I quickly explain — interrupted by a series of gulps, sobs, and sneezes — about Ralph’s grilling, the fake pocket protector, and when I realized Macho Mark was in the car. I wait for Nadine to scream at me, but instead she says over and over, “Kates, I’m so sorry. I should have stopped you.” She puts her arm around me as Austin wraps Rodney’s sweat-shirt around my shivering body. “I didn’t want to be right.”
“Kates, we’re taking you home,” Austin says. “You’re really sick.”
I shake my head, and I feel too weary to even answer. “Maybe just a nap and then I’m going to work. Can’t miss work.” I groan. “Mom and Dad are going to kill me,” I sob, thinking of the twisted chrome on the Lincoln and Ralph’s dented sedan.
“Ralph is probably already on the phone with Celebrity Insider and Mark’s photos will be online before we even get home,” Nadine says with disdain. “I’ve got to call Laney and try to fix things.” I close my eyes, too dizzy to think about how she’s going to want to kill me.
“I’ll pay you for the car damage, Rodney,” I sob.
“Don’t you worry, Kaitlin, we’ll take care of everything,” Rodney promises. “Right now, let’s just get you home and to bed.”
I sit up and lay my head on Austin’s chest.
Maybe when I wake up, this will have just been a really bad, AH . . . really bad . . . AH-AH-CHOO! Dream.
FRIDAY, 10/12
NOTE TO SELF:
Pay back Rodney 4 damage.
Think about asking Dad 4 an advance on allowance.
Eight: Fever Hysteria
101.7. That’s what the ear thermometer read when Anita took my temperature minutes after Austin carried me fire-man-style past my panic-stricken mother (“She’s sick? Are you sure? She doesn’t look ill.”) and tucked me into bed. Anita was steps behind him with a thermometer, Tylenol, ginger ale, and a phone, so that she could call my doctor and ask him to make a house call. But between Mom pestering Austin about Nadine’s whereabouts (she was calling Laney) and Dad asking whether I’d followed the proper protocol for calling in sick, Anita couldn’t hear a thing the doctor said. She got that constipated look she gets when she’s mad and ordered Austin (“Sweet dreams, Burke.”) and my parents (“Are you sure that thermometer is working right, Anita?”) out so that I could nap in peace.
That lasted for exactly forty-five minutes.
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN SHE SIGNED UP FOR A DRIVING CLASS BEHIND YOUR BACK?” My mother’s voice startles me out of a deep sleep. “NADINE, ONCE YOU FOUND OUT, WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP HER?” Nadine’s muffled voice seeps through the walls, but I can’t make out what she’s saying. I should be going down stairs, but my head hurts so much I can barely lift it off the pillow. Poor Nadine. She doesn’t need to take the brunt of this. Wait till she tells Mom about Ralph recording me and Macho . . .
“MACHO MARK WAS IN THE CAR? HOW DID NO ONE REALIZE THAT MACHO MARK WAS IN THE CAR?” Mom screeches. “SHE DOESN’T NEED ANOTHER MEDIA FRENZY, NADINE! GET ME LANEY! GET ME LANEY RIGHT NOW!”
UH-OH. I sit up a little too fast and feel dizzy. I hold on to my distressed white nightstand table, pull myself up, and make my way to the door. I stop for a quick rest next to my Orlando Bloom poster. I grab my sage green robe hanging on the back of the door and peek my head out. Nadine’s voice becomes clear enough that I can make out a few words. “Kaitlin . . . drive . . . Lincoln . . . dented . . .”
“KAITLIN HIT OUR CAR?”
“What kind of car was Kaitlin driving?” my dad asks, sounding not the least bit upset. If anything, he sounds excited to be discussing his favorite subject: automotives. “Did you catch the make or model?”
“Mom? Dad?” I try to yell, but it comes out as a whisper. My body feels clammy and I’m too weak to walk the long hallway. Instead, I slump down on the cream-colored carpet and lean against Matt’s bedroom door. “Matty? Nadine? Anita?”
“Wow, Nadine wasn’t kidding — you look like a ghost,” Matty observes as he bounds up the staircase in a rugby with a crisp white collar and carpenter-style jeans. His blond hair is hidden under a backward royal blue Dodgers cap.
“What are you doing home?” I close my tired eyes.
“Tom sent me.” Matty sighs. “When word got out that you were sick, somebody in the cast freaked out about germs and worried I would infect the whole set. Monique has to tutor me here today.” He pauses. “By the way, why are you lying in the hallway?”
“I was trying to get downstairs to protect Nadine.” Did someone turn up the heat in here? “By somebody, do you mean Sky?” I ask.
Matty is silent. “Not exactly.”
Hmph. I guess Sky doesn’t make sense. She would have been thrilled I was taking a sick day and would have catered a smoothie cart to celebrate. She also would have kept Matty around to report back and make me crazy. “Well, then who wigged out?” I speak slowly, trying to catch my breath.
Matty mumbles something I can’t understand. “Who?” I ask. He mumbles again. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”
“Alexis,” he tries again very quietly.
“ALEXIS?” I dissolve into a huge sneezing fit. “Alexis sent you home? She’s unbelievable! How could you like her, Matty? Please don’t like her. She’s no good for AH-CHOO!”
“Cover your mouth,” Matt says. “I don’t want to need a sick day tomorrow.”
“Sorry,” I say and strain to hear Nadine again. “What did Alexis say about me?”
“She was really nice,” Matty says a tad defensively. “She took up a collection to send you flowers and couldn’t stop telling anyone she saw how awful it was that you weren’t feeling well.”
“Show-off,” I say under my breath.
“HOW DID SHE MANAGE TO BOOK A DRIVING SCHOOL WITHOUT ANYONE KNOWING?” I hear Mom scream.
“What’s going on down there?” Matty asks. “Is it true you cracked up the Lincoln?”
“You’ve got to help me downstairs, Matty,” I beg. “I’ve got to rescue Nadine.”
Matty offers me his arm. “I’ll help you back to your room, but that’s it. You’re in no condition to go toe-to-toe with Mom. Nadine can handle the fire.”
I’m so tired, I don’t argue. Matty helps me back to bed and I sink into my pillows and six hundred thread count sheets. I push aside my used tissues and the large box of Kleenex and take a sip of the ginger ale Matty is holding out for me. I look around my bedroom. I wish I got to spend more than just sleeping hours in here. I absolutely love my whitewashed furniture, canopy bed, serene blue walls, and striped bedding and I feel like I never see it during the daytime. Hello, room!
“Do you need anything else?” Matty asks.
“No.” I feel very groggy. “Thanks, Matty. Oh wait. There is one thing. Wake me in ten minutes so I can see Nadine. Need . . . to . . . see . . . Nad . . . ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ.”
“Kaitlin? Wake up.” Matty nudges me gently.
I jump up. “What?” I ask. “Has it been ten minutes already?”
“More like eight hours,” Matty says.
“Eight hours!” I sneeze violently.
“Anita wouldn’t let me wake you, but everyone has been calling. Austin checked in three times, Liz twice,” Matty rattles off. “Tom called and even, um, Sky.”
“Sky?” Wait. I must still be dreaming. “Sky called?”
My door swings wide open and Laney saunters in wearing a three-quarter-length-sleeved black-and-white-striped top and wide-leg black trousers. “I’m assuming Sky was calling you about this.”
I brace myself for a major lecture from Laney. But instead, she silently turns on the TiVo box and Mom, Dad, and Nadine file in behind her. Nadine looks like she’s been tortured. She gives me a weak smile and I feel my stomach do a series of somersaults. Nadine got in trouble with my mom and it’s all my fault. I have to tell Mom and Dad that. I open my mouth to speak and Celebrity Insider’s Maggie Swanson beats me to it. I glance at the TV and see the sleek, rail-thin blond model-turned-celeb-anchor stan
ding in front of a video screen showing pictures of Sky and Alexis.
“Family Affair’s Sky Mackenzie lying about her age? It’s true, and we’ve got the video to prove it. You’ll only see it here, next on Celebrity Insider!”
I’m flabbergasted. This is what Laney wants to talk to me about? Not my driving disaster?
“When was Celebrity Insider on set?” Matty frowns. “I didn’t know they were coming to talk to us.”
“I guess it was after you were quarantined,” Nadine says. Matty glares at her.
I forgot Celebrity Insider was going to be on set today! The whole cast was being interviewed about being the longest running primetime series on television. I was looking forward to it. Maggie Swanson is one of my favorite interviewers.
“Tonight’s piece was supposed to be about life on the set of Family Affair,” Maggie says. “But we’re saving that for next week because while I was on set today, I witnessed longtime star Sky Mackenzie having an altercation with darling newcomer Alexis Holden. Take a look.”
OH NO. I watch as Maggie’s interview begins. Maggie and Alexis are standing on the FA set and Alexis is wearing a way-too-revealing beige low-cut monochromatic sundress. “And now the girl everyone is talking about, Alexis Holden,” Maggie beams, her smile laser-white. “Tell us about life on Family Affair, Alexis.”
“I love it,” Alexis gushes. “By the way, Maggie, awesome top. Where did you get it?”
Maggie looks down at her cute brown knit halter. “Thank you! I just got it at Intuition. I bet you get to wear a lot of cute clothes like these on Family Affair.”
“Definitely,” Alexis says. “And I have some breaking news about Colby that I want you to hear first. I just found out myself and I’m busting. Originally she was only supposed to be on for a few episodes, but after fans reacted so strongly to the character, the network decided to let my story arc continue indefinitely.”
“WHAT?” I attempt to yell (it sounds more like a cough). Indefinitely? I can’t handle working with Alexis indefinitely! What does that mean? I can’t deal. How is she managing to change things so quickly? Matty tries to turn away so that I won’t see his face break into a grin so wide it could crack his face in two. Traitor.
“What great news! Alexis is sticking around, and you heard it first on Celebrity Insider,” Maggie says. In the background, I see Sky in a bright yellow floral halter-style silk minidress. “Did you hear that, Sky?” Maggie yells across the stage.
Sky hurries over, all smiles for the camera. “What’s that, Maggie?” Sky asks sweetly, avoiding eye contact with Alexis.
“Your new costar is staying on indefinitely!” Maggie marvels.
Sky blinks nervously.
“This is such a great day, Maggie,” Alexis gushes. “And do you know what makes this news even more special? Today is Sky’s birthday.”
“No, it’s not,” I tell the TV. Everyone in the room looks at me and I forget for a moment the hot water I’m in. “Sky’s birthday is in January. She turns seventeen a month after I do. She never lets me forget it.”
Back on TV, Sky is laughing. “Alexis, my birthday is in January. I’m sixteen,” Sky tells the camera. “I’m a month younger than Kaitlin Burke.” She winks.
The camera pans wide and we see Alexis pull a license out of her handbag. “Oh, I’m sorry,” Alexis says. “I got confused when I saw this.” The camera closes in on the California State license. There’s no doubt about it — it’s Sky’s. “I’ve never been great with math, but doesn’t this mean you’re seventeen going on eighteen today?” Alexis asks.
“Oh. My. God,” Nadine says. “Sky lied about her age! Why?”
“Every year counts in Hollywood,” Laney explains. “Maybe her family worried she wouldn’t have gotten the part if the studio knew she was older. A year makes a big difference when you’re four.”
Matt falls back on my bed and dissolves into uncontrollable laughter. I’m too shocked and weak to say anything.
“This is good,” Laney says as they break for a commercial to heighten the anticipation of Sky’s meltdown. Why do TV shows always do that? “Maybe the press will be all over this Sky age fiasco and forget all about your driving mishap.”
Laney gives me the evil eye.
Oh. I guess I’m not off the hook.
“I know you’re sick so I won’t grill you, but that was a pretty silly thing to do.” Laney’s voice is cool. “I’m going to have a tough time coming up with a convincing statement for this one.”
Mom looks at me and raises her right eyebrow in solidarity.
Gulp. “I know that now,” I whisper. “Can we talk about this later?”
“Kaitlin, I’m just so disappointed in you,” Mom starts, but Matty interrupts.
“Can you guys chill and let her rest? We can deal with this later.” I smile weakly at Matty. He can be really sweet when he wants to be.
“Besides, look at the TV,” Nadine points out, her face pale. She grabs the TiVo remote and rewinds to the image that startled her.
“Where did you get that?” We see Sky squeak. She lunges for the license. Alexis falls backward, landing on her backside, and Maggie helps her up. “You broke into my dressing room, didn’t you?”
“No, no,” Alexis says innocently. “I swear. I found it on the floor.”
“Yeah right,” I mutter.
“I didn’t know you would be upset about me mentioning your birthday,” Alexis says to Sky and then to Maggie. Her eyes are wide and she’s totally playing the ingenue card. “I thought I was just being nice.”
The camera turns to Sky. “You two-faced, conniving shrew!” Sky grits her teeth. “I’ll get you for this!” She storms offscreen. I half expect Sky’s face to turn green, a witch’s hat to appear, and for her to say, “And your little dog too!” But it doesn’t happen.
Alexis is teary. “I didn’t know she was lying about her age,” she sniffles. “I just wanted everyone to know today was Sky’s birthday so we could celebrate.” Maggie looks mournful and hugs Alexis. I’m still speechless as the camera cuts to coanchor Brian Bennett and Maggie standing on the Celebrity Insider set.
“Wow, Sky Mackenzie has some explaining to do, huh, Maggie?” Brian asks, looking picture-perfect in a pin-striped suit (Brian always dresses as if he’s a news anchor rather than a tabloid reporter).
What Alexis did to Sky is awful. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I actually feel bad for her. Mom and Laney are so busy yapping about how Sky will lose out on younger roles that we almost miss Maggie’s segue to the next segment.
“But what our viewers are probably wondering is where Kaitlin Burke was during this fiasco,” says Maggie. “Producer Tom Pullman said she was sick, but our cameras caught her out of bed and behind the wheel of a car taking driving lessons.”
OH NO! Maggie, I thought you liked me.
“But I’m really sick!” I say hoarsely, clutching my tattered teddy bear. “The lessons were just a coincidence.” I think I’m going to throw up.
“They’ve got footage of your accident already?” Laney’s face is flush. “I thought there were no video cameras there, Nadine.”
“Don’t blame her,” I beg. “None of this was her fault. It was mine.”
“There weren’t any cameras,” Nadine cuts in. “I don’t know what they’re talking about. The only people there other than us were Ralph and Macho Mark.”
Celebrity Insider flashes to a picture of the West Olive parking lot I was at only this morning. Standing in front of his dented sedan is Ralph, his few strands of hair combed neatly.
“Oh God, please tell me you already contacted this guy about paying for his car,” Laney groans.
“Not exactly,” Nadine says quietly. “Things have been kind of hectic today.”
“It was only this morning that Kaitlin took her first-ever driving lesson with Ralph Abersam of Wheel Helpers auto school,” Maggie’s voice-over explains. The Dave Matthews Band’s song “Crash” plays in the background.
“Tell us about Kaitlin.”
“You mean other than the fact that she can’t drive?” Ralph snorts.
D’OH! I cover my burning face in shame. On-screen, Ralph is explaining how I told him I was going behind my family’s back to take driving lessons and how inexperienced I was behind the wheel. While he talks, they show a few pictures Macho Mark must have taken of me once I realized he was in the car. In one, I look like a madwoman as I lunge for his camera. In another, my mouth is contorted in a crazy scream.
HOLLYWOOD SECRET NUMBER EIGHT: Tabloid shows and reputable magazines that rely on celebrity cooperation and access don’t like to print photos of a celebrity looking ticked off. (The exceptions being a mug shot or a “celebs yelling at the paparazzi” E! special.) They know that an unflattering picture only pisses off the celebrity more, makes the shutterbug who took the picture look incompetent (What? He couldn’t get a good shot?), and bores readers, who hate the idea of their favorite stars acting, well, like normal human beings who get a little mad like everyone else.
But according to Nadine, who is pretty chummy with a few less reputable tabloids and gossip Web sites (she feeds them positive stories and quotes when necessary. Shhh . . . ), some rags eat up the meter-busting furious rants because they know, deep down, the public loves to see them.
In my case, the absurdity of the situation — combined with the fact that I wasn’t actually trying to hurt anyone — is probably too good for the media to pass up. Those pictures will make Ralph and Macho Mark a bundle and be in all the magazines by week’s end. I pull up my comforter and try to disappear. Then the phone rings.
“Don’t answer it!” Mom says in alarm, but Matt has already picked up.
“Hello? Oh hi, Tom.” Matt’s voice deepens. “Yeah, she’s doing fine. She can talk to you.” He pushes the phone under the covers.
“Hello?” I answer weakly.
“How you doing, champ?” Tom asks, trying to sound upbeat. But I know Tom. I can tell something’s up. “For you to take a sick day, you must be pretty bad. I won’t keep you, but I had something important to tell you.”