#famous(29)

But I’m not that cool, so I walked straight over to the open chair and sat, turning to smile at the crowd. Jeez, there had to be at least two hundred people, maybe more. They were screaming and jumping around, but I couldn’t make out faces. One bonus of stage lights: they turn the audience into people-shaped blobs.

“Kyle, we’re so glad you could make it out to the show!” Laura smiled. Her teeth were bright white, but they weren’t totally straight, and even stage makeup didn’t cover the slight crookedness of her nose and the little wrinkles around her eyes. She looked like a more-polished version of your favorite aunt. Already I liked her. No wonder she was so popular with moms.

“Thanks for having me,” I said automatically, looking out at the audience and waving a little.

“Did you have any trouble finding someone to cover your shift at the Burger Barn?” she leaned in, feigning concern.

“Not really. They don’t want me on too many shifts right now.”

“Why’s that? You must be a huge draw for them.”

“Yeah, that’s why we ran out of food last time.”

The audience laughed so loud I could almost feel it pouring over me, like a wave. I smiled wider. They wanted to like me. I’d never felt so charged with adrenaline in my life, not even during lacrosse playoffs. I was nervous, but my senses felt sharper. Like I was performing at a higher level. Like I was the best version of myself I’d ever been: Kyle 2.0.

“So walk me through what happened. You’re just working at the Burger Barn like usual, right? Then someone took your picture.”

“Right. I didn’t even know it had happened.”

“And when did you realize something weird was going on?”

“I can’t have my phone with me when I’m working. Because of the grease,” I said, turning toward the audience and smiling ruefully. They giggled. Point. “But a lot of girls started showing up about halfway through my shift. And they were all saying, ‘I’d like fries with that.’ Which of course just sounded strange to me. Like they didn’t know which word in a sentence to emphasize.” The audience roared.

“And that was the hashtag on the photo.”

“Right.”

“So your shift ends . . .” Laura raised her eyebrows, urging me to go on. It was so easy to talk to her. Like we were teammates passing back and forth.

“Because we’d run out of food.” Laughter. “So I check my phone, and I see that I have, like, over ten thousand new followers.”

“How many did you have before your shift?”

“Two hundred eighty-nine.”

Giggles.

“Wow. That must have been really strange for you.”

“It definitely still is.”

“You have a few more followers now, I take it.”

“Uh, yeah. Like, a few hundred thousand? And I still don’t have anything interesting to say.” The audience laughed again.

“That is just fascinating, Kyle. But there’s another side to this story, right?”

I tried to keep my smile on, but I was confused. I couldn’t see the play she was trying to make.

“Because the girl who took the photo wasn’t a stranger, was she?”

“No, not a stranger. I mean, we don’t know each other well.”

“But she goes to your high school?”

“Yeah. We’re in Creative Writing together. She’s really good. Her stories are always way more interesting than what other people come up with.” Would Emma think that was too much? Or would she be jealous? But Rachel was good. She couldn’t be upset about me telling the world she was good, could she? I started to feel less sure of myself. Like I’d forgotten my lines in a play.

“She sounds like a fascinating young woman. We’re going to take a break now, but when we come back, we’ll have more with Kyle Bonham, the young man who’s taking over the internet one triple-stacker with cheese at a time.”

The audience clapped loudly, and the stage lights dimmed. A producer I hadn’t seen before ran up to hand Laura a water bottle. Laura accepted it with a slightly tired smile. The producer was older than the one who had shown me around, and less put together. Her look: oversized oxford only half tucked into her pants, mousy-brown hair mostly falling out of the off-center, sloppy bun on the crown of her head, hand tapping nervously against her thigh. She looked like someone who ran things.

“Kyle, I wanted to talk to you before we start taping the next segment,” the producer said, smiling widely at me. “I was chatting with your mom backstage and she came up with a great idea. I’m very excited about it. It could be a really fantastic way for you to keep your story fresh.”

“Okay,” I said tentatively.

“You were planning on going to your school’s homecoming dance, right?”

Laura looked at me expectantly. Without the cameras on, she was a different person. More attentive. Her stare was actually kinda intense.

“Sure. Yes.”

“Have you asked anyone yet?”

Emma insisted I ask her officially to every dance, even if we hadn’t broken up recently. Which we had. Were we still? Lately she’d been hot and cold, then warmish but noncommittal.

“No, not officially.”

The woman smiled with half her mouth. Her dark-brown eyes glittered with excitement.