Текст книги "Take a Bow"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Eulberg

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

For the biggest rock star in my eyes

DAVID LEVITHAN

editor extraordinaire,

unparalleled karaoke partner,

and above all, my dear friend

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

DEDICATION

EPIGRAPH

THE AUDITIONS

CARTER

SOPHIE

ETHAN

EMME

SENIOR YEAR

EMME

CARTER

ETHAN

SOPHIE

EMME

ETHAN

SOPHIE

CARTER

EMME

SOPHIE

ETHAN

EMME

ETHAN

EMME

CARTER

EMME

ETHAN

EMME

GRADUATION

SOPHIE

CARTER

ETHAN

EMME

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

COPYRIGHT

“Are teenage dreams so hard to beat?”

– THE UNDERTONES, “Teenage Kicks”

My life has been one big audition.

I can’t even remember the first audition my mom dragged me to. It was for a diaper commercial back when we were living in LA. I was six months old. While most kids’ first memories are of playing with friends, mine are of sitting in cold reception areas waiting for my name to be called. The only plus side was that after I auditioned, Mom rewarded me with McDonald’s. That was the only time I ever truly felt like a normal kid.

After I got cast in the first Kavalier Kids movie, I didn’t have to go on that many auditions. The roles came to me. By the time I was nine, I was on the cover of People magazine and a presenter at the Oscars, the basic go-to kid for cute. I was the on-screen “son” of every big-name actor. I’ve worked with the best. And with the Kavalier Kids franchise, I was featured on countless lunch boxes, pillowcases, Happy Meals – you name it, my face was on it. (I don’t think I’ve recovered yet from seeing my toothy grin on a roll of toilet paper. Really, toilet paper. Apparently the studio’s marketing division had no shame.)

I’d shoot a big-time movie during the spring and a Kavalier Kids movie in the fall (for a major summer release). And even though my childhood was anything but normal, I look back fondly on the Kavalier Kids movies. The other child actors were like friends to me. At least they seemed like my friends, or what friends should be. But we only hung out on the set. There were no sleepovers or pizza parties, just on-set tutors and line readings.

Things were great, but then there was a – let’s call it an altercation between my mom and the producer. I got kicked off the franchise. A new wave of cute kids came into Hollywood and I was relegated to being a featured guest star on network crime shows.

So I made a decision. It was the one thing that scared Mom more than anything, even more than crow’s-feet and taxicabs. And it wasn’t moving to New York City or starring in a soap opera that was “beneath” me. No, we did those things so I could do the thing that was even scarier to Mom:

High school.

Yes, Carter Harrison, former child megastar and current soap opera actor, wants to go to school.

But as I sit in the hallway at the New York City High School of the Creative and Performing Arts, I know that this isn’t a normal school. It’s one of the most prestigious performing arts high schools in the country. I knew I could convince my mom to let me go if I talked about how this would help me with my craft.

Yes, I actually used the word craft to describe what I do. But my “craft” is more on a par with the caricature artists in Times Square than with a true artist.

I play pretend. I’ve been doing it my entire life. I’ve been doing it so long, I don’t even know who I am anymore. I’m more comfortable being someone else than being me. I don’t even feel like me when I’m “Carter Harrison.” The paparazzi were waiting outside the school today when I arrived, and I flashed that famous grin at them … but that wasn’t me. That was a role.

As we wait for my name to be called, I glance at Mom hiding behind her oversize sunglasses. She didn’t seem all that surprised to see the photographers outside. Gee, I wonder who leaked that my audition is today? It’s not like being on a soap opera gets you a ton of press, but when you were the biggest box office draw at the age of ten, people like to follow you around. See what you’re up to. It’s like my life is a never-ending episode of Where Is He Now?

At least I’ve gotten used to the attention. I’m really good at blocking it out. Plus, it helped me get a role on a show that only requires me to work a few hours a week. This way, I stay on television to appease my mom and I get to go to school for me.

I’m not even nervous as I wait for my name to be called. Stepping onto that stage and reciting my two monologues (one from Our Town and the other from You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown) will be easy. That’s a normal day for me. But the thought of getting to go to school is what will make me nervous.

What’s ironic is that Mom is the one who doesn’t want me to go to school. She thinks I won’t be prepared to handle being in a school with other kids.

Let’s see, I’ve spent my entire life being judged, critiqued, and picked apart.

I think I’m more ready for high school than anybody could be.

It’s all going according to plan.

This audition is just one more box to check off on Sophie’s Plan to Superstardom.

Basically, the list so far has consisted of me performing at every possible talent show, wedding, sporting event, bar mitzvah, birthday party, etc., in the Brooklyn area (check!), getting Emme to write me a can’t-lose original song for my audition (check!), and getting into CPA.

Of course, once I’m accepted, I’ll have my work cut out for me. I’m not that naïve. So once I get in I need to become the star pupil, land the lead in every play, get the most coveted spot in the Senior Showcase, and then get a record contract by the time I graduate.

I will have a Grammy before I turn twenty. Even if it kills me.

I’m not even nervous. Are you kidding me? I LOVE being onstage. I LOVE the glow of the spotlight. It’s the waiting that’s killing me.

I look around and notice a few other contenders for the vocal department at CPA from different talent contests that I’ve done … and won. They’ve got nothing on me and they know it.

All the singers (at least in Brooklyn) are jealous of me. While they’ll be auditioning with songs from West Side Story, My Fair Lady, and The Sound of Music, I have an original Emme Connelly song written just for me.

For a second, just a second, my stomach drops. I hope Emme gets in. Her audition for the music composition program is in a couple weeks. Although her acceptance (or rejection) won’t really affect my Plan. She’ll still write songs for me. It would just be easier if she would also be at my school. Don’t get me wrong, she’s talented enough to get in, but being center stage really isn’t her thing. She gets nervous.

Not everybody can be a natural.

“Sophie Jenkins.”

I hear my name and enter the auditorium. I can’t wait to show the panel what I’m capable of. I’m ready to move on with my Plan and be the star that I know I am.

This is just one small step.

Check.

I want to get this over with.

My stomach has been in knots all morning. Oh, who am I kidding? I’ve been a wreck since I got the date of this audition. Maybe going to CPA isn’t the best idea. I’ve got it pretty good in Greenwich. I’ve got friends, and even better, I’ve got Kelsey.

Although, I just got a girlfriend and what do I do? I audition for a school in New York City, which means I’ll have to live at my parents’ Park Avenue apartment during the week.

Leave it to me to complicate one of the few good things in my life.

I almost considered backing out of the audition and not going to CPA, but – and I’m fully aware of how corny this sounds – music is my life.

At first I didn’t know that it was unusual for someone to hear a song and be able to play it back instantly on the piano or guitar. Or that not everybody can sit down and write a song. I’ve been playing music, my music, for as long as I can remember. It flows from me with ease.

It’s just the lyrics that I suck at.

I’m a thirteen-year-old kid who lives in a huge house in Connecticut with my investment banker father and stay-at-home mom. What do I have to write about? I don’t know anything about suffering or pain. Or love.

I guess the one good thing going for me is that I don’t have to sing today. I’m doing a couple of instrumental pieces. I hate singing. I hate it when people look at me. I wonder if they’ll let me perform behind a screen?

I try to get my legs to stop shaking, but if they stay still, what will distract me from the bile that is slowly rising in my throat? I go to bite my nails, but there isn’t any nail left.

Dad squeezes my shoulder. I hate him knowing that I’m nervous. Why can’t I just tune out the voices in my head telling me I’m going to mess it up, like I mess everything up? Why can’t I be normal? Why can’t I do something without thinking of the fourteen thousand ways that I can mess up?

Actually, there is one thing I can do to quiet the voices. The only thing that I am good at, which is playing music. That I can do well.

It’s everything else that’s the problem.

I thought things would be easier the second time around.

But nothing seems to be going according to Sophie’s Plan. And it’s all my fault.

I don’t think there was ever a doubt that Sophie would get into the vocal music program. How could she not? She’s amazing. She got her acceptance letter right away … on the same day that I got my letter telling me that the admissions department was undecided on my application and I had to audition again.

While the CPA letter explained that the reasoning was that they had an “overwhelming” number of applicants for the music composition program’s inaugural year, I knew the truth: I wasn’t good enough.

I try to hold back the tears that are creeping up. What would the admissions team think if I walked onto the stage in tears? Probably not the best idea.

But I’ve wanted to go to CPA since I was little. I’ve wanted this for so long.

And I don’t want to disappoint Sophie.

Going to CPA together has been our goal since we first met, when we were eight and both performing at a youth talent show in Prospect Park. I played an original song I wrote on the piano. Sophie sang “Over the Rainbow.” But Sophie doesn’t just sing, she Sings with a capital S. She opens her mouth and time stops. I haven’t met a single person who hasn’t been mesmerized by her voice and her stage presence.

She even had it back when we were eight. I’ll never forget her coming up to me afterward with her gold medal around her neck (I got the silver). She didn’t even introduce herself – she didn’t need to; everyone there knew who she was. She simply said, “Hi, I like your song. You should write one with words and I’ll sing it for you.” We’ve been a team ever since.

It’s Sophie who’s been my biggest cheerleader from the very beginning. She was the one who planted the seed years ago about going to CPA. We’d be an unstoppable force, a dynamic duo, the greatest singer-and-songwriter team that CPA has ever seen.

But thanks to me, our team is in serious jeopardy.

“Emme Connelly.”

My name is called and I try to steady myself as I walk onto the stage.

I try to block out all the doubting thoughts in my head.

I can do it.

I can do it.

I can do it.

This isn’t just about me. It’s about Sophie.

And if I’m not sure I can do it for me, I know I can do it for her.

I never in a million years thought I’d be sitting here. Well, truth be told, I think that every time I’m in CPA’s auditorium. Freshman year, sitting with Sophie by my side, I couldn’t believe I’d made it in. Then sophomore year, I was shocked that I’d survived the first year. Junior year was the biggest surprise since I’d almost wanted to sabotage my audition for that semester because I was so tired – tired of the auditions we have to do to be accepted each semester, tired of the extra classes and studios, tired of the concerts, the pressure, the competition. The constant competition.

Fortunately for me, the music composition department is the least competitive of all the programs. Ethan, Ben, Jack, and I work together on pretty much every project, and have since the very first day of school.

But other groups don’t have it so easy. Jack’s girlfriend, Chloe, is in the dance department, and she has to eat her protein bars in secret during lunch. It’s a double competition, to see who can dance the best and eat the least. It’s as if being the skinniest person in the group is a badge of honor, not an eating disorder.

The drama department is full of … well, drama. I stay far away from anybody in that department when a show is being cast. It’s not pretty. Leading up to the auditions, there is back-stabbing and sabotage of Hamlet proportions, and when the cast list is posted, those without parts are les misérables.

And then there’s Sophie. As we wait for our first assembly of senior year to begin, I look four rows in front of me to where Sophie is sitting with Carter. Sophie’s had it a lot rougher than me and I feel so guilty. After all, if it wasn’t for Sophie, I wouldn’t even be here.

Ethan taps my knee and motions up front. Dr. Pafford, our principal, strides onto the stage.

“Hello, seniors.” He leans on the podium and takes stock of the room. Judging. We are always being judged. “Over ten thousand people applied your freshman year, 624 got in, and today there are only 513 left. Of that you should be proud.”

He pauses dramatically. We all know he never gives us a compliment without showing us its downside.

“But now is when we really figure out who will one day appear on this screen.” He gestures to the large screen that is rolling down behind him. Our first day of freshman year, we were welcomed with images of CPA alumni: Oscar, Grammy, and Tony winners flashed before our eyes. “As you all know, you are here two weeks before the start of class to discuss the opening-day performances for the freshmen as well as, of course, the Senior Showcase.”

It’s as if the air has been sucked out of the room at the mention of the showcase. Every January, CPA hosts talent scouts, agents, and college administrators to an evening that highlights the talent at the school. It’s the biggest audition of them all. Juilliard, Alvin Ailey, William Morris – they all come.

The mere thought of it makes me sick.

Both Ethan and Ben nudge me. They know me so well.

Dr. Pafford continues, “We will be holding auditions for the spots in the freshman welcome program next week. You’ll have three minutes. We have only ten performance spots available. Sign-up sheets will be up next Monday. And remember, everything you do this semester, and I do mean everything, will weigh in on who will be invited to perform in the showcase.”

He dismisses us, and groups immediately start to form.

“So, lunch?” Jack says as he stretches and pats his stomach. “I’m going to need a full stomach before I can even think of what torture you two will make me endure for this gig.” He nods at Ethan and me.

“Sure, um …” I say, then stop. We all see Sophie approach me, a smile on her face. I smile back. I haven’t seen her that much over the summer and we haven’t been able to get together since she got back from her family vacation. This is the longest we’ve been apart since we were eight, and I’ve really missed her.

“Hey, Em!” Sophie hugs me. “I’ve missed you!”

I hug her back. “Me, too! I can’t wait to show you what I’ve been working on.”

Sophie claps her hands enthusiastically. “You know I’m dying to hear it.”

She turns to the guys and gives them all a little wave.

“Hey, Sophie, nice to see you show up, just in time to get a song from Emme,” Jack says drily. “How convenient.”

We both ignore him.

“The guys and I are heading to lunch,” I say. “How about tonight?”

She looks disappointed. “I’d love to meet tonight, but Carter has this thing, some opening of something, and I promised him I’d go along.” I love how Sophie makes it sound like work. I know that she loves going to openings with Carter: the photographers, the attention, the coverage. We are complete opposites when it comes to that.

We settle on tomorrow afternoon after she consults her schedule and Carter’s. There’s always been some tension between Sophie and the guys, but they don’t get it. They just see Sophie singing my songs, but they have no idea (no matter how many times I’ve tried to explain it) how much I rely on her.

She gives my songs a voice.

When it comes down to it, I need her a whole lot more than she needs me.

“So!” Jack gives us a smile after we order our food at the diner. This can only mean trouble. “This feels like the first day of school and we’re eating lunch….”

Ethan and Ben groan. I try to contain a smile, but it’s too hard. It’s a tradition. It started back on our first day of school, when we all met.

That first day, I walked into the cafeteria like a prisoner being sent to death row. I’d been dreading going to the cafeteria by myself since Sophie and I realized we had different lunch periods. To make matters worse, I hadn’t made a single friend all morning.

The cafeteria was filled with students already settled into their groups, laughing and enjoying themselves.

I looked over and saw a boy from music composition eating a sandwich by himself. I didn’t know his name, but Mr. North had said he was the only person who didn’t have to re-audition to get in. I headed over to him, knowing that I needed to make an effort to get to know people.

“Hey, I’m Emme,” I said. He looked up at me, mid-bite. His black hair was cut extremely short, almost a buzz cut, and it couldn’t hide his ruddy cheeks. Also, he was wearing a T-shirt and jeans that were both about four sizes too big. “Um, we’re in music composition together?” I didn’t know why I’d made that sound like a question. “Um, can I join you?” My voice went up an octave higher than normal.

He nodded. Then, after he finished swallowing his food, he finally spoke. “I’m Ethan.”

“Hi.” I opened up my lunch sack and pulled out a bag of carrots. “Um, so …” I couldn’t think of anything to say. I wanted to ask about his audition, the kind of songs he wrote, what he played, pretty much everything about him. “I can’t believe I’m here, you know? My friend Sophie, she’s in the vocal program and she’s so good. She has a different lunch period. I was so worried about finding someone to sit with at lunch and I’m so excited to see you.”

I remember thinking: You know, Emme, there is a reason why you let Sophie do all the talking.

Ethan smiled politely at me.

“Hey!” a new voice called out. I ignored it. “Hey, Red!” I looked up to see two guys from class standing over us. “Got room at your table for two more?”

“Of course!” I said, grateful to be saved from further embarrassing myself in front of Ethan.

“I’m Jack, this is Ben.” Jack had a friendly smile on his face, a bigger build that suited him well, and a massive array of curls on his head.

Ben sat down across from him. That day, he had on a funky green and navy plaid newsboy cap that almost covered his dirty-blond hair. He was way more stylish than anybody I’d ever gone to school with.

Jack laughed. “So are you going to tell us your name, or are we going to stick with my nickname for you?”

“My nickname?”

“Yeah, Red. It suits you.” He pulled on a strand of my hair.

“Oh!” I tried to laugh it off, but my bright red hair has always made me so self-conscious. As Sophie likes to remind me, often, you can’t miss me in a room. “I’m Emme and this is Ethan.”

“Ethan!” Jack started nodding his head. “Ethan the chosen one. So did you want to kill North for calling you out in class?”

Ethan shrugged his shoulders.

Jack continued. “’Cause I wouldn’t have wanted the attention, I’ll tell you that much. From what I can tell, competition here is pretty fierce.”

“Please.” Ben sighed. “We are in music, so we need other people. No need to get the claws out … yet. Plus, I hear first year you get paired off for a bunch of assignments.” Ben slammed his hand on the table. “That’s it! Right here. We should form a band!”

“I like where this is going.” Jack rubbed his hands together. “This is more like it. A brotherhood – no offense.” He winked at me. “Red here will be the hot-chick lead singer.”

“Oh, I don’t sing. But my friend Sophie —” I said it so quietly that Jack moved right on to the next band member.

“What do you play, Ethan?”

Ethan hesitated. “Guitar, piano, sax, drums …”

“Okay, we get it. Genius. Emme, how about you?”

“Oh, I play piano and guitar mostly. I played flute when I was little, but …”

“Yeah, we don’t need a flutist for our awesome rock band.”

Ben interrupted. “Why do you automatically assume we’re a rock band?”

“Oh, is this our first fight as a band? And things were going so well!” Jack’s large belly laugh echoed through the cafeteria. “I can already see the documentary on us now: ‘When CPA Cliché started off —’”

“What’s CPA Cliché?” Ben asked.

“Our band name. What’s the most cliché thing to do at CPA? I’ll answer that for you: Form a rock band! And we’re doing it on the first day. I wonder if we can get extra credit?”

“We are not naming our band CPA Cliché,” Ben protested.

“So you agree we’re in a band, then?” Jack looked around the table. Ethan shrugged and looked at me. All I could think to do was shrug back. I was just happy to have people talking to me.

Ben took a notebook from his bag. “All right, someone needs to be serious about this. Ethan, guitar. Ben, bass. Emme, keyboard-slash-guitar. Jack, drums.”

“Oh, so you assume I play drums because I’m a brother?” Jack asks.

“No, I assume you play drums because you’ve been knocking out a beat with your silverware since we sat down.” Ben nodded toward Jack’s hands, which were indeed wrapped around a spoon and fork as if they were drumsticks.

“Fair enough.” Jack dropped his silverware and took a bite of his chip.

The back-and-forth between Jack and Ben continued for the rest of the period as they plotted our rise and subsequent fall from stardom. I was upset to hear that I was going to have a drug problem and Jack was going to bravely lead an intervention to save me. Which would be all for naught when, on the night before our big comeback tour, Ethan would tragically die in a car accident.

Jack shook his head sadly. “So much promise …”

As we all got up from our seats, Ethan finally spoke up. “What exactly happened just now?” he asked.

I shook my head. “I’m not entirely sure, but I believe we’re in a band with Jack and Ben. Although you need to be sure to always wear a seat belt.”

He smiled. “Oh, okay. You should stay away from the smack.”

“I’ll try.”

“Cool.”

Now, three years later, we’re still talking about the future of our band.

“So nobody wants to hear what lies in store for us?” Jack pretends to be hurt. “You all want to throw away something we’ve worked so hard on?” He scrunches his face up like he’s about to cry. “That’s fine, that’s fine.”

Ben sighs. “Oh, you are such the martyr.”

“Well, at least you understand my role.” Jack wipes off his pretend tears with a napkin.

“Yeah, but if it wasn’t for me, we’d still be called CPA Cliché.”

Everybody at the table groans. For weeks we couldn’t come up with a name for our band, and Jack had plenty. After we all vetoed CPA Cliché, we swiftly turned down Jack’s other suggestions: Jack and the Irish (since the rest of us have Irish last names: Connelly, Quinn, and McWilliams), Black and the Irish (Jack’s warped sense of humor), and his personal favorite, Jack and the Not-So-All-Star Band.

Ethan came up with Dissonance Youth, which we didn’t think any non-music people would get. Ben and I were trying to come up with similarly obscure references, then suggested we just call the band Obscure Reference. Jack vetoed that. He didn’t want there to be anything obscure about our band; he isn’t into obscurity … or subtlety.

Then, as with everything about our band, our name sort of just came to us. Ethan started playing the opening chords of the Undertones’ “Teenage Kicks” during rehearsal for our first gig and it just stuck. Teenage Kicks. We know that pigeonholes us as a teen band, but that’s what we are.

The thought that this is our last year together makes me a little sad. I guess everybody is thinking the same thing, because Ben finally says, “Okay, what happens to us next, O wise one?”

Jack replies, “I’ve realized that I’ve been a little too hard on Red here.” That’s the understatement of the year. In every telling of our story, I end up with some horrible addiction … and Ethan dies tragically. Of course Jack becomes a huge star and Ben is some weird recluse who raises llamas or something. “I think you’re going to like this one, Red.”

I doubt it.

“We become instant sensations after we open for U2.” Nobody bothers to ask how we went from CPA to opening for U2, we just go with it. “Bono obviously becomes jealous of my dynamic personality and charisma.”

“Obviously,” Ben says with a dramatic rolling of the eyes.

“So he produces Jack and the Background Players —”

“Wait,” Ben interrupts. “When did we get a new name and why on —”

“Hey! I’m telling a story here. So he produces the band’s album and we become major stars. Soon U2 is opening for us. You know, because it’s important to remember those little people who have helped you along the way. Soon tension begins in the band as the attention shifts from our beanpole of a lead singer —”

“Hey, I’ve gained some weight this summer, thank you very much,” Ethan protests.

Jack gasps. “Yeah, you are probably what, a buck fifteen soaking wet? Big improvement.”

I shake my head; the last thing we need to do is make Ethan even more self-conscious about his appearance. It took me two years to get him into jeans and T-shirts that actually fit. And then I swear he grew another six inches.

“Okay, so the attention shifts from our bulking stud of a lead singer to the magnetic drummer.”

Ethan interrupts. “Yes, because that often happens with drummers.” Jack glares at him. “But do go on….”

“You’re all obviously jealous of the attention I receive.”

“Obviously,” Ben and I say in unison.

“But things get even more complicated as Red realizes that Ben will never return her feelings for him.”

“Um.” I know better than to try to reason with him, but I try anyway. “Maybe the fact that Ben’s gay has something to do with that?”

Jack nods at me with such sympathy. “But the heart, it wants what it wants.”

“Sorry, Emme, this —” Ben gestures at me. “Not my thing.”

Ethan begins to bang his head against the table. “Okay, we do have an audition next week, so can we please get on with this?”

Jack finally gives up. “Fine. I leave you all to become a ginormous star and marry an Oscar-winning actress-slash-Victoria’s Secret model, while Ethan dies by getting hit by a bike messenger while busking outside a subway station, Ben goes to Montana to raise wild goats, and Red, to recover from her heartbreak over Ben’s rejection, turns to her old friend Jack Daniel’s. Happy?”

Ben claps. “That it’s over? Yes.”

“Wait, how exactly is this being easier on me?” I ask. “I still have an addiction and I’m miserable.”

“You guys wanted the short version.” Jack shrugs his shoulders and dives into his food.

Both Ben and Ethan glare at me, not wanting to prolong this any more.

“Plus” – Jack shoves a few fries into his mouth – “I thought it was best to make it short and sweet. We don’t want Mount Saint Emme erupting again.”

Ethan’s fork drops, Ben looks down at the floor, and I just sit there with my mouth open. I can’t believe Jack would bring up … The Incident.

Jack realizes, too late, what he’s done. “You know, I …”

“Oh, so now you’re at a loss for words?” Ethan says through clenched teeth. “Two seconds too late.” He gets up to go to the bathroom.

“Emme …” Jack’s voice is a low whisper.

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault. I’m the one …”

I don’t even want to think about what happened this summer. Ethan and I haven’t talked about it since. Nobody has.

I was hoping that we’d returned to normal. Things seemed to be a lot better.

However, Ethan’s abrupt departure from the table makes it clear:

Appearances can be deceiving.

The following afternoon, Sophie knocks on my door.

“Greetings from Maryland!” She holds out something wrapped up in tissue paper.

“You remembered!” I take the gift and start to unwrap the tissue.

“Of course I remembered. I only do it every year.”

It’s a pink scallop seashell. “These are my favorite.” I turn it over in my hand and rub the smooth surface.

Sophie shakes her head. “I can’t believe you keep them. The first time I gave you one was because I was eight and cheap. What else do you give someone from the beach for free?” She glances over the other shells she’s given me, all lined up on my bookshelf.

I place my newest shell next to the others. “It’s not that.”

“Right, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Stop it.” I pick up the first one she gave me, a black-and-white shell. “I just think it’s interesting to think about its journey. Where it’s been, you know? It’s probably traveled thousands of miles in the ocean and it ends up on a beach in Maryland.”

“And then on some girl’s bookshelf in Brooklyn. What a life!” She laughs. “Although I really shouldn’t judge, since my journey hasn’t been anything to brag about.”

Sophie sits down on my bed and I see her study the photos on my wall. There’s a collage of all the talent competitions Sophie and I have competed in. Sophie is wearing a blue ribbon or gold medal in all of them. But the photos stop when we’re around fourteen. Our schedules at CPA don’t really allow us to do much outside of school, and, well … Sophie really hasn’t shone through as much as we thought she would.

She shakes her head, as if she’s trying to get rid of whatever thought is there. “Sorry, I’m just in a crabby mood. Bad night.”

“Oh, did you and Carter get into a fight or something?”

Sophie reaches into her bag and pulls out a stack of newspapers and printouts from online gossip columns. “No. I spent all last night posing for photographers and I was cut off in every picture except one.” She hands me a spread from the Gossip Guru that has a picture of Sophie clutching on to Carter. “Carter Harrison and friend … and friend!”

I look at the photo. She has one arm wrapped around Carter, while the other holds his hand. “It’s pretty clear that you guys are a couple.”

She picks up the photo and studies it. “That’s not my point. I’ve been with Carter for two years now – shouldn’t they recognize me already? And we’re seniors now, so time is running out.”