Shatterproof (4 page)

Spring’s words make me want to throw up.

What have I done?

If we don’t contact her next week, will she think it’s because of her scar? Will she think we were just being nice, letting her sign up for free? That we never meant to let her be on camera?

Maybe I could tell her the episode got canceled? But the real shoot is happening next week in North Van. What if she hears about it and goes there looking for me? I have to think of something fast.

“About the
TV
thing,” I say. “Are you sure your parents will be okay with it? I mean, if you’re not allowed to watch
TV
, why would they let you be an extra?”

“Because I’ll present it as a learning experience,” she says. “I have to do a major research project. An inside look at the
TV
industry is perfect. I can research and evaluate how it all works. How a series is made.”

“Oh.” There goes that escape route. “Yeah, I guess it could be educational.”

“My parents will love it!” She wipes chocolate sauce from Tree’s face. “So any inside information you can give me would be helpful, Bo. Could I interview you?”

“Um, yeah, maybe.” I haven’t finished my sundae, and now I can’t. This is getting worse and worse. Did I just say maybe she could interview me? As Bo Blaketon?

“Oh, thank you! That would be so cool. You being the star and all.” She frowns at the melting pool of my sundae. “You didn’t like it?”

“I had a big lunch. Guess I should have ordered small instead of large.”

“Hey, we could do the interview right now. Because I know you must be busy, and we might not find another time.”

Luckily, Tree jumps down from the table and shouts, “Play!”

Spring catches him in a bear hug. “Okay, Treester.” Then she says to me, “Maybe this is not a good time for an interview after all.”

“Rain check,” I say. Because I do want to talk to her again. But not as
Bo Blaketon. Just as me. As for how I’m going to manage that, I’ve no clue.

And then Lug returns. He eyes our sundae dishes. “Nice meeting you,” he says to Spring. “But we have to get back to work now. Bo is a busy man.” He turns and walks away, beckoning me to come along.

“We’ll walk with you,” Spring says, grabbing Tree’s hand. “If that’s okay. We have some time to kill until my dad picks us up.”

“Of course,” I say. We clear our table and follow Lug.

“Are you off to rehearsal or something?” Spring asks. “Or are you still signing up extras?”

“Laurence wants a few more names,” I say. “In case some kids change their minds. Or can’t make the times. Always better to have a wait list. You know, people we can call on short notice if somebody doesn’t show up.”

What am I talking about? I’ve no idea how extras are hired. I’m just digging myself in deeper.

“Oh, I’m getting so excited about this!” Spring says. “I’m going to do a super project. And honestly, the idea of being on
TV
is so awesome. Before my accident, I did a lot of theater. I went to drama camp in the summer, and I had some roles in VanCityKids Productions.”

“Cool,” I say. “You’d be good onstage.”

She guides Tree out of the way of an elderly man with a walker. “Thanks. But I haven’t had a part since then.” With her free hand she arranges her hair over her scar. “I don’t like to think it’s because of how I look, but it’s hard not to.”

“That’s so not fair!” I say. Right. And it’s also not fair that I pretended to sign her up as an extra.

“Life’s not fair,” she says. “I’ve learned that lesson well.” She stops to let Tree look in the window of a toy store. “I should be taking notes,” she says. “The price of toys, where they’re made, whether they encourage creative play or are just Hollywood merchandise.”

Tree wants everything in the window. He wants to go into the store. “Sorry, no deal,” Spring says, pulling him away. “You’ve got lots of nice toys at home, Treeling.” He bursts into tears.

As we walk on, she says over Tree’s sobbing, “I know everything is overpriced and probably made by child labor. But I get how much he wants the stuff he sees.” She holds out her free arm to show off her patched sweater. “See, I made this from old sweaters, and I totally believe in recycling and all, but sometimes I want something brand new and in style. Like everybody else has.”

“I get that.” Being in this mall has made me want all kinds of stuff I don’t need. That Globe Bantam Cruiser, the latest games, the most expensive brands of clothes and shoes. “Commercialism sucks.”

“Yeah, it does. But it creates jobs, so it’s not all bad. And now that I’m going to make good money being an extra, I can buy myself some trendy clothes. My parents can’t object if I pay for them myself. How much do you think I’ll make?”

“Hard to say.” Impossible to tell her she’s not going to make any money. She looks so thrilled, I just can’t. “Enough for some new clothes for sure.”

“I won’t spend it all on clothes though. I’ll donate some to charity too.”

I’m such a horrible person, leading her on. But I say, “That’s so nice of you.”

Tree has stopped crying. He sees the play area ahead and tugs hard on
Spring’s hand. “I better let him loose for a bit,” Spring says. “Catch up with you later?”

“We’ll be at that girly store,” I call as she chases after Tree.

I like this girl. I really, really like her. I have to tell her I’m not Bo Blaketon.

But how?

I head down the mall, looking for Lug. He’s waiting for me outside RadRide. “Glad you got rid of Freakface and the brat,” he says. “They’re bad for business.”

I don’t answer. I hope Spring heard me say where we’d be. Because I have to talk to her again. I have to confess. Today. In person.

Lug points at the window display. “Once we’ve signed up more girls, you’ll be able to get that board and those Vans.”

I stare in the window and feel like the slimeball I am. Before today I was happy with my shabby sneakers. I was happy with my beat-up old longboard at home. But as soon as I went in RadRide, I wanted more. “I don’t think so.”

“Sure you will,” Lug says. “You could even afford a new shirt.”

“No, I mean I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want that stuff anymore.”

Lug starts walking away. “Oh, I get it. You’re feeling guilty for scamming Freakface.”

He’s right. I am. “Don’t call her that.”

“Just saying. You could do way better, man.”

“Don’t say that either.”

We move along in silence. I have to think of a way out of this mess.

How can I tell Spring who I really am?

Maybe I can say the mall made me crazy. Made me want money just like she does. That’s a normal teenage thing, right? To want cool stuff? To want what everybody else has? And that made me make a bad choice. That made me pretend to be a
TV
star.

“I’m done,” I finally tell Lug. “I’m going to tell Spring the truth.” I have to. I want to see her again. But just as myself.

“No way,” Lug says. “Not until we’ve made another couple hundred. Then you can tell Freakface whatever you want.”

“Shut up!” I punch Lug’s shoulder. Hard.

“Hey, that hurt!” But instead of punching me back, he says, “Okay. I didn’t want to do this, but you give me no choice.” He pushes me out of the
flow of shoppers. We stop by an information sign.

He pulls his iPad out of his backpack. He boots it up and shows me the screen.

I see and hear myself pretending to be Bo Blaketon. I see girls giving me money.

Holy crap! I’m screwed!

Mostly Lug took the money, acting as my assistant. But a few times he said they should give it to me. That must be when he took these.

And then I see something worse. He’s also got a video of me signing that girl’s arm as Bo Blaketon. “You idiot! We said no pictures.”

“No, we said the girls couldn’t take pictures. We never said I couldn’t.”

How did I not notice what he was doing? I guess I wasn’t really paying attention. Because I never thought my best friend would do that. Apparently he
cares more about money than he does about me.

“You have to delete those,” I say.

“They’re insurance.”

“Don’t even think about sending those to my parents.”

Lug laughs. “I wasn’t planning to. I’m going to post them on YouTube. For Bo Blaketon and his fans to see. Oh, and I’m sure Freakface will be interested too.”

I grab for his iPad. But he was expecting that and holds on tight. “Relax,” he says. “You help me sign ten more girls, and I’ll delete the videos.”

Should I trust him to keep his word? Probably not. But what else can I do?

I mean, I could face telling Spring the truth. I’d find some way to make her forgive me. But if those go online, I’m dead. “I can’t believe you’d do that to me,” I say. “That’s way worse than telling my mom. The whole world
will know, and I could get into serious trouble. I could get charged with fraud or something.”

Lug shrugs and says, “Yup.”

“Fine,” I say. “But then it’s over. And we’re not friends anymore.”

“Hey, man. That’s harsh.”

“Well, it’s on you. Friends don’t blackmail friends.” I remember all the trouble he’s gotten me into over the years. I remember when we were ten and Lug held me underwater at the beach. He thought it was funny, but I almost drowned. And I remember how Mom didn’t want me to hang out with him anymore after the grad-party photo incident.

Maybe she was right.

We reach the store called Marlena’s, where we found all the girls this morning. Lug sits on a nearby bench to wait for prey. I stand as far from him as possible, scanning the folks in the mall. What if Spring can’t find us?

But in a few minutes she and Tree come along. They make quite a pair. She’s definitely noticeable with her handmade clothes, amazing hair and brutal scar. And Tree actually looks a bit like a sapling. He’s skinny, with long arms and legs. His head seems oversized because of all his thick, curly hair.

Hair the same chestnut brown as Spring’s. Hair that makes you want to touch it. “Hey, guys,” I say. “You found us.”

Lug gives them a fake smile. Then he’s on his feet as two girls who aren’t exactly pretty exit the store. “Hello there,” he says. “Do you beauties like
Shatterproof
?” He launches into his sales pitch, and they’re hooked.

Except this time, Spring reels them in. She ignores the
go away
look Lug gives her and says, “I just signed up. And I’m so thrilled that Bo wants his show to be inclusive and diverse.”

They can’t wait to hand her their money. They even pretend they don’t see her scar.

I can’t believe she’s getting involved. I watch carefully to make sure Lug isn’t taking any more videos. I don’t want Spring to get in trouble because of me.

My phone vibrates with another text from Mom.
How’s it going? Any updates?

I have to reply or she’ll get worried. So I say,
Race starting. Will b in touch later.

Then I turn my phone off. It hits me that I don’t care anymore if Mom finds out about today. I know she’ll be mad, but I’ll just have to deal with that.

What I don’t know is how Spring will react. From what I’ve seen so far, I’m pretty sure she’s going to be super angry. And that’s what I really care about.

“What time is your dad picking you up?” I ask her. I hope it’s not too soon. Because I can’t tell her the truth until Lug has made as much money as he wants. And after that, it’s going to take some time to explain. Which is going to be tricky because I have to catch my bus by four to make it to the ferry in time.

“Four o’clock,” she says. “But I might call and beg him to pick us up now.”

“Please don’t go yet.” I need more time to tell her.

“I’d really like to stay,” she says. “But I don’t think Tree’s going to last.” We watch him climb around on the bench by the store. Then he jumps off, pretending to fly. She pulls out her
phone and starts texting. “I don’t want him to get wild and run away again.”

“Yeah, I see what you mean.” Okay, this is it. I can’t keep lying to her. I don’t care what Lug says or does. I made a mistake. I’ll have to take the consequences. “But before you go, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Spring gives me a worried look. “I can wear makeup on my scar for the filming, if you want. I know how to cover it really well.”

“Spring, no! Nothing like that. You look fine. It’s just—”

At that moment Tree bolts into the store, almost crashing into a girl coming out. Spring rushes after him. As she hauls him back, he resists with all his might. “Sorry,” she says to the girl. “He’s harmless, really.”

“No problem.” The girl notices Spring’s scar and grimaces. “He’s so cute.
Love the boots.” Tree is rocking a pair of well-worn Blundstones.

“Aren’t they great?” Spring says. “Got them at the thrift store for a dollar.”

“Cool.” The girl clutches her Marlena’s bag. “You know what? Please don’t take this the wrong way, but you could totally use some makeup.”

“Excuse me?” Spring holds Tree close to her.

“No offense or anything. But you’re really pretty. And that scar is kind of not.”

“Seriously?” Spring flicks her head so her hair falls away from her face and her scar shows more. “You have a problem with my scar?”

The girl looks horrified. “Omigod, no, sorry, so sorry. I was just trying to be helpful.” She spins around and scurries away.

“Hey, why didn’t you sign her up?” Lug wants to know.

“Forget it,” I tell him. “Sorry about that,” I say to Spring.

“Why?” she asks. “It’s not your fault some people have no respect for boundaries.”

“I know, but that was really rude and insensitive.”

“I’m used to it.” Spring ruffles Tree’s hair. “We’ve had enough of the mall, haven’t we?”

“Go home,” Tree says. “Right now.”

Spring checks her phone. “Dad’s coming soon,” she tells him.

“He is?” I hope I don’t sound too panicked. But I still haven’t told her I’m not Bo Blaketon. And now I’ve lost my nerve. I don’t want to upset her after how mean that girl was.

“In about twenty minutes,” she says. “Bo, do you ever wish you could go back and change something you’ve done?”

“Huh?” Does she know the truth? Has she figured it out on her own? Is she giving
me a chance to come clean? Because realistically, how could she possibly believe I’m a
TV
star? “Well, um,” I say, “yeah, of course.” Totally. Like today. “Probably everybody does.”

“I guess,” she says. “If I could have a do-over, I wouldn’t be so greedy. See, I wanted that stupid marshmallow so bad. My parents don’t let us have much candy, and I couldn’t let it fall in the fire.” Her voice quivers as she speaks. “I wish I’d let that marshmallow burn. Instead of me. And then I wouldn’t have this hideous scar.”

I can’t help myself. I’ve never hugged a girl in a romantic way before, but I slide my arm around her. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re so beautiful.”

“Thanks, you’re very sweet,” she says. “And I know I’m beautiful inside. I go to a support group for kids who are disfigured in some way, and I’ve worked through all that. I know I’m more than my scar. I know I’m a better,
stronger person for how I’ve suffered.” She pauses and digs around in her purse to find some toys for Tree. “But I still wish it had never happened, you know? I’d like to be normal again.”

“I get that.” I pull her closer. I want to tell her that’s what my mom says too. But if I start talking about Mom, I might start to cry or something. That wouldn’t be cool.

“Hey, you guys,” Lug calls, “I could use some help over here.” But he’s doing fine on his own. The girls going in and out of Marlena’s gawk at me and Spring, then sign up.

“Later,” I tell him. I’ve only got a few more minutes with Spring.

“So what about you?” she says.

“What about me?”

“What do you regret?”

This would be the time for honesty. But what comes out is, “I regret that you’re leaving so soon.”

“But we’ll see each other next week, right, Bo? When we’re on set?”

Can I make something up? Like how I’m not on camera at the same time as the extras? But acting like I’m really Bo Blaketon will keep the lie going. And that will only make things worse when she learns the truth.

Tell her, tell her, tell her
, my brain says. But my voice says, “Yeah. Next week. Of course.”