by Kasie West
“Right.”
“I didn’t! Why would I put it here of all places? If I took this I would’ve put it as far away from me as possible.”
That logic tripped me up. “You might as well just admit it. I just want to know why. To help Grant? To help yourself?” Maybe she’d been worried about my effect on the movie’s reputation too.
“I didn’t do this. I swear.”
“It doesn’t matter because I’m not going anywhere. You can try all you want, but I’m here to stay. I earned this part, and I’m keeping it because I’m good.”
“I agree. You are and you should. I like you, Lacey. I thought we were friends. I would never do this.”
It was hard to fight with someone when they seemed so concerned and sincere. I crossed my arms. “I didn’t actually tell Remy, but I’m on to you,” I mumbled. I fled to my trailer, leaned back against the door and let myself cry again.
Waiting in front of someone’s house until they got home from school was not creepy behavior. Especially not after telling said person that I needed to sort things out, implying that lots of space was needed. He was obviously giving it to me. He hadn’t called, texted, or stopped by in twenty-four hours. Scratch that, twenty hours. And eight of those hours had probably been spent sleeping. Another eight he’d been at school. So that left four hours where he hadn’t called, texted, or visited me. Four hours! Okay, I was being creepy, but that thought didn’t make me turn the key in the ignition and drive away.
I checked the clock on my phone. School had gotten out thirty minutes ago. I’d been sitting here for thirty minutes. Maybe he had something after school. Paper stuff. Or maybe he worked right after school. I pulled up my messages again to make sure I hadn’t missed any. “You could just text him, Lacey, instead of being creepy.”
There was a knock at my window, and I screamed. Very loud. Then I looked over to see Donavan standing there. I powered down the window.
“Hi,” he said with a smile. “Were you talking to yourself?”
I matched his smile because I couldn’t help it, seeing him made me happy. It had been twenty and a half hours, after all. “Yes.”
“Should I leave you alone to finish that out?”
“No, I think I’d made my point to myself pretty clear.”
He patted the top of my car. “Did you want to come in?”
I nodded, and he opened the door for me.
“How was school?” I asked as we headed up his walk.
“Good. How are you?”
“Not great.”
“I’m sorry.” We stopped on the porch, and he fished out his keys and opened the door.
“Is your sister here right now?” I asked.
“No, she has volleyball.” We walked inside, where he dropped his backpack and then led me into the kitchen. “Can I get you anything?”
“You have a trampoline,” I said. The window over the sink had a nice view of the backyard.
“We do.”
“I haven’t been on a trampoline in years. My mom calls them bone breakers and won’t let my sister and brother have one.”
“My sister broke her wrist on it last year.”
I smiled. “Don’t tell my mom that. It will only make her think she’s right.”
I must’ve been staring at the trampoline longingly because Donavan said, “Do you want to jump on it?”
“Yes!”
He laughed like I was kidding, but I was already heading for the sliding glass door across the way. The trampoline had a net around it. I slipped off my flip-flops, unzipped the net, and rolled onto the bouncy surface. Then I stood and took several small practice bounces before I gave it my all.
“This is so fun!” I called to Donavan as he walked out of the house with two bottles of water. I bounced onto my knees and then to my feet again several times before I finally launched myself onto my back and stayed there until all was still again.
The trampoline moved as Donavan climbed through the opening and joined me. He must’ve left the water on the padded border because when he lay down next to me, his arms were free. I moved my foot over to his to see if he’d taken off his shoes. My bare foot slid over his socked one. “Just checking,” I said.
“Everyone knows you take your shoes off on a trampoline.”
I left my foot up against his, and we stared up at the clouds lazily making their way across the blue sky for several quiet minutes.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, calling me out once again.
“No.”
He reached over and took my hand.
“I talked to Remy this morning. Leah told me that directors talk to each other and I should be less worried about what the public thinks about me and more worried about what Remy thought of the article . . . about me.”
“And what did he say?”
“That I’m green . . . but spunky.”
“You are spunky.”
“I don’t know if he’d hire me again. If he’d recommend anyone else hire me. If all this on-set sabotage keeps happening, he probably won’t.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I still have at least five more weeks of filming. I guess my plan is to make the drama on set stop and to change the online narrative of me.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Can’t Grant write some nice things about you online? He has millions of followers. That would help the online reputation at least.”
“He won’t. I already asked him . . . twice. I’ll figure something else out. In the meantime, I’m going to jump on a trampoline, pretend everything is fine, and make out with this boy I really like.” I shifted onto my side and propped my head up with my hand so I could see his cute face. “As a well-known critic, what are your thoughts about this plan?”
“What are my thoughts about denial?”
“I was thinking more the making-out part.”
He smiled, still looking up at the sky. “As a critic, I think this plan is flawed,” he said. “It could make things muddled while someone is trying to sort things out.”
“That’s a good word, muddled. That feels like a writer word.”
“Yes, it’s descriptive.” He finally looked over at me, and I could see the smile in his eyes. He stared at me for a long moment. “On second thought,” he said. “Muddled isn’t a bad thing, is it? It always makes for a more interesting plot.” His hand went to the side of my neck, and I met him halfway in a kiss. It was almost as if we hadn’t just kissed the night before, it felt just as good this time. I tangled my legs up with his and pulled myself closer.
“You always seem to talk me into doing things I know I probably shouldn’t do,” he said against my mouth.
I smiled but didn’t pull away. “This didn’t take much convincing.”
He gave me a small peck, then another before pulling back. He squinted his eyes as if studying me. “You’re right. We better try that again, so I can figure out why that is the case.”
Before I could laugh, his mouth was on mine. I closed my eyes. There was nothing to figure out. Things may have been muddled with my parents, with Remy, with Amanda, but in this aspect of my life, everything was perfectly clear. I didn’t need to sort anything out here. It was no mystery why I liked kissing Donavan Lake.
“By the way,” I said, pulling back and propping myself up on my elbow again. “I talked to Amanda.”
He matched my position, his brow immediately showing his worry. “And?”
“She’s denying everything. Says she has no clue how my zombie face got in her trailer.”
“Do you believe her?”
“I want to believe her. I like her. I’ve always liked her. She’s nice. She seemed sincere. But she’s an actress. That’s kind of her thing.”
“What’s her thing? Being sincere?” he asked.
“No, making people believe what she wants them to believe.”
“Is that your thing too?” he asked, runni
ng a finger down a vein on the back of my hand.
“No. I don’t think so. Not with you.”
His eyes softened, and he tugged on one of my curls.
“What about you? What’s your thing, Donavan Lake?”
“My thing?” His brown eyes held mine.
“Yes,” I said. “Your thing.”
“I’m kind of into you right now,” he said.
My heart skipped a beat. “I’m kind of into you, too.”
He jumped to his feet and began bouncing around me on the trampoline, causing me to catch some air. “What was the order of things we were going to do today?” he asked while bouncing. “Jump on a trampoline, pretend everything is fine, and . . . ?”
I squealed as a bounce sent me higher. “Make out with a boy I really like!” I yelled.
He fell forward, catching himself by his hands on either side of my head. “That sounds like the perfect day to me.”
I reached up and pulled him down to me. “Me too,” I said as our lips met.
Thirty-Three
That night my name was on the call sheet and my determination was strong. I was going to catch my saboteur in the act. I’d thought of a plan: I’d leave my phone and a couple prop pieces on the table in my trailer. Then I’d set up my laptop to record. I’d do this for several days if I had to.
The next morning, as I was getting ready to head out, my phone rang and Abby’s name flashed across the screen. I picked it up. “Hello?”
“Guess what?” she asked as a greeting.
“What?”
“I’m coming to see you this weekend. You get to show me around a set, I get to meet famous people. It will be awesome.”
I swallowed. Was this a good thing or a bad thing? I wanted to see her. So bad. I needed a friend right now. But the timing was off.
“You don’t want me to come?” she asked.
“Of course I do. It’s just . . .” I filled her in on everything that had been going on.
“Lacey! Why haven’t you called me? Talked to me?”
“I don’t know. It all just happened at once and I’ve been overwhelmed.”
“I am definitely coming this weekend. I can help you. I’ll be your spy or something.”
I laughed, but she was right. More eyes on set wouldn’t be a bad thing. “Okay. That would be great, actually. Oh, also, I need to introduce you to a boy I really like.”
“What!” she screamed so loud I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “You like a boy?”
“I do.”
“Then I’m in,” she said. “Even more in than I was a minute ago.”
“I can’t wait to see you,” I said.
“Me too!”
We hung up, and I grabbed my toothbrush. My dad stopped in the open bathroom doorway.
“Who was that?” he asked, which didn’t sound at all like an apology. Not even close to one.
“My friend Abby from home. You don’t know her.”
“You’re still mad at me.”
“Dad, I’ll be eighteen in five months.”
“I know.”
I put my toothbrush down and faced him. “I know you worry about me. I know you wish I would never grow up. But what I’m doing makes me happy.”
“You’ve been happy this last week?”
Leah must’ve filled him in on everything. “So you’re saying every day of your life you’ve been happy at your job?”
He grimaced. “I wish you weren’t so good at arguments.”
“It’s a gift.”
“One that works against me.”
“Dad, don’t you see, this isn’t about you. It’s about me. It’s about my life, my future. It’s about what I want to do and how you’ve made me feel like you don’t care about that at all. Like you don’t care about me in the least.”
His face went slack. “Oh, Lacey. No. It’s that I care too much.”
“Too much to listen? Too much to pay attention or make me feel like you support me?”
“That’s how you’ve felt?”
“More than you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I didn’t support you. I moved down here for you. I thought you realized how I felt.”
“I thought you moved down here so that you could control every aspect of my career.”
“I made it hard to think otherwise.”
I nodded.
He held up a book I hadn’t realized was in his hand. His finger was holding his place about halfway through. “I’m reading it.”
“Reading what?”
He turned the cover toward me. “Dancing Graves.”
“What do you think so far?”
“It’s good.”
“Did you buy that? I have a copy in my car, you know.”
“I bought it. And it just occurred to me that I’m going to have to buy another when they redo the cover with the movie edition.” He dropped his hand back to his side. He looked a little defeated.
“Dad, I promise I’m not going to go wild and crazy.”
“You can’t promise me that.”
“Will you stop loving me if I do?”
“No. I’ll always love you.”
I smiled. “Then either way, we’re good, right?”
He laughed a little and opened his arms. I stepped into his hug.
He kissed the top of my head. “I’m not going to let you stop doing your homework.”
“Don’t worry, Donavan won’t let me stop either, so I think we’re good there.”
“I chose a pretty good tutor, yes?”
I bit my lip and looked up at him. “If I told you that I’m dating him now would that count as going wild . . . or crazy?”
He tilted his head in thought. “Really? I thought he’d be too straitlaced for you.”
“He is. But there’s this weird thing I learned: apparently I can’t plan everything that happens. That’s a good lesson for you to learn too.”
He let out a single laugh. “It is. And I’m learning it.”
“Good.”
“Well, I approve of Donavan, not that my approval matters for much with you right now.”
“It does, Dad. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. It matters a lot. It’s all I’ve wanted these past couple of months.”
“You have it.”
I gave my dad one last squeeze, then said, “I’m going to be late.”
“Good luck with the drama. And just to be clear: this is something you don’t want me to get involved in?”
“Dad,” I said with a sigh.
“Okay, so no. See, I’m learning.”
If I thought my dad would be able to do anything about this, it might be something I wanted him involved in. But I’d already talked to Remy. He didn’t believe me. Having my dad swoop in was not going to make Remy want to hire me again or give me a good reference. Plus, I had a plan.
Dancing Graves
INT. LORD LUCAS’S LAB—NIGHT
SCARLETT perches on the windowsill outside her father’s lab, the place she had seen BENJAMIN sneaking into. He pulls a small leather pouch from his belt, looks around, and dumps the contents into the vials on the table, damaging any chance one might have been the cure. Scarlett growls and he turns.
SCARLETT
You betrayed us.
BENJAMIN
No. I’m trying to help.
SCARLETT
I don’t believe you.
SCARLETT lunges at him with a rusty metal fence post and drives it through his shoulder. She stands over him as crimson blood spills onto the marble floor. EVELIN appears in the doorway and gasps. Scarlett yanks the post from Benjamin’s shoulder and turns slowly, blood dripping off the tip.
EVELIN
It’s me, Scarlett. Don’t do this.
SCARLETT advances on her.
Thirty-Four
As I pulled down the dirt road that led to the camp, I saw the first set of security guards up ahead. They were stationed at a row of barricad
es. I stopped, powered down my window, and waved.
“Hi, Lacey,” the one on the right said as he moved a barricade for my car to go through.
“Hi. Thanks.”
I drove through and parked in the first small lot next to a black car with duct tape on the bumper. I narrowed my eyes. I’d been in it only once, but I knew that car. It was Donavan’s. Why was he here? Especially when he should’ve been at school. I jumped out of my car and walked quickly to my trailer. He wasn’t there.
Past the trailers, before the path that led to the filming in the trees, was a small amphitheater surrounding a fire pit and stage. That’s where I saw two guys standing and talking. Grant and Donavan.
Was Donavan “interviewing” him? Did he think Grant was a suspect, after all? I looked at my phone. I was supposed to be sitting in a makeup chair right now. I sent Simone a text: Give me ten minutes.
I knocked on Amanda’s trailer door. She answered, and when she saw it was me, a hopeful expression took over her face.
“You want to help me with something?” I asked. If she was being truthful about not trying to sabotage me, she could prove it to me now by backing me up with Grant.
She hopped down the two steps and shut the door behind her. “With what?”
“Follow me.”
As we got closer to the guys, I heard Donavan speaking in slow, measured sentences. He had his notebook out and was holding his phone up too, as if he was recording the conversation. “And do you feel others have helped you get to where you are today?”
“Absolutely. I wouldn’t be here without a long list of people.”
He was conducting the interview.
Donavan’s back was to me, so Grant saw me first. He smiled. “Lacey, Amanda, hey. Say hi for the recording.”
“Hi,” I said as we reached them. I tried to catch Donavan’s eye, but he was focusing all his energy on his notebook and phone.
“You look hot, Lacey,” Grant said, and Donavan’s jaw twitched.
“What are you guys doing?” I asked.
“Your tutor wants to know about acting. He’s going to write a piece for his high school paper.”
“I just have one more question,” Donavan said.
“Okay, shoot,” Grant said.
