America's Next Reality Star

by Laura Heffernan

  My heart beat faster.

  Calm down, Jen. He hit you with the first ball, and this isn’t third grade. Boys aren’t mean to girls they like. Not the kind of boys I want to date, anyway.

  “You okay?”

  I didn’t want to like this guy, especially when it was clear Ariana was into him—and there was some weird tension between them—but I couldn’t help it. My pulse sped up every time he looked at me. Not that I could tell him that.

  “I hate to say it, but I’m a little freaked out about the elimination tomorrow. I thought a beer would help me relax.” I took a sip and fanned my face, wondering if it was the beer making me warmer.

  “Well, you know, it’s a good thing I’m here. You shouldn’t drink alone.”

  “But you’re not drinking.”

  Justin leaned forward and took the bottle from my hand. He took a long swallow, then handed it back. “Now I am.”

  “Excellent.” I turned the bottle to sip from where his lips had touched the rim. Juvenile, yes. I didn’t care.

  “So, I really wanted to talk to you. Without everyone else around.”

  “Really?” I struggled to keep my tone casual.

  “In that first game—”

  “Ah, yes. You tried to get me eliminated.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “You thought you were throwing at someone else?” Now I’d gone from “casual” to “petulant,” but it beat showing my infatuation.

  “No! I mean, not exactly.” He ran one hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “This is all wrong. Yes, I threw the ball at you.”

  “I saw that. Or rather felt it. Right here.” I showed him a spot on my elbow. Since he’d helped put me up for elimination, I wasn’t feeling gracious.

  “Can you let me explain?”

  His frustrated tone took the wind out of my sails. I had no right to give him crap for playing the game. “I’m sorry. Continue.”

  “I had the blue ball—literature. Ariana was aiming for you with the purple ball. I knew if I hit you first, she’d throw at someone else. You were one of the only people who brought a book to the audition, and you’ve admitted not being into current music. I figured you’d have a better chance with a lit question. I know it’s stupid, but I wanted to help.”

  I couldn’t believe he’d even noticed the book poking out of my bag at the audition, much less that he’d remembered it.

  “What you did was make me wonder if we’re friends.”

  “Yeah, I see that now. I screwed up. I’m sorry.”

  I dragged on my beer and didn’t answer. Could I believe him?

  He moved to the edge of my chair and squeezed my hand. “Please forgive me. I don’t want you to leave. I want to be friends.”

  Justin met my eyes squarely, without a hint of evasion. The blackness of his pupils swallowed his gorgeous green eyes. His hand warmed mine. When I realized how close our faces were, I blushed. Nervously, I wiped my palms on my shorts. Did he feel the same connection I did, or was this all part of the game?

  “I want to believe you, but I don’t know.”

  “Jen, I’m so sorry if I played any part in you being up for elimination. If you leave now, I’ll never forgive myself.”

  He touched my chin with two fingers, bringing my gaze up to meet his. Damn those green eyes. I searched them for answers, wishing I knew whether he was putting on an act for the audience. Even with the lights off, the cameras stationed in the yard would capture us. The producers filmed everything, day and night. Everyone in America would know if we kissed. For a moment, I struggled to remember why that was bad.

  “I guess it’s not your fault, since I got the question right,” I said begrudgingly, shifting slightly backward.

  “If that is the best I can get, I’ll take it. But I’m going to work on complete forgiveness. I’ll pay you double interest on our bet—six cents.”

  “Well, then,” I laughed. “Maybe I’ll have to reconsider once I get my money. I’d hate to have to send Birdie to break your kneecaps.”

  The image of five-foot-tall Birdie coming after Justin with a baseball bat cracked him up. I laughed, too, crossing my legs and settling more comfortably in the lounger. My knee practically touched Justin’s leg. He didn’t move.

  We sat quietly for a few minutes. I wondered if he heard my heart pounding. Even not wanting to get caught kissing on national television with a near-stranger, I found something about Justin irresistible. Possibly his smile. Or his dimples. His brains. The ease of talking to him. His personality. The fact that he was practically perfect for me in every way.

  That line of thinking wasn’t helping. I needed to change the subject before I started calling him Mary Poppins.

  “It’s a beautiful night.” I gestured at the sky.

  “Yes, it is,” Justin said, his eyes never leaving my face. Did he lean forward slightly? Only inches separated our lips.

  The warmth definitely wasn’t the beer. I licked my lips nervously and leaned in, closing the gap. If he moved the tiniest bit. . .

  “So—”

  Floodlights blazed across the yard. We both jumped and sat upright. Spots danced before my eyes. When my vision finally cleared, I wished it hadn’t.

  The patio door now stood open. Ariana posed in the doorway, wearing only what appeared to be a washcloth. She sauntered toward us.

  “Hey, guys. I’m sooooo sorry to intrude. Hope I’m not interrupting. I didn’t know anyone was out here. It’s such a beautiful night, and I wasn’t tired, so I wanted to go for a quick dip. I expected to be alone.”

  She gazed at Justin from beneath lowered lashes. The tip of her tongue moistened her lower lip.

  When I changed for bed, I’d been thinking about the elimination, not seduction. With dismay, I compared my blue-piped gray tank top and shorts to Ariana’s lack of clothing. Until about five seconds ago, I’d thought these were super cute summer pajamas.

  Ariana turned her back to us and adjusted her towel. She tossed her silky black hair over one shoulder. “This is so embarrassing, you guys. I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up, so I didn’t stop to put on a swimsuit. I figured they wouldn’t run the cameras late at night. The cool water feels so delicious on my naked body. Don’t you love it?” She stared at Justin, like I wasn’t there.

  I couldn’t believe her nerve. I would never in a thousand years interrupt two people about to kiss—probably—by ripping my clothes off and inviting them to ogle me. Because I’m not pure evil.

  A million nasty responses filled my brain, but I couldn’t let her get the best of me again. Instead, I said, “I’m going to bed. Good night, Justin.”

  Ariana shook out her hair and moved to open her towel, but I’d seen enough. I rotated on one heel and walked toward the house. Justin moved to follow me.

  “Oh, shoot!”

  We both stopped to see what the problem was. Mentally, I cursed myself for not ignoring her.

  “My microphone’s tangled in my hair. Justin, could you help me, please?”

  Lucky she didn’t ask me. I would’ve cheerfully strangled with her with the damn thing.

  “Sure, no problem,” he said.

  As Justin moved toward her, I stalked into the house.

  By the time I got to my bed, tears of anger and frustration stung my eyes. I wiped them away, not wanting to give Ariana the satisfaction of making me cry. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see me.

  After a few minutes, I lost the battle. Silent tears flowed down my cheeks. No matter how much I told myself I didn’t care about Justin, that I didn’t need or want a summer fling right now, my heart overruled my brain.

  Miserably, I closed the curtains around my bed, pulled the sheet over my head, and hugged a starfish pillow to my chest. I forced myself to breathe deeply.

  A memory flashed before my eyes. Some show, a couple of years ago. Strangers living together in a big house. Early on, two of them got drunk
and hooked up. The guy regretted it. The girl spent the rest of the show making moony eyes at him. I’d been so embarrassed for her I’d spent half the season watching while peeking out from under a throw pillow.

  Maybe, even though I hated her, Ariana had saved me the humiliation of making out with someone I barely knew on camera. Maybe I should thank her.

  Maybe.

  * * *

  My half-hearted attempt to cheer myself up evaporated overnight. I woke in a foul mood. In the bed beside me, Ariana snored lightly. I resisted the urge to check to see if she’d done her makeup before going to sleep.

  Maybe I could stick her hand in warm water, like in camp.

  Instead, I showered and dressed and went down to the kitchen. Ed and Birdie were already up, making breakfast. For once I didn’t help. When they greeted me, I waved my hand and grunted. I poured coffee, then flopped on to a stool and scowled at my mug.

  “Okay, seriously, what’s wrong?” Ed whined. “You can’t be this upset about the vote, because you know you’re not going home.”

  “Honestly, if going home means getting away from that horrible cow, I’m starting to think it’s okay.”

  In a whisper with one eye on the doorway, I filled them in on what happened during the night. When I got to the end, Birdie gasped and dropped the spatula. It took her a moment to recover enough to speak.

  “No way!” she exclaimed. “No way he fell for her act. You know he was right behind you on the stairs.”

  “Yeah, really, Jen, you should have waited. You might have gotten to talk to the guy, and you wouldn’t have to wonder.”

  I sighed heavily. “Why? We’re not dating, he doesn’t owe me anything, and I don’t want to seem crazed with jealousy.”

  “But you are,” Ed pointed out as he flipped the pancakes. “Wouldn’t it at least be nice to know if your jealousy is unfounded? And, for what it’s worth, I think it is. He seems to like you.”

  “You think so?” I hated the whine in my voice. “Ugh. This is so stupid! What am I doing? I’m here to win prizes, not pant after some guy! I’m not sixteen anymore! I’m going to send that bitch home, and then I’m going to win $250,000!”

  “That’s the spirit!” Ed cheered as he placed a plate of pancakes in front of me.

  I smothered the stack in maple syrup and dug in. Whatever happened during the day, I’d need my strength.

  “Uh, Jen? Those were for everyone.”

  Oops.

  Guiltily, I pushed the stack toward the middle of the table. “Any chance the cameras missed that?”

  The voting began after breakfast. When I entered the booth, I didn’t hesitate. I snatched my container of fish food off the shelf and dumped every last piece of green glitter into the bowl with Ariana’s picture on the front. Too bad the producers counted the colors in each bowl and not the volume. Still, I found it satisfying to violently shake glitter into the bowl decorated with her smug, smiling face.

  Even after I emptied the container, I shook it again for good measure. And again. Then I dropped the plastic jar into the bowl before leaving the room.

  Waiting for the results was sheer torture.

  I wanted to talk to Justin, but Ariana made sure that never happened. She followed him around like they were handcuffed together. I couldn’t figure out why he let her, since he stiffened whenever she spoke. Surely, if he didn’t enjoy the attention, he’d tell her to leave him alone. Was he talking to her for the show? Or to me? Or both? Maybe the whole thing was an act.

  The night before, I could’ve sworn he felt something. I was sure he’d been about to kiss me before we were interrupted, but maybe I’d transferred my feelings on to him.

  Since I couldn’t get a second alone with Justin, I distracted myself. I did Pilates with Rachel, but I was too tense to get into it. After about ten minutes, she got frustrated.

  “Seriously, Jen, you need to settle down. You’re killing the mood. Either calm down or go do something else.”

  “Sorry, Rach.”

  “You’re upset about the elimination. I get it. Really, I do. But you can’t sit here, all bouncy and jittery. Every time I try to plank, you distract me.”

  I stood, brushing dirt and grass off the back of my gray yoga pants. “You’re right. Sorry.”

  Rolling up my mat, I returned it to the house. Instead of staying inside with the others, I ran laps around the property.

  After I burned some nervous energy, I found Ed by the pool. “Need to practice your comedy routine?”

  “Moi? Of course not. I’m naturally hilarious.” He glanced around the backyard. “Well, okay, there may be a few new jokes I could try. . .”

  Ed cracked me up doing impressions of everyone in the house and talking about reality shows. At one point, I thought Justin watched us from his spot on a raft floating in the pool. Or, I told myself he looked at me instead of sleeping behind his dark glasses. But when Ed improvised Red Sox fans on the subway after a loss to the Yankees, Justin cracked a smile. I knew it.

  Before I could beckon to him, the producers called me into the School Room to talk about the possibility of being eliminated. They had me film my reactions to every possible outcome, leaving me both confused and tired. I’m not a great actress—I hoped the responses didn’t come across as fake as they felt. Who knew that saying, “I’m really grateful to have made it this far” over and over could be so draining?

  Finally, finally, finally, Bella appeared. “Good evening, my little Fish! Are you ready to find out who’s going and who’s staying?”

  “YES!” Perhaps I answered too emphatically.

  “Okay! But before I get to that, we have a surprise!”

  I wanted to scream and shake her until the results came out. Somehow, I managed to restrain myself. Possibly because Ed stood with his hands on my shoulders, applying gentle pressure. I bit my lower lip.

  “For the first time, our viewers have voted to save the eliminated player!”

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck. I’d forgotten they could do that. My eyes widened as I surveyed the other contestants, who also looked shell-shocked. Who did they save?

  Hope fluttered in my stomach. That hope quickly died.

  “Congratulations, Ariana!”

  Oh, no. The viewers liked her? How? Why?

  “That means, tonight,” Bella continued, “either Jennifer or Raj will be leaving The Fishbowl forever.”

  Had the producers instructed her to speak as slowly as humanly possible to drag out the pain?

  “Jennifer.”

  I gulped as Bella caught my eyes. It felt like she led me to the gallows.

  “You had the second lowest score in the challenge.”

  She addressed Raj. “You did well in the dodgeball game, but America put you up for elimination, anyway. I’m sorry, Raj, but you had the second highest number of votes from your fellow Fish. You have been eliminated and must leave The Fishbowl immediately.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief. I couldn’t believe my good luck. Hopefully, the cameras caught the very real look of relief on my face. The viewers needed to understand how badly I wanted to be here.

  As we gathered around Raj to say good-bye, something touched my elbow. Someone said my name quietly. When I turned, Justin motioned away from the rest of the group. Was he going to tell me he didn’t want me to stay? Was that a guilty look on his face?

  “I wanted to let you know I didn’t stay out there last night. With her, I mean. I pulled her hair free, and I bolted. I wanted to catch you downstairs, but you’d gone to bed.”

  At the thought of him wanting to spend time with me, my traitorous heart lifted. “Thank you.”

  Still, I couldn’t forget that he spent the entire week with Ariana and not a second with me until after everyone else slept. That he stayed to help her the night before. That I’d seen them whispering together a few times, even if he frowned and fidgeted. That he only wanted to talk to me when no one else was around.
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  With that in mind, I turned away from him. “I need to say good-bye to Raj.”

  Behind me, Justin mumbled something. To my hopeful ear, it sounded like, “I voted for Ariana.”

  His tone was low. I couldn’t trust that my heart wasn’t distorting his words into what I wanted to hear. I didn’t turn around.

  CHAPTER 12

  Jennifer in The School Room, Week 4:

  Being up for elimination freaked me out. I really want to be here.

  Finding out my fellow contestants didn’t want me eliminated was a huge relief, but they’re not the only ones who matter. I need to appeal to America, too. That’s tough, because I don’t know what the viewers want or how to give it to them. I wish there were some way for the people watching to send me a clue.

  I couldn’t believe America voted to save Ariana. Maybe they didn’t like Raj? He’s nice enough, but he kept to himself a lot. That may not be great TV. Meanwhile, Ariana is a total drama bomb. Maybe the viewers like the love triangle?

  Pst! Viewers, do you know what’s better than a love triangle? A love line. Two people in a relationship are better than three. Wouldn’t it be way more awesome if Justin picked me, and no one had to wonder? How can we make that happen?

  Early Wednesday morning, the now-familiar alarm called us to the living room. Bleary-eyed, we trudged down the stairs.

  Wham!

  A muffled yell sounded from the boys’ room. Apparently, Ed hadn’t put in his contacts yet. There were many glass wall accidents early in the morning, late at night, or when we’d been drinking.

  Settling myself on the couch, I watched everyone else stumble in. Did Ariana sleep in full makeup? Had she done her hair before going to bed? She looked like a fashion model—and I knew she was in bed before the alarm. Curiouser and curiouser.

  While I studied my enemy, Leanna joined us. “Okay, everyone! Today, we have a mini-challenge! Anyone who successfully completes it will get an advantage in this week’s main challenge.”

  “What’s the advantage?” Mike wanted to know.