“That’s okay. Remember the auditions are today, so I’ll be home late.”
“Break a leg,” Dad says, holding the door open for me.
“Now why would you say a thing like that?” I hear Mom scold Dad as I hurry outside.
I’ve started to enjoy the solitary walk to school. One time last week I tried reading while I walked, but fell off the curb and almost twisted my ankle. Now I just go over things in my head, like the fact that I didn’t get any homework done over the weekend. And that Jake Harrison is going to be in school today. Darn my sensitive skin!
As I climb the stairs up to the school, a girl calls my name. I stop and look around. The voice is coming from a tall, brown-haired girl in a plain brown T-shirt, jeans, and Keds. She looks sort of familiar. I take off my sunglasses. “Annabelle? Is that you?”
“It’s me!” she says, throwing back her shoulders.
“Wow! You look totally different!”
Annabelle whirls around so I can see all sides of her. “Average? Blend-in-able?”
I nod. “Definitely!”
“Thanks! My mom totally freaked when she saw my hair. But it’ll rinse out in a few weeks. Your face looks really good. You almost can’t tell.”
I let the almost slide. As we walk to our lockers, I can’t help but notice that nearly all the girls in the school are dressed up today. Makeup, hair down, skirts even! I also can’t help noticing how a lot of them have shaved their legs. It makes me wish I’d bumped that up on my list. Annabelle says she tried to sneak over to the trailers, but security had been stepped up and she couldn’t get close.
“Do you think he’s really here?” I ask. “Like, breathing the same air we are?”
She nods. “I can feel it, can’t you?”
I nod.
After being admonished in my first two classes for not having my homework, I ask for a bathroom pass to check my face. My mom had packed me some medicine to take if I needed it, but I don’t want to get groggy and fall asleep in class. That wouldn’t go over too well. The lighting in the bathroom leaves a lot to be desired. It doesn’t hide any flaws. Sallow skin is on full display. To someone who didn’t know me, I might almost look normal. To everyone else, though, I’m still a little swollen. Not like a boxer anymore, but not like regular Rory, either. I’m about to enter one of the stalls when I hear a girl’s voice out in the hallway.
“I can go to the bathroom by myself! I’m not five years old!”
I hurry into the stall so I don’t have to deal with whoever it is. I twist the lock just as the bathroom door bangs open (which isn’t easy to do because it’s one of those heavy doors). Whoever it is must be wearing heels because I can hear them click-clacking on the floor. I peek through the slat in the stall door and almost fall back into the toilet. It’s Madison Waters! In my school bathroom! She’s even more beautiful in person, which is annoying. Shiny black hair, perfect Hollywood tan, brown lace-up sandals with tall heels, and a skirt way too short to pass the school’s dress code. I try not to breathe as she starts punching numbers into her cell phone.
“It’s me,” Madison says. “I’m here in Podunk, U.S.A.”
I want to correct her and say, Actually, it’s Willow Falls, but restrain myself.
“Yeah, he’s here, too. We just had breakfast in my trailer. Woulda been more fun if the stupid PA wasn’t there, too. They don’t leave us alone together for a minute.”
My heart pounds harder. She’s talking about Jake! He is here!
“What? No way.” She laughs. “The ring is just for publicity. Yeah, he’s totally gorgy, but he wants to be an actor.”
She says actor like it’s a bad word.
“Me? I want to be a movie star, and he’s just gonna drag me down. He wants to do plays!” She laughs again. The bathroom door swings open, and someone else comes in. “I better go,” she says hurriedly. Then there’s some kind of crash and things go skittering across the floor. I peek out again.
“Watch it,” Madison says, rescuing her cell phone from under the row of sinks.
“I’m so sorry!” a girl’s voice says, breathless. I can’t see her from this angle.
“What’s this?” Madison asks, pointing to a book that had fallen open on the floor. “Hey! Is that my boyfriend in your photo album?”
“It’s nothing,” the girl insists, an edge of panic in her voice. I gasp as I realize it must be Kira, the girl from the babysitting class. Without thinking, I fumble to flush the toilet and leave the stall as nonchalantly as possible. Madison turns and stares at me with instant suspicion. Kira’s eyes are pleading.
I stroll right up to where the book is lying on the floor, and before Madison can reach for it again, I bend down and grab it. I close it quickly and give it to Kira, who clutches it tight and runs out of the bathroom.
“That girl is always dropping things,” I say, turning on the faucet to wash my hands. My heart is pounding out of my chest. I can see Madison staring at me in the mirror, but I pretend not to notice. “Have a great day,” I say, breezing out of the bathroom. Good thing my chair is attached to my desk, because I almost collapse when I get back to class. I don’t hear a single thing my bio teacher says all period.
At lunch, Annabelle and Sari make me tell and retell the story five times to make sure I haven’t left out a single detail.
“Was she wearing the ring?” Sari asks.
“I didn’t look. I was too busy trying not to pass out.”
“I wonder what a PA is,” she says. “Personal Assistant maybe?”
“Do you think she knows you heard everything?” Annabelle asks, wide-eyed.
“Probably.” For once, I think my inability to stand out will work in my favor. “Hopefully she won’t recognize me if she sees me again.”
Natalie Karp, Mena, and Alexa walk by. They’re dressed up like they’re going to a party. Or at least what I imagine people would wear to a party. Mena and Alexa ignore us as usual, but Natalie stops and points to Annabelle. “What happened to your hair?”
I know Annabelle can’t tell them the real reason, or else Natalie would ask why she didn’t let her in on what the lady at the mall said. “I just wanted a change,” she says with a shrug.
Mena and Alexa laugh as the three of them move along. “Good day for it!” Alexa says. “More chance for us to get picked at the audition!”
Annabelle just smiles and sips her soda. I can’t help thinking that at least they had seen Annabelle as a threat, something they would never think about me.
The auditions are held in the gym. We’re told to sit on the bleachers while the crew gets organized. Half the school must be here. The girls are all hoping to see Jake, and the boys are trying to catch a glimpse of Madison. As if either of them would just be hanging out in the gym. The same crew member who gave us the advice at the mall stands up and tells us to quiet down, which we instantly do. She’s wearing a headset with a little microphone in front of her mouth.
“Hi, everyone. I’m the AD,” she says, smiling. “That means Assistant Director. It’s my job to organize the extras. How many of you have been in a movie before?”
We all burst out laughing as if that’s the funniest thing we ever heard, and she joins in. “Okay, well, it’s nothing to be intimidated by. Actors are real people just like you and me. In fact, to prove it, I’d like to introduce you to a few.”
Our heads swivel to the left as the gym door swings open. In walk Jake and Madison, waving and smiling, flanked on both sides by security guards. We all jump to our feet and clap. It’s weird to be clapping for someone just because they walked into the room, but that’s what we’re doing. Annabelle is gripping my arm so hard I think she’s going to leave a bruise. On Annabelle’s other side, Sari is gripping hers. Jake is even more “gorgy” in person, even though he looks a little older than I expected. One of the other crew members hands him a cordless mike. “Thank you, Willow Falls, for welcoming us! I know this is going to be a great movie! I bet you’re all wondering w
hat the name of the movie is….”
That statement brings on another round of clapping and whooping.
“Well, we’re going to tell you right now, aren’t we, Madison?”
Madison makes a big show of nodding her head excitedly. Maybe she’s a better actress than I thought. She grabs the microphone and says, “Playing It Cool!”
Everyone cheers again, even though it doesn’t really tell us anything about what kind of movie it is. Romantic comedy? Musical? Horror? I hope it’s not horror. Or musical.
Jake and Madison wave again and are ushered back out of the gym. It all happened so fast I almost think I dreamt it. The red welt on my arm tells me otherwise, though.
The AD steps forward again. “I wish we could work with all of you,” she says sincerely, “but contractually we’re only allowed to take thirty extras. So, that said, let’s get to it. The director will make the selections, and then I’ll have to ask the rest of you to leave. Thank you.”
A minute later, a short, balding man with a matching headset marches up to the front of the room and barks, “Front row, stand and line up against the wall.” The front row doesn’t move. I don’t blame them. It was just such a surprise after the niceness of the AD.
“Up,” he repeats, motioning upward with his arms. Then he points and says, “Wall.”
Murmuring and grabbing their bags, the front row scurries to do as he says. Standing against the wall, they look like convicts in a police lineup. Very young and nervous convicts. He walks quickly down the line, his hands clasped behind his back. Some kids look down as his gaze momentarily falls on them, others stare right back. I’m betting that the ones who’re looking down will have a better chance of getting chosen, since they’re the ones more likely to blend in. But to my surprise, it doesn’t happen that way. “You,” he says, pointing to a short, dark-haired boy. “You, you, and you.” He points to more kids, all of whom had been looking up. And all of whom are really normal looking. He passes right by Alexa and Mena, barely looking at them at all. Mena makes a noise deep in her throat. He stops, glances at her dismissively, and keeps going. Her face falls. I actually feel a pang of sympathy for her. He waves his hand, and the AD hurries over and tells the rest of the kids they can go. The few kids chosen are ushered into the back of the gym to wait.
You could hear a pin drop in the bleachers as the first row files out of the gym, grumbling. This time, when the director tells the second row (my row) to stand up, we spring to our feet and hurry into place. On the way, I whisper to Annabelle and Sari to keep eye contact with him. They nod. Just before the director starts power-walking down the line, the back door of the gym cracks open and my jaw falls as Jake Harrison slips in, no security guard or anything. Just him. Alone. Twenty yards away from us. No one in the crew seems to notice him, and I get the feeling he wants it that way.
My heart starts racing again, and I wonder how much excitement one person can take in a day. I’m glad there’s a solid wall behind me in case I faint. Annabelle and I wind up in the middle of the line, and Sari is a few spots farther down. By the time the director gets to us, he’s already chosen five kids. It takes all my willpower to meet his eyes, especially with Jake watching, but I do it. He points to me and then to Annabelle, who lets out a squeal of delight. The director stops and glares at her. She leans against the wall and tries to look innocent. Then he glances at me, and backs up until he’s facing me full-on. I hold my breath, hoping he’s not going to change his mind. He waves his hands around my head. “What’s with your face?”
Maybe I shouldn’t have worn my glasses. They sort of magnify the swelling. Unable to look anywhere but the floor, I reply, “Allergic reaction. It’s almost gone.”
“Yeah,” Annabelle pipes in. “Yesterday she was, like, an eight, and now she’s only a two.”
I’m hoping a two is better than an eight on her scale of how bad I look. I really should get clarification on that.
“Fine,” the director says, waving me off with a flip of his hand. He continues down the row where he chooses six more people. But Sari isn’t one of them! Did she not meet his eyes? Should she not have worn the Hello Kitty barrette? To her credit, Sari doesn’t give in to her usual dramatic tendencies and collapse and pound her fists on the gym floor. She just gives me and Annabelle an encouraging smile as she follows the others out of the gym. Annabelle whispers, “Don’t feel bad. Sari told me she didn’t really want to do it anyway.”
“Why?”
“Something about stage fright. She barely managed not to lose her lunch before this!”
I never would have guessed that about Sari. It does make me feel better, though.
It might be my imagination, and it probably is, but I swear when I pass by Jake he gives me the thumbs-up. The next time I look, he’s gone.
The chosen group grows steadily as each row takes their turn. Amanda, Leo, and his friends Jimmy and Vinnie are chosen, along with Kira and a few others from our grade. Mostly, though, the group is made up of seventh and eighth graders. When everyone has been selected and the other kids have left the gym, the AD comes over and says, “Okay, now the real work begins.”
But we’re too busy jumping and whooping to hear her. She waits patiently until we settle down. “My name is Brenda, and here are the rules. We never know when our shooting schedule will require you, so you’ll need to be ‘on call’ at all times. If you miss one scene, you’re out. Sorry, but we can’t get stuck short at the last minute. You’ll need to have changes of clothes ready. Dressy clothes, casual school clothes, gym clothes, pants, shorts, shoes. No advertisements or brand names on the clothes. No busy patterns or bright colors. No looking at the camera when we’re rolling, no talking to the actors, no complaining how long it takes to film one scene.”
For the next hour, she teaches us how to make believe we’re talking without any words actually coming out of our mouths. She calls this “fake talk.” This is what we’ll be doing in the background of a scene. It’s supposed to look real, but won’t interfere with what the actors are saying. So we take turns mouthing words silently to one another. Right before dismissing us, one of the PAs (which we’ve learned means Production Assistant) hands out forms for us to fill in with our names and phone numbers. As we line up to hand them back in, Brenda says, “Be ready on Wednesday for our first scene. It’ll be an outdoor soccer game. Shorts, plain-colored T-shirts, sneakers.”
I can’t help but glance down at my legs. It’s not like there’s so much hair I could braid it or anything, but they’re not movie legs. Movie legs are long and smooth and shiny. There’s nothing I can do about the long part, but I can do smooth and shiny. I pull Annabelle aside and point down at my legs. She nods knowingly and fake-talks, “Tomorrow after school.”
“Sounds good,” I fake-talk back. Hair-free legs, here I come. How hard could it be?
Chapter Eleven
At the drugstore, Annabelle knows just where to find the shaving stuff because three of her older brothers shave already. We stare at the rows and rows of products. Razors and lotions and waxes and shaving creams of all shapes and sizes and colors. I glance down at Annabelle’s legs. Her wispy blond hair will probably come off in two seconds. I’m gonna need the strong stuff. “How are we supposed to choose from all this?”
She starts grabbing random items off the shelves and dropping them into the plastic basket she’d picked up on our way in. “We’ll just have to try one of each thing to see what works.”
“I have to save my money for the bunny, remember?”
“No problem,” she says, whipping a twenty dollar bill out of her pocket.
“Where did you get that?”
“My parents gave it to me as an advance on the money we’re going to get paid as extras.”
“But how did you know you’d get picked?”
“I knew,” she says.
I’ve always admired Annabelle’s confidence. And now, I’m admiring her generosity, even though it turns out our stuff costs
almost thirty dollars, so I have to dig into the bunny money after all.
Choosing my house over hers is an easy decision. Foot-shaped hole in bathroom door beats five boys running around, no question. We empty the bags on my bed and have to scramble to catch the cans before they roll off. Annabelle’s phone rings. I recognize her mom’s ringtone. While she takes the call I busy myself lining up all the boxes and cans in size order.
“Can’t you just pick me up later?” she asks. “We’re in the middle of something really important. Oh, okay, I’ll be right out.” She puts her phone back in her pocket. “Sorry, gotta go. My mom’s swinging by to pick me up. She’s having a dinner party and says I have to be there.”
I wave my arm at the bed. “How am I supposed to do this alone?”
She grabs a few items and tosses them back into one of the bags. “I have faith in you.”
“But you shouldn’t.” I follow after her as she sprints down the hall. “You should have very little faith in me.”
“Sorry! Bye!” she says, bounding down the stairs. “Text me if you’re in trouble.”
For a split second, I consider asking Mom to help me. But it’s just too awkward and embarrassing. I can’t make myself do it. Returning to my room, I pick up what Annabelle left on the bed: shaving cream, two different kinds of razors, and a box of wax that will require the microwave. That will be Plan B. The woman on the shaving cream can looks very confident as she runs the razor up her leg. The shaving cream parts to reveal perfectly smooth, silky skin. It looks easy enough. Even a non-girly girl like me should be able to figure it out. I march into the bathroom, stuff a towel into the hole in the door, and get to work.
Choosing between the razors is easy. I pick the one with only one blade since it looks less intimidating, and wrestle it out of the plastic packaging. Then I pull the cap off the can and shake it up like it’s whipped cream. I press the button on the top, and a big dollop of shaving cream squirts out, looking like soft serve ice cream but probably not tasting like it.