Better You Than Me

by Jessica Brody

  And I don’t mean my mother, as in Eva Rivera. I mean my mother from the show. The one who’s been missing since Ruby was a little girl. She’s supposedly trapped inside that lamp.

  Skylar seems to notice me staring at it and stiffens. “Sorry!” She quickly returns it to the shelf behind her. “I forgot I was even holding it. I’m probably not supposed to touch the props.”

  “No, that’s okay,” I say, grabbing the lamp from behind her. I’ve always loved this prop. Maybe that’s because the one scene it appears in is the only scene in the entire show that I’m proud of. The only scene where I felt like I was really able to act. Not just recite another one of Barry’s cheesy lines.

  Skylar studies me for a moment, like she’s trying to figure out something. And then suddenly she blurts out, “Season one, episode twenty-two. ‘Dream a Little Dream’!” She falls back against the shelf with relief. “Thank goodness. That was going to bug me all day.”

  I laugh. “You really like our show, don’t you?”

  She looks at me like she’s wondering if I’m joking. “Um. Yeah. It’s only the best show on TV.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Why do you like it?”

  “Because Ruby is so cool!” she exclaims. “She’s brave and she speaks her mind and she goes after what she wants and she doesn’t let people push her around.” She lets out a deep sigh. “Sometimes I wish I could be like that. Just be someone else, you know? Someone cooler. Someone braver. Someone who doesn’t get the hiccups every time they try to talk.” She pauses and turns to look at me. “Someone like you.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, well, you can take my life any day.”

  She laughs, too. “Same here.”

  “Are you kidding? I would take it in a heartbeat! You get to eat and wear whatever you want. You can leave your house each day without the fear of ending up on the cover of a tabloid magazine with a bad headline.” In my excitement, I accidentally lose my grip on the lamp and it goes tumbling to the floor between us.

  “Believe me,” I say as I reach for the lamp. “I wish I had your life.”

  “And I wish I had yours,” she says, reaching for it at the exact same time.

  For a brief moment, our fingers brush and I feel a small chill.

  “Oh, sorry!” Skylar says, quickly letting go of the lamp.

  I stand and place it back on the shelf. “Wouldn’t that be nice? If we could just magically—”

  But I’m never able to finish the sentence, because just then, the floor starts to tremble violently. Like the earth itself is having a bad dream.

  Earthquake!

  I can’t believe it! My first real Southern California earthquake!

  Of course, I’ve heard people talk about the earthquakes out here. And obviously I’ve seen plenty of disaster movies about them. Oh, and just before I moved to California, Leah made me watch all these “what to do in the event of an earthquake” safety videos on YouTube so I’d be prepared.

  But it turns out nothing can really prepare you for the real thing, because as soon as the room starts to shake, my entire brain empties and I can’t think of a single piece of advice from those videos.

  Thankfully, Ruby Rivera seems more on top of the situation. I watch her scurry to the front of the room and duck under a table full of props.

  “Get under that table!” she yells at me, and I snap to attention.

  Right! Tables!

  You’re supposed to find a table or doorway to hide in so nothing falls on your head.

  I spot the table she’s talking about on the other side of the prop room, hidden behind a row of shelves. The ground continues to quiver beneath my feet, making it hard to walk, but I manage to reach the table and crawl underneath it.

  The noise is so loud. It sounds like a team of giants is playing tackle football above our heads. The props on the shelves are clattering against each other. The walls are squeaking. I swear I see flecks of debris falling from the ceiling.

  Then the lights go out.

  Oh gosh, I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.

  HUUUGHHUUP!

  And now my hiccups are back. Perfect. Just when I thought I’d gotten them under control. At least Ruby probably can’t hear them over all the rumbling noise.

  Then, without warning, the shaking just stops. It’s like someone pulled the plug on a really bad carnival ride. The lights still haven’t come back on, so I still can’t see anything because there are no windows in this room, but I’m relieved that the earthquake seems to be over.

  “Ruby?” I call out, startled by how different my voice sounds. Deeper, and almost raspy. It must be the nerves. I’m shaking like a leaf.

  “Yeah?” comes a response a moment later, but it doesn’t sound like her. Her voice sounds higher. Squeakier. Strangely, more like mine. She must be scared, too.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” She clears her throat. “You?”

  I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. She’s all the way on the other side of the dark room. “Yeah. That was scary. What do we do now?”

  But Ruby never gets a chance to answer because just then, the door opens, casting a welcome shaft of light across the floor.

  “There you are!” a displeased male voice says, and I freeze. “I’ve been looking all over this soundstage for you. You’re in huge trouble.”

  Oh no. It’s that security guard. He’s found me!

  “C’mon. Enough playing around. Let’s go.”

  I hesitantly crawl out from under the table and stumble toward the source of the light.

  It’s strange, though. I could have sworn the door was on the other side of the room, to my right, but apparently the earthquake got me all turned around.

  When I step out of the prop room into the hallway, I expect to see the same security guard who chased me down here, but it’s not him. It’s some other guy, wearing jeans, a polo shirt, and a headset that’s wired into a walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. “I’ve got her,” he says into the microphone.

  “It’s about time!” a voice booms back through the earpiece. It’s so loud, even I can hear it.

  This is bad. This is very bad.

  There’s more than one person looking for me? Luanne, our tour guide, must have noticed I wasn’t on the tram and radioed for backup.

  “I’m sorry!” I rush to say as the man grabs me by the sleeve and ushers me down the hallway. “I got locked in the prop room and then there was the earthquake.”

  “Right, right. The earthquake,” the guy repeats with a strange inflection. It almost sounds like he doesn’t believe me. Like he thinks I’m making the whole story up. Didn’t he feel it? I can’t exactly lie about an earthquake.

  “I’m really sorry,” I try again.

  “I would save your apologies for your mother,” the guy says.

  My mother?

  She’s here? They already called her? How did she manage to get here so fast? How long were we locked in there?

  “She’s livid,” the man says.

  I cringe. My mom doesn’t get mad very often, but when she does, she goes all out. It’s like she saves it all up for the really important things. Like ditching school, riding a bus to a whole other county, and then using my emergency credit card to buy a studio tour ticket.

  We emerge back into the main area of the soundstage. The Jinn Academy hallway is all lit up with fancy lights, and there are about twenty people milling around it, looking bored. Then a large man with almost no hair left on his head comes barreling toward me. “Where have you been?” he thunders.

  It takes me a moment, but I soon recognize him as Barry Berkowitz, the creator of the show! They always interview him on all the behind-the-scenes stuff. Wow, even he’s mad at me? I wouldn’t think the creator of the show would care about random tourists sneaking into the
ir set. This is even worse than I thought.

  I try to apologize to the big booming bald man, who is literally turning red in front of me, but he’s so scary looking, all that comes out is another hiccup.

  “And you’re not dressed!” he rants, looking me up and down. He turns to a dark-haired girl standing behind him, whom I recognize as the same girl I saw pushing the rack of clothes earlier. “She’s not dressed! Why is she not dressed?”

  Dressed? What is he talking about? Of course I’m dressed. I’m not naked.

  I glance down at my clothes and suddenly feel a wave of confusion.

  Huh. I don’t remember putting on jeans and a T-shirt today. I could have sworn I put on my favorite orange dress today. Or was that yesterday?

  Suddenly, my thoughts feel fuzzy and far away. Did that earthquake rattle my brain? Am I not remembering things correctly?

  Maybe it’s just because I’m hungry.

  As soon as the thought enters my mind, my stomach grumbles. Geez, when was the last time I ate? I’m starving!

  “I’m sorry,” the woman says to Barry, clearly terrified of him. “I couldn’t find her.”

  “Get her dressed now!” he commands. “We’re almost an hour behind schedule, and we only have Ryder for another two hours.”

  The breath hitches in my chest.

  Did he just say “Ryder”? As in Ryder VANCE?

  Is he here? My eyes dart around the busy soundstage, searching for that beautiful head of light brown hair, but I can’t find him. I feel a tug on my elbow and I turn back to the dark-haired girl, who’s guiding me away from the set. Before I can even start to figure out what on earth is going on, I’m being hustled through a nearby door. The girl closes it behind me. “Let’s be quick about this.”

  That’s when I turn and take in my surroundings.

  That’s when my mouth falls open and my knees start to wobble.

  That’s when I realize I must be dreaming. Because this is better than Disney World. Better than the mall. Better than anything.

  I let out the tiniest of shrieks, and then words start gushing from my mouth like soda from a shaken-up bottle. “What is this place?”

  I can’t believe we’re having another earthquake. That’s the second one this year. This is going to put Mom and Barry in an extra-bad mood. I’m sure they’re already going out of their mind looking for me, and now that the power is out, it’s going to push production back even longer. I should have just stayed in my trailer, where I belong.

  The shaking finally ends, but I stay under my table, just in case there are aftershocks.

  “Ruby?” Skylar calls to me. She sounds different, although I can’t put my finger on why. Her voice is still meek and lacking any confidence whatsoever, but there’s something about the tone that’s changed. It sounds much lower and throatier. Almost like my voice, which is really weird. She’s probably just terrified. I get the feeling this was her first earthquake. No one ever forgets their first.

  “Yeah?” I say, and strangely enough, I sound different, too.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I repeat, startling at the sound of my own voice. What’s up with that? Why is it all high and squeaky? I clear my throat. “You?”

  She doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, I worry that she might be injured. But then I hear her say, “Yeah. That was scary. What do we do now?”

  I’m about to tell her to just stay put. Maybe wait for the lights to come back on, but just then, the door creaks open, letting in a shaft of light from the hallway.

  There’s light in the hallway?

  Did the earthquake only cut the power to this one room? That seems unlikely.

  “There you are!” comes a voice I instantly recognize. “I’ve been looking all over this soundstage for you. You’re in huge trouble.” It’s Jericho, the prop guy. If he’s out looking for me, that’s not good. That means Russ failed to find me and Barry sent reinforcements. I squint toward the light, just making out Jericho’s face in the doorway. But I soon realize something is off. The door is in the wrong place. It should be on the other side of the room.

  Did I get turned around during the earthquake?

  I’m just about to climb out from under my table when I realize that Jericho isn’t talking to me. He’s talking to Skylar.

  Why is he looking for her?

  “C’mon,” Jericho says sternly. “Enough playing around. Let’s go.”

  Oh, I think with sudden realization. She must have snuck onto the set. Of course. How else would she have gotten back here to the prop room?

  I cringe, knowing exactly what’s going to happen to her. Jericho is going to hand her over to studio security. They’re going to use that code word they always use for obsessive fans who sneak onto the set: “raccoon.” Her wrists are going to get bound with zip ties and she’s going to get escorted off the studio lot by a security guard in a golf cart. At least, that’s what happened to the last fan who snuck in here. Hopefully this girl is at least smart enough not to try to run.

  As soon as she disappears into the hallway, I consider continuing to hide out in here. Jericho didn’t appear to even notice me. They might not know I’m in here. Which means I could linger a little longer, but I already know I’m in trouble, so I might as well face the music. Plus, I don’t want to risk getting locked in here again. So I jump up and catch the door just before it swings closed. Then I peer into the hallway, looking for Barry or Russ or Cami or anyone else who might be looking for me. The hallway is empty.

  I breathe a sigh.

  Maybe I got lucky. Maybe the earthquake sent everyone into a frenzy and they completely forgot I was missing. Maybe the script changes are taking longer than anticipated and no one even noticed I was gone!

  Leaving the prop room door slightly ajar, I creep down the hallway toward the soundstage. I can see that the first shot of the day is already up. The Jinn Academy hallway is lit, the cameras are set, and everyone seems to be just hanging out, waiting on something.

  I catch sight of Barry looking at his watch and I swallow hard.

  They’re waiting on me.

  Thankfully, I don’t see my mother anywhere. She’s probably been banned to the trailer after her fight with Barry. That was likely part of the negotiations.

  I take a deep, courageous breath and approach the monitor bay, where Barry is pacing. “Sorry,” I say, “I’m so sorry. I got locked in the prop room!”

  Barry gives me a quick once-over, his face contorted like he’s sizing up a cockroach that just crawled out of his kitchen wall.

  “Russ!” he calls out. Then he turns his back to me and continues to pace.

  I roll my eyes. He can be so dramatic sometimes.

  “Barry,” I say, stepping in front of him. “I’m here. I’m ready. Where’s Sierra? I just need to change into…” My voice trails off when I glance down at my clothes.

  On my gosh. What on earth am I wearing?

  I look like a tangerine. I’m wearing a bright orange dress with white ankle boots. They look eerily familiar. Where have I seen this outfit before? Wait a minute—isn’t this what that Skylar girl was wearing? What happened to my jeans and T-shirt? Did something fall on my head during the earthquake? Because I’m all sorts of confused now.

  “Uh,” I mumble, staring down at my dress. “Is this what Sierra picked out for the scene? Is this what you want me to wear when I kiss Ryder?”

  I can’t imagine Sierra picking out anything like this, or Barry approving it. It’s not an incredibly flattering dress. It’s kind of tent shaped and made from a very cheap-feeling material.

  “RUSS!” Barry calls out again, and a second later Russ appears next to us, looking as harried and terrified as usual. I feel bad that I’m getting him in trouble.

  “I’m sorry, Russ,” I begin
to say, but Barry doesn’t let me finish.

  “Russ, get this person back into the holding room. We don’t need any extras until the next setup.”

  Extras?

  “But I’m not an extra,” I say, totally baffled now. Am I dreaming? Am I lying unconscious in the prop room right now with a giant welt on my head?

  Russ grabs me by the arm and begins to pull me away from the soundstage. “What are you doing?” I complain. “Russ? It’s me! Ruby.”

  Russ stops walking and stares at me intensely for a long moment. I widen my eyes, waiting for him to realize his mistake. I mean, I know this dress is hideous, but I can’t see how he wouldn’t recognize me.

  His expression finally softens and I exhale in relief. I know he’s going to feel incredibly stupid and probably start apologizing incessantly. It was an honest mistake, though. Everyone gets a little stressed out when working with Barry.

  “Russ,” I say gently, “it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It was just a misunder…”

  I stop talking when I notice Russ’s hand is on the walkie-talkie clipped to his belt. He’s pressing a button and, without taking his eyes (or his hands) off me, he speaks very slowly and clearly into the microphone on his headset. “Security. Please come to soundstage eleven. We have a raccoon. I repeat, a raccoon, on soundstage eleven.”

  The room is filled to the brim with clothes. And not just any clothes. Ruby Rivera’s clothes. All of them. Every single thing she’s ever worn on the show is hanging right before my very eyes. My mouth goes dry as my gaze zeroes in on a gorgeous sparkling purple dress.

  It’s the dress Ruby wore to the Jinn Ball at the end of season 2!

  That’s my favorite dress in the entire world. I searched everywhere online for that dress but they don’t sell it. It was custom made for the show. I take a step toward the dress, just wanting to touch it, but I’m roughly pulled back by that girl who brought me in here. And before I can argue, she’s undressing me! Like actually taking off my clothes.

  “C’mon,” the girl urges me, pointing at my jeans. “We need to get you changed quick. Everyone is waiting.”