“From a teenager, that’s the highest praise you’re going to get,” the stepmother told him.
“Want a bowl, Ave?” her dad asked. He ladled her some oatmeal before she could answer. When he handed her the bowl, Avery obediently sat down, even though she wasn’t sure she wanted to be there.
He grabbed a bowl for himself and sat down, too, then pulled a book from the pile and started reading to himself. No horoscopes? No funnies in his dumb voices? Avery never thought she’d miss them. But she did.
“Avery, you have awesome taste,” the stepmother said.
Yeah, and, Avery thought.
“I was wondering if you might like to help me decorate the nursery,” she continued.
“Great idea!” Avery’s dad chimed in.
The oatmeal, sweet with apples and brown sugar, suddenly tasted sour in Avery’s mouth. She forced herself to swallow it. This was unbelievable. Her father thought it was a great idea for her to decorate the new little ankle-biter’s room? While her own room stayed a disgusting pit?
“I’m going to be pretty busy,” Avery muttered, not speaking directly to either the stepmother or her father. “This semester is really intense. Big paper for English. Team project in science. Maybe you should hire someone.”
She stood up and grabbed her bowl. “Actually, I think I’ll finish eating in my room. I can do some research on the computer at the same time.” She bolted before they could say anything.
Sarah’s mom had a pair of sneakers with springs in the soles, and Sarah felt like she was wearing them. Each step she took felt light and bouncy. She was actually going on a date with Chace! He hadn’t called it a date, but the two of them were going to the movies together before they had to be on the set that afternoon, just the two of them, not as part of a group, which to Sarah equaled date. How great was it that they didn’t have to be getting ready for wardrobe until three this Sunday? That gave her hours of alone time with Chace.
When she turned the corner, she saw him waiting for her in front of the theater near the college campus and the nonexistent springs in her shoes got more springy. Or else gravity wasn’t working as well. Now with each step Sarah felt like she might just bounce up, up, up and never come down.
“Hi,” she said when she reached him. Her voice came out light and breathy. No other guy made her feel the way Chace did. Happy—springy, bouncy, flying-happy—but kind of nervous at the same time.
He was just so . . . Sarah couldn’t think of exactly what word described him. Maybe there wasn’t one word. It was like Chace was a lightbulb and everyone else were moths. Her English teacher wouldn’t like that analogy. She’d say it was cliché. But Chace drew people to him. And somehow Sarah drew him back. She was the moth the lightbulb flew toward. Except lightbulbs were stationary, so that analogy really didn’t work.
Anyway, it made her feel a little nervous being the special moth. It was hard not to wonder why the lightbulb picked her.
“Danger Girl is supposed to have a lot of crowd scenes. It should be great for extra evaluating,” Chace said.
“Great.” Not that Sarah really cared too much about being the best extra in the movie. She wanted to do a good job, but she didn’t see this as the beginning of a career the way Brynn and Chace did. She just thought it would be fun.
And it definitely was. Her favorite part was all the waiting, because that’s when she could just hang with Chace and Brynn and all the new kids she’d met. Chace always came up with something cool for them to do during the downtime. He’d even gotten a couple of the real actors involved in a game of charades yesterday. Sam Quinn had actually joined in for a round. She had actually been playing charades with Sam Quinn because Chace had called him over and invited him. Just like that.
Chace opened the theater door for her and ushered her inside. Sarah took a deep breath. She loved the smell of greasy movie theater popcorn mixed with that bright yellow nacho gloop.
“I’m starved. I have to get some snacks,” Chace announced, walking directly to the concession stand.
“Definitely,” Sarah agreed.
“Want to share a popcorn?”
She so did. Sharing a popcorn was one step away from holding hands, with all that finger contact as you both reached into the bucket at the same time. Was that why he’d suggested it?
“Sure,” Sarah said, trying to play it cool.
“I have to warn you, though, I like to do something strange with my popcorn,” Chace told her.
Sarah raised her eyebrows. “Strange?” she repeated. How strange could you get with popcorn?
“I like to mix Dots in it,” he said.
Dots. As in that candy that was always so stale it almost made your teeth crack. Then when you did finally manage to chew it, it was so sticky it almost glued your teeth together.
“If you think that’s gross—I know a lot of people do—we could ask for one of those cardboard trays and divide the popcorn up,” Chace suggested.
“No,” Sarah said quickly. “I’ve never tried popcorn that way, but it sounds good.” Lie. But it did sound worth the price to have the sort-of hand-holding with Chace.
Chace ordered, and before she could stop him, he ordered two macchiatos to wash down the Dots-and-popcorn combo. That’s what I get, Sarah thought. I keep drinking them every day on set and pretending they’re yummy.
Now she’d probably have Dots ruining her perfectly good greasy popcorn for the rest of her life. Although maybe that wouldn’t be so bad if they came with Chace. Even with the caramel macchiato thrown in.
It definitely wouldn’t be so bad, she decided as they sat in the theater, waiting for the previews to start. Chace noticed the charm bracelet Sarah was wearing, the one she’d had since she was nine, and asked her to explain the meaning behind every single charm—the bat from her visit to Carlsbad Caverns, the baseball because of the Sox, the teeny copy of Little Women, all of them. He wouldn’t let her skip one.
Chace cared about her in a way no other guy ever had. He was interested in everything about her. Ev-er-y-thing. She really liked that.
She also liked the way his warm fingers felt against hers as they shared the disgusting mix of popcorn and Dots. And when the popcorn and Dots were gone, she loved the way it felt when he twined his fingers together with hers and didn’t let go for the rest of the movie.
chapter NINE
Brynn sat on the edge of the fountain in the college quad, scanning the movie section of a paper she’d borrowed from one of the PAs.
Several drops of water splashed onto the page. Raining? It had been sunny—
No, not raining, Brynn realized. Chace had flicked some water at her. He and Sarah were standing next to her, smiling.
“Great, you’re here.” Brynn stood up. “The schedule was changed again today. They still need us, but not for two hours. We can just make it to the next showing of Danger Girl if we leave right now. It’s playing at the theater a couple blocks away. Remember how you were saying we should check out the technique of some extras?” she asked Chace.
“Hey, PA Dude,” Chace called to a guy standing a few feet away wearing a headset.
“Hey, Smooth Move Dude,” the PA called back.
“What’s the latest on the schedule?” Chace asked.
“We don’t need you guys here until five for wardrobe!” He waved and headed toward the coffee tent.
Didn’t he trust me? The thought slithered through Brynn’s mind. Is that because he lied to Lowell about the schedule change yesterday, so he suspects everyone else of lying as well?
Brynn tried to exterminate the thought. She had no proof against Chace. Things could have gone down exactly the way he said they had, with a PA making a mistake and Chace finding out the correct information when he came back to the set for his backpack. And Chace could have told the AD just because it was definitely something the AD needed to know. And the AD could have decided to put Chace in the scene just because Chace was handy. Everything could have happened exactl
y the way Chace said it had.
Her stomach twisted itself into a knot of protest. Brynn ignored it. “So, what do you say?” she asked Sarah and Chace. “The movie lets out at 4:50. If we hurry, we can make it back here right on time.”
Sarah and Chace exchanged a glance. One of those glances that contains a whole private conversation.
“Problem?” Brynn asked.
“Um, Brynn, Chace and I just went to see Danger Girl. We came here right from the theater,” Sarah admitted.
Oh, so that’s what the eye conversation was about. Brynn thought all three of them had talked about going to a movie together. Somehow three had ended up as two, without Brynn in the loop.
Sarah grabbed the paper. “Maybe there’s something else we can all go see now. I’m totally up for a double feature.”
“I checked before, and that’s the only theater close enough to walk to,” Chace said. “And it’s old-school—one movie only, not a multiplex. But you should go, Brynn. You’d really like it. There was this one scene where—No, I’m not even going to tell you. It would spoil it. Sarah and I will grab a slice of pizza or something, and then we can all meet up back here.”
Where you’ll expect me to be holding your places in the wardrobe line as usual, Brynn thought. She looked at Sarah, wondering if her friend would suggest Brynn forget about the movie and come to lunch with them instead.
“It was a really great movie, Brynn,” Sarah told her. “And there were lots of crowd scenes, so there’s good extra-watching, too.”
So that was how it was. “Okay, I guess I’ll go. To the movies. By myself.” Brynn didn’t bother saying good-bye, just turned and walked away fast. She needed to move. She couldn’t stand to be with them another second. Although she wondered if they’d even notice she was gone.
She reached the theater with two minutes to spare, bought her popcorn and soda, and got settled in the mostly empty theater just as the trailers were beginning. She’d gotten her favorite seat—front row center. She loved how the screen dominated her entire field of vision when she sat there. The soundtrack boomed, almost too loud, in her ears. And the movie became her entire world. That’s what she needed right now. She needed to be in a completely different world.
But today, when Danger Girl started, Brynn had trouble getting into it, even though the movie-watching conditions were perfect. She kept thinking about Sarah and Chace. Where had they been sitting when they watched the movie? Had they been paying attention, or were they so into each other, they didn’t even care what was on the screen? Had Sarah even remembered that the three of them had thought about hitting a movie together?
Watch the movie, she told herself. She returned her attention to the screen, but she was confused. Was the guy with the beard following Danger Girl the smooth-shaven guy from Danger Girl’s agency? He sort of looked the same. Was that guy a double agent? Somebody was definitely a double agent. Was Danger Girl a double agent?
This was pointless. Brynn did something she’d never done before. She stood up and walked out of the movie. Usually she found bad movies almost as interesting as good ones. She liked to break them down and figure out why they weren’t working. She figured it would help her pick scripts in the future, perfect her acting technique, and decide which directors she most wanted to work with. But today her brain was gone. G.O.N.E.
Now what am I going to do? Brynn wondered once she was back out on the sidewalk. She didn’t want to accidentally run into Sarah and Chace. She’d feel like a pathetic loser. Even though they were the ones who had acted like jerks.
Brynn decided to call Natalie again. Which was still somewhat pathetic. Natalie had shot her down hard the last time she’d tried to get her to come to the set. And Natalie hadn’t answered the post Brynn put on the camp blog telling her that they still needed more extras for the movie.
Still, Brynn was up for giving Natalie another chance. Brynn wouldn’t even be an extra if it weren’t for Nat. And Natalie had been ultra-supportive of Brynn using the job as an extra to begin her professional career.
She pressed speed dial eight. She could hardly hear Natalie’s voice when she said “hello.” There was too much background noise.
“Where are you?” Brynn asked, not even bothering to ask her how she was doing or what was up.
“I’m at a model train show,” Natalie answered.
“What? I thought I heard you say you were at a model train show. There’s a ton of noise on your end,” Brynn said.
“I’m moving to a quieter spot. I’m in a corner now. Is that better?” Natalie asked a few seconds later.
“A little. Now, where are you?”
“I told you. A model train show.”
“I was sure I heard that wrong. Now my question is—why?” Brynn said.
She definitely heard Natalie’s sigh. It was loud and long. “I met this guy who’s into model trains.”
Was this why Natalie had decided to skip being an extra? A guy?
“The teeny tiny train passengers must dress really well and have some adorable little shoes,” Brynn commented. “Or the new boy must be pretty special.”
“He is,” Natalie said. But she wouldn’t get a passing grade in Brynn’s drama class with that line delivery.
“What’s going on, Nat?”
“Nothing. It’s too loud to talk in here, that’s all. I’ll talk to you later, okay? Bye.”
And she was gone.
Don’t friends actually tell each other things anymore? Brynn wondered. She gave a sigh as long and loud as Natalie’s had been. Then she felt around in the front pockets of her jeans. Good, she still had her ticket stub. She might as well go back inside and try to figure out Danger Girl. It would probably be easier than understanding Natalie or Sarah.
“Brynn! Brynn!” Sarah called, waving her hands to get her friend’s attention.
Brynn slowly—and it seemed to Sarah, very reluctantly—crossed the quad and headed Sarah’s way.
“You look amazing. How many petticoats are under there?” Sarah ran her fingers over Brynn’s poofy skirt.
Brynn shrugged. “I couldn’t save your place in line. You and Chace weren’t here, so I went in.” Her voice sounded tight.
“Yeah, of course, obviously,” Sarah answered. “No worries. Chace is changing. I’ll get in line in a minute. Look, Brynn, I just wanted to apologize.”
Brynn adjusted the cat’s-eye glasses she was wearing as part of her costume. She gave Sarah a go-on look. She was even more upset than Sarah had realized. Not that Sarah blamed her.
“I completely forgot that we talked about going to a movie and watching the extras yesterday. I would have invited you for sure,” Sarah said. And she would have. She never would have left Brynn out. That was a complete mean girl move, not something you did to anybody, especially not to a real friend. “Chace texted me last night, and—”
“I guess he forgot, too,” Brynn snarked.
“I guess. We only talked about it for a sec. He probably remembered it was something he wanted to do, but didn’t remember he’d already mentioned it,” Sarah said.
Brynn rolled her eyes.
This was how she accepted an apology? Sarah thought. A completely sincere apology? “So, do you forgive me?” Sarah barely stopped herself from adding “or what?”
“Yeah.”
That was it? Just yeah? Very gracious.
But her apology hadn’t been completely sincere, either. Deep—deep, deep, deep—down, Sarah had to admit she was glad she’d forgotten that Chace had brought up going to the movies in front of Brynn. Those two hours sitting in the dark with Chace, holding hands—she wouldn’t have wanted to give those up. Not for anything. Not even to protect Brynn’s feelings. So she probably didn’t deserve a more gracious apology-accepted than she got.
“Hey, babies, are you ready to bop?” Chace asked as he joined them, already in character.
“Wow. Your costume is fabulous. You look like one of the stars of Grease,” Sarah told hi
m.
Chace stroked the sleeve of his leather jacket. “I sort of do, don’t I?” He winked. Sarah so loved his cheesy wink. “I’m just practicing being conceited. It goes with being a greaser.”
“None of the guys I saw getting suited up in wardrobe had anything that cool,” Brynn said. But it didn’t sound like a compliment. It sounded more like an accusation.
“I found it at a Salvation Army store buried under a pile of T-shirts,” Chace explained.
Brynn’s eyes narrowed behind the cat’s-eye glasses. “I need to borrow Sarah for one second,” she told Chace.
“Then I have to get to the wardrobe line,” Sarah called over her shoulder as Brynn tugged her away.
“What?” Sarah snapped when they were far enough away from everyone not to be overheard. She pulled her arm away from Brynn’s grasp. She was definitely annoyed now.
“I wasn’t going to say anything . . . Well, I know I sort of said something the first day, but I wasn’t going to say anything else, because I didn’t have any proof. But now I have proof,” Brynn burst out.
“Take a breath. Slow down. I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” Sarah said.
“Chace. You can’t trust him, Sarah. He’ll do anything to get noticed on the set, and he doesn’t care if he hurts people to do it,” Brynn said in a rush.
“Where are you getting this?” Sarah snapped.
“I’m getting it from what he just said, for starters. Extras aren’t supposed to do their own costumes on this movie. I’m sure Chace didn’t get approval for his outfit. He’s just trying to stand out in the crowd,” Brynn told her.
“You’re the one who showed up with two duffel bags on day one,” Sarah reminded her.
“With wigs and glasses. Not costumes. I knew the movie was handling them,” Brynn explained.
“What about the other stuff? The tap shoes, and the baseball glove, and the yo-yo, and the sparklers, and the cannon?”
Extra Credit #22 Page 6
