“Oh, it’s real, all right.” Lana is grinning from ear to ear as she leads me across the wide expanse of mall. “After all this, it is most definitely real.”
She drags me through the food court and we turn down a hallway that leads to the mall’s public bathrooms. Lana leads me past the drinking fountains to a door at the end.
I point to a red sign that says “Alarm will sound.” “Isn’t this an emergency exit?”
“Isn’t this an emergency?” she says. “I know this mall. Nothing’s going to happen.” She shoves open the door, causing a high-pitched alarm to immediately echo down the hallway. She looks at me. “That sound is just a coincidence.”
When we step outside, I groan at how much lower the sun is than when we got here.
The mall always makes me feel disoriented, as if time and space and oxygen are all artificially intertwined. Plus, we’ve come out a different exit, so I’m completely lost—but Lana grabs my hand, turns me to the right, and runs full-tilt along the outer wall.
“Hurry up,” she says. “If my mom catches us, she’ll force me to go to LA.”
I say, “You mean me.”
“Right,” Lana says. “We just need to avoid her until it’s too late. It takes at least three hours to get to the venue and you’re scheduled to be onstage at nine.”
Lana’s legs are longer, but she’s jogging in heels, so I pause to check my phone for the time. I see there’s a text message from Jake asking where I am, so I quickly type that I’m on my way back to the Starlight and I’ll see him there. I put my phone away and then remember I was supposed to be checking the time. I pull my phone back out and report, “It’s already past five o’clock.”
“Which means we need to avoid my mom for another hour or else you’ll be singing before a huge crowd tonight.”
Wordlessly, I pull ahead and continue running faster.
“Wait,” Lana says, breathing heavy. “I’m dying. Do you ever exercise at all?”
I laugh and start doing spry leaps in the air. “Nope. Never. But it feels like your Zumba workout obsession is paying off.”
“This is so unfair.” Lana stops to lean against a parking sign.
“No, what’s unfair is the amount of pressure I’m under having to be you,” I say. “That whole scene back there was insane. I started having an actual panic attack of my own. How do you live like this?”
“Oh, and you think I’ve been having a stress-free fun time avoiding Jake?” she says. “All that boy wants to do is be around you.”
“Really?” I smile. “Well, let’s fix this switch already. What’s the clue you found?”
“Let me show you.” She pushes off the sign and starts trotting across the parking lot, and I try to feel hopeful as I fast-walk beside her.
Finally, I spot the pink Skylark way up ahead and I’m filled with the sense that maybe things will work out after all. I speed up even more as I picture kissing Jake under the stars at the drive-in while sitting in the front seat of that magical convertible together.
“I can’t believe that after all of this craziness, we honestly might be set free.” I cut through the parking lot, making a beeline for the car.
Just then, a familiar voice says, “Going someplace, girls?”
Aunt April steps out from behind a big black van and I actually scream at her disheveled appearance.
Lana and I freeze and lock eyes for a moment. We’re doomed. The Skylark is still at least two hundred feet away.
Lana glances down at her mother’s feet and I see her face spread into a wide smile.
Aunt April is wearing strappy stilettos.
I say a silent thank you to the ruthlessness of fashion as Lana and I sprint toward the pink convertible.
Lana claws at the pom-pom key chain, dropping it once and scooping it back up in one motion.
When we finally reach the car, we run to opposite sides, and my hand is reaching for the passenger door handle when I hear a loud clomp, clomp, clomp ring out.
Lana is suddenly tackled so hard, all that’s left of her is a cloud of glitter.
chapter 23
When I peer around to the other side of the car, I see Lana is facedown on the ground and Her Highness is on her knees, straddling her. HH narrows her ice-blue eyes at me as she adjusts her tiara and runs a hand down her lavender hair.
Lana gives a muffled, “Hey there, H. Care to help a sister out?”
Aunt April catches up to us, breathing heavy and carrying one heel in each hand. “You have a lot of explaining to do,” she tells me.
Her Highness stands, straightens her tight sequined skirt, and looks Lana’s mom up and down. “Well, you were right,” she says to Aunt April. “That confrontation was a great idea. Sure to boost both our channels.”
Aunt April and Her Highness share a polite “mind the long nails” handshake.
“I actually expected much more from Lana.” My aunt glares at me. “My daughter hasn’t been herself today.”
“Ha!” I say with zero humor as I lean down to help Lana off the ground.
As soon as she’s on her feet she points at her mom. “You could’ve at least warned Lana you were planning to have H confront her live that way.”
I say, “That guerilla attack was just wrong.”
Aunt April shrugs. “You were the one who decided to go off script today with your pranky boyfriend. We needed something big to knock that storyline down.”
“Smart,” H tells Aunt April. “And I like what you’ve done with the Lookie Lana! brand. I assume you’re entertaining an offer from Norealique?”
“Came through during your eyeshadow challenge.” Aunt April grins, holding up her phone. “Did you hear that, Lana? Your down-to-earth glamour girl just reeled in our first offer.”
Her Highness looks back toward the mall. “Actually, you basically saved my cute butt too, since my stupid manager decided to quit and move to Colorado with her boyfriend.” H examines her lacquered nails. “And I’m supposed to be in the middle of a comeback.”
“Yeah, sorry your channel took a dive, but you know how this business can be,” Aunt April says. “You’ve got the goods. You’ll get back on top.”
“My manager should’ve noticed the shift sooner,” Her Highness says. “I didn’t start changing things up and adding challenges until I’d already lost four hundred thousand followers.”
“Ouch,” Aunt April says. “Do you sing too?”
“Don’t we all?” H runs her hand along the pink convertible’s hood. “This is a seriously sweet ride happening here.”
“Thanks for bringing it, Ricki,” Aunt April says to Lana. “It saves us the trip to the drive-in to pick it up.”
“You’re welcome, Aunt April,” she says. “And hey, could I borrow Lana for a quick sec?”
“Sorry, but Lana needs to get changed and ready to head to LA,” Aunt April says. “We need to arrive early to allow for time with fans.”
“I’ve had plenty of time with fans,” I say. “And I’m already dressed.” I brush off my still-glittery pink skirt.
Her Highness and Lana’s mom look at me and then at each other a moment before bursting out laughing.
Aunt April points a long fingernail and traces it up and down my pink dress. “That getup has done its work, but everyone will have seen it. You need a serious makeover for tonight.”
Her Highness gestures to my face. “And you may want to lose the bruises and fat lip,” she says with a shudder. “So realistic-looking.”
Aunt April says, “And wipe those initials off your face.”
I lick my hand, rub it around on my cheek where HH drew the double Ls, and hold back the front of my blonde hair. “Good?”
All three of them shake their heads no, and then Aunt April and Her Highness start laughing again like they’re new besties.
“I have the perfect wardrobe change in the car,” Aunt April says. “I swear. Without my help, Lana wouldn’t have a channel at all, let alone Norealique.”
“But have you looked into the ways accepting ad revenue will affect your ranking?” H crosses her arms. “Not to mention folks who will immediately realize that Norealique review was bull.”
“Of course I’ve examined all the factors. And Lana didn’t skew her opinion for that review,” Aunt April says. “In fact, Her Highness, you may want to evaluate how the brand you’re aligned with fancies itself higher class when it’s just a severely overpriced—”
“Oh no you didn’t!” Her Highness points a sparkly nail into the air and raises her voice. “The formulas my sponsor uses are the highest quality.”
So much for besties.
A small stream of girls has pursued us in hopes of finding drama, and at the sound of Her Highness’s raised voice their phones immediately pop out and start recording.
Lana has moved closer to the car and slyly shakes the pom-pom key chain down low where her mom can’t see it. I give a slight nod.
“Even if the two brands are equal in every other way,” Aunt April shouts at Her Highness, “Norealique is a fraction of the price and people deserve to know about it.”
Her Highness glances around at the crowd then licks her teeth while reaching up to touch her tiara. “You do not know what I’ve been through . . .” she declares dramatically. “I came from nothing and I am now royalty.”
The crowd gasps as she yanks the tiara off her lavender head and waves it in the air.
I hold three fingers down low and silently count them down as I move toward the passenger side door of the car. Three, two . . .
But before I can get to one, Lana yells out, “Hit it!” and jumps over the side of the open-topped convertible.
I stand frozen while Lana fumbles with the keys for what feels like an eternity. Meanwhile, HH continues to escalate her monologue with, “I swore I would never be caught wearing a cheap, chain drugstore generic lipstick again . . .”
Finally, Lana gets the engine to roar to life, and Aunt April notices what we’re doing.
She barks an angry, “Hey! Don’t you girls dare!”
Lana shifts the car into gear, and I finally unfreeze and dive headfirst into the back seat just as the Skylark jumps forward.
“Sorry, we’ve got to go,” Lana calls as we fly across the parking lot.
When I look back, I see Aunt April is leaning on Her Highness while putting her strappy heels back on and HH is adjusting her tiara. Clearly, they realize chasing us would be futile.
“You can slow down, Lana.” I lean forward from the back seat. “I don’t think they’re coming after us.”
Another glance over my shoulder confirms Her Highness has begun posing for pictures with members of the crowd.
But when I look forward again, Lana is recklessly crashing through a taped-off section between two safety cones. We speed away as a mall security officer riding a Segway shakes a fist at us, cartoon-character-style.
Lana gives a woot as she launches over a speed bump and the Skylark goes airborne.
“Totally unnecessary,” I call out.
Lana cranks up the tunes as she hits another speed bump, and this time I can’t help but laugh.
She flings one hand into the air and shouts, “Lana and Lyric ride again!”
The song on the radio drops the bass, and without even thinking I throw my arms open wide and start singing along. Delighting in my unique vocal stylings—off-key and at the top of my lungs.
Lana hits another bump and we are both flying, and for just a second, here in the back seat, I feel like I’m eleven years old again and we’re on the greatest road trip of our lives.
* * *
As soon as we reach the highway, Lana slows and turns down the radio.
“Are you ready to have your mind blown?” she asks me.
“Keep rolling steady,” I tell her as I start to stand up. “I’ll climb up to the front so we can talk.”
“No, wait.” She raises her arm to block me. “First, I need you to see something back there.”
I sit back down and look around but all I see is the journal from Aunt May’s yurt sticking out from under the seat in front of me. “You found a clue about our switch in the journal?” I reach down and grab it.
“Not that,” Lana says. “On the lower right side of the seat in front of you.” I bend sideways and she clarifies, “Other right.”
“That’s my left,” I say, pointing.
“Fine. Just look at the bottom corner.”
I lean forward, searching the seat’s back cover. I say, “There’s nothing—” but then I see it. “Wait, what?”
I run my fingers over the two small initials carved into the leather and sit up, locking eyes with Lana in the rearview mirror. “Is that what I think it is?”
Lana grins and nods her head. “Two Ls. Lana and Lyric.”
“How is this Nona’s car?” I say. “I thought our moms sold it. Did Aunt May buy the car back again?” I climb up to the front seat to sit beside Lana, my hair and pink skirt whipping traces of glitter into the wind.
“I have no idea,” she says, “but it has to be some sort of clue about our situation, right?”
“Right. Our situation,” I say, running a hand along the front dashboard with fresh reverence. “This is amazing. What made you even look at the back seat?”
“I was sitting back there, reading Aunt May’s journal, and maybe hiding from Jake a tiny bit, when I saw the marks,” she says. “I was so surprised I actually squealed, and Jake and Erik came running out of the projection shack to check on me.”
“What were the two of them doing in the projection shack together?” I ask.
“Erik was giving a live feed tour of the drive-in and asking Jake questions as he got the place all ready,” she says. “It was to promote opening night, and Jake acted like an old-timey ticket taker. You should watch it, it’s pretty funny.”
I’ve seen Jake’s old-timey ticket taker bit and it’s downright adorable. “Great,” I say. “Now he’ll probably get BubeTube famous and abandon me too.”
“He wouldn’t do that,” Lana says. “He definitely like-likes you. He kept asking if he could talk to me privately, and well, there’s something I need to tell you.” She winces.
“Lana! What did you do?” I ask. “You didn’t kiss him, did you?”
“Absolutely not, no!” she says. “But I did tell him to wait for me inside the bouncy castle and then I grabbed Erik and left to come rescue you at the mall.”
“You what?”
“I didn’t know what to do,” she says. “I got tagged on a bunch of posts about your confrontation with H and showed Erik. As soon as he saw that I—well, you—needed help, he immediately came up with this plan to sacrifice himself.” She looks in the rearview mirror. “The poor thing is probably still posing for selfies.”
“Poor thing? What about Jake?” I say. “Probably all covered in secondhand bouncy castle glitter and wondering why I’d just ditch him like that.” I could cry imagining Jake standing alone inside the bounce house, waiting for me.
“Well, I’m pretty sure he would’ve left the bouncy castle after I drove off in the convertible with Erik.”
I lean close to her face and shout, “Do ya really think so?”
“We’ll fix it,” she says. “I’ll say it was an emergency and me and Erik needed to save you. It’s not even like that’s a lie.”
“Speaking of which,” I say, “why does Her Highness hate you so much?”
“Her channel’s been dropping faster than ever since I posted that video trashing her line,” Lana says, “but honestly, her show was due for a redesign anyway.”
“I’m sure you would’ve done better at handling that crazy surprise attack that your own mother planned, but I managed to come out on top,” I say. “You’re welcome.”
Lana looks at me and gives a scoff. “Yeah, well, tell your reflection how much you came out on top.”
I pull down the visor, and the little mirror reminds me that my face
still looks realistically beat-up and bruised, and my cheek is still shiny and pink from the double Ls.
I can’t help but laugh.
“Okay, so maybe I didn’t come out completely on top,” I say. “But at least there’s no permanent damage.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “That pigment you’re wearing is pretty intense. It could have some serious staying power. Here.” She opens the glove box and hands me a pack of moist wipes.
“Boy, you have fully moved yourself into the Skylark.” I try to keep the annoyance out of my voice, but Lana must hear it.
Defensively, she says, “What? I’m supposed to drive around without wet wipes? Like some sort of animal?”
I pull out one of the thick, quilted wipes. “I guess I’m glad to have them. Thanks.”
Leaning in toward the mirror, I start swiping at the pink smear on my cheek. I can still make out the double Ls that Her Highness drew. “What made you use our Ls as your channel’s logo anyway?” I ask as I scrub them off my face.
“I didn’t know if you’d even remember.” She pushes a chunk of swirling brown hair from her eyes.
“Of course I remember,” I say. “My feelings were really hurt when you used our cool-looking entwined initials to promote your makeup channel. Like you stole it and distorted its meaning.”
“That wasn’t my intention at all,” she says. “As a matter of fact, I originally pictured the two of us doing our own thing together. Like, you with the horror makeup and me with all the glamour stuff.”
“Come on, Lana.” I pull out a new wipe and scour my face even harder. “You never invited me to be a part of your show.”
“That’s because I had that one stupid video go viral and my mom got this wild vision for how to brand me and my channel.”
Lana’s talking about one of the first videos she posted, where she compared her mother’s expensive luxury makeup products to her own drugstore brands. Lana did one side of her face with each and gave a rundown on the places to save money and the items that were important to splurge on. People went nuts for it and Lana’s mom took over her channel. And then, apparently, her life.
Freaky in Fresno Page 20
