Authors: Katie Sise
My insides went fluttery with nerves. I didn’t want to blow this. I’d already lost Leo—I didn’t want to lose this, too. “When teens don’t speak up about injustice, they become powerless,” I said, my voice shaking the tiniest bit. “No one can help them unless they know about the injustice or crime committed.”
Most of the audience murmured their assent. At least I’d answered the question; at least I hadn’t stayed frozen. I could do this.
I
would
do this.
“And what about you, Mura?” Bradley Searing Jones asked. “What do you think is the greatest challenge facing teenagers today?”
My heart was wild in my chest. It didn’t make sense. I was so sure what we’d had was real. It’s not like we’d had a lot of time together, but the little time we did have together had felt like something true, something important.
“Many teenagers do not have access to organic food,” Mura said.
Amy let out a little gasp from her position at the end of the line.
“Do you have something to say, Amy?” Bradley Searing
Jones asked. I followed his gaze to see Amy’s brow furrowed.
“Well, I mean, many teenagers don’t have access to any food at all,” she said.
The audience cheered and blurted things like, “That’s right!” and “Damn straight!”
Mura reddened. “I’m just saying that I think nutrition is one of our greatest challenges to overcome as a nation of the United States of America.”
“And I’m just saying I think it’s poverty,” Amy said. “Many crimes—not all—are committed out of financial desperation.”
“And that makes them okay?” Sabrina spat.
“I didn’t say that,” Amy said.
“Ladies, ladies,” Danny Beaton said, like we were skittish thoroughbreds and he was trying to calm us. “This is an interview session, not a debate. Wowza,” he said, wiping his brow. “We have some hot ones tonight!”
The audience cheered. I stared out at them, trying to un-blur their individual faces, trying to do anything that would distract me from the reality of Leo sitting ten yards away from me, but it didn’t work. I wanted answers. I wanted to freeze everyone else so it was just Leo and me, so I could ask him why he’d done this.
“And what about you, Maddie?” Shilpa asked. “What are the concerns you have for the future of this country’s youth?”
“My fashion line, Lean and Green, donates point zero
five percent of its proceeds to helping teens who have lost their way,” Maddie said. “When a girl feels good about her clothes, she feels good about herself.” She grinned at Carolina. “Right, Carolina?”
“So you think if teens had better clothes, it would solve all their problems?” Leo asked.
“I mean, it couldn’t hurt,” Maddie said.
“Right,” Leo said, looking like he wanted to stab himself with a pencil.
Carolina frowned at Maddie, and then turned to Charisse. “And how about you, Charisse?” she asked. “What would you say to America’s youth if you were an ambassador on their behalf?”
Charisse smiled warmly. Her smooth mocha skin glistened under the lights, and she looked radiant in her teal strapless dress. “I’d tell American youth that kindness and generosity count. We need to support each other. I’d ask American youth what they’re doing for their fellow classmates. What are they doing for their communities? We can’t exist in a vacuum. We have to think outside of ourselves.” Charisse looked down the line at all of us, and asked, “When was the last time any one of us helped another classmate?”
Not even the nearness of Leo could distract me enough to ignore Charisse’s question, and I felt myself flush with guilt. I hadn’t done anything for anyone else in a very long time. I thought of the tutoring table Audrey had set up in Harrison’s cafeteria. She tutored every Friday after school
on a first-come-first-served basis, and she was so smart that she could help anyone with any subject. Her dad was the one who always told us how important it was to use what we were blessed with to help others. So what did that mean for me? I was pretty; that was all. How was I supposed to use
that
?
It felt like a cop-out even as I thought it. And then something niggled at the edges of my mind . . . if this
thing
—this on-camera business—if this was what I was good at . . . if I had a chance to host some kind of TV show . . . maybe that was the thing I could use for good?
Maybe the shock of seeing Leo and the stuffy stage air were getting to my head. But what if I were onto something? What if I could make it happen?
Someone shouted, “I love you, Charisse!” and the audience started clapping. Charisse smiled like she’d won the contest, and maybe her answer was so good that she had.
In the midst of the cheering I turned and let my eyes fall on Leo. He stared back at me, and then his glance darted to the two cameras positioned nearest him. One filmed Charisse, and the other filmed the audience’s reaction.
He turned to me, his gray eyes pleading. His hands gripped the edges of the table as he mouthed:
I’m sorry.
T
he rest of the night passed in a blur.
Casey, Betsy, Delia, and Jessica fielded more questions about teen issues, and then each one of us had to talk about our journey to
The Pretty App Live
. Most of the girls talked about fund-raisers and send-off parties, about saying good-bye to siblings and interviewing on local news stations.
Leo watched me carefully, and I wondered if he could sense the myriad responses floating through my mind.
Well, first, a boy was sent to my high school who I promptly fell in love with. When I won the contest, I asked him to come here with me. He disappeared, and it turns out he’s a judge and an employee of Public Corporation. Meet Leo, everyone!
Instead, I said, “I was fortunate enough to have the support of my friends and family.” Even if I only had, like, three friends. “And my former best friend, Audrey, came
with me as my guest. We haven’t been friends for three years, and now it’s like we’re starting all over. So, really, that’s been the best part of my journey so far.”
The audience applauded, but not as much as when Amy told them that her journey involved sleepless nights while she and her mother sewed all of the evening gowns she’d be competing in. I felt myself losing the audience’s favor, but there were so many other things to worry about that it was hard to focus on that. I suddenly didn’t care as much. Plus, my response about Audrey was the truth. I wasn’t about to start making things up to win this thing, especially now that I knew what it felt like to be lied to over and over again.
At eight p.m. California time, Pia dismissed us by saying, “America, we hope you’ve enjoyed meeting the nation’s most beautiful teens. Remember, live footage will play all day tomorrow on SBCnetwork.com and Public’s Pretty App before tomorrow evening’s show. So tune in to watch the contestants prettify LA’s 405 by picking up trash and roadkill! See them interacting with underprivileged children at a local inner-city school. Vote all day—as many times as you like—via the Pretty App or by calling 1-866-VOTENOW or texting 85637. Six young women will be cut tomorrow night. Make sure your favorite stays! Standard text messaging fees apply.”
The lights faded, the cameras dropped, and all at once the auditorium felt like the life had been sucked out of it. A handler escorted Pia from the stage, and another went to escort the judges. Bodyguards appeared at the edges of the
orchestra pit—maybe to keep the audience members away from Danny Beaton and Bradley Searing Jones. I couldn’t look at Leo, but I felt his eyes on me. Marsha stomped onto the stage and started yapping about our transportation arrangements. I’d never been so happy to see her; I just wanted to get out of there. And there was no way I could stay at the mansion tonight, even if it meant more exposure and online footage. I had to get to Audrey.
The judges walked by us in a single line. A few of the contestants said, “Hey, Danny,” or, “Hi, Bradley,” but not me. I stared at Marsha like she was Barack Obama delivering his inaugural address, like something so important was happening that I couldn’t bear to look away. I could feel Leo staring at me, and I swore I even heard him say, “Blake,” but there was too much commotion going on to be sure. Maybe I’d just imagined it. Maybe I’d just imagined everything about us.
Maybe nothing between Leo and me had ever been real.
Jolene: We can’t wait to see you! We are so nervous we can’t even imagine how you feel!
Xander: What channel is this shit on?
Joanna: Xander’s kidding. We’re obviously watching right now. And Pia Alvarez is totally flirting with Danny Beaton.
Jolene: Ah! You’re walking on stage now! You look so beautiful! I love your dress.
Joanna: Seriously you look insanely good.
Xander: Dude you look hot.
Jolene: BRADLEY SEARING JONES is a judge? Ahhhh oh my God can you please introduce us?!
Joanna: What the hell? Leo’s a judge?!
Jolene: OMG best surprise ever!
Xander: Dude ur boyfriend’s famous.
Jolene: Did you know about this? You’re such a good secret keeper!
Xander: Still think he’s a prick.
That night, after scrolling through my texts, I changed into pajamas at the mansion and waited until the cameras were filming Cindy, Sabrina, and Betsy playing strip poker (while most of the other girls bad-mouthed them, except for Casey and Amy, who brought their Bibles down and sat at the strip poker table for a Bible study) before I took off my mic, slipped out of the mansion, and raced to Audrey’s house.
I wanted nothing more than to call Joanna, Jolene, and Xander and tell them everything. But I was too worried the word would get out that I’d been in the dark the whole time. What if the bloggers caught onto the fact that Leo had been at our school and that he’d tricked me? What if I got disqualified for knowing a judge?
The safari-man was guarding the front door of Audrey’s guesthouse again, and when he saw me, he didn’t say hello. Instead, he took out his radio and said, “Blake Dawkins is entering the guesthouse.”
Inside the house, Mura sat next to her mother in the living room. Her mom was holding a notebook and sounded like she was giving Mura notes on her performance. “You’ll need to make up for
all
of this tomorrow,” she said to Mura, who looked on the verge of tears.
I couldn’t stop shivering, no matter how warm the LA
night air was. I moved past Mura and her mom and hurried up the stairs. I banged on Audrey’s bedroom door. She swung it open, her face a mixture of shock and concern.
“OkayOkayOkay,” she said quickly, pulling me into the sky-blue room. She checked the hallway behind me, looking a little paranoid. When she didn’t see anyone, she guided me to the bed and sat me on it. “First things first: You were amazing tonight. You’re meant to be on TV. You’re a total natural. And you look even more beautiful on television than you do in person. How that’s even possible, I have no idea, but it’s true.” She exhaled, visibly trying to calm herself. “Second. What the hell was
that
?! Did you have any idea about him?”
“
No
,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. I needed Audrey to say something that would fix this.
“I don’t get it,” she said. She squeezed next to me on the bed. “Why didn’t he tell us he worked for Public? Why was he at Harrison?”
“I was hoping
you’d
know,” I said, desperation making my voice thin. “You’re the smart one. I thought you’d figure it out.”
Audrey’s lips pursed. “It must have to do with your dad, right?”
I shook my head. “When Leo showed up at my house that morning to take me to Chicago, my dad got this crazy look on his face. It was like he recognized Leo from somewhere. Maybe he’d met him before through Public and that’s why he let me go on the date in the first place, but I don’t think he knew they’d sent him to Harrison.”
Audrey did what she always did when she needed to think: She ran both hands through her dark pixie cut like she was shampooing it. “When Leo got to Harrison, he zeroed in on both of us,” she said. “He became friends with my friends. He asked you out on a date. I didn’t think anything of it, because my friends are awesome and you’re, well, you’re
you
. But what if he was there to spy on us? To make sure I didn’t cause any trouble with another stupid Public contest, and to make sure you were on board with competing on
The Pretty App Live
to go along with whatever crazy plan they had with your dad?”
We stared at each other. She was right—I knew she was right.
“You figured me out,” said a low voice.
My heart lurched. Audrey and I whirled around to see Leo standing in the doorway with one hand on the white wooden frame.
“And now you’re spying on us again,” Audrey said, her words a growl.
“Get out,” I said. I moved to the door to slam it but Leo stepped inside the room. “I mean it, Leo,” I said. “Get out!” I knew how childish I sounded, but I couldn’t do this with him. Not now. Maybe not ever.
“Blake,
please
,” he said, his voice charged with emotion. He stood a few inches from me, and all I could think about was everything I felt for him.
“You tricked me,” I said.
“I tried to tell you,” he said.
“That’s bull.”
“I told you as much as I could.” Sweat had broken out on his smooth, tan forehead, and he swiped it away with the back of his hand. “I told you I worked for a tech company.”
“Yeah, but not Public! And you acted like you were just a regular transfer student when you were really there under the weirdest pretenses ever. That’s a
lie
, Leo. You’re a liar. And you made me feel something for you! You
used
me.”
He took a step toward me.
I put my hands up. “No,” I said. “Don’t come any closer.”
The worst part was how much some pathetic part of me wanted the opposite of what I was saying.
Stay. Explain this to me. Tell me everything between us was real.
“I want you to leave,” I said, my voice choked. I was trying so hard not to cry that my insides felt like a teakettle about to scream. “Please, Leo,” I said, finally unable to hold in my tears. My words were raspy and broken. “I’m asking you to go.”
A door slammed downstairs and feet pounded the steps. “They’re upstairs!” someone shouted, and my stomach twisted as I recognized the older cameraman’s voice.
Leo’s face tightened. He took a step backward. “Blake, if that’s what you want,” he said. “But I—”
“You have to
go
, Leo,” Audrey said, her voice urgent. “You’ll make it worse for her if they catch you up here.” Leo looked at me one more time, his gray eyes heavy and pleading. Then he slipped through the open doorway and moved down the hallway until he was only a shadow against the wall, and then nothing. Audrey hurried to the
space where he’d been standing and shut and locked the door. I heard his footsteps on a back stairway, and I said a silent prayer that the cameras wouldn’t catch him. Audrey turned to me, her green eyes wide. She wrapped her arms around me and held me while I cried.