by Jen Calonita
I hate talking, because when they talk to me they say this is reality and that other Kaitlin and company that I keep talking about don’t exist. I know they’re wrong, and I can’t stand hearing them say otherwise. I can’t accept—I won’t accept—that my real life isn’t real after all.
Eighteen years couldn’t be a dream. I’ve lived too much, experienced too many things. It’s just not possible for me to have dreamed it up!
God, I miss Nadine. If anyone could fix this mess, it would be her. I keep dialing her cell and the message says, “The number you have reached is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again.”
I hear Mom sigh. “Okay, Kaitlin. Maybe later? I’m making penne à la vodka. You love that dish. When I bring it up, maybe I can eat with you and chat.”
I hear shuffling, then more footsteps, and a few magazines are shoved under my door. When the hall is quiet again, I slide out of bed, mindful of my cast, and pick them up. The top one is Hollywood Nation, and my eyes are drawn to the cover story: “SKY MACKENZIE AND ALEXIS HOLDEN KEEP HOLLYWOOD HAUNT UP LATE.” I flip to the page and read the story quickly, then look at the pictures of Alexis and Sky staggering out of Teddy’s. Sky looks like she hasn’t slept in a month. Sky may like to be part of the Hollywood nightlife scene, but her reputation comes first these days and she’d never behave the way this article says she did. And Alexis… I don’t even want to go there.
I fling the magazine across the room, and it lands on top of the white wicker chest in the corner. I’m not even sure what’s in that thing because this is not my room. This is not my life. I want to go home.
What’s happening to me?
When my family reacted the way they did in the hospital, at first I thought I was having a horrible nightmare. So I did what I always do when I’m having a bad dream—like the one I have about showing up to cohost The View in my underwear—I pinched myself all over (my right arm is still red), closed my eyes, and willed myself to wake up.
Nothing changed. I’m still here. Wherever or whatever here is.
Every “day,” if it is a day, is the same. I wake up, sob that I’m here, and then lie in bed watching TV and reading the magazines Matty brings me. I can’t stop thinking about where I am.
Could I be in some sort of coma and this is my dreamlike state? It could happen. Maybe things went wildly wrong in surgery, Meredith dropped my spleen, they had to get the crash cart, and McDreamy saved me by the skin of his teeth. Okay, maybe I am watching too much Grey’s Anatomy. There was a marathon on all day yesterday. But still, if this isn’t a dream, maybe I am in a coma or…GASP. I can’t be dead, can I? Maybe this is some sort of Hollywood purgatory where stars go before they cross over to repent for the backstabbing, bad movies, and beyotch-ness they put the world through. Oh God. That’s the answer, isn’t it?
NOOOO! I don’t want to die! I just turned eighteen! I haven’t won an Oscar yet or gone to college or visited Australia! How am I going to marry Austin someday if I’m not here to do it?
Oh my God. I want to go to college. I want to marry Austin. I want to!
Those breakthroughs will have to wait because right now my top priority is figuring out if I’m alive, dead, in an alternate reality, or in purgatory. God, this is just as confusing as that show Lost was!
Ooh…that’s it! Maybe I’m on a TV show! This might be like that movie Jim Carrey did where he lived in this giant bubble and his whole life was filmed for TV. They staged every plot point, and Jim didn’t have a clue. Could that be what’s happening to me too?
Maybe that’s my punishment for getting in a car with a complete stranger and for behaving badly in front of the paparazzi. I wouldn’t put it past Mom to combine being grounded with media coverage. I stare at the ceiling looking for hidden cameras, then glance around the room. Aha! I knew that teddy bear looked odd. I would never have a cheesy green stuffed bear like that! I pull the bear off a crowded bookshelf and try to rip out his stuffing. Hmph. There can’t be a camera in here. I throw the bear on the floor.
Okay, forget the cameras. I don’t need them. If I really am on TV right now and Mom put me up to it, all I have to do is apologize and things will go back to normal. Right? I’ll apologize on the air and Mom will have to forgive me. It’s a brilliant plan.
I step up onto my bed (that way I’m closer to the hidden mics) and make sure my tank top isn’t exposing anything it shouldn’t be. I smooth down my unwashed hair, steady myself so that I don’t break my other ankle, and clear my throat. “MOM? DAD? TV NETWORK? If you can hear me right now, I have something to say. I know I’m on a TV show and this is my punishment for being a star who behaves badly. I want to apologize. I know I was wrong to fight with the paparazzi and to behave irrationally and get into that car. I wish I could take back what I did.” I pause. Let me think this through a second. “Well, everything except being mad that you fired Seth, Laney, and Nadine. I want them back. Everything else I’ll agree to, okay? I’ll do whatever press, print and otherwise, you want me to. Just let me out of this bubble, okay? I want to go home!”
Silence. Maybe they didn’t hear me. Or Mom didn’t like the terms. My hands start to sweat. I have to get through to her and get out of here! What’s it going to take to…I KNOW!
“Mom, you can have a raise. You can take twenty percent of my salary instead of fifteen!” I tell the ceiling.
The ceiling doesn’t answer. If Mom heard me she would have busted down my door. At least my other mom would have.
“GUYS?” I shriek desperately.
“Kates? Who are you talking to? Do you need Mom to get your meds?” It’s Matty. Alter-Matty, as I’ve dubbed him, and he’s right outside my door. This door. Not my door. This isn’t my house!
“Go away!” I crash down onto my bed, sending a deep ache into my broken ankle with the impact. Then I start to cry again.
This can’t be happening to me. I’m Kaitlin Burke, TV star, Hollywood actress, high school senior. I’m on a new TV show and I have an amazing boyfriend. Right?
RIGHT?
I feel like Dorothy when she dropped into Oz. Everything is different. Mom is a dental hygienist who is warm and gooey and cooks my favorite foods. Dad is thrilled to be working at the same car dealership he worked at when I was a baby. Matty is a social leper who has gone from cool to drool. It’s as if everyone but me is content living the life we would have lived if…no, that can’t be right, can it? Is that what’s different?
Is this what my life would have been like if Mom had never taken me to audition for Family Affair?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
“I said leave me alone,” I grumble.
“Kaitlin? It’s me. Liz.”
Liz? My Lizzie? She’ll know what to do. “Lizzie?”
“Liz,” she corrects. “Can I come in?”
I run to the bedroom door and fling it open. It’s Liz in the flesh and she looks exactly the same. She’s wearing a gorgeous Marchesa dress that I just saw in Hollywood Nation and thigh-high black boots. She hugs me and then plops down on my bed.
“You look okay except for the cast, but your brother says you’ve gone loco,” Liz says in between bubble gum pops. “What’s going on? You haven’t returned any of my calls.”
“What calls?” I ask, confused.
“On your cell.” Liz looks at me strangely as she pulls her curly dark brown hair off her neck and into a tiny ponytail using an elastic with a silk butterfly attached to it.
I haven’t even checked that phone Mom claimed is mine. I don’t know the password. It’s not the same as my regular one, which is Austin’s birthday.
“I’ve been worried about you,” Liz says and pops a bubble to drive home her point. “School is a nightmare. Everyone is talking about your car crash. I keep trying to defend you, but I don’t even know exactly what happened because you aren’t talking to me. Your mom keeps calling and telling me this bizarre stuff you’ve said. That you think you’re the one who plays Samantha Buchanan on Fa
mily Affair and Alexis Holden stole your job?” She makes a loud POP! with her gum. “You’re kidding, right? I know we’ve been hitting the scene a lot lately, but you don’t really think you’re a celebrity, do you?”
I lie back on my bed next to her. So this Liz thinks I’m nuts too. If I tried telling her the truth, she’d probably run from the room and never come back. I can’t have that. I need someone to talk to. I stare at the carpet and dig my toes into my comforter. “No. I think it’s a side effect from all the medication they have me on,” I lie, and Liz nods knowingly. “I guess I’ve been saying some pretty messed-up things.”
Liz laughs. “I’ll say! You look like hell. What happened to your hair?”
I pull a strand of my honey-colored locks. “It doesn’t normally look like this, does it? I’ve always loved the caramel highlights Ken Paves gives me. He would die if he saw my hair like this.”
Liz chuckles. “You crack me up. I meant your hair looks like you haven’t combed it in a week. As if you would ever have the money to get Ken Paves highlights—no offense.” Liz examines a strand of my hair. “I wish you’d let me pay for it. Or should I say Daddy.” She raises her eyebrows mischievously. “Ever since he got Alexis Holden as a client, it’s like he’s been printing his own money!” Liz flings herself backward on my bed, her head touching mine. “I am just loving this windfall he’s on, Kaitlin. It’s only been two months, but it’s going to change our lives, I just know it. Daddy lets me buy whatever I want and is getting me all these cool clothes, like this dress.”
“Marchesa.” I nod knowingly and finger the fabric. “Gorgeous.”
“Thanks,” Liz says happily. “I’m thinking of wearing it to the premiere Friday night. Think you’ll be up for going?” She props herself up on her elbows. “We can bling out your cast so that you’ll get tons of sympathy. I can even buy you a new dress!” She starts to get excited. “You can’t make me go alone. Cara Simeone’s going to be there, and I can’t stand her.” I’m about to ask why, when Liz adds: “I know—we have to kiss her butt if we want to get in her inner circle, but you kiss up better than I do.” She frowns and I notice her lips.
Liz’s lips! Her lips have never been that plump. She definitely altered them. Something else is different too. OH MY GOD! “When did you get a boob job?”
Liz sticks her chest out proudly. “Happy seventeenth birthday to me! Don’t they look great now that the swelling has gone down? I wish we could have scored you a freebie so you could have gotten a new pair too.”
EWW.
I’m not sure what to comment on first—the fact that I wanted a boob job or how I can’t afford Ken Paves now. A stray tear escapes my right eye before I can stop myself. “I’m sorry.” I wipe it away quickly with my flannel PJ sleeve.
“Get up,” Liz insists. “Take a shower. Get some clothes on and for goodness’ sake, run a comb through your hair. We’re getting you out of here. You need air.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m wearing what I found in the bedroom closet: a decent Gap boatneck navy-and-white-striped shirt and Gap jeans with one ballet flat. At least alter-Kaitlin has a decent wardrobe. She does well without name designers. And Liz was right. Getting some air did make me feel slightly better. When she pulled out of my driveway and sped through the neighborhood in her brand-new Beamer (this week’s big gift from her dad) and jumped on the highway, I felt a small sense of relief. Maybe she can drive me out of this world and into mine. I was even more hopeful when she pulled up to A Slice of Heaven.
Antonio is still here, and the place looks the same. We’re sitting at a booth with a spaghetti splat on the red-and-white-checkered vinyl tablecloth, and yet…everything is different. I’m eating Liz’s and my favorite pie—broccoli, extra cheese, and peppers—and sipping a Sprite but I don’t feel better. Maybe it’s because Liz is talking about our social life, which sounds sort of pathetic.
“Have you listened to a word I just said?” Liz stops chewing and talking and looks at me sternly. “You better get your attention span back or you’ll have to kiss that internship good-bye. There are three girls in line behind you just dying for that job. Dad totally stuck his neck out for you.”
I stop sipping my Sprite and look up. “What job?”
Liz looks at me like I’ve just suggested she give back her new black American Express. “Your internship! At Family Affair! You know…”
I don’t know, but suddenly I feel hopeful.
Liz is still looking at me strangely. “The one my dad got you last month because you always wanted a job in Hollywood.” She giggles. “At least we told him that so that we could get you close to Trevor Wainright.”
I HAVE a job in Hollywood!
“This internship you’ve got going on is going to be the best score for us,” Liz is saying as she pours more Sprite into our glasses. “Forget cozying up to Trevor at the moment. We are thisclose to getting our own reality show or something, I can feel it! Then everyone in town is going to want to be friends with us.”
I stare down at my pizza. “Celebrities are usually nothing like they are on TV, ” I say quietly. “Sometimes being friends with people outside the business is much more rewarding.” I look at her. “At least, you and I have always felt that way.”
“I guess.” Liz blots the excess oil on her pizza with a napkin. “We did, but that was before my dad hit the big-time. Now we don’t have to pretend we don’t want to be part of that world, Kates! We’re in it.” She smiles brightly. “I hate that you’ve been out of commission this last week, because so much is going on.” She leans in close and I can smell her honeysuckle perfume. “People have been calling me!” she says gleefully. “On their own! Kates, we’re so in. I mean, yeah, some of them seem a little shallow and self-centered and are not our type, but who cares? Once we’re in, we don’t need to act like we care about every little thing they say.” She laughs so loud we barely hear her phone ring. “HEY, babe!” Liz mouths someone’s name to me excitedly when she answers. “What’s up? Aww… yes, I understand. That so is important!” Liz nods at me knowingly. “How much?” Liz bites her nails. “Um, sure. Of course Kaitlin and I will come to your charity event. My dad can spring for the thousand-dollar tickets. It’s totally worth the… sure, okay. See you then!” She grins at me. “That was Cora. She had to go, but she wants us at her Save the Dolphins Dinner.”
“For a price,” I correct. I’ve seen this sort of thing way too many times to count on my nail-bitten fingers. (I bite my nails now! Like Nadine! EWW!)
“It’s a good cause,” Liz insists.
Not only am I not an actress, I’m a celebrity hanger-on. From what I’ve pieced together from our conversations, Liz’s dad’s business has just taken off, when in the real world, it took off years ago when he took me on as a client. Here, Liz’s exposure to Tinseltown has just started, and she doesn’t seem to be handling it so well. It doesn’t sound like alter-Kaitlin is adjusting to the Hollywood lifestyle that well either.
“Did you have to bring that bag?” Liz groans. “It’s so tacky.”
I look at the glittery red bag I found in the back of alter-Kaitlin’s closet. It’s roomy enough to carry books from school, but still small enough that I can wear it on my shoulder to go out to eat. You’d think the glitter would make it look too fancy, but somehow it doesn’t. The bag just looks fun, and I could use some fun right about now. It reminds me of Dorothy’s ruby red slippers. The Wizard of Oz was part of my TV marathon the other night, and I forgot how much I love it. I actually like this bag better than the expensive butter yellow leather one I’ve been toting around, even if this one isn’t made very well. I’ve never heard of the designer, Riley Pierce. Probably Target. “I like it.”
“For dress-up maybe, or for Goodwill, but you cannot bring that bag in public.” Liz grimaces. “Imagine getting photographed on the red carpet with that bag. Ugh!”
I hold the bag up and stare at it from all angles. It sparkles back at me happily. This is a happy bag, and
my goal is to be happy. It’s a keeper. “I think it’s cool.”
Liz shakes her head and her curls bounce around, falling out of the ponytail that was barely containing them. “I’ll buy you a better bag.” Her phone rings again and she snaps the phone open. “Hey, you. Yes.” Liz mouths another name, but I can’t tell what it is between all her chewing. “We’d love to come to your club opening! Sure. What time? I think I have a dinner, but we can come by after. Yes, I get that you have a head count. We won’t let you down.” She switches calls.
“Mia, sweetums! Hey. Yeah, of course I got the invite. I’m so sorry I forgot to RSVP. Yep, I’ll be there. Plus one, I’m sure. Yes, Kaitlin is on the mend!” She looks at me excitedly. “Okay, doll. We’ll see you then.” Liz hangs up and sighs. “Three events on one night. How are we going to pull that off ?”
“We can’t,” I say lightly and take another bite of my pizza. “We have to turn one down.”
Liz starts texting. “No way! They’ll be mad at us. At least Mia remembers you too. Seriously, Kates, you have to be more careful. We can’t disappear from the nightlife for more than a night or two. If we do, we’ll just be replaced, and I am not leaving when we just got here.” Liz seems sort of scared of the thought. Then her phone buzzes in her hand and she reads the text. “You were the one who said to say yes to every event we get invited to and then just not show up at the lame ones.” She giggles. “You’re so evil.”
I am? No I’m not!
She looks up and I guess I must be making a face, because then she says, “Why do you look so worried?”
“It’s just,” I say slowly, “I didn’t know you liked to go out so much.”
Liz shrugs. “We both do! But I go out every night. Daddy gets mad, but it’s not like I can turn down tickets to a huge movie premiere, you know? What if our new friends stop inviting us?” Liz’s phone starts to buzz again. “Ooh! It’s Jade.”
I shudder. Jade, one name only, is on this totally bizarre reality show on E! She’s as C-list as they come. Liz is getting excited about her call?
