Reel Life Starring Us (19 page)

The thing about Rockwood Hills is that the different groups of kids don't talk to each other. I wonder if it was like that when Sasha went there. I know the other kids and have known them my whole life, but we just don't talk.

If I saw them outside of school in the mall or something, maybe I'd say hi. But seeing them in school, passing in the hallway, never. We'd never, ever say hi.

It's just the way it is.

“Well, I've tried,” Dina says, sounding defensive. “The only thing is, I don't really know anyone because I'm new this year. And people get quiet when they see the video camera.”

“I see.” Sasha sighs and readjusts herself in her chair. “Being new someplace is never easy … Oh, I just remembered something! Do they still ‘chip' people?” She makes quotation mark signs with her fingers when she says it. “That was so cruel. I definitely don't miss that.”

“Yeah, I've been chipped five times already. And I've only been there a month and a half,” Dina admits. “Rockwood Hills is nothing like my old school. I was cool there. Here, I don't have any friends, really. Oh, and I lied to my parents about where I was today to be able to come here.”

I don't know why I can't say anything else. I feel like it's obvious that I'm just sitting here not adding anything more to the conversation, but I kind of feel like a third wheel all of a sudden. Dina's in charge of the video, and Sasha's the celebrity … and I'm just, like, here.

“Hmm. It sounds tough,” Sasha says, looking at her watch. “What about you?” She turns to me. “Do you like the school?”

I guess I have to speak now. “Well, that's the thing I was talking about before.” I stop myself for a second and think
about what to say next. “I mean, it's okay,” I say. “I've lived in the neighborhood since kindergarten, so I know a lot of people.”

“You really just think it's
okay
?” Dina blurts out, not letting me really finish what I was going to say, seeming like she's mad or trying to start a fight with me. “You have a million friends. Everyone thinks you have the perfect life. Even Ross likes you. Why is it just
okay
?”

“What are you saying?” my face tightens, and I feel like I could start crying any moment. “Why are you getting so worked up?”

Dina doesn't answer me; she turns to Sasha instead. “She's popular, so she likes it, but I don't know why she won't admit that. The truth is, if you're popular, school is great. If you're not, it's awful. That's it.”

I try to take a deep breath and try to say something to defend myself, but I can't.

Dina turns to Sasha and says, “Even on your show, it's a high school, but it's the same thing. You obviously love the school because you give advice and everyone knows you. But that character Martha—come on, she's such a loser. Everyone makes fun of her.”

Sasha laughs. “Okay. First of all, that's television.”

“It resembles real life, doesn't it?” Dina asks.

“But the thing is, you guys have the power to change things,” Sasha says. “That's what I didn't realize then and only realize now because I'm a little older. No one speaks up and that's why nothing changes. Everyone just goes along with it and no one says anything. But I bet more people feel like you than you realize.”

She's only a few years older than us, and she talks like a mom. I guess her celebrity status has gone to her head.

Sasha must've read my mind because she says, “Really, you
can
make it better. Trust me.” She takes a deep breath. “I'm so glad you guys came and found me.” She winks. “Now go home and try to get out of your punishment,” she tells Dina. “Your parents will forgive you sooner or later.”

“You think?” Dina asks.

“I know.”

Video tip: Keep words on the screen long
enough for people to read them twice.

“This has been an amazing day,”
Chelsea says once we're on the train. “I know this sounds cheesy, but thank you.”

I laugh. “It doesn't sound cheesy. It's good to hear.”

We sit back in our seats and stare out the window as we wait for the conductor to come and punch our tickets.

“It
has
been a totally amazing day,” I say after a few seconds of silence.

Chelsea sighs. “It felt good to talk to Sasha, didn't it?”

I nod. “Totally.”

“Because she's a real person who went to our school and things weren't always great for her, but she graduated and look how she's doing now.” Chelsea seems so serious all of a sudden. “Even if things are bad, they can get better. Ya know?”

I nod. I'm not sure if Chelsea thinks I know what she's referring to. I feel like this is one of those instances where I should just sit and listen.

It's hard to tell if Chelsea realizes how people see her, how when you're popular your life is made—or at least that's how it seems.

As we get closer and closer to Rockwood Hills, I stop thinking about this because I am getting more and more nervous.

I was never the type of girl to do bad things, so I was never the type of girl to get in trouble.

I have no idea what's in store for me.

My parents are there waiting when we get off the train, and Chelsea's mom is waiting, too. Chelsea and I say good-bye quickly. I tell her to have fun with Ross. I try not to be too jealous that she has actual plans on a Saturday night—and plans with Ross, of all people.

Ali and I would always talk about what life would be like on Long Island and one of the things that always came up was that I'd have boys over. Ali said I'd be babysitting Nathan and a boy would walk over and we'd make microwave popcorn and watch a movie on one of the leather couches in my den.

Too bad that hasn't happened yet. Too bad it's never going to happen.

For one thing, I haven't even babysat since we've been here. My grandparents always come over to stay with us.

For another, I have no friends to come over—let alone boyfriends.

I reach for the car door handle, and I feel like I'm going in slow motion. I get into the car, sit down, and buckle my seat belt, and my dad starts to drive home.

“Hi,” I say. “First of all, I'm really sorry for lying. You have every right to be really, really, really mad at me.” I think it's best to start out apologizing; then it doesn't really leave them with that much to say.

“We appreciate your apology,” my mom says. “And we're glad you know lying is wrong.”

Then: nothing. They don't say anything. I stare at the clock above the radio. The minutes tick by. My dad is silent. So is my mom. What is going on?

“So what's my punishment?” I ask. I have to know. Waiting and not knowing is probably way harder than just being punished.

“Just don't do it again,” my dad says.

“What?” I ask.

“Don't do it again,” he repeats.

I can't believe this. They sounded furious on the phone. I was nervous all day. And there's no punishment? That's so not like them. They really believe in the punishment-fitting-the-crime
kind of discipline. I don't know what's gotten into them.

“We know you're having a rough time, honey,” my mom says. “We're just glad you made plans with someone. But we wish you could have just been honest about it.”

“Really? No punishment?” I should be happy about this, but instead I'm just confused.

“We'll discuss more when we get inside,” my dad says, pulling into the driveway.

My grandparents are at our house, and for the first time in my life, I feel embarrassed to see them. I feel like they won't look at me the same way anymore. They'll see me as some rebellious teenager instead of the nice girl they used to know.

It's strange—now that my parents aren't that mad at me, I'm even madder at myself.

My grandparents are taking Nathan out to dinner, so luckily they don't have a lot of time to look at me as the rebellious teenager. My parents and I sit down in the den, and we start talking.

It feels like one of those “talks” you see on TV, like on Sasha's show. Sasha's always getting in trouble with her parents—that's what most of her advice is about.

“We're not going to punish you because we don't think you did it to be purposefully deceitful, but we'd like to understand why you did it,” my dad says.

“I didn't think you'd let me go to the city, and I couldn't risk that. I had to go for my project,” I tell them. “And so I figured it was best to just go and come back.”

My mom moves closer to me on the couch and puts her arm around me. “Please just be honest with us from now on. Actually, starting now! How are you doing? How are things at school? You seem so distant and so unlike you.”

I want to open up to them and tell them how hard it is to find friends and how Chelsea doesn't even consider me a real friend. But somehow I just can't. Maybe it's because I'm tired. Maybe it's because I need to process the day or because all I can think about is Chelsea and Ross Grunner. Even with the stuff about her dad, her life is so much better than mine.

“I promise to be honest from now on,” I tell them. “But I'm really tired now. Can I go upstairs and lie down?”

“Sure,” my mom says. “We're going to dinner with that couple from down the street, the Bentens. You'll be okay here? Do you want to invite a friend over or something?”

“Maybe,” I say as I'm walking up the stairs. “I'll think about it.”

And even with that talk about honesty, I just lied again. Because I won't think about it, not because I don't want to, but because I don't have anyone to invite.

Sasha Preston piece of advice: Don't burn
bridges. You never know when you'll
change your mind about someone.

My parents look so happy
going out that I almost forget what's really going on: that my dad spent the whole day (up until an hour ago) in his workout clothes, that my mom cashed in an IRA to pay for the rest of Alexa's braces. I don't think I'm really supposed to know this, but I overheard them refer to it while they were getting ready.

My dad's wearing one of his pinstriped sports jackets and a peach tie, and my mom has on her black pants with her sequined sweater. I want to take a picture of them so I can remember how they look, just in case they never look this way again. I'm not even a sentimental person, but this whole thing with my dad has started to turn me into one.

“Call us if there's a problem,” my mom says. “And there's money for pizza on the kitchen counter. Alexa should be busy with that dollhouse video game Grandma sent her, but it wouldn't hurt if you paid a little attention to her.”

“Got it.”

“Are you having Kendall and the girls over?” my dad asks.

“Not sure yet.” I shrug. Now I'm turning into Dina and becoming a liar. It's not even hard—it just seems to happen all of a sudden. “We'll see. I may catch up on homework, and I also have that project for the fiftieth anniversary to work on.”

“Good girl,” he says.

And then a blissful few seconds later, they're out the door on the way to Riverbay, where they spent so many Saturday nights in the good old days.

Maybe this is a sign that things are changing, that things will return to normal soon, and that everything will be okay again. And maybe Ross and I will start going out tonight, like we're supposed to, and that will be a good distraction, too. I could always start to like him more once we're going out. It seems like meeting Sasha Preston was my good luck charm. Ever since this morning, things have been getting better.

Ross rings the bell at eight forty-seven, and it's clear that he didn't want to arrive exactly at eight forty-five but didn't want to be late, either. That's so Ross.

My skin starts to feel prickly thinking about the fact that I have a guy over and my parents don't know, even though it's just Ross and they've known Ross forever. It's just that when I usually have guys over, there are girls over, too.