“You look great,” said Lucy. “And I still don’t get why you won’t just ask him out.”
“Why doesn’t he ask me?” I replied.
“He did,” said Lucy. “I promise you there is no dog named ‘Call me.’”
“I was kidding about that,” I told her.
Lucy looked at me with suspicion. “Are you sure?”
“Okay, I was ninety-five percent kidding, but there’s always that five percent of risk left over.”
Now she rolled her eyes. “This is not a math equation situation. This is your life! And your not calling Milo probably makes him think you’re not interested.”
“Keep it down!” I said, suddenly worried about who might overhear.
“And how come it’s always the guy’s responsibility?” asked Finn. “You’re the one who’s always going on and on about how Mom and Dad have to treat us equally and not fall into gender stereotypes when they ask us to do stuff around the house and that just because you’re a girl and I’m a guy does not mean you’ll do the dishes while I take out the trash, even though I know for a fact that you hate taking out the trash.”
“That’s not because I’m a girl,” I said. “It’s because I hate mice, and ever since I saw that giant one scramble across the street on garbage day I just can’t handle it.”
“It’s true,” said Lucy. “This one time I knit a little mouse and I showed your sister and she screamed.”
“It looked totally lifelike,” I argued.
“That’s because of the whiskers,” Lucy explained to my brother, throwing her shoulders back proudly. “I made them out of invisible wire.”
“You’re both missing the point.” Finn crossed his arms and leveled his gaze at me. “It’s time I told you the truth, Maggie. There’s no such thing as a giant mouse.”
“You weren’t there.”
“I didn’t have to be. A giant mouse is a rat.”
“No!” I gasped.
“Back me up here, Lucy,” said Finn.
Lucy shrugged her shoulders sheepishly. “I’m afraid he’s right. And look who’s coming.”
She pointed to Milo walking down the street, and I couldn’t help but stare, because Milo does not walk like a regular person. His hands were in his pockets, his head tilted so that his dark hair flopped just perfectly over his big brown eyes in a way that made my heart feel all melty, like the inside of a toasted marshmallow, except not as sticky.
“Hey,” I said, once he got closer.
“Hey,” he replied.
“Let’s eat,” said Finn. He opened the door and we all filed inside.
The place was packed. Like, the four of us barely fit inside. Noisy, too.
“How about if Lucy and I save a table,” I yelled. “And you guys wait in line.”
“Cool,” said Milo. “What do you want?”
“I know what she wants,” said Finn, clapping Milo on the shoulders. “Lucy, too. Let’s go.”
“Thanks, Finn,” said Lucy, in this super-high voice.
The guys went to the line and Lucy and I wandered around the restaurant looking for a place to sit down, when suddenly I got hit in the face with a breadstick.
“Ouch!” I said, more out of shock than any real pain.
“I’m so sorry,” cried a frazzled-looking mom trying to control her twin toddlers.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not.” She turned to her daughter. “Now, Bella, you apologize for that. You could’ve really hurt this poor girl.”
Bella wore a purple tutu, a smudge of pizza sauce on her face, and a look of stubborn indignation. She crossed her arms, looked from me to her mom, and pouted.
“We do not throw things,” her mother said.
“Yes we do,” Bella replied.
Her mom blinked and took a deep breath. “Bella, say you’re sorry, now.”
Bella stomped her foot.
“If you don’t apologize now, we’re leaving.”
Lucy and I looked at each other, both of us thinking the same thing: Please don’t apologize, Bella. Not if it means you’ll be giving up this great table. Stick to your guns!
Bella picked up her cup of water, dumped it on the floor, then climbed on top of the table and began tap dancing.
Her mom scooped up Bella and her brother and deposited them in a large double stroller. Lucy and I swooped in before she could finish buckling them down.
“Yes!” said Lucy as we bumped fists.
“Sweet!” I replied. “Those toddlers are like ticking time bombs.”
“Lucky for us.” Lucy giggled. “So, Finn told you the movie got shut down early tonight, right?”
“I heard all about it. Are Sonya and Beatrix disappointed?”
“They both are, but I’m kind of relieved. Being an extra is much less glamorous than I imagined. It’s like we’re just this big herd of cattle that gets shuffled from one side of the sidewalk to the other. All we do is stand around and wait. We’ve hardly seen a glimpse of Seth Ryan. I think that bugs them more than anything.”
“Maybe that’s for the best,” I said, still pretty upset about my run-in with his security guard—something Lucy knew all about.
“Yeah, but Seth is the only reason we all signed up to be extras. Beatrix and Sonya tried to get close to ask for his autograph for their scrapbook, but this lady with big blond hair came over and started yelling at them. So they ran away.”
“That’s not cool, but better to be run off than carried off.”
“Too true.” Lucy sighed. “Still, sometimes I wish the inflatable crowd had never blown away. You’re kind of lucky you got thrown off the set.”
“Except once the movie comes out I’ll be totally jealous that you guys are going to be in it. Plus, I got accused of being a stalker, which could not be more humiliating.”
“There’s that,” said Lucy. “Hey, I have to run to the bathroom. You okay holding this table solo?”
“Sure,” I replied, glancing at Finn and Milo. The line snaked almost to the door, and they were still practically at the end of it.
Just then Milo caught my eye and waved.
I waved back, wondering if maybe he thought this was a date. Was he going to walk me home after? Would we hold hands? Should I try to kiss him?
Soon after Lucy left, this teenage couple swooped in like vultures and asked if I was leaving. “Nope. Just waiting for my friends,” I said.
After they moved on, a mom with a newborn attached to her chest asked me if I’d mind if she changed her baby on the tabletop, and I said, “Ew, no. I mean, yes, I do mind.”
And then some guy came over and asked if he could sit down.
I’d definitely heard his voice somewhere before. But I couldn’t place him. Not right away, with his face obscured by a big blue baseball cap. It was pulled down low and his shoulders were hunched like he was trying to shrink into himself.
I said, “Sorry, dude. Table’s taken.”
But he continued standing, grinning this goofy, nervous, and kind of familiar grin.
I gave him a closer look and realized I had seen him before—many times.
And he wasn’t just some guy.
He was Seth Ryan.
Chapter 10
“Hey, can I ask you something?” Seth wondered, all casual. Not just like we knew each other—more like we were best buds who hung out all the time and it was perfectly normal for us to meet up for pizza on a Thursday night. He acted like he didn’t even remember his security guard bombarding me yesterday.
And I know he’s this super celebrity who can make millions of hearts race all across the universe with one famous on-screen smile, but seeing him up close in real life after yesterday? Even though half of me wanted to do giddy backflips of joy, I snapped.
“Not until I ask you something,” I said. “What’s the deal with calling me over to your trailer and then disappearing when your security guard shows up?”
Seth blinked and straightened up, truly stu
nned. Maybe because I yelled at him. Yes, probably because of that. I didn’t mean to. Honestly, it just sort of happened.
And I could see how he’s not used to people raising their voices at him. With the exception of screaming fans, I mean.
But I didn’t expect him to look so scared. He stood there frozen. I’m talking full-on statue pose. I could have knocked him over with a finger. Which meant I’d just scared the most famous guy in Hollywood—something I now felt bad about.
“You okay?” I asked.
“No. I mean, yes, I’m fine. And I’m sorry.” Seth blinked and readjusted his baseball cap, sort of straightening it—not because it needed to be straightened, but because he needed something to do. “You’re right. It’s just—I don’t know. Sorry to bug you . . .” He backed away—or tried to, that is, but instead he walked straight into someone’s giant red baby stroller.
“Watch it!” yelled the baby’s dad. “You’re jostling my Guthrie.”
Heads swiveled as every parent in the entire restaurant turned to look at Seth.
“Sorry!” Seth said, raising his hands up in surrender.
“SSSHHH!” Guthrie’s dad raised his finger to his lips. “Keep it down, pretty boy!”
Seth seemed taken aback, even more startled than before.
I kept waiting for someone to recognize him and ask for an autograph. But no one did. Then I realized why: Seth is huge with kids my age, but most grown-ups wouldn’t recognize him. Tonight’s crowd was too old and too young at the same time. The Pizza Den is a huge after-school hangout, but I guess everything shifts at night—this crowd was pretty much all grownups and babies, with the exception of me and Finn and company.
And one superstar whose appearance still confused me in a major way.
Seth tried to make for the door but stopped short, balancing on his heels to avoid bumping into the triplets in high chairs blocking his path. He seemed afraid to get too close, not that I could blame him, considering he was trapped in the Park Slope web. The guy needed serious help.
“Here, sit down.” I tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”
He hesitated. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
He sat down, relieved. “Thanks. Oh, I’m Seth Ryan, by the way. You’re Maggie, right?”
“Yes, Maggie Brooklyn,” I replied.
“Brooklyn? You mean like where we are right now?” asked Seth.
“Yes, exactly that,” I replied.
Seth scratched his neck. “Why did your parents name you after a state?”
“Um, Brooklyn isn’t a state. It’s a borough of New York City,” I said, correcting him.
“A what?” asked Seth.
“New York City,” I repeated.
“Oh, right. Of course.” Seth held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Maggie Borough. I’m sorry about what happened this afternoon. I told Vigor he went a little overboard, but everything happened so fast, I didn’t know what to do. And he was only trying to protect me.”
Seth’s handshake was firm—all business, like we were signing a deal. It was a funny contrast to his appearance. What I’d first mistaken for a necklace was actually the tag on Seth’s T-shirt. He wore it inside out and backward. He also had on sweatpants with one leg tucked into his sock.
“Um, nice to meet you, too?” I don’t know why my voice got so high at the end of my sentence, like I had doubt when I did not. It was nice to meet him. No question.
Except for all my questions about why he wanted to meet me.
I waited, and he smiled his movie-star smile. Warm, inviting, and totally sincere. Also, mesmerizing—despite the goofy wardrobe.
I got lost in that smile for a minute. “So can I?” he asked.
“Can you what?”
“Talk to you.”
“Yes, of course,” I said. “I mean, sure, if you want to. My friends will be back in a minute, but you could totally join us.” I looked toward the line. Finn and Milo were still pretty far back. Now Lucy had joined them, and she and Finn were pelting each other with red plastic straws. No one looked my way. Not even after I waved to try to get their attention.
“I know you’re busy, so I’ll only stay for a minute,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But the reason I noticed you on set the other day is because I saw the way you talked to Jones.”
I cringed and buried my head in my hands. “I’m so sorry about that. I didn’t mean to mess up your movie or anything. I really wanted to be an extra. It’s just—I had to go, and he didn’t get that.”
“I know—I heard the whole thing,” he said, leaning a bit closer. “And I’m wondering—how did you do it?”
“How did I do what?”
“You know—stand up to him. How come you weren’t intimidated? Most people are scared of Jones.”
“I can kind of see why, since he’s got that whole screaming-his-head-off thing mastered, but it’s just something I had to do. I didn’t even think about it.”
Seth shook his head, seemingly amazed. “I could never have done that.”
“Wait—you’re kidding, right?”
“No way.”
“But you’re Seth Ryan.”
“Exactly. I’m Seth Ryan, and I always do what I’m supposed to do. Fiona tells me it’s the secret to my success, and I shouldn’t overthink things because my brain will hurt and it’ll cause stress and worry lines, and I can’t afford worry lines. They’ll show up on camera—especially with all this new high-definition technology.”
“Who’s Fiona?” I asked, figuring it was his new girlfriend.
“Fiona is my manager. She kind of discovered me, and she totally knows what’s best for me. And what’s best is knowing one thing: never question your director. He or she is boss.” Seth nodded once, agreeing with his own point. He sounded like a robot—totally programmed.
“I see,” I said slowly, even though I didn’t. Not when Jones Reynaldo, Seth’s current boss, acted like a spoiled toddler—and even worse than the tap-dancing toddler from just a few minutes ago.
He squinted at me. “So what was so important that you had to leave?”
“My dogs,” I replied. “Well, not my dogs exactly. They’re my clients; I’m a dog walker.”
“A what?” asked Seth.
“I walk a bunch of dogs. It’s my after-school job.”
Seth gave me a blank look, like he’d never heard of a dog walker, so I explained further. “Basically, I pick them up after school, get them outside so they can have fresh air and exercise and relieve themselves, and take them home again. Some of them like to play fetch, too.”
“That sounds like the coolest job in the world,” Seth marveled.
“Are you making fun of me?” I asked, just to be sure.
“No way. I’m serious. I think that’s awesome. I love dogs. I’ve always wanted one.”
I stared at him for a few moments, still not completely convinced this wasn’t an elaborate prank. Like, maybe there was a hidden camera somewhere. It just seemed too weird that this megastar would be hanging out with me at the Pizza Den.
“So why don’t you get one?” I asked. “It’s not like they’re so expensive. You can buy ten dogs, or maybe ten thousand. Isn’t it true that you have seven cars? One for each day of the week?”
“To be honest, I don’t know,” said Seth. “My manager handles all that stuff. I can’t even drive. I have a lot of investments, I guess. I know there’s a loft in SoHo. I was there once, but it seemed kind of empty.” Suddenly his face lit up. “Oh, but I saw pictures of it in Teen People last month and it looked awesome, so I guess someone furnished it.”
“You mean you’re not staying there?”
Seth looked at me like I was crazy. “We are in Brooklyn. You know that, right, Maggie?”
I laughed. “Hello? Brooklyn is my middle name—literally. So I’m pretty positive that Brooklyn is close to Manhattan. Like I said before, it’s still considered New York City.”
“Oh.” Seth paused and frowned. “I thought you were kidding about that.”
“Nope. There are five boroughs in this city.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island.”
He leaned back and grinned. “Now you’re just messing with me.”
Was he serious? He seemed to be, but how was that even possible?
“You know that Manhattan is just over the bridge? And SoHo is probably less than five miles away,” I said.
Seth’s smile faded, which told me he hadn’t been joking—and now I’d embarrassed him. He coughed. “Well, geography was never my best subject. Not that I’m in school anymore. I have my own tutor and I always get straight As. In fact, I just finished the ninth grade—two whole years early.”
“Really?” I asked, more than a little surprised. Because it seemed like basic geography was something Seth’s tutor should’ve covered before giving him any sort of degree. But what did I know? I mean, besides the five boroughs of the city. Okay, I knew a lot, but I’m sure Seth did, too. He had to be smart, because acting is hard.
I know, because my mom signed Finn and me up for drama camp one summer when we were nine. Memorizing lines was difficult enough, but more challenging than that was getting to know characters inside and out and then communicating that to the audience through a performance. It took brains and hard work and discipline and talent and guts. Seth had all that. I could just tell.
Still, the geography thing was weird.
“Fiona probably has us staying out here because it’s safer,” Seth reasoned. “More convenient, too. Our hotel is just a few blocks away, although I’m not supposed to tell anyone that. Anyway, about the dog: she says I can’t have one because it would get in the way of my work. And I’m always traveling and my hours are crazy, so it’s not like I even have time to take care of one. I mean, I guess I could hire a dog walker, but that doesn’t make sense because I’m always shooting in different locations. Like, we’re only here in Brooklyn for a few more days and then we’re heading to Toronto, which is cool because I love Europe.”
“Um, Toronto is in Canada,” I said.
Vanishing Acts Page 6
