#famous(52)

“It’s nice, actually. Being in a place where no one knows you.” Kyle looked around the room thoughtfully.

“Seriously?” I grabbed a Cheez Whizzy chip, then just held it. How do you gracefully eat a hockey puck of dripping goop? “I thought you were loving the attention.”

“Meh, for a little.” Kyle tossed a chip in his mouth. Because this wasn’t a date, so who cares how we eat. Jesus, Rachel, get it together. “It’s cool to have that many people notice you, obviously, but it’s also kinda insanely stressful.”

“You don’t seem stressed.” I frowned. Seriously? Thirty seconds with Laura, and I thought he’d been born on talk shows.

“Yeah, well, the inside isn’t matching the outside there.” He raised an eyebrow, grinned, and grabbed another chip.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Seem so . . . normal?”

“I mean . . . I dunno.” Kyle blushed slightly. It was quite possibly the most adorable thing a human face has ever done. “It’s like when I’m about to go on the field. I’m nervous, but it’s like all the nerves are making me sharper, you know?”

“No. I literally have no idea what you’re talking about.” It sometimes took me multiple in-head rehearsals to give an answer in class. One that I knew.

“I mean, I’m nervous. Like, super nervous. But it’s this rush too. I don’t know how to describe it.”

“Why don’t you do theater?”

“Weirdos do theater,” he said automatically, then squeezed his eyes tight and shook his head.

I knew it. He did just think of me as the weird girl. The pity girl.

“I don’t mean that, just that . . . my parents always pushed me and Carter, my brother, to be a certain way. We never . . . theater is cool, honestly, it’s just not my thing.”

“No, for sure. It’s not for everyone.” I could hear how tight my voice sounded, but I couldn’t change it.

“Rachel, I really didn’t mean—”

“Do you wanna get going? I think my mom wants me to watch Jonathan; I should get home.” Hopefully he hadn’t seen Jonathan when we were all talking with Mary. Then he’d think my whole family was weird, expecting me to babysit an almost-teenager. What did it matter, though? Today hadn’t been real. The fact that I’d started to believe that was just embarrassing. Jesus, he probably already regretted this whole thing: the show, and homecoming, having to see me more than never. Me, the weirdo.

“Sure, we can go.” Kyle winced, then stood up, forcing a huge smile on his face. “This was really fun. Thanks for showing me this place.”

“Sure, yeah.” I tried to get my face to mirror his, but I don’t think it worked very well. After all, theater kid or no, Kyle was the one who could act.





chapter thirty-six


KYLE

SATURDAY, 1:07 P.M.

That foot in my mouth: not tasting so hot.

“Do you even . . .” We hadn’t spoken since we got in the car. My voice sounded too loud, too bright. “I mean, you don’t act, right?”

“I write plays,” Rachel said quietly. “But no, I don’t act. I’ll be terrible at the show.”

“You won’t. You’ll forget the cameras are even there.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow and stared out the window for a second.

“Either way,” she said to her reflection. I could see her breathe in deep, try to smile. “You should give me some tips. I’ve never been on TV before, so with what, two appearances now? No, three—okay, you’re definitely the expert on this topic.”

We kept talking about the show, and Rachel kept smiling, but things felt different.

Maybe because I’m a complete tool with no filter between my brain and my mouth. I didn’t even think theater kids were weird; that was the kind of thing Carter and his friends would say. Or Dave. It was like I’d channeled someone else for just long enough to be a total jerk to Rachel.

We pulled into her driveway. Rachel tugged at the door like she couldn’t get out fast enough.

“Hey, Rachel?”

Last chance, Bonham. She turned and looked at me expectantly.

“I know I’m pretty square, but I like weirdos, you know.”

She stared for a second, then smirked. Her dimple popped in to say hi.

“Good. Because I’m probably not going to be able to change that before I shoot Monday.”

Then she laughed, just for a second, and slammed the door before I could really say good-bye.

I almost opened the door to run after her. But that was dumb. What did I even have to say? At least she didn’t still hate me, that was all I’d wanted, right? Or did she? She might have just been acting nice to smooth things over. What was she doing right now, with her brother?

Probably not thinking about me. But me: still thinking about her. The way she smiled with one side of her face, like she knew some joke you didn’t. And the way she stuck out her tongue at the corner of her mouth when she was concentrating, and clearly had no idea she was doing it. Even the way she gave me crap about my bowling game. I didn’t know anyone else who would have done that with someone they barely knew.

I had to take my mind off all that. What did it matter as long as we ended friendly? When I got home I played video games for a few hours. When that got boring I went on Flit and asked my followers what I should do with my hair. “Nothing, it’s perfect” was the consensus, which I should have expected, but I was still annoyed by how boring that was. When this thing hit: couldn’t get enough of knowing so many people thought I was something special. Now: already starting to feel pointless.