by Caleb James
I stared at the floor expecting to see it littered with the smaller progeny… or whatever they were. There was nothing, just smashed theatre lights and a smell like the chemistry lab after burning off something volatile.
The chanting in the audience fell away. Behind us and off to the sides, giant screens showed Jerod and me and Katye holding Lance.
“Holy shit!” My words, my mouth…. I felt inside, everything hurt, but not like before. I tasted blood and vomit. The nausea was gone. I shook my head, my eyes fixed on Jerod’s face. I didn’t want to say it, not wanting to tempt fate…. “She’s gone.”
“Yes,” Katye answered. “She was squatting, and you evicted her. You can’t possess something that you do not own. You are Jerod’s, and he is yours.”
“Is she dead?” Jerod asked.
“No. Not dead, but gone.” Katye, holding Lance on one palm, looked over the audience. Her flowing hair was loose around her shoulders. She kissed Lance. He croaked, his black frog eyes never leaving her face. Then she looked at me.
“They want you to finish the scene, Alex.” She winked at the judges.
“I don’t know how,” I admitted, still on the floor, my knees in front of me, my hands braced behind. “That was her doing all that stuff.”
“Don’t be silly,” Katye replied. “It’s a love story. You know what comes next. Don’t be a tease. Your audience deserves the payoff. They were well and truly helpful.” Her blue eyes twinkled under the lights. Lance made contented croaking noises as he rested on her palm.
“She’s right,” Jerod said.
“You’re covered in salamander goo,” I answered, pushing up from the floor. “And you’re beautiful.”
“Yeah?” His eyes following me, he bit his bottom lip, and the dimples popped in his cheeks.
I reached out my hand. He took it. It should have felt weird… all those people, the cameras, the judges, Katye and her frog, but it was just Jerod and me. “I love you,” I said, and then his lips found mine. We crushed together, like beggars at a feast. It was hot and wonderful, and if the cameras weren’t selective in their shots, the kind of thing that was inappropriate for primetime.
Lance croaked.
The audience was on their feet with applause, whistles, and hoots.
Someone started to chant, and it spread through the hall. “Alex is Jerod’s, and Jerod is Alex’s.”
Thirty-One
AFTER the show I wanted to leave… with Jerod. We stank and looked like we’d crawled from a swamp. When the lights dimmed, a pair of security officers escorted him from the theatre. His name was top on a list of people to be excluded… forcibly if necessary. A female crewmember told me they’d considered a restraining order, but had avoided that for fear of the publicity. “You know, the gay thing,” she’d said. She was carrying an expensive-looking camcorder and looked familiar.
“He’s not going anywhere,” I’d insisted. “I want him here.”
“It’s okay, Alex,” Jerod said. “You know where I live. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll wait. Finish this thing, make something good come out of it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This… IT. Use it, or at least some piece of it. If not for you… think of Alice.”
“Where is she?”
“With your mom.”
I blinked, remembering the last time I’d seen Alice, she was years older. “Where?” My eyes searched out his.
“In your apartment with your mom.”
“And Adam.”
“Who’s Adam,” the camerawoman asked.
“My brother.”
“Kid,” she said. “I’ve been your videographer for the past six months. You don’t have a brother… do you? Oh, shoot me now. Did I miss a brother? Did your mom ever marry? What did I miss?”
“Six months!” Panic surged.
Jerod stopped me. “Alex, chill! I’m going home. It’s winter… and I love you.”
“Right.” That helped. But the last I remembered, it was spring.
“Alice is safe… at home with your mom.”
“We wanted them here,” the woman interjected, thinking I was upset that my family wasn’t in the audience.
“God, no!”
“Okay,” she said. “At least I got that right.”
“I made sure they didn’t come,” Jerod said. He smiled. “They kept sending passes. It’s how I snuck in, and I gave the other one to Katye. Alex, just chill. Things are going to be okay.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off his face. I chuckled. “Have we met? Really, things are going to be okay? Today on Sadly.”
“No.” And he freed himself from the guards’ restraining hands.
They went on the offensive.
“Stop!” I shouted. “He’s not going to…. It’s okay. I want him here.”
Between our bizarre stage show and on-screen declarations of love, no one knew what to do. Except for Jerod. He grabbed my hand and planted a solid kiss on my lips. Pulling back, he whispered, “Sadly has been cancelled.”
“I don’t know.” I tried to catch my breath. “It was very popular.”
“The star got a better offer.”
“Good for him.”
“Sure is.” The guards pulled him away. “Just float, Alex. Make something good come from this…. I’m not going anywhere. I am yours, and you are mine.”
Something in his words. “You sound like Sifu.”
“I joined your dojo. Been going since… well, since you became the IT boy. Thought I could use all the help I could get. Never know when you’re going to need to do some infighting.”
“Right.” I caught other meanings under his words. I’d been MIA for the past… six months? Holy crap! I was in the final three of America’s number-one primetime show, he’d told me Alice was safe… and I believed him. But what did that mean? Safe seventeen-year-old Alice, or…. “How old is she?” I blurted.
“It’s back to normal,” he said, knowing what I meant. “She’s twelve.”
“And Mom?”
“Longer story.” He glanced at the woman in black, who’d identified herself as my videographer. Her camera was at her side, but I could see the red light; she was filming this.
The guards seemed torn. Clearly Jerod was no threat, but they had their orders. “Guys,” Jerod offered. “I’ll go peacefully.”
“Thanks,” one of them said.
“It’s just your job,” Jerod replied. “Alex, we’ll talk. I’m blocked, so you’ve got to call me. And call your mom and Alice, they’ll… just call them.”
“I will.”
And he was escorted out. Nimby was on his shoulder. She looked at me, gave Jerod a peck on the cheek, and then flitted to her old spot on my right shoulder. “I’m back!” She giggled. “Do not ignore me.”
Our backstage drama had attracted a circle of onlookers. Producers, grips, my co-competitors, Jenna, and Jeremy. Everyone was staring. Two cameramen had their lenses trained on us, their red lights blinked.
“What?” Could they see Nimby? That would be news… not to mention my puking up a sixteen-foot amphibian. Was it something else… like I stank and was covered with sweat and puke.
Jeremy shook his head, his corkscrew curls bobbed.
“What?”
He came up to me. “Ew. You really stink.”
Jenna looked at the two of us. “That was ridiculous,” she said. “I didn’t know we could do special effects like that.” She was biting her lip and staring at me.
“Talk about pulling rabbits out of hats,” Jeremy added. “Those things were gnarly. Salamanders, right?”
“Yeah… I guess.”
“And that boy?” Jeremy’s dark-blue eyes searched mine. “That wasn’t just a scene… was it? I mean, that kid’s been trying to get to you for the past… since the auditions. You told everyone he was a stalker from your school. I mean….”
“I lied,” I said. “He’s not a stalker.” I thought about Jerod’s words:”Just fl
oat.” Don’t overthink this, Alex.
“May lied a lot,” Nimby chattered in my ear. “She was good at it. Better than you. You should tell the truth.”
I felt like telling her to shut up… but no, Mom—my real mom—complained about my lying, even though it was necessary. But right now… I wanted to tell the truth. I was sick of lies. What had May been doing and saying for the past six months?
“Is he really your boyfriend?” Jeremy asked. “You’re gay?”
The videographer grabbed for my hand. “Don’t,” she said.
I looked at her and at the cameras trained on my face. “Yes,” I said. “I’m gay. Jerod is my boyfriend.”
“Wow!” Jeremy said.
The videographer shook her head, clearly unhappy with my on-camera declaration.
“It’s not a big deal,” I told her.
Morgan Flood had been hanging on the periphery. “It can be, Alex,” he said, a wistful smile on his broad face. “But that’s up to the voting public.”
Awed by the famous producer, the crew and onlookers parted as he came up to me. He smiled and made eye contact with Jenna, Jeremy, and then me. “All three of you should be proud of your performances tonight. Pirated segments are already viral. And Alex… Alex, Alex, Alex.” He shook his head and turned. “All cameras off. And if I see anyone filming with a cell phone… I’ll fire them on the spot.” He waited as cameras were lowered and the red lights went black. He gave a pointed look to the videographer.
“Fine.” Her finger hit the button, and her red light went black.
He placed a hand on my back. “Walk with me, Alex.”
“Sure.” He led me to where blackout curtains and dense scrims created privacy.
“Now, you and I… and a few members of the crew, know with certainty that your… magical performance was unplanned. I need you to (a), tell me what I saw, and (b), if you’ve got an explanation for our viewing public, I’d love to hear it.”
In the shadows of our curtained booth, I tried to size up this famous man I’d seen on TV my entire life. His persona was tough but fair, and not a little vain. I wanted to tell the truth. I was sick of lies… but a fairy queen, salamander possession, an Arthurian knight turned into a frog… how could I possibly explain these things? And if I did, wasn’t that what May wanted all along, to make the fey real?
“Oh, Alex.” Nimby’s voice in my ear. “You can’t tell him the truth.”
“No shit.”
“Excuse me?” Morgan Flood’s pale-blue eyes were on mine.
I opened my mouth, and instead of salamanders, out poured lies. “It was pyrotechnics.”
“Fireworks?” His expression was skeptical.
“Yes, it’s a long story….” And I’d better make it a good one. Here was one of the most powerful men in Hollywood… in the world. He’d know about special effects.
Just float, I thought. “Here’s what I did, kind of fused everything I’ve learned in AP Chemistry about volatile metals, with the best the Chinatown fireworks industry has to offer. You see, I’ve been doing martial arts forever, and my Sifu….” Once I started, it was like vomiting up May…. I could not stop. Nor did he try to make me, occasionally asking for clarification as lies blossomed onto other lies. The weird thing was, as my stories spun out, I realized what I was describing wasn’t so farfetched. “How you wrap and ignite the chemicals is what gives them their shape. The rest was sleight of hand, kept popping them into my mouth, biting down on them, the saliva causing the chemical reaction to start.”
Nimby whispered, “Not possibility, synchronicity.”
Morgan Flood’s expression went from interested to glazed over as I headed into a technical discussion of the combustible properties of Class D metals like magnesium, sodium, calcium.
He shook his head. “And the bombshell redhead… the one kissing the frog?”
“My aunt.”
“And how did you get the frog to play the piano?”
“Lance? You have to meet him. You can train frogs to do a lot of stuff. It’s basic psych stuff, you know like the dog with the bell.”
“I see.”
There was silence. He wasn’t buying it… or at least not all of it.
“Unbelievable.” He was studying me. “I think I’ll believe fifty percent of what you’ve just said, Alex. And if that much is true you can have an amazing career as a special effects expert. I could have made you a star.”
“What’s changed?” I asked, feeling a rush of relief.
“You,” he said.
“Because I came out on live TV?”
“I’d like to say no, but there’s some truth there. But it’s not that.”
He stared a bit too hard. After all the lies, I felt the truth want to burst out. But no, that would only buy me a padded room at Bellevue. And something else. May wanted to bring the fey back to the light of day… to make them and herself real in the human realm. A major motion picture was her proposed vehicle. I’d thwarted that, but to come out and say that, Yes, it was all magic. I was possessed by a fairy queen—that might do what she’d intended.
I met Malcolm’s gaze and glimpsed flashes of his thoughts. He wanted to believe the performance I’d given was magic. His artist’s mind fought against my wild, but plausible, explanations. It’s like there was a little boy inside of him, and it’s probably what made him such a great producer. That little boy clung to the hope of real magic. For the briefest of moments my—May’s—performance had fueled that. Now I was just a smart, good-looking kid who wanted to become a movie star. Nothing special there.
“I’m sorry,” I said, sensing the depth of his disappointment. “It wasn’t magic.”
“I can see that.” His shoulders sagged.
“Sorry.”
“Me too.” He turned and walked away. He stopped and shook his head. “I’m thinking your boyfriend and that redhead aren’t union.”
“What union?”
“Never mind. I’ll have legal handle it.”
I trailed behind as we rejoined the others. My head felt light, relieved. Someone covered me in a blanket, and one of the handlers sponged off my face. I thought of Jerod—“Just float,” he’d said. It was good advice.
I was led with Jeremy and Jenna to a limo. It was snowing. Glistening flakes landed on the windows. The car’s heater threw soothing blasts across my face as I pulled the blanket close.
Jeremy sat next to me. “My agent told me not to do that,” he said.
“Do what?”
He fidgeted and stared ahead. He glanced at Jenna on the plush seat across from us. “Come out. He said it would hurt my chances. I hate this lie. And I want a boyfriend… a real one. Like yours. Jerod is hot.”
“Totally,” Jenna chimed in. She gave me a strange look. “And all this time….”
“Yeah, sorry about that,” I said. “I tell too many lies. I’m trying to cut down.”
She nodded. “We all do.”
THE ride ended at the Plaza. The hotel was amazing, and both Jeremy and Jenna thought my reaction to our lavish suite was odd, considering we’d lived there for three months. My first order of business was to strip down and take a shower. I peeled off my ruined designer jeans and a once-beautiful Dolce shirt. Even my suede boots were covered in blood and goo.
The hot water on my skin felt amazing. These were my feelings in my body. The shock of not being aware for six months still sinking in. The non-CGI reality of puking up May was washed down the drain and into New York’s sewers. A wave of panic raced into my head… school. I was a senior now. My college applications needed to be in… by? Oh God. January. Jerod’s words like a balm on my racing thoughts—Float, just float.
I wrapped a towel around my waist and wondered if I could save my ruined outfit. I had a moment’s paranoia. What if someone did DNA testing on the goo and found… salamander. I wadded it up and threw the clothes in the tub, filled it with water, and squirted in two bottles of hotel shampoo and left them to soak.
> On the back of the bathroom door was a plush robe with the hotel’s logo. I belted that on and went to the bedroom. I pulled back the curtains on a spectacular view of Central Park. Snow was still falling. It lay thick on the ground and bent the trees. I grabbed the phone and dialed home.
It rang twice, and then Alice. “Hello?”
“Alice.”
“Alex.” The words rushed out of her. “You’re you. Right?”
“Yes. She’s gone.”
“I watched the show. When you coming home?”
“Soon. I’ll try to sneak away. Or… come and visit here. You wouldn’t believe this place.”
“Okay, you’re sure it’s safe?”
I stopped, and for the umpteenth time scanned my body and my thoughts. “Yeah, no one in here but me.”
“I’ve missed you.” She was crying.
“I’m back, and Alice….”
She sniffed. “What?”
“Sadly’s been cancelled.”
Thirty-Two
ALICE arrived at the Plaza with changeling Mom around six in the morning. The on-call producer—who knew there were such people?—descended on them both. He focused on Mom and tried to get an interview—apparently they’d been hard to reach. My background was mysterious and murky.
None of that mattered, just seeing Alice in her puffy parka and snow boots. “You’ve grown.” I couldn’t stop touching her, hugging her. The familiar smell of her shampoo.
“I’m in sixth,” she said, her eyes focused on mine. Her expression was serious as she tried to figure out if May was really gone. “What’s wrong, Alex?” she said with a serious expression.
“Nothing is wrong… well, no.”
“You sure? Why was Sadly cancelled?” She looked from me to Nimby. “Hi.” She waved at the fairy.
“I don’t want to be on that show anymore,” I said, realizing my sister could now see my fairy. Once true belief takes root, the fey become real. I’d been right about that.
“I liked it. What’s going to replace it?”
“Good question.” I saw make-believe Mom in conversation with the producer and the woman who’d introduced herself last night as my videographer. The latter looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. “What she’s saying to them?” I asked.
