No one called, though.
I didn’t sleep much that night, although this wasn’t unusual. Since Jeremy’s diagnosis, my mind couldn’t turn off for long enough to sleep. A constant stream of what-ifs kept me awake.
No one called on Tuesday either.
As I sat in class Wednesday morning, I felt like red tape was crawling up my legs, winding around my body, squeezing my chest so tightly that I couldn’t breathe. I knew I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit there and accept defeat.
After third period, I forged a note telling the office I had a doctor’s appointment and went home. Then I sat in our empty house staring at the computer like it was an enemy prisoner. Somewhere amongst its billions of links, it had information that could help me. I had to go about it another way, think of a different way to come at the problem.
I Googled “Set location for Teen Robin Hood” and immediately came up with pictures of Ballard Productions in Burbank, California.
I stared at those for a long time, letting ideas congeal into possibilities. Could I call them and ask to speak to Steve? No, that wouldn’t work. There was a huge, impenetrable wall put up around celebrities. Besides, it would be too easy to brush off a stranger calling on the phone. The only way I’d ever be able to convince him to help me on such short notice was if I asked him in person.
Finally I came up with a plan. It was desperate, stupid, and obviously impossible for the average teenage girl. But in the end, that was the thing that tipped the scales. If anyone could figure out a way to breach that impenetrable wall, I could. At least, I hoped I could. Actually, I didn’t want to think about my chances. I just had to go and do it.
I printed out directions from Henderson, Nevada, to Burbank, California—a four-hour trip—and texted Madison while I packed things into my duffel bag. “I need your help for a cover. I’m going to tell my parents I’m sleeping over at your house tonight.”
Instead of texting back, she called me. I could hear the background voices and general clanging of the cafeteria. “So, Annika, what are you really doing tonight?”
“Oh, it’s this thing I have to do. It’s private.”
“I’m your best friend. You can tell me.” Her voice sounded suspicious. “You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you? You’re not meeting a guy or something.”
I put my toothbrush and toothpaste into the duffel bag. “No, nothing like that. You don’t have to worry.”
“Then what?” The sounds from the cafeteria began to fade, and I could tell she was walking somewhere more private in order to hear me better.
“I’m going to drive to California and try to get Steve Raleigh to visit Jeremy.”
There was a long pause. “And to think I worried it might be something stupid.”
Then I had to tell her the whole story about the genie and the wishes.
“I have to at least try to talk to Steve Raleigh,” I said. “Jeremy is worried sick about the surgery.”
“You can’t just hop in a car and drive to California,” she said.
“Yes, I can.”
She let out a frustrated sigh. “Do you not have that little voice in your head that tells you when something is a bad idea?”
I dropped my curling iron into the bag, then went to the kitchen. “It’s like my dad always says: When you’re not winning, you have to put more effort into it. It worked for archery. It worked for volleyball. It even worked for my World History final. It will work for beating Jeremy’s cancer.”
There was a pause on the line. “Annika, you cheated on your World History final.” That’s the thing about Madison; sometimes the minor details get her off topic.
“I didn’t cheat,” I said. “I studied with the TA. That’s different than cheating.”
“He told you what was going to be on the test.”
“No, he told me what might be on the test. We covered a lot of information. Trust me, I know way more about Sparta than I will ever use in my real life.”
Even though I couldn’t see it, I could tell Madison was rolling her eyes. Madison gets straight A’s. In fact, she’s the type that will read even more than is required on any subject. Her mind is probably filled with such vast sums of useless information it’s amazing she can sort through all of it to have a normal conversation.
“Do you even know where Steve Raleigh lives?” she asked.
“I know where he works, and that’s close enough. If he’s not at the studio, then someone has to know how I can contact him. Or I can snoop around the set. They’ve got to have his address and phone number listed in his personnel file.”
“They have security guards at those places.”
“I’ll improvise something. You know me—I can get past anyone.”
There was another pause, and then Madison’s voice sounding more like a mother than a friend. “This isn’t the same as getting away with stuff at school. Security guards are trained professionals. Besides, you didn’t get past Mrs. Aron.”
Mrs. Aron was our English teacher junior year. She assigned us oral book reports so we could practice our public speaking, but I’d been so busy with archery club and basketball finals that I didn’t have time to read anything. I’d hoped she wouldn’t call on me during the first day of reports, but she did, so I stood up in front of class and invented a novel. The plot, the characters, everything.
It totally ticked off Madison when Mrs. Aron gave me an A+, while Madison only received an A on a book she’d actually read. And I would have gotten away with the whole thing too, except Mrs. Aron liked my report so much she tried to find the book itself so she could read it.
After that she lowered my grade to a C: an F for the book report, but an A+ for the public speaking part. She told me she’d raise my grade back up to an A+ if I’d write the novel and let her read it. Someday I might.
I didn’t point this out to Madison, though. I dropped some apples into the duffel bag and said, “I’ll find a way to get past security.”
Madison’s voice turned worried. “Annika, people don’t just sneak off to California. Are you sure this isn’t a bad reaction to stress or a nervous breakdown or something . . . ?”
I clutched the phone harder and tried to make Madison understand. “This is something I’ve got to do. If you can’t cover for me, then let me know and I’ll call someone else.”
She huffed quietly to let me know she wasn’t happy about it. “Fine. I’ll cover for you.”
After I hung up with her, I threw more food into the duffel bag. That way I wouldn’t have to stop anywhere along the way. Now that I’d decided to go, it all felt urgent, as though Steve Raleigh would disappear if I didn’t make it in time. I put in all the money I had. I even threw in my collection of state quarters. I tried to figure out if I would have enough money for gas and a hotel. Probably not. I’d sleep in the van and change at a fast food place.
I also packed a DVD of Teen Robin Hood, the first season. It would tell me the names of the people who worked on the show. Some of them had to know how to get in touch with Steve Raleigh. I went through the photo album and took out a picture of Jeremy, the one from last Halloween where he was dressed as Robin Hood. I’d show it to everyone who could help me. How could anyone say no to a sick kid who’d dressed up like Robin Hood for Halloween?
What else did I need? I looked around the room with a feeling that verged on panic. I probably needed lots of things, but I couldn’t think clearly enough right now to figure out what. It was coming up on one o’clock.
Jeremy—I called his best friend’s mother, Mrs. Palson, and explained that I wouldn’t be home after school. Could he go home with Gabe and stay there until my parents came home?
She agreed without hesitation. Mrs. Palson dotes on Jeremy now.
Then I called my mother at work. “Hey, Mom, you know how I told you I was going over to Madison’s house after school to work on that chemistry project?”
“Um . . . ,” she said, and I could tell she was trying to
remember the conversation that had never taken place. This is the only benefit to having your parents completely stressed out. Mom doesn’t even try to keep track of what’s going on in my life now.
“And Jeremy is going to the Palsons’ after school,” I prompted.
“Oh. Uh-huh,” Mom said, pretending she knew what I was talking about.
“Well, the chemistry teacher gave us a rundown in class of everything we need to cover, and it’s going to take way longer than we planned. Since it’s going to be a late-nighter anyway, is it okay if I sleep over at Madison’s? It’s okay with Madison’s parents if it’s okay with you.”
“On a school night?”
“Mom, the project is thirty percent of our grade.”
She paused for a moment, and I worried she would come up with another objection, but instead she said, “All right, but no goofing off or staying up all night. You need your sleep.”
“Thanks, Mom.” After I hung up the phone, I took the Robin Hood action figure from underneath my bed and put it on my mom’s pillow. If I did get caught, I wanted them to be in a good mood when they found out I wasn’t at Madison’s house.
Chapter 3
As I put on my coat, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and saw Madison standing beside a carry-on suitcase. She smiled at me as though I’d been expecting her and rolled the suitcase inside. “I decided to come with you.”
I stared back at her. “What?”
She took hold of my duffel bag and swung it on top of her suitcase. “I called my mom and told her I was spending the night at your house to help you study. She couldn’t say no. She knows you’re having a hard time. Is this all you’re bringing?”
I didn’t move, even though Madison was already edging across the family room. “Madison, you can’t come. If we’re both gone, there’s a bigger chance we’ll be missed. Besides, you don’t want to drive four hours to California just to stalk some TV star.”
She kept walking across the family room, through the kitchen and toward the garage. In the end, I had no choice but to follow her. She had my stuff. As she opened up the garage door, she said, “If we both go, we’ll have a better chance of success. Two heads are better than one, and all that. Besides, you know you can’t read a map to save your life. If you went by yourself, you’d probably end up in Mexico or something.”
I took my duffel bag from off her suitcase and threw it into the back of the minivan. “I have step-by-step directions.”
“I have a laptop with wireless internet. We can research Steve Raleigh as we drive. Plus, I packed a cooler with drinks, snacks, and chocolate.”
I took the van keys out of my purse and didn’t answer her.
“Snickers bars,” she said. “And Take Fives.”
“Okay, you can come.”
She laughed, but it wasn’t the chocolate. Madison didn’t do foolish things. If she came along on the trip, somehow that meant it had a better chance of working out.
We drove to a strip-mall parking lot, where hopefully Madison’s car would blend in with the folks who worked at the all-night Walgreens and remain undetected until we’d returned. This trip had to be fast. I would call the school tomorrow, pretend to be my mother, and report myself sick. I could even call Mrs. Palson again and ask her to take Jeremy after school, but I absolutely needed to be home by the time my parents came home from work. We had twenty-eight hours to find Steve Raleigh and convince him to visit my brother.
I drove first while Madison stretched out in the backseat, a pillow behind her head, a bag of chips at her side, and the laptop lying across her middle. While she flipped chips into her mouth, she went to Steve Raleigh fan sites and combed through mostly pointless information. His birthday was April 9—which made him an Aries. He was nineteen years old, performed his own stunts, and owned two horses. Madison rattled it all off to me. “Did you know that besides the series, he’s done two Broadway shows and three movies?” Long pause. “He started acting when he was nine. He did a toothpaste commercial.”
“No wonder he has such nice teeth. They probably paid him in dental floss. Does it say anywhere that he’s nice? Does he ever do charitable stuff?”
The thought of actually talking to Steve Raleigh made my stomach feel like I’d done two hundred sit-ups.
“I think he must be a nice guy because I haven’t found anything bad about him yet. No rehab, no ripping up hotel rooms, no clocking his servants with cell phones. Mostly it’s just that whole love triangle between him, Esme and Karli.”
“He could do better than Esme,” I said, as though it was something audience members got to vote on. “Where in the story of Robin Hood is Maid Marion supposed to be a ditzy blond?”
“Maybe she’s not ditzy in real life. She’s got to be better than Karli. I mean, Karli dumped Steve, so I don’t know why she’s the one writing all those bitter love songs that everyone says are directed at him. It’s like Steve’s_biggest_fan says in her blog: Karli needs to grow up and move on with her life.”
Madison’s fingers tapped across the keyboard. “I’m going to leave a comment about it.”
Madison also felt obligated to leave comments on a site devoted to comparing whether Esme or Karli was prettier—she voted for Karli—and left a very long comment, probably a five-paragraph essay, on someone’s blog discussing whether celebrity relationships were doomed to failure. In her opinion, yes, they were.
Then she said, “Oh, here’s something,” and stayed quiet for an annoyingly long time while she read.
“What did you find out?” I finally asked.
“He sued his own parents. You know, it was one of those cases where he asked to be made a legal adult at sixteen. He had some sort of injunction against his parents so they couldn’t spend his money. Well, that’s gratitude for you. It’s not like these people gave birth to you or anything.”
I hoped it wasn’t as bad as it sounded. How could this guy understand how I felt about my brother if he didn’t care about his own family?
Madison slid the computer off her lap and leaned over the front seat. “So what are your ideas about actually tracking Steve Raleigh down? I mean, they’re not going to just let us on the set to talk to him.”
“We’ll wait until he finishes work and follow him to wherever he goes,” I said.
She shook her head. “I read on one of the blogs that the stars are chauffeured in cars with darkened windows. We’d probably end up following that fat guy who plays Friar Tuck.”
“Okay. . . .” I let out a slow breath. “Plan B: we sneak onto the set.”
There was a long pause from Madison. “Sneak on how? The place has got to be crawling with security guards.”
“All we need to get past them is a good cover.”
She let out an incredulous grunt. “A good cover? We’re seventeen-year-olds. What business could we have on a set?”
“Oh, come on, a clipboard and a purposeful look will get you admitted to most places.”
Madison turned and looked at me, her head tilted, sizing me up. With a slow, calculating voice she said, “I suppose you could pass for a starlet. You do have that femme fatale air about you. Like you crush boys’ dreams in your spare time.”
I didn’t answer. I’ve never meant to crush anyone. And to tell you the truth, my last boyfriend, Nick, dumped me, although I know I drove him to it. Everything had been going along so well between us until Jeremy was diagnosed with cancer. In one moment, I turned from a fun girlfriend into a one-woman inquisition. Night after night, I kept asking him why God would do this. Nick had tried to come up with answers and, better yet, with consolations, but I hadn’t accepted any of it. After I shredded his attempts to defend divinity, he’d finally said, “Fine, have it your way. Believe there isn’t a God.”
Which had made me even more indignant. “So you’re saying life is some sort of cosmic accident? Everything we feel, think, and do is meaningless? If my brother dies, everything he is will just be extinguished?”
Nic
k had looked at me wearily, hands up like if he waited long enough he could catch some falling answers. He’d shaken his head slowly and dropped his voice to the tone of a confession.
“I can’t do this anymore, Annika. I can’t. Look, I’m sorry about your brother. I really am. But you don’t want a shoulder to cry on, you want someone to yell at, and I’m tired of it being me.”
He was right, of course, which is why I hadn’t dated anyone since. I’d become broken glass. Fragile, incomplete, and cutting anyone who tried to touch me.
I could make it through school, smiling to cover up the numbness, but I couldn’t make small talk with a boyfriend.
Still surveying me, Madison said, “Maybe if we make you look glamorous, the security guards will think you’re a guest star.”
“No. We can’t be anyone important enough that people will pay attention to us. We just have to be one of the faceless workers who belong there. I’ll figure something out.”
After that, Madison and I switched places. She drove and I settled down in the back with the laptop. I Googled several variations of “movie set tours,” trying to get a feel for what a studio would be like, what we could expect to find when we got there—and more importantly, where their security weaknesses might be. Then I tried to use the internet to find where Teen Robin Hood outdoor locations were, in case they were shooting there instead of the studio. The computer didn’t yield any clues in that department, but I figured it couldn’t be too far away from the studio. I checked aerial views of Burbank looking for open, wooded areas and wrote down the few possibilities I saw.
I put the DVD into the laptop and watched a few minutes of an episode—mostly ignoring the story and looking at the background. The sheriff’s men rode horses over hills, and there was also a river. I hadn’t seen a river anywhere near the studio. Had the TV show makers faked the river? Was that possible? I’d just have to hope the cast was working at the set right now—either that or that the locals knew where the outdoor location was.