Текст книги "Take a Bow"

Автор книги: Elizabeth Eulberg

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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 12 страниц)

I thought I knew exactly how to become a star. But maybe I don’t know anything.

And I hate myself for it.

I can’t help but laugh at the headline.

ME: Read it again!

Mom shakes her head and picks up the paper.

MOM: “Carter Harrison: Heartbreaker.”

ME: That’s genius. Gossip Guru really is in line for a Pulitzer this year.

I cross my fingers, and Mom throws the paper down.

I pick it up and start reading about me. It’s funny because even though it’s my name and a picture of me from some event a few months ago, it feels like it’s about someone else. My favorite line: “So be on the lookout, single New York gals. There’s another hot bachelor on the loose who has a leading-lady role to fill.”

But I have to admit what I love the most is that Sophie is not mentioned by name.

MOM: I thought once you didn’t have a publicist, we didn’t have to worry about things like this getting leaked. That Jill would have had a field day with you being single again. Remember her? The one you had before Sheila Marie? The one who leaked your audition to CPA?

I stare at Mom. I thought she leaked …

I’m adding this to the list of grave misunderstandings I’ve had about my mother. I can’t believe all these years I’ve assumed that any press leak was her fault. Or any disagreements she’s ever had with producers were because she was a control freak (when actually she was looking out for her child). Or, most importantly, the idea that I’m still an actor is her sole responsibility.

Still, I can’t get over how well she’s taking the fact that I’m leaving acting. I guess it’s not for another three months, but still. And she’s been really supportive of me looking into art schools.

ME: Is that why she was fired?

I remember thinking Jill being fired as my publicist had to do with the lack of press coverage my attending CPA was getting. Anytime there was a mention of it, Mom always commented on it. But I assumed she was unhappy with the placement or something. Not that she was upset that it was mentioned at all.

MOM: Yes. I made it very clear to her that your education is a private matter. If she wanted to promote the public shows you were in, that was fine, but your classes and personal life were off-limits.

I never even bothered to wonder what my publicist’s job was. Mom took care of all that stuff. I did what they told me to do.

Something starts to register with her.

MOM: Who did you think leaked the audition to the press?

I don’t say anything.

She picks up the paper and starts to read.

ME: Mom, when I was little, did I enjoy going on all those auditions?

MOM: Yes. Every morning, you’d come and sit on my lap and ask me who you were going to be that day. You really seemed to love it. I used to take you to McDonald’s after all your auditions because I wanted you to experience something normal – eating greasy food, playing with the other kids…. I didn’t really know what else to do. I was a single mother who wasn’t planning on having a son with such famous aspirations.

I’m just starting to come to terms with the fact that everything that has happened to me was my responsibility. I’d hate Mom to think that I’ve painted her as this typical stage mom, because she’s anything but.

MOM: Oh, honey, there’s a new art exhibit opening at the Guggenheim. Do you want to go next weekend?

Most kids would kill to have such an understanding and supportive parent. I’ve had one my entire life but have pushed her away. Because it was easier to put the blame on someone else.

But the second I realized that I was the one who was preventing myself from being happy, a whole new world has opened up for me.

I’m happier, more confident, and now, thankfully, single.

And I might be ready to become my truest self.

Since I’ve, as they say, seen the light, I figure I should pass along the gift of being able to finally see clearly.

Emme studies the menu with such pinpoint focus, you’d think she was memorizing a foreign language.

EMME: Are you sure you’re allowed to eat this stuff? I don’t see grilled chicken anywhere.

ME: Hey, I do this once a week. I’m letting you into my dirty little sugar underworld. Are you in or not?

EMME: Oh, I’m definitely in. I’m thinking vanilla ice cream —

ME: Boring!

EMME: Let me finish. With peanut butter sauce, hot fudge, caramel, marshmallow topping with whipped cream, almonds, and a cherry, of course.

ME: Of course.

Emme orders a ridiculous sundae from this ice cream shop I discovered a few years ago when I was walking home from the soap’s studios in Hell’s Kitchen. Now that Chase Proctor has come down with a fever (Spoiler alert! It turns into an incurable disease that leaves me in a coma … in case I ever decide to come back), I’ve been able to keep my shirt on.

We sit down in a corner and she dives in. Lately, she has seemed a little bit more self-assured. I think we all knew that she was special and I’m hoping that maybe she’s starting to realize it as well.

ME: So will I still have my arm if I try to get a bite?

Emme has been happily shoving the gooey sundae in her mouth.

EMME: Oops, sorry.

She takes a big spoonful and pushes the rest of the sundae – well, what’s left of it – to me. For a little thing, she certainly has a big appetite.

EMME: So, I’ve been working on my song for the showcase. I think I’m going to audition for it. Do you know what you’re going to do?

Senior Showcase audition invitations were issued earlier this week. I wasn’t even happy when I got mine.

ME: What do you think the audition board would do if I showed up with one of my paintings?

EMME: That would be wonderful. I really like the one you did of the view of Central Park with the dots.

She starts poking the air with her spoon.

ME: Pointillism.

EMME: Spoken like a true artist.

It’s so weird to hear anybody say that about me. An artist.

But this isn’t about me. There’s something I need to tell Emme. And I have a feeling – actually, I know for a fact – that this won’t be the first time someone’s tried to talk sense into her.

ME: I wanted to talk to you about Sophie.

I can tell by the way that Emme reacts that she’s worried that I’m going to get back together with her. I believe the term a cold day in hell would best describe the possibility of that ever happening.

Better get right to the point.

ME: You know she’s using you, right?

Emme drops her spoon and she slouches down in her chair. Happiness gone, just like that.

EMME: I know what everybody thinks, okay. I’m not that stupid. And don’t think that I don’t ever get upset when she only reappears when she needs something, because I do. It really does hurt my feelings. But what does everybody expect me to do? She is the one who has been singing my songs. I never would’ve had the nerve freshman year to get up in front of the school to sing – I don’t even know if I can do it now. So for the past three years, she has given me the confidence to have my songs be heard. I can’t just dump her because I’m going to try to sing. I know we aren’t the friends we once were, but you have to remember that I’m the one who started a band without her. That I’m the one who hasn’t had a lot of time for her. Not to mention that I’m the one that is having ice cream with her ex-boyfriend. So don’t put all the blame on Sophie.

She picks up her spoon and scrapes the bottom of the glass.

WAITRESS: Excuse me, Mr. Harrison?

I look to see an older lady with a camera in her hand.

ME: Please, call me Carter.

I flash her the “Carter Harrison” smile. Some roles are hard to forget.

WAITRESS: Would you mind if I took your picture for our wall?

She gestures toward photos of a few local politicians and actors from the studio who grace their walls. I’ve always noticed it and will admit I often wondered why they never asked before. But I guess I always came with a baseball hat and hoodie and got my sundae to go. This is the first time I’ve ever sat down.

ME: Sure.

Emme starts to get up from her seat.

WAITRESS: It’s okay. Your little girlfriend can be in the picture.

I smile at Emme, grab her hand before she can protest, and pull her so she’s sitting on my lap. We hold up our empty sundae glasses, and the woman gets the photo she needs. She has us both sign the guest book up front and then hands us each a coupon for a free sundae as a thank-you.

EMME: Would it be wrong if I got another one now?

I pull her outside and we start walking back toward school.

I figure now is as good a time as any.

ME: So there’s something else I want to talk to you about.

EMME: I really don’t want to talk about Sophie anymore. Or Ethan, for that matter. All everybody wants to do is to talk about that stupid kiss. It was just the high from performing. Believe me when I say that I’ve seen him kiss a lot of girls after a show. A lot. It isn’t the big deal that everybody is making it out to be. I just happened to be the closest person next to him.

And here I thought I was the one playing pretend.

ME: No, it’s not that. It’s about school.

EMME: Oh, um, sorry.

ME: That’s okay. It’s just, I think … I think if I can’t transfer to the art program, I’m going to drop out of CPA.

The words just hang out there. I turn to study Emme as she walks. She starts nodding slowly and I can tell she’s planning her next words carefully.

EMME: Dropping out of high school really isn’t the best idea, Carter.

ME: I know. It isn’t high school; it’s CPA. I’m tired of having all these acting roles forced on me. If I can’t do art, there’s no reason to be there. I can take the GED – that’s what I was going to do when I was being taught on the set. So I don’t really need to have my diploma from CPA, especially since it would mean keeping up the Carter Harrison Acting Charade. I’ve been acting for as long as I can remember. It’s not something I want to do anymore. I’m really sick of living a lie, doing things that don’t make me happy.

Emme and I walk to the park and I talk. Not lines that have been written for me, but what I’ve wanted to say for years.

So for the first time since I can remember, I let it all out. My frustrations with school, the teachers, the principals, how CPA really hasn’t been what I thought it would be. That I need so much more. That I deserve so much more. I want to be happy. I want to create art, real art, not recite cheesy lines.

I decide to not hide behind a role or pretend to be someone that I’m not. Instead, I do the one thing that terrifies me more than anything. I drop the act. I just be.

I believe the saying is “The truth shall set you free.” But what they don’t say is that once you unleash one shackle that’s been holding you down, you want them all freed.

I wait outside Dr. Pafford’s office. And I’m not even nervous. I know what I’m about to do might be considered crazy to some, maybe even a little self-destructive, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

Dr. Pafford’s secretary lets me know he’s ready to see me.

DR. PAFFORD: Carter, so great to see you. We’re all looking forward to your audition for the showcase!

He shakes my hand. I sit down in the chair opposite his desk.

ME: That’s what I’m here to talk to you about.

DR. PAFFORD: Would you like my thoughts on your audition piece? I think you do such a great job with Arthur Miller’s work.

Here goes nothing. I take out my portfolio and unzip it and place several of my art pieces on his desk.

ME: I was hoping that I could be considered for some of my art pieces instead of acting.

His eyes politely roll over my work and he leans back in his chair.

DR. PAFFORD: You are part of the drama department, Mr. Harrison. The showcase is to highlight the work of the different departments in the school, not a student’s outside hobby.

To be honest, I saw that coming. But that’s not the real reason why I’m here, so I decide to stop stalling.

ME: I understand. I was wondering if I could audition to be part of the art department next semester. I know I would only be eligible for the beginners’ classes.

DR. PAFFORD: There’s no transferring of programs this late in the process. You are graduating after next semester … in drama.

ME: Well, I have enough credits that I was wondering if —

DR. PAFFORD: Mr. Harrison, you are here to act. That is the program you enrolled in. You cannot shift to a new program after three and a half years.

ME: I see. Well, thank you for your time.

I get up to leave.

DR. PAFFORD: Now about that audition piece – what are you going to perform?

I turn toward him.

ME: I’m not auditioning. It’s been an incredible experience here, Dr. Pafford. But I have no desire to continue to be part of something I don’t believe in.

I can tell that he doesn’t know how to respond.

He clears his throat and finally speaks.

DR. PAFFORD: I’m sorry to hear that.

I look closely at him.

ME: I’m not.

I head to my locker and grab all my personal belongings. I don’t even hesitate for a second as I walk out of the school and don’t look back.

Yes, the truth shall set you free.

Everything seems to be happening all at once.

I knew that senior year would be overwhelming, but the next two weeks are like a perfect storm: Senior Showcase auditions, finals, and auditions for second semester. I’m thankful Ethan’s cast finally came off a few days ago so the band is back to full strength. I even had a chance to talk to Tyler; he was nice enough to listen to everything I had to say, but I don’t think he wants anything to do with me after that “humiliation.” I guess I don’t blame him.

But of course with everything coming up, all anybody really wants to talk about is Carter.

I couldn’t believe Carter actually dropped out of CPA. But he looked so happy when he told me about it. He was done with pretending and he was going to take some time off to focus on what he wants.

I guess I’ve been really lucky to always know what I want to do: music. I’ll admit the uncertainty of where I’ll be next year is stressful, but as I walk into the rehearsal room and see Jack, Ben, and Ethan, I know I’m not alone in this.

Jack gives me a smirk and cocks one eyebrow. “Well, hello, Emma.”

“Hi.” I continue to tune my guitar, not sure what Jack is trying to get at.

“So, Emma, anything you’d like to share with the band?”

Ben takes the bait. “What are you blabbering about, Jack? And why are you calling her Emma?”

Jack laughs. “I guess you haven’t read all about it, huh?” Jack pulls up something on his phone, and Ben gasps.

“What?” I go up and pull Jack’s phone from his hand. On the screen is the photo taken at the ice cream parlor of me on Carter’s lap. The caption reads: Harrison with girlfriend Emma days before he left the prestigious CPA.

I scroll up and start reading the gossip site’s article about Carter’s departure from CPA. The article paints Carter as some diva who was causing problems at school and decided to drop out. The only thing they have right is that he’s taking a vacation. He and his mom left for Italy yesterday for a few weeks. Then when he gets back he’s going to take the GED and enroll in art classes. But leave it to the Gossip Guru to “report” only on hearsay from students at CPA who didn’t like Carter, let alone know him.

“Well?” Jack’s been studying me.

“Well what?” I reply. What happened with Carter isn’t anybody’s business.

“You’re now dating Carter Harrison?” Jack folds his arms. “Because really, Red – oh, I’m sorry, Emma – you certainly seem to be getting around these days. You’re going to have to have a separate binder just to keep track of your social life.”

“No, we were having ice cream and the place wanted a picture…. I don’t know why they have my name as Emma. Or why —”

My stomach drops. Tyler is going to hear about this and any ounce of hope I had that he’d forgive me someday has disappeared. But even worse, there’s no way Sophie isn’t going to see this and think that I’m with Carter now.

“I’ve got to make a phone call.” I run out of the room and call Sophie. She doesn’t answer, so I leave a babbling message explaining everything. She hasn’t really talked about Carter since their breakup, but I have a feeling she’d be more upset with the fact that I’m in a picture, and identified, even incorrectly, on her favorite gossip site.

They’re waiting for me when I return.

Jack laughs. “You know, Red, I never figured you to be the biggest player in the group. First Tyler, then Ethan, now Carter. Pretty impressive.”

Ethan glares at Jack. Leave it to Jack to once again blow Ethan’s kiss after our performance completely out of proportion.

Jack is blissfully unaware of the daggers Ethan is shooting him so he continues. “I guess it is a good thing that I’m taken; I don’t think my heart could take your games.”

Ethan taps the microphone. “Are we ready?”

We all pick up our instruments and run through a few chords, but before we start, Ethan interrupts us.

“I’ve been thinking that maybe we should redo this song as a duet.”

He looks at me.

I shake my head. “No, I think it’s way better if you sing it alone.”

“You know everybody is going to hear you sing at the showcase anyway?”

“Yeah, that’s not guaranteed. I was asked to do a solo based on my guitar playing, not my singing.”

Ethan gives me a knowing smile. “You do realize that Dr. Pafford and the entire audition panel have heard you sing when you audition each semester. It’s not like they’ve never asked someone to audition before, Emme. They know exactly what they are doing.”

The thought of performing at the showcase by myself has left me a nervous wreck. I don’t like thinking about it. To be honest, I was thankful to Carter for opening up to me. And to Sophie for practicing her song. And of course, the guys. I have every confidence that I’ll be on that stage that evening with the guys and with Sophie. But being there by myself, I don’t think I can do it.

“I think we should leave the song as it is,” I state, and start strumming my part. Jack takes the hint and starts playing along with me, and then we are a band. One unit, playing while Ethan sings by himself.

That’s the way it should be.

It’s gotten even worse.

My hands are shaking. If I can’t perform in front of Ethan, then there’s no way that I’m going to be able to do this on Friday.

I’m sitting at the piano in Ethan’s house, putting the final touches on my new song for the showcase. Ethan’s heard me sing a lot lately since we’ve been recording our albums for our senior thesis.

But there’s something about this new song that makes me uneasy. Probably because the entire time I wrote it, I didn’t have the comfort of knowing that Sophie would be singing it. It would be me up there. And of course it ends up being the most personal thing I’ve ever written.

Ethan can tell I’m stalling. “All right, let’s go for a walk.”

We leave his apartment building and head west. The air has gotten colder and Christmas lights are decorating the street-lights and shops. Ethan doesn’t say much, but as soon as we hit Columbus Circle, I know where he’s taking me.

We walk up Broadway, past the turn we’d take to go to school, and a few more blocks north. We get to Sixty-fifth Street and walk past the main Juilliard building, pause in front of Alice Tully Hall, the main performance venue for the school. We walk up some stairs to Lincoln Center Plaza and sit on the edge of the fountain.

Ethan finally breaks his silence. “Have you thought at all about what happens if we both get in?”

I shrug. I honestly can’t wrap my head around what will happen if I get in.

“You know, you sell yourself short. A lot. And it is beyond devastating.” I look up and see him studying me. He wraps his arms around himself. “You’re the most selfless person I’ve ever known. You drop everything to help Sophie, you don’t even hesitate to encourage Carter to go after his dreams, you’ve been nothing but supportive of Jack, Ben, and me. But you can’t ever do it for yourself.”

I’m silent. I don’t know what to say.

“I just wish, for even a second, that you could see yourself through my eyes. Or through anybody else’s for that matter. And you know how after the whole ‘Beat It’ thing, everybody was so surprised? Well, I wasn’t. I knew all along that you were going to do it. Granted, I don’t think my mind was capable of imagining what you did do, but it was astonishing. You’re astonishing, Emme.”

I feel my cheeks burn. Ethan keeps looking at me and I can’t meet his eyes. I can’t. I look down and study my shoes. I know I have to say something.

“Thanks. Really, thanks, Ethan.” I continue to stare out at the pedestrians crossing the plaza, anything but look at Ethan. “I just … you have to understand that my entire life, I’ve been the person behind the person, you know? I’ve never had the desire to be in the spotlight, to have the attention on me. I’ve wanted to make music, that’s it.”

Ethan places his hand on top of mine. “Is it that you never had the desire, or were you told to stand back?”

I pull my hand away. “I should’ve known that it was going to end up coming back to Sophie.”

He sighs. “It always does, doesn’t it? It’s always about her.”

My patience has worn thin about everybody questioning Sophie. She’s singing one of my songs for the showcase audition. I’m not giving her a kidney.

He gets up and stands right in front of me, so I have no choice but to look at him.

“It kills me that you always put yourself second to her. She’s not worth it, and I wish that you would see how special you are. What terrifies me is that you’re going to throw it all away for someone who isn’t worth you. There are few people who are – believe me, I know I’m not. Just please, Emme, for yourself, stop drinking the Kool-Aid.”

I don’t say anything. I’m so tired of having to defend Sophie to everybody else in my life. Or maybe it’s because I know he has a point. Although after everything Ethan has pulled, he really doesn’t have the right to be judging anybody.

“It’s getting late….” I get up and start to walk to the subway. Ethan follows me, but we don’t say another word to each other the entire time.

Two days away from the showcase auditions. All of our studio classes have been turned into practice sessions.

Sophie and I are in one of the piano suites, going over her song.

“It’s sounding so great, Em.” Sophie gives me a little squeeze.

One thing I wish Ethan, Carter, pretty much anybody would understand is that Sophie has been so nice about the mix-up of me being photographed and identified as Carter’s girlfriend. Once I told her my side of the story, everything was fine. I was really expecting a ton of drama, but she believed me and hasn’t brought it up since.

Now we’re focused on doing the best audition we can. We go through the song a couple more times. Sophie looks satisfied after making some notes on her lyric sheet.

“I’m going to run to the bathroom and maybe get some tea.” She pats her throat. “Want anything?”

I tell her I’m good, and before the door even closes, her phone, which she left on top of the piano, buzzes, and her screen comes alive with a text.

“Oh, Sophie!” I grab her phone and call after her, but she’s already down the hall.

I quickly glance at the phone and freeze as I see my name is mentioned in a text from Amanda. I set the phone down. I shouldn’t look.

But I can’t help it.

I pick up the phone and see Amanda’s text.

Tell Emme the Needy I say HI. Hang in there!

Emme the Needy?

Amanda calls me that? I can’t believe that Sophie would let her….

I know I shouldn’t do it. That I’m a horrible person for doing so, but I touch the screen and the entire back-and-forth from Sophie and Emme scrolls out in front of me.

Sophie: Off to see E. Ugh.

Amanda: Just a few more months and then U don’t have to deal w/her.

Sophie: June can’t come soon enough. Can’t believe I have to spend an hour kissing up 2 her.

Amanda: NP for an awesome actress like U.

Sophie: She really thinks she can get a spot at the SS. Delusional much? Gah, she’s here. Barf.

Then there’s Amanda’s last text. I think I’m going to be sick.

I run out of the suite and head in the direction opposite to the bathroom. I need privacy. I run past a row of the practice suites, fighting back tears.

“Hey,” Tyler says to me as I rush past. I can barely even nod at him. He deserves more than that from me, but at this moment, I can hardly breathe. I turn the corner and search for an empty practice suite.

“Emme?” I hear Ethan call out my name. I turn around to see his head poking out of one of the rooms.

I burst into tears. He runs over and grabs me by the hand and leads me into the tiny solo room where he was practicing. He leans me against the closed door so nobody can see me.

“Is everything okay? Are you all right?” His eyes are filled with panic.

I’m sobbing so hard I can’t speak. I shake my head.

“What can I do? What do you need?” He looks around the room like there is something that can help me.

But there’s nothing. The realization of what everybody has been saying hits me.

I’m a fool.

I stop crying and just stare at the wall. How can Sophie say those kinds of things behind my back? Such hurtful things. Even though our relationship has changed, I thought we were still at least friends. Maybe not best friends, but with all the history we share, how can she look herself in the mirror after treating someone like this?

“Emme?” My silence freaks out Ethan even more.

He’s wiping my tears away and then starts rubbing my shoulders. This isn’t the first time he’s had to comfort me while I sob uncontrollably.

Sophomore year: Sophie invited me to go to a Broadway show, then two days beforehand canceled on me, saying she couldn’t make it. Although Gossip Guru ran an article about Carter Harrison going to that play, and even though his date’s arm was cut off in the picture, I recognized Emme’s music charm bracelet. That’s how I found out they were dating.

Junior year: I spent three weeks helping Sophie get ready for her audition for Grease. I fell behind in a few classes since Sophie wanted to practice her routine two hours a night. I was with the guys when we ran into Sophie and Amanda celebrating Sophie’s role as Frenchy. She didn’t call me or text me or even tell me she got the part. Instead she went out with Amanda.

“Emme, please say something; you’re scaring me,” Ethan pleads.

I look at him and see how much he cares about me. Out of the thousands of students in this entire school, I’m so glad he found me.

Then it hits me.

“Ethan?”

“Yes.” I don’t think he’s breathing.

“You’re my best friend.”

He lets out a little laugh. “That’s why you’re so upset? The realization that I’m your best friend?”

I shake my head. Then I tell him about what happened. He tries to pace back and forth, but the room’s too small. So he just shakes his knee while I repeat the texts. (I don’t think those words will ever be erased from my memory.)

After it comes out, I sit down in his chair. Exhausted.

He kneels down beside me. “I don’t have to tell you about my feelings for Sophie, but Emme, I’m truly sorry. Especially that this was the way you had to find out. You didn’t deserve this. You know that, right?”

I think back on everything I’ve done for Sophie. I have no doubt that we were truly close friends once. That the friendship we had as kids was real. But then we came to CPA and things changed. I didn’t want to believe it, and I held on to something that wasn’t there for so long. I wanted to believe that things were still the same, but they weren’t.

I kept making excuses for Sophie even though I knew she was using me. I let her do it because I was too scared. I needed to hide behind her.

But maybe this is the push I need to finally stand center stage.

“Yeah, I know.”

Ethan gets back up. “Stay here. I need to go do something.”

Whoever said that people don’t change was full of it.

That or they never had a friend who wanted to be famous.