The It Girl in Rome

by Katy Birchall

  But before I got the chance to knock, the door swung open and there was Tom Kyzer, holding hands with a girl who was gazing at him adoringly, ready to walk out by his side.

  And it wasn’t Marianne.

  17.

  THE THOUGHTS THAT WENT THROUGH my brain in very quick succession when I saw Tom Kyzer standing in his dressing room holding hands with another girl when he’d only broken up with Marianne the day before, by text, were as follows:

  1. WHAT?! No. NO!

  2. Who is that girl? I have never seen her before!

  3. No, wait, I have seen her before. Where have I seen her before?

  4. That’s it! The cover of Vogue. I’ve seen her on a cover of Vogue.

  5. I remember seeing her on the cover of Vogue because she reminded me of a hammerhead shark.

  6. You know the sharks with the eyes that are really spaced out?

  7. That’s what she reminded me of. A hammerhead shark.

  8. A pretty hammerhead shark, granted. But a hammerhead shark, nonetheless.

  9. How DARE Tom Kyzer dump Marianne for a hammerhead shark?!

  10. IS HE CRAZY? I hate him.

  11. I wish I knew how to do a karate chop.

  12. Then I could karate chop him right now.

  13. Although that might be hard to angle correctly.

  14. I’d have to move around to karate chop his back.

  15. I wish I could do a high kick.

  16. Then I could high kick him in the face right now.

  17. MAYBE I WILL HIGH KICK HIM IN THE FACE RIGHT NOW.

  18. I might look stupid and injure myself.

  19. I will not high kick him.

  20. BUT I WILL STARE AT HIM IN ANGER.

  Tom Kyzer looked as surprised to see me as I did to see Hammerhead-Shark Model holding his hand.

  “Anna?”He gaped, immediately dropping her hand like it was on fire. “What are you doing here?”

  Uh.

  Think of something to say, Anna. You’ve dragged your friends all this way; they’ve risked getting in trouble for you. Say something intelligent and serious that will make Tom Kyzer realize the error of his ways.

  “The sound guy took us down the corridor.”

  THE SOUND GUY TOOK US DOWN THE CORRIDOR?!

  THAT’S THE BEST THING YOU COULD THINK TO SAY IN THAT MOMENT?!

  Seriously, why am I on this planet? WHY?

  He stared at me and I tried to form a sentence, but I just couldn’t. My brain was going crazy trying to make sense of the situation we now were in.

  All I could think of was the hurt that this stupid rock star had caused Marianne and how none of us even knew where she was right now and here he was acting as though he didn’t care one jot about her.

  “Anna has something to say,” James announced, breaking the silence before placing his hand gently on the small of my back. “Anna, come on. You are here for a reason.”

  I looked up at James and remembered all those times last semester that he said I could win the Sports Day trophy, even though I never believed I could.

  “Tom,” I began, taking a deep breath as James stepped back. “I need to know where Marianne is and whether you’ve heard from her. She’s missing and I think you owe it to us to at least give us that information after the awful way you have treated her.”

  I thought that, considering my polite tone and reasonable query, he would at least look embarrassed or maybe even a little sad at the way things had turned out. But instead he started laughing.

  Like the whole thing was funny.

  I glanced at the others and was comforted to see they all looked baffled too.

  “Anna.” Tom shook his head. “Are you telling me you came all this way to ask me where Marianne is? I have no idea!” He glanced at Hammerhead-Shark Model standing behind him, who was looking at me curiously. “I seriously have no idea. Why would you even think I would know?”

  “Why would I think you know? Because up until yesterday you were her boyfriend and then you broke her heart and now she’s missing. We’re in Rome on a school trip and I thought she might come find you,” I explained, my cheeks growing hot with anger.

  “Well, she hasn’t and, frankly, it would be weird if she did.” He folded his arms and shifted his weight onto his back foot as if to emphasize how little he cared. “Marianne knows how this whole thing works. She knew what she was getting herself into.”

  “Trust me, she had no idea she was dating such a jerk.” My anger at him had by now obliterated any feeling of shyness or embarrassment. It was bubbling away, ready to boil over. “You told her you wanted to move in with her!”

  “Whoa, whoa,” he said, lifting up his hands and once again glancing at Hammerhead-Shark Model, whose eyes were getting more and more narrow as the conversation proceeded, making her look even MORE like a hammerhead shark.

  “She may have mentioned something along those lines”—Tom shrugged—“but it wasn’t, you know, serious.”

  “How can you not see moving in together as serious?” I yelled.

  One of the security men in the corridor coughed, reminding me of their presence, and I attempted to control the tone and pitch of my voice.

  “I’m very confused, Tom. You were both in love. And then you just dropped her. How can that happen?”

  “Look, Anna, it’s just the world we live in. You know that!” He leaned toward me and gave me a playful punch on the arm, causing James to straighten up very quickly and Tom to immediately take a step back, recognizing that he probably shouldn’t do that again.

  “As I was saying, it’s the world we live in,” Tom continued, eyeing James nervously. “I’m a musician and Marianne is . . . well . . . an ‘It Girl’ or whatever you want to call it. We’re both mixing in the same busy circles and things move on and they move fast. I’m on tour, meeting new people, gaining new experiences, finding myself through my music—”

  Jess snorted loudly. Tom stopped abruptly and blinked at her before continuing.

  “As I was saying, I’m finding myself through my music; Marianne has her, er, projects. I never saw it going anywhere.”

  “You should have told her that,” I whispered, my eyes prickling with tears. I couldn’t believe that he had strung Marianne along all this time and made her think he felt the same way.

  “Hey, Anna, look. We had fun, really we did,” he said. “Like going to your Sports Day and hanging out all the time in London. We had some good times. But we’re different.”

  “Different?” Stephanie piped up, looking utterly repulsed by him.

  “Yeah, different,” he said defensively, as though frustrated that he had to spell it out. “We’re in the public eye. It’s just an act. Everyone knows it wasn’t a proper”—he searched for the word—“thing.”

  “You really have a way with words. That going to be a lyric in your next song?” Jess asked, folding her arms all sassily.

  “Look, I think we’re done here. But hey,” Tom looked like he was going to nudge me on the shoulder again but then seemed to think better of it when James cleared his throat in warning. “No hard feelings, yeah?”

  He smiled insincerely at me and reached back to hold out his hand to Hammerhead-Shark Model.

  I can’t pinpoint the exact reason I did what I did next.

  Maybe it was the way he said “no hard feelings” so casually and the way he had acted throughout our entire exchange.

  Maybe it was the way he held out his hand to Hammerhead-Shark Model, as though he had the right to treat people the way he had treated Marianne and drop them without apology or responsibility.

  Maybe it was the fact that, as he finished our conversation, a flash of Marianne’s excited smile when she told us about Tom moving in with her crossed my mind.

  Maybe it was for all these reasons that I just saw red.

  Tom looked back to see why Hammerhead-Shark Model wasn’t holding his hand, Jess shook her head in disgust, James looked as though he might punch Tom in the face any m
oment, and I just reached over toward the large jug of water that was on the shelf of his dressing room, lifted it high up in the air, and threw the water with as much strength as I could muster all over Tom Kyzer’s stupid, pea-brain head.

  A ripple of gasps filled the dressing room.

  Tom Kyzer stood there, his sopping hair that had been expertly styled now stuck flat across his face and his black performance eyeliner trickling down his cheeks. His leather tasseled jacket and his T-shirt were soaked through, clinging to his body, and a puddle of water was forming around his drenched designer shoes.

  Then the following happened:

  1. James burst into the loudest laughter I have ever heard.

  2. Jess and Danny followed suit.

  3. Stephanie began applauding.

  4. Tom Kyzer wiped the water out of his eyes and yelled, “WHAT THE HELL!”

  5. Security ran into the room and saw Tom Kyzer drenched from head to foot.

  6. One of them snickered, but covered it up before Tom saw.

  7. Tom screamed, “GET THEM OUT!”

  8. The five of us were grabbed by the arms and escorted out of the room.

  9. As I was pulled into the corridor, Hammerhead-Shark Model whooped and shouted, “Girl Power!”

  10. We all got thrown out of the building and back onto the street.

  It turns out that our cunning plan to get into the building by causing a fuss around me had immediately gotten onto social media, so there were already hundreds of Italian reporters lurking around the stage door, hoping to get a new story on the latest Montaine drama.

  They certainly got what they wanted.

  Security didn’t exactly throw us onto the ground, but they didn’t graciously wave us good-bye either. Flashes started going off as soon as the stage door was opened and we were pushed unceremoniously back outside.

  It can’t have been that difficult for the Italian journalists to work out what was going on and it seemed they had brushed up on their English as they bombarded me with a hundred questions: “Anna, Anna, why were you thrown out?”; “Is this to do with Marianne’s breakup?”; “Anna, is it true Tom is already dating supermodel Natalia?”; “Anna, is it true the wedding has been canceled?”; “Anna, were you thrown out for attacking Tom?”; “Anna, were you getting revenge?”; “Anna, is it true you held Tom Kyzer hostage and demanded a helicopter for your escape?”

  My brain didn’t seem to be functioning, but luckily everyone else’s was. James and Danny closed in protectively on either side of me, each taking an arm, and they seemed to communicate with each other through nods as they led me through the crowd, batting away microphones and imposing camera lenses.

  “What about the others?” I squeaked.

  “They are right behind us,” James growled, using his elbow to battle through the journalists. “Don’t worry, it will be all right.”

  Despite his words, my heart sank when I realized how much trouble I was in. When Dad found out about all this, he was going to go crazy. I was meant to be keeping a low profile and now I had damaged our family’s reputation even more and caused trouble for everyone. Connor had been right.

  Everything was such a mess.

  Danny let go of me to run forward and hail a taxi as we approached a main road. James gripped my arm even tighter, left alone to fend off the press on his own, while I hardly helped matters, tripping over the cobbles as we were moving so fast.

  “Hey!” James said, as a tear rolled down my cheek. “You did really well, It Girl. Just concentrate on your balance, yeah? There are no duck ponds around here, but there are quite a few fountains.”

  James helped me into the car before slamming the door behind me. The car waited as the boys ushered Jess and Stephanie into the back seats, and James instructed Jess over the noise to return to the hotel; the boys would follow in another taxi when one arrived.

  The driver put his foot down and we sped away from the chaos.

  “Well, I think it’s safe to say that none of us expected you to do that.” Jess breathed, a smile creeping across her face as she reached out and took my hand in hers. “Anna Huntley, you rock.”

  I had a sense that not everyone would feel that way.

  18.

  From: nicholas.huntley@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: YOU ARE IN BIG TROUBLE

  Anastasia Huntley, I am very disappointed in you.

  What were you thinking? Not only did you get yourself in trouble, but I can see from the photos littered across every newspaper and website on the planet that you led all your friends into this mess too!

  I don’t know what you were doing away from the hotel; your teacher has spoken to me—yes, I’ve spoken to Mrs. Ginnwell, who of course feels responsible for the whole thing, even though I have assured her that I do not blame her in the slightest because no doubt you concocted some plan to mislead them—and she has informed me that you will all be punished.

  I told her that I was happy if she wanted to cut your stay short and put you on a plane back to England but she told me that wouldn’t be necessary.

  Thrown out of a stadium by security? Are you aware of the scrutinizing press attention we have got from this? Honestly, Anna, you’re usually so sensible!

  Well, some of the time.

  Look, the main reason I am so angry with you is that something might have happened to you without an adult around to look after you in a strange city.

  You have very much broken my trust, Anna. That is why I am so angry.

  We can talk about this properly when you get home, but for now STAY OUT OF TROUBLE.

  That’s a direct order.

  Dad xx

  From: helena@montaines.co.uk

  To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: WELL DONE!

  Darling Anna,

  We are SO PROUD of you! I have just been in stitches laughing about all your scuffles with those large (and quite handsome) Italian security men!

  If only I had spoken to you before the event: We discovered Marianne has been staying with some friends who live in the middle of nowhere and she’s had no phone signal. Apparently she left a note on the fridge, but I can’t think WHY she would think I would look there.

  She knows I usually eat out.

  Anyway, my heart simply swelled when I heard the news that you had snuck away and broken into the arena where Tom was playing! I knew straightaway you had gone there to tell Tom off and I think it’s simply marvelous! And then you got thrown out! It’s just like one of my old movies!

  Ignore your father being grumpy—he has had a sense-of-humor failure. By the time you come home he’ll be laughing along with the rest of us. And, you know, secretly he is impressed that his feisty little daughter went to all that trouble on Marianne’s behalf.

  Proud to officially call you my daughter in a few weeks.

  All my love,

  Helena xxx

  From: rebecca.blythe@bounce-mail.co.uk

  To: anna_huntley@zingmail.co.uk

  Subject: Are you okay?

  Darling Anna,

  I’ve read all about it and I’ve spoken to your father and I just wanted to check in and make sure you’re okay?

  I don’t condone you sneaking off like that, Anna, but I have to say I did chuckle when I saw those pictures of you being thrown out of the stadium. Nick’s eyebrows really flew off his head! Just like that time he found out I had used his credit card to save a darling little donkey I saw starving away on one of those TV commercials.

  Anyway, after all this malarkey in Rome, I’m looking forward to having you home. Dog is very much missing you, and your father tells me he’s been acting in the most peculiar manner.

  He keeps howling at the moon, which is annoying the neighbors. (Dog, not your father.) You know Mrs. Trott who lives next door to you? The one with the very mean face who got in your dad’s trash can? She’s been terrifying your father because of it. He keeps hiding behind curtains wh
en she walks past the house. She must have given him quite the lecture.

  And, perhaps more strangely, Dog is currently insisting on sliding down the stairs on his back.

  He hasn’t walked down them once the past few days, just lies down, rolls over, and propels himself down using his back legs to push off.

  I don’t know if dogs can get carpet burn but Dog must have very thick hair on his back.

  Anyway, darling, you were very naughty to get into so much trouble and you mustn’t do anything like that ever again. But I’m also proud of you for being so determined.

  You get that from me, you know.

  Love, Mom xxx

  “Mrs. Ginnwell, please,” I begged, “it really wasn’t their fault. It was mine.”

  “That’s not true—we volunteered,” James jumped in. “We are as much to blame as Anna is. In fact, it was my idea in the first place.”

  “James!” I protested through gritted teeth, but he stood firm, looking straight at Mrs. Ginnwell and being as stubborn as she was.

  Mrs. Ginnwell glanced at Mr. Kenton. We had been summoned to the lounge area where the four teachers were sitting waiting as the five of us were marched in. I had been adamant that I was going to take the fall for this one.

  “James is right,” Jess piped up, ignoring my glares. “We all played our part. If anything, Anna was trying to persuade us not to join in.”

  Mrs. Ginnwell nodded. “I have to say,” she began, “I appreciate your honesty. What you did could have been extremely dangerous. You’re in a strange city and none of us knew where you were. What if something had happened to you all? Did you think about that?”

  “Of course,” James replied firmly while I was still processing the question. “That’s why we went as a team. We weren’t going to let one go on their own. Safety in numbers.”

  “And it was just the five of you?” Mr. Crowne asked, looking more tired than concerned.

  “Yes,” I replied.

  “We ask because I believe around the time that you snuck out of the hotel an incident occurred involving Miss Parker, Mr. Dakers, and a no-longer-in-one-piece vase.” Mr. Kenton ran his eyes slowly along the row. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”