Reel Life Starring Us

by Lisa Greenwald

  “Okay,” I say. “Where should we study?”

  “Come to my house after school tomorrow,” he says. “Or do you have to work with Chelsea on the project?”

  “I’m not sure. It’s confusing.” I pause, wondering if that sounds weird. “But I can skip a day.”

  “Great,” he says, and he sounds really happy. “Well, I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  We hang up. I replay the conversation over and over again in my head. I can’t believe it just happened. And I know that people say all the time that they can’t believe that things just happened. But when I say this now, I really can’t believe it.

  I text Ali because it’s after nine, which is too late to call her house.

  It takes Ali eleven minutes to respond, which is so not like her. She is usually such a fast texter.

  That’s it? Just “wow” and no exclamation points or anything?

  After all that, I can’t fall asleep. I can’t stop thinking about Ali saying it was weird for me to just come out and ask about Chelsea’s birthday party. And then I think about the video of me falling, and then Ross calling. And I hear Chelsea saying we’re not friends over and over in the background. There’s too much to think about.

  And then I remember the project.

  I spend another hour looking through the footage I have, moving things around, playing with the Sasha footage.

  It’s not enough. It’s not right. And Chelsea’s no help.

  I decide to e-mail Sasha. She told us we could, but we had to promise not to give her e-mail address to anyone else. I can be trusted, but I don’t know about Chelsea.

  Dear Sasha,

  The fiftieth-anniversary gala is coming up, and we still haven’t really figured out what to do for the video. I know you said to observe and try to catch people doing their thing, trying to really show the people of the school. But it seems boring. Do you have any other ideas? I don’t have any other help—Chelsea’s really not my friend, she said so herself. And her friends totally hate me—they posted a video online of me falling in the hallway. So I really need your help. Just pretend I’m a character on the show and you’re you. Maybe something will come to you.

  Thanks so much,

  Dina

  At lunch the next day, the Acceptables are stressing out over their math test. They calculate their averages at least ten times, figuring out what they’ll be if they score high on the test (for them, 100) or low on the test (for them, 90).

  I’m just glad they’re not discussing Chelsea and Ross. Because I really don’t know what to say about either of them at the moment.

  “So, you guys,” I start. “I still have so much work to do on this video. Do any of you have ideas? You’ve been at Rockwood Hills for way longer than I have.”

  They all stare at me.

  “Well, since you met Sasha Preston, you could have her act something out,” Katherine says. “People would be really impressed.”

  I think about that for a second. It could work, I guess, but it doesn’t seem totally right. “Do you mind if I shoot you guys eating lunch?”

  “No!” Trisha screams. She’s laughing, so I realize she’s not really angry. “You can’t tape us eating!”

  “No way,” Katherine says. “I don’t want to be in it.”

  “My mom’s really excited to meet you,” Maura says, changing the subject. “She’s glad there’s someone new in the group.”

  Even though I don’t totally love the Acceptables, because they’re just, well, acceptable, I’m glad to hear I’m in the group, that they consider me a part of the group.

  “I’m excited, too,” I say, and it surprises me, but I actually mean that.

  I was fighting so hard to be friends with Chelsea and Kendall and all of them, but I just don’t feel like fighting anymore. It’s just not worth it. They really don’t like me. They proved that with the video, and with Chelsea’s speech to me the other day. Fighting to be friends with someone who doesn’t like you, who doesn’t even tolerate you, seems pointless.

  Maybe the Acceptables are more than acceptable. Maybe they’ll end up being the Preferables.

  Sasha Preston piece of advice: Put yourself in

  the other person’s place. If you want an apology,

  then they want one, too.

  As I’m leaving the cafeteria, Dina and I literally bump into each other, which doesn’t bother me so much because I have to talk to her about the project anyway, and also because part of me wants to smack her. She’s hanging out with Ross after school, and he just told my whole lunch table about it. It kind of seems like he’s rebelling against something, but I don’t know what.

  “We have to finish the video,” I tell her. “Should we meet today after school?”

  I’m doing this to test her, because I want to see what she’s going to say. I wonder if she’ll bail on Ross to work on the video or if she’ll tell me about Ross. I wonder if she even knows that I was the one who was supposed to be going out with Ross, not her.

  “I can’t. Tomorrow. Okay?”

  “Fine.” I walk away without saying anything else.

  But then I feel guilty about it, and also really stupid about the way I’m acting. I’m not going to keep up this hostility with her. If she’s going to go out with Ross Grunner, then I want to know every detail about it. I want to know the details that he doesn’t give me. And if she’s going to know all this stuff about my family anyway, then I want to know how and why she knows and if she’s telling people about it.

  I think this is a case of “Keep your friends close, but keep your enemies closer.” But I’m not sure, because I don’t think I’ve ever had an enemy before. Anyway, Dina doesn’t feel like an enemy. Not all the time.

  I’m going to take a totally different approach with her, starting tomorrow.

  When I get home from school, my parents are sitting in the den, talking. They’re not yelling at each other; they’re actually talking, and sipping coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts.

  “Honey, we want to talk to you,” my mom says.

  I hesitate but go in there and sit down next to her.

  “We know this situation is hard for you,” she says. “You’re handling everything really well, though.”

  “Thanks.” If she only knew everything that’s been going on, I doubt she’d say that.

  “Everything’s going to be okay. You know that, right?” my dad asks.

  There have been many times in my life when I felt like I was living in some sort of alternate after-school-special kind of universe, but I’ve never felt that way more than I’m feeling it right now. I nod. The past six months feel like they’re piling up in my brain, and I’m afraid that I’ll start to cry any minute. This is actually a rare occasion when my parents seem to be in a happy mood, and I can’t ruin it with my tears. I need to hold it together. “I know.” I smile and then get up from the couch. “I’m going to do homework now.”

  I check my e-mail when I get upstairs to my room and I see that I have an e-mail from Dina. It’s a forward, and the subject line says “Any Advice?”

  I open it, and there’s a note at the top from Dina: “Asked Sasha for advice on the video since we had no clue. Here’s what she said. Dina.”

  So I scroll down a little and see the note from Sasha. It’s still really hard to believe Sasha’s e-mailing us—or e-mailing Dina, really. I have her e-mail address on a piece of paper in my room, but I never would’ve just e-mailed her like Dina did.

  Hey Dina,

  Good to hear from you. At first I thought it would be good for you to be in the background, trying to film real life at Rockwood Hills Middle School. But now here’s what I think: go around and actually talk to the kids at school, see what they think about stuff. Ask them questions and let them ramble on and then watch the footage all together and see what you can take from it. Sometimes if you really listen to what people are saying, you get ideas. Sometimes you have to ask tough questions to get good answers. Let me know h
ow it goes.

  Good luck!

  Sasha

  I e-mail Dina back.

  Hi Dina,

  This sounds like a good idea. I bet a lot of people at our school have stuff to say and just keep quiet because they’re not sure if they should say it or not. Do you know what I mean? I bet everyone thinks I’m in love with things here. And I’m not. Let’s meet in the library and see how we can set up real, actual interviews. See you tomorrow.

  Chelsea

  P.S. Sorry about the video. I didn’t post it but I probably could’ve done more to get them to take it down sooner.

  It’s so much easier to be honest in an e-mail or a text or an IM, and it’s so much easier to write things down than to say them out loud. Now that I’ve written that, I feel relieved, calmer—relaxed, even. I feel like I can stop hiding things and be honest and maybe Dina will understand.

  The next day, Dina and I spend all of lunch making posters that say we want to interview people for the fiftieth anniversary and then putting them up around school. I keep thinking that the library helper will see us and ask about it and maybe even be interviewed. It’s kind of crazy we’ve been working in the library for so long but we haven’t talked at all.

  Dina doesn’t say anything about the e-mail, or that she’s forgiven me and that everything’s okay again. She pretty much just puts up the posters quietly and doesn’t talk.

  And then after school, she comes running into the library five minutes late, which is so not like her.

  “I came up with questions,” she starts, not even saying hello or how are you or any of the customary greetings.

  “Let me see,” I say.

  She hands me the sheet. It’s all typed up and everything.

  Tell us your honest thoughts about Rockwood Hills Middle School.

  How do you feel about being chipped? Or about chipping others?

  Do you feel like you are accepted for who you are?

  What are the strengths of the school? The weaknesses?

  How can we improve Rockwood Hills for the future?

  When you think of Rockwood Hills Middle School, what’s the first thing that comes to mind?

  What’s something that’s unique about you?

  “Good questions,” I tell her, not because I want to compliment her but because I really do think they’re good.

  “Thanks.” She smiles. “Sasha said if we ask the tough questions, we’ll get good answers. So that’s what I’m doing. By the way, why weren’t you in social studies today?”

  “I had to do that physical-fitness-profile thing because I was absent the day we did it in gym. Why?”

  Dina sits back in her chair. “Mr. Valakis is a little worried we haven’t shown him any footage yet,” she says. “I said we’re just getting it all together, and we’d show him as soon as possible.”

  “Did he buy it?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “Not sure. You’re probably going to have to talk to him.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. I kind of hate how she’s totally taking charge right now, and telling me what to do. I said I was sorry in that e-mail. Why isn’t she happy?

  “Well, just explain to him what’s been taking so long.”

  Dina never would’ve bossed me around like this before. I want the old Dina back. Maybe I took her for granted. “Fine. Whatever you say. We’re probably not gonna get any people to interview today,” I tell her, “since we just put up the signs.”

  “So we’ll start the interviews tomorrow,” she says. Dina’s still totally giving me the cold shoulder, and I guess I understand why, even though I don’t like it.

  “No one’s just gonna be interviewed by you guys and then have it shown in front of a million people at the gala,” someone says from the table next to us. Apparently, he’s been listening to our conversation. “You know that, right?”

  We turn around to see who it is. It’s Damien Chiu. He’s in my math class. He sits with the video-game boys, the ones who try to sneak their DSs into the cafeteria. He has round glasses and a red polo shirt, and his arms are all chapped from dry skin. I should recommend lotion, but I won’t.

  “Why?” Dina asks. “It’s not like you have to reveal anything that personal.”

  He shrugs and goes back to his books. “That’s just my opinion.”

  “Do you think that’s true?” Dina asks me. “Are we totally doing the wrong thing? I mean, Sasha said to do this. She knows what she’s talking about.”

  “What if we tell people we’ll block out their faces, like in those spooky interviews on TV when people don’t want other people to know who they are?” I suggest.

  “That would be hard to watch,” Dina says. “But good idea.” She smiles, and maybe she’s softening up to me. “But we’ll just tell people we’re not going to go around sharing anything they don’t want to share.”

  Nobody comes. We just sit there and sit there and sit there.

  “Well, maybe people have already gone home today,” Dina says. “It is the end of the day.”

  I nod. Maybe she’s right. There are so many things I want to bring up right now, but I don’t bring up any of them. I don’t ask her about Ross and I don’t mention the video or my birthday party or anything. I want to bring them up, but I’m just not sure the best way to do it.

  “I bet we’ll have a ton of interviews tomorrow,” I tell Dina, trying to cheer her up. She looks defeated.

  I look at the poster again.

  COME BE INTERVIEWED FOR THE

  “DAY IN THE LIFE OF A ROCKWOOD

  HILLS STUDENT” VIDEO!

  IT WILL BE SHOWN AT THE GALA!

  MEET IN THE LIBRARY AFTER SCHOOL

  UNTIL 5 P.M.!

  “I have an idea!” I yell, and I’m actually beyond excited, because it’s the first time in this whole process that I’ve even had a single good idea. “This poster makes it sound boring! We need to make it more exciting. We need to prove that there’s something in it for them.”

  “Free food?” Dina laughs. “I could have my mom bring in pizza.”

  I crack up. Dina’s answer to everything is food, and it’s hilarious. “Good idea, but no. Why don’t we say something like, ‘Speak your mind about Rockwood Hills. Share an insider’s opinion on the school. Be a reality star at the gala! Real life—starring you!’? Stuff like that!”

  Dina smiles her closed-mouth smile. “I like it, but do you think people will go for it? Will they actually say anything we can use?”

  “I think so,” I tell her. “It makes it sound exciting, a chance to make a name for themselves. A chance for them to speak their minds. That’s what Sasha says people want, right?”

  Dina agrees after a few minutes more of convincing, and we make new posters. We take the other ones down and recycle the paper and then hang the new ones up.

  “I think we’re getting somewhere,” I tell Dina as we’re waiting for our moms in the parking lot. “Finally.”

  “I hope so,” she says.

  Dina’s mom gets there before my mom does, and as I’m waiting, I wonder more and more about the interviews, if people will really be honest. But I think it’s all about the fact that people do want to be reality stars, and they want to be reality stars because they want to be remembered. I mean, that’s the whole thing with Facebook, and documenting everything, right? Why else would people share every photo, every update, every video?

  They want to be remembered, they want to be seen.

  It’s the same thing here.

  Video tip: Make your subject feel at ease

  and you’ll get better footage.

  Everyone’s talking about our posters the next day. The new and improved posters, that is.

  People stop to look at them in the hallway. Even Mr. Valakis comes up to us after class to discuss them. “So you’re interviewing all the students?” he asks. “Interesting idea.”

  “And fun!” I add. “This way everyone’s getting to be a star.”

  “Well, remember
it has to be five minutes,” he says. “We can’t have this video be hours long. You girls have been quite secretive about this whole thing, and it’s going to be very exciting to see it up on the big screen.”

  “It totally will be,” Chelsea says.

  • • •

  We’re in the library after school, and there’s a line of people waiting to be interviewed. A real line!

  “Okay, guys, we’ll be calling you up one by one,” Chelsea yells out to everyone. Mr. Singer is behind the circulation desk, and he looks a little nervous, probably about all the noise.

  “What? You’re the one doing this?” a girl yells at Chelsea. “We can’t say what we want to say in front of you.”

  Chelsea just stands there.

  “You think everything’s perfect here! We can’t speak our mind.”

  “Calm down, it’s okay.” I try to smooth things over, but instead everyone just gets more riled up.

  “Yeah, little miss perfect life Chelsea Stern,” another girl says.

  “Forget it—let’s go,” people start saying.

  “No, no, it’s okay.” I stand in front of the door to try to get them to stay. We’re running out of time, and this was our last idea. But it was our best idea. They should realize that by participating they’re going to be a part of something big, something important, something that people will probably be watching for years and years to come.

  “No, this is lame. Come on guys, let’s go,” a boy says.

  “That’s what you guys really think?” Chelsea yells. “That my life is perfect all the time? That I love it here?”

  Everyone stops. No one says anything.

  “Well, I don’t. I mean, I love it sometimes. But it’s not perfect. I feel like an outsider even with my own friends. You guys all seem to hate me. Things aren’t always so easy at my house.” She stops talking suddenly. Everyone’s listening intently. “It’s not perfect. Things are not always the way they seem.”