dina how grateful I am that she found out about this and dragged us here, but I can't figure out a way to say that without seeming really weird.

Dina's phone starts ringing. She has her ringtone set to “Here Comes the Sun” by the Beatles. That's my dad's favorite song, but I don't know any kids our age who really listen to it.

“Be quiet, okay? My parents don't know I'm here,” she says before she picks up.

I'll be quiet, but I don't think she realizes that we're standing on a city street with people talking and horns blaring and all this noise. Me being quiet probably won't make such a difference.

“Hello?” she says.

She doesn't say anything else for a few minutes, and I start to get nervous. I didn't realize she hadn't told her parents where she was going. I wish she had told me about this sooner, because I told my parents I was going into the city with her, since I wouldn't have been allowed to go in all alone. My parents don't know her parents, but you never know what could happen—they might call just to say hello. Or they could run into them randomly and be introduced, and then they'd know who they are. In a small, gossipy town like Rockwood Hills, anything could happen.