Landry in Like (4 page)

W
e arrived at the studio
, and I hadn't taken even one bite of rice. I wanted to, but my stomach was on clog-dancing-butterfly mode. Mom agreed that I could go into the studio by myself if I wanted, so I walked into the waiting room and all the adults stared at me. There were two big couches and only three people sitting down, but no one made an effort to move any of their bags and props. Seriously? They were going to hog both couches with their junk? I wasn't about to ask them to move anything, so I just stood there like an idiot. The production assistant, Jalen, came in and told us what order we'd be going on, which I figured gave me just enough time to fix my hair, get prepared… and quite possibly vomit from stress by the way my stomach was churning. No, no! I was not going to throw up here. There would be no nervous puking today. I would just focus on positive things and ignore the fact my stomach once again felt like the psychotic clog dancing butterflies were back, but this time they brought friends — with football cleats.

A singer named Melvin Bowmers walked into the green room ahead of me.

“No, no. This will not do,” he said.

“I'm sorry, sir. What seems to be the problem?” Jalen asked.

“There's no separate dressing room for me,” he said.

“Oh, there's a restroom right there if you need to change.”

Melvin sighed. “Fine, I guess we're slumming today,” he said. “Get me a water.”

“There might be some in the fridge,” Jalen said, and then he motioned to me where I should stand to do my bumper commercial where I waved in between the show and the next commercial.

“Excuse me! There's no water in here,” Melvin said.

Jalen raised his eyebrow at me as he explained the fridge wasn't always stocked. Melvin raised an eyebrow as if he expected Jalen to run across the street and get him some, but Jalen walked out of the room to prep the next guest.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Melvin asked his assistant.

“I thought I packed some—”

“Well, obviously you
didn't.
”

“There are paper cups on the vanity,” I said. “You could drink water from the sink.”

Melvin didn't even look in my direction as he said, “I haven't had tap water in seventeen years.”

The next guest came into the room then. I recognized her from being on a singing reality show. I couldn't remember her name, but she had stood out because of her super red hair and tan skin. Up close her hair was the color of fruit punch and her skin was slightly orangey. She gave me a big smile, and her hot pink lips revealed blinding white teeth. She reminded me of one of my old dolls.

“Hi y'all. I'm Kami Rae,” she said.

“And
I
am your biggest fan,” Melvin said, folding his hands over his heart. “I have been rooting for you your entire career.”

“Oh wow, honest? Thank you,” she said. “That's so nice to—”

“I cannot wait to see you win the competition. When does the final round air?” he asked.

Now I didn't even watch the talent program she was on, but even I knew the show had ended well over a month ago and she hadn't won. Some country singer from Texas had. So it seemed odd that Melvin, Kami Rae's biggest fan, didn't know about the hugest event in her life.

“Oh, well, it already aired,” she said.

“And… how did you do?” Melvin asked as he and his assistant leaned forward all eager.

“Well, I got a lot of support from the fans, but I-I came in fourth place,” she said.

Melvin and his assistant's faces fell. “Well, we were cheering for you all the way.”

I wanted to say, “How were you cheering for her if you didn't even know the competition was over and done?” But I just sat there. Kami Rae's face reddened, all embarrassed. I had seen a clip of her singing on the local news.

“You were amazing when you sang that movie theme song,” I said to her.

“Thank you.”

“I did a TV competition, too. I didn't get as far as you did, but I know how nerve wracking it is,” I said. “You were so confident on stage.”

“Thanks. That means a lot.” She sat next to me and asked me about the show I was on. We sat as she showed me pictures on her phone of her last performance, while Melvin took over the bathroom as his dressing room. I stared at the restroom door and hoped he'd hurry up in there just in case I did have to throw up.

“Kami Rae? We're ready for you,” Jalen said. She got up and walked out. Jalen poked his head in the room and saw that Melvin and his assistant were in the bathroom getting him into his stage costume.

“Didn't you think he was already in costume?” Jalen said to me quietly. “I mean, he wears orange leather pants just to arrive someplace?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I thought that was a costume, too.”

“I overheard you suggest he drink tap water. I was dying.”

I started to laugh, but then the bathroom door opened. Jalen winked at me as he walked out. Melvin and his assistant went on set next, and I went to check my makeup in the mirror. Even though I had put on mattifying lotion, oil-control foundation, and tons of powder, my stupid oily skin was shining away like a mirror in the sun. Seriously? How could one person produce so much nasty oil? I was disgusting. Taking a tissue, I blotted my forehead and nose and then pulled out the Little Rose compact in my purse and started to cover up the sheen. Talisa Milan said in a magazine that if you had oily skin you should buy your touch-up powder either in translucent or one shade lighter so it wouldn't turn you orange. I had gotten the translucent light color, which was a little too pale for school days, but perfect for when I had any modeling stuff where I got nervous and sweated a lot.

I stared at the clock and I had ten minutes until I was on, so I pulled out my phone and took a few selfies in the room. My eyes were shut in the first one, the second one was blurry, and somehow I cut off my own head in the third one. I positioned myself near the mirror so I could see my face, then I took a deep breath, tried to smile naturally, and took the picture. The pic wasn't bad, but I looked, well, like me. I had been hoping it'd look like a mature, sophisticated model — someone a casting director (or some actor like Bradley McMillian or my favorite soap actor, Colin, from
As the Days Roll On
) would see on TV and feel the need to meet, but nope, I appeared just like a fourteen-year-old who was terrified and wearing too much lipstick. I sighed and blotted my lips.

“Landry? We're ready for you,” Jalen said.

I followed him down the hall. He asked if I was nervous and I nodded, afraid to open my mouth and puke everywhere.

“You'll be fine. Pretend it's just you and the host having a regular private conversation. All you have to do is focus on Nadia and not worry about anything else, okay?”

Yeah, except for the fact about a million other people would be watching, too. Well, maybe not a million, but all the people who ate breakfast around this time in Grand Rapids anyway. That and my older relatives in Chicago, who my mother told me had somehow, even though they couldn't download anything to save their lives, now knew how to livestream a talk show in Michigan. Just my luck they'd all get technologically advanced in time to witness my humiliation.

Jalen walked me onto the set, which was way smaller than I imagined. I sat next to the host, Nadia, who was reading some cards.

“Hi,” she said holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you. Okay… American on-jah-new. On-jah-new,” she said. She shrugged. “Sorry. I've been struggling with that word all day. Okay, we're ready.”

The director counted us down, and all of a sudden, Nadia sat straight up like her spine was on fire.

“Welcome back! Today we have local model Landry Albright with us. She was a contestant on the
American
…” she paused, “
Inge—Ingénue
contest.”

Somehow seeing Nadia get thrown by how to pronounce the name of the show made me relax.

“Now tell us, Landry, how did you get chosen for the show?”

“I tried out a few months ago when they had auditions at the Perry mall. And then I got called back a few times. I didn't make it into the final round, but they called me back for the Wild Card round.”

“How exciting. What was it like to get a second chance at this competition?”

My mind went blank. I knew I wasn't supposed to talk about what happened with sabotage, so I said, “It was an amazing opportunity. I met a lot of great people and got a new hairstyle.”

The crew laughed, which I wasn't expecting, and I felt kind of stupid. Did I sound like a little kid talking about my hair?

“Well, it looks lovely,” Nadia said with her white teeth gleaming. “Is modeling what you want to do after you graduate?”

“Well, after high school, I plan to go to college, but I'd like to keep modeling, too. And maybe even try acting.”

“Great, great. What do you want to major in when you get to college?”

With the hot lights beating down on me, I couldn't even think of what people
did
major in other than what my own parents did and I couldn't say, “Med school like my dad,” because no one would ever believe me, so I said, “Business, like my mom.” I said, “She's my role model,” to earn extra brownie points with my mother.

“Oh, that's so great. So you hope to follow in your mother's footsteps?”

Um, no — bor-
ing
! “Well, my favorite
Ingénue
model, Talisa Milan, studies business so she can learn to read her own contracts and I admire her, so I'd like to be able to do that, too.”

“Talisa is quite the pioneering model, isn't she?” Nadia said. “Well, thank you so much for coming on today, and we wish you the best of luck.”

“And we're clear,” a voice boomed out.

Nadia nodded to me. “Good job.”

I got up and walked off the set and realized I had no clue where to go next. Jalen walked me back to the green room and told me I did “Awesome.”

Then he said, “I'll go get your mom from the set.”

From the
what
? Then I saw her — my mother walking from the direction of the set.

“Hi, hon,” she said. “You did so well.”

“You weren't — you didn't—”

“Well, they weren't sure about you being alone, you know, the fact you are a minor, so they let me come and be on set. I hid behind a camera so I wouldn't make you nervous.”

Ugh! My mommy had to be on set? How embarrassing!

“Now before you get all upset, just remember that model Melani Parkington's mother goes with her on shoots all the time,” she said.

“That's because her mother is her manager.”

“Hey, now there's an idea — kidding! Come on, let's go get breakfast, and I'll take you back to school.”

“Can we go to a restaurant?”

“No time. The school allowed you an hour and a half as a favor, so we only have about a half hour left. I'll get you a fast food breakfast sandwich and you can eat and change in the car.”

How glamourous. I'm sure Talisa ate breakfast burritos and changed into navy blue school pants in the back of her mommy's car, too. Why was my life so lame? I mean, I was just on TV, shouldn't I at least get, like, a pretty salad and some water in a fancy glass with a slice of lemon in it? Not a paper cup of orange juice with a clown on the front.

“You did so well today. I was proud,” Mom said.

“Did you catch the role model part?” I asked.

“Yes, you are a convincing little liar,” she said laughing. “You might have a career in acting after all.”

I made a face.

“What? Oh, come on. I'm your mother. I could tell business school just popped into your head and you added that last part to sell it.”

“Well, the part about me thinking it was cool that Talisa was majoring in it was true,” I said.

“Yes, but you hate math with a passion, so I can't see you pursuing it. Trust me, if I thought there was a chance, I'd be the first one doing cartwheels.”

“Okay, fine. I didn't know what else to say other than that or med school, and nobody would have bought that.”

“Whoo boy, no, they wouldn't. You begged me to write your science teacher a note saying our religion forbids you from dissecting animals.”

“Well, that's just gross and cruel to cut up a little animal.”

“Agreed. I think you'll probably end up as an English major or in journalism.”

I shrugged because I was planning on becoming a famous model/actress/writer and just going to college to help… what was it Melani always said? “Help me to learn my acting craft or something?” Besides, there was a chance I'd become so famous that all the best acting programs would be begging me to apply there. Or I'd get so many movie roles that I wouldn't have time for college. But no, my mom would lock me in my room if I didn't attend a university. She and my dad were pretty clear on that. Oh well. Fame and fortune would just have to wait until after I got my degree.

M
om dropped
me off at school, and I walked in just as classes were changing. As my friends and classmates swarmed the hall, I thought somebody would say something to me like, “How did it go?” or, “Were you nervous?” But nope. Everyone was just busy going to their lockers and getting to class. The school had allowed me to miss some classes as long as I went during lunch to work on my assignments and get the notes. Mom had bought me a fast food salad for lunch so I could eat in the classroom as I got caught up.

Later, I went to social studies and saw it was group project day, so Ericka and Tori were already at a table with Peyton and India. I went over and put my stuff down.

“Hey, how was it?” Peyton asked.

“It went re—”

“Okay, who is reading and who wants to be the one to write stuff down?” Ericka asked.

“I'll write it down,” India said. “But don't make me go up in front of the class. I am not having a good hair day.”

“India, your hair always looks perfect,” Ericka said.

Now normally India does look shampoo commercial worthy, however today wasn't her best day. It was a little messy from gym class, but it hurt that Ericka would go out of her way to praise India's hair when all she ever did was make me feel crappy about my own hair.

“Oh, thanks,” India said.

I could tell Ericka was irritated that India didn't say anything about how pretty her hair was, too. After all, Tori had often said that Ericka always waited for a “compliment return” after she gave one, but when it became obvious nothing was coming from India, Ericka moved on.

Peyton tried again to ask me about the talk show.

“Who else did they have on as a guest? Did you meet anybody interesting?” she asked.

“You guys, we have work to do here,” Tori said “Talk later. We need to get this done.”

Peyton and I exchanged a look.

After social studies, Peyton walked me to my next class and I told her what happened at the TV station.

“What was up with Ericka and Tori shutting you down when you tried to talk about it?” she asked.

I shrugged because I was starting to get used to it.

“You need to say something to them. It was completely rude,” Peyton said.

I thought about how they had made me feel and decided I would try to bring up the interview, and if they cut me off, I'd ask them why. I felt pretty confident going onto the bus, and I sat next to Tori and started to tell them about my interview.

“Yeah, I know, you said all that already,” Ericka said.

“When? You cut me off before I got anything out.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. We totally listened to you. I mean, do you want the world to stop for you?”

I squirmed in my seat. “I just wanted to share my news. It's not every day something like this happens to me and I'm excited about it.”

“And you did share it. Over and over again.” Ericka rolled her eyes with a smile like she was joking, but I could tell she was annoyed.

“No, you guys cut me off.” I stared at Tori thinking she'd say something about how rude Ericka was being, but she was chewing on the ends of her hair and staring out the window. “I felt like you blew me off.”

“Seriously? This again? I think we've all heard about your little interview, Landry,” Ericka said.

“How? You talk over me every time I try to bring it up.”

“Well, then take a hint.”

“What does that mean?”

“It's all you-you-you all the time. It's not Landry's world and we all live in it, you know. I mean, it was one local thing and now it's over. The world doesn't stop for you.”

“I never said it did, but I just…” I felt like saying, “And what have you done that's so exciting?” But I would never stoop to that level, so I said, “…wanted to share my experience. Is that so wrong?”

“Whatever, Miss Sensitive,” Ericka said.

I hated when she did that — pretended I was expecting too much attention or being too sensitive. I realized I wasn't going to win, so I just sat back. I didn't know if that made me smarter, realizing it was a battle I couldn't win, or weaker, for not fighting back.

When I got in the house, my phone was already ringing. It was Ashanti wanting to know all about my interview.

“I was so mad when I heard you wouldn't be at lunch so we could talk about it. Now I already have the interview on my DVR, but I want to hear about it before I watch it,” she said.

I told her about the singers and how cool it was to be backstage. She hung on to my every detail.

“My mom's making me get off to help her with dinner, but I'm going to watch the episode after we eat. I'm so excited for you!” she said.

I went to start my math homework when Vladi texted me to say he had an extra-long track practice, but he was going to watch the interview as soon as he got home.

Vladi:
If you have a link to it, send it to me and maybe I can watch it on my phone during a break.

I never thought about whether or not there would be a link for it, but I didn't think Mom would get too mad at me for interrupting homework to check online for one. The show's website had all their segments divided up so I copied and pasted links for Vladi, Dad, and I sent one to Grandpa Bernie and Grandma, too. I had planned to watch it with Mom when she got home, but I couldn't wait and clicked the link.

The interview started and you saw Nadia smiling at the camera and talking about me. Then the camera went on me. My hair appeared extra pale under the camera lights. It was weird, even my skin was darker than my hair. I had never seen myself look like that before and it was odd watching myself talk. Did I actually sound like that? And why was I blinking so weird? Did I always do that? It was like my eyes widened when I talked and then I'd blink and look like some kind of cartoon deer — like the ones who crossed the road and got hit by cars because they just stood there staring at the headlights. All this time I thought I was so mature and that someone like Colin from
As the Days Roll On
might even be interested in me, but in reality, I appeared fourteen.

The part where I talked about college came up, and I noticed the angle of my face made me look just like my mom — weird. And then I tilted my face slightly and there it was — my father. How creepy was that? How did I never notice that just by turning my head I could morph into both of my parents? Did everyone notice that but me? And why did I just send this big-eyed, blinking, dumb looking link to my super-hot boyfriend? Maybe he wouldn't have time to watch it and I could tell him I sent the wrong link — that they never posted one of just my segment. Yeah, he might buy that… and then my phone beeped with a message from him. The one time I didn't want to talk about my interview and here he was ready to chat. I picked up my phone. He was probably going to ask if I planned to see an eye doctor about my giant alien eyes and blinking problem. Instead, he wrote that I didn't seem nervous at all on camera, that I came across super smart and confident, and he loved me in that shade of blue. That was pretty sweet. Ashanti called me back and even though she was super excited about the interview I did, I could tell something was on her mind.

“Okay, spill it,” I said. “What's up?”

“I'm still trying to decide what to do about the cheerleading thing being the same day I'm supposed to see my grandma. I told Halle I wasn't going to go with her, and she went into total panic mode. I guess there's only one other middle school girl they invited, and she's from another school and Halle said she'll die if I don't go with her. She begged me to go, but then Yasmin got all Ericka-like on me. You know, like if I didn't go along with what she wanted, she'd total freeze me out or something.”

“That's a total Ericka move,” I said.

“I feel like I have no choice and, I mean, those high school girls are not the friendliest, so if I want to get in good with them…” she said and sighed. “I feel like Halle would understand or at least not get mad at me for not going, but Maggie and Yasmin are another story.”

“Just go with what your heart tells you is right,” I said.

“Yeah, I guess. Wish me luck, huh?” she said and we hung up.

I figured she'd make the right decision, but it would be tempting to go to the practice when high school cheerleaders were inviting you. She and I were such good friends that it would hurt if she suddenly ditched me for that crowd next year. High school just seemed so scary.