Starkissed (14 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

I’m confused. Not just run of the mill, what should I have for lunch, kind of confused. But the gee wasn’t kissing Grant amazing, but I’m still totally into Colin, what the hell do I do kind of confused.

I hate my life.

In my head a chorus of nuns are singing “How do we solve a problem like Sydney?” and I’m just praying they’ll come up with an answer.

I have one week to figure things out. Because I just can’t go to that premiere if I still have feelings for Colin. I can’t go to New York and stand beside Grant in front of thousands of people unless my heart is really in it. It wouldn’t be fair to me. It wouldn’t be fair to him. It wouldn’t be fair to the thousands of girls across the planet who are in love with him and would do just about anything to be in my place.

The worst part is that I have no one to talk to. If I even dare try and bring the subject up to Caroline, my sisters, or God forbid my mother, they’d all tell me I’m crazy. They’d all remind me Colin chose Ava and that I should just move on with my damn life. I wish Alyssa didn’t live on the other side of the country. I could call her, I know. But it’s not the same as being face to face. And this is defiantly the kind of conversation that needs to be had face to face. I need someone to look at me, to look me in the eye, and understand.

On Tuesday I go through my day on autopilot, dragging myself through school like a zombie. When I get home I spend an hour staring at the cover of the latest
People
, a photo of Grant and myself. Then I pick up an old yearbook from my freshman year and turn to the seniors’ page and stare at Colin’s photo. I can’t tear my eyes away.

***

By the time Friday rolls around I can’t take it anymore. Things at school aren’t getting better, they’re just getting worse. Michelle traipses after me, smile beaming, voice chipper and plan devious. Angelina was wrong, this girl is not giving up. Not anytime soon. And it’s not just her. It’s everyone else. My Algebra teacher wants a Grant autograph for his niece, and the director of the drama department thinks I’d make an excellent lead for his play (when clearly all he wants for Grant to come see me in said play and then see his directorial genius). Even Caroline is getting on my nerves. Her obsessive desire to be popular coupled with her crush on Liam are driving me crazy. I just need a break.

When the lunch bell rings I decide to make a run for it. My afternoon classes aren’t that important, and I just want to be alone right now. I can’t remember the last time I was really by myself. School is a wash, and when you live with five other people – it’s impossible to occupy your own head for long without someone butting in. And forget about leaving the house for a little time alone, the paparazzi might not be staked out anymore – but that doesn’t stop the 8,000 residents of West Plane from gawking and snapping photos when I pass them by.

There’s this park, near the edge of town with a small playground, a picnic area, and a basketball court. When I drive past, it’s empty, so I decide to pull into the parking lot and get out.

I walk across the gravel pit the playground is situated on, bits of rock and dust kicking up with every step I take. The gravel has this strange, familiar smell that brings me back to being young. I was never really much of a park kid. Mom would bring us here and I would sit off on a bench reading books or drawing. Only every once in a while would I let another kid, or one of my sisters, drag me out onto the swings or the monkey bars. This playground is new. All the equipment has been updated. The swings have protective bands over the chain links and the rickety slide has been replaced by a lower, sturdy affair. Everything is plastic and soft edges.

I find a bench off to the side and sit on it. I bring my knees up to my chest and bury my forehead against them. I close my eyes and sit like this for I don’t know how long, only looking up when I hear someone speak.

“Sydney?”

I straighten my neck and search for the source of sound, already half sure I know its originator.

“Colin.” He’s standing a few feet away, wearing a pair of black sweats and a t-shirt. There’s a basketball tucked under his right arm. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he grins. “Shouldn’t you be at school right now?”

“Should,” I nod.

He raises his eyebrows, but says nothing. Instead he drops the ball onto the ground. It rolls a bit, before coming to rest against a large rock. He lowers himself onto the bench beside me and leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. He looks just as good as ever and a low, angry shriek of reminder fills my head.
He’s not yours. He never will be
.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

I lower my legs back to the ground and lean back into the bench. “Oh, you know.”

“Actually, I don’t.”

I laugh. I came here to be alone, so I could think about Colin, and now he’s here. Maybe it’s a sign. Or maybe I’m just making signs out of nothing, playing the crazy game again.

He leans forward and snatches the basketball off the ground. He pulls it into his lap and cradles it there. “So come on, what’s up?”

“I guess I just needed a break. Ever since...” I try and say Grant, but his name sticks in my throat. “last week, things have just been really weird and not good. People follow me around, act like we’ve been friends all our lives, when really up until a few weeks ago they weren’t even aware I was alive.”

“I’m sure that’s not true for everyone.”

“Maybe, but for most. Maybe I’m being ridiculous. I don’t know.

“Well if it’s really getting to you, then just tell them what you think.”

“I could.” I laugh. “Or maybe I’ll just chicken out like I always do and let the situation deal with itself. People will get bored eventually...”

“You must really be having a rough time. I mean, you’re one of the last people I thought I’d see skipping school.”

“Really? Why’s that?”

“Ava and I did it once in tenth grade. Her teacher called your dad and she got into so much trouble. He banned her from seeing me for weeks. Your dad’s a good guy, but man has he got some strict rules.”

“I know, but lately he’s been a bit...easier on me. His rules aren’t so set in stone I guess.”

“No, I guess not.”

We lapse into silence. He starts tossing the basketball up and down and then from side to side.

“So umm...Ava. You guys seem like you’re having fun? Is it strange seeing her after all that time?” = Why am I talking about her? She’s the last thing I need to discuss with Colin. It’s almost like I enjoy torturing myself.

“Not really. She’s pretty much the same as she’s always been. Just as vocal and rampant as ever. She’s really into that whole vegetarian thing now isn’t she? That barbeque we went to, she kept rattling on about how the smell was making her sick.”

I laugh. “You want to know a secret?”

“Sure.”

“You can’t tell a soul okay? Especially Ava.”

“I promise.”

“Okay. About five months ago I think she went to a rave or something. When she came home she was really drunk, and I’m guessing a little high even. Luckily I was the only one awake. But anyways, she came in the door and kept going on and on about how hungry she was. Then she ran into the kitchen, found a plate of leftover hamburgers and ate every single one of them. I tried to stop her but she slapped my hand away. She kept saying they were the best thing she’d ever eaten. Then she passed out on the couch. The next morning she woke up and had no memory of eating them at all. She felt sick for days, but wrote it off as the sins of alcohol. She still has no idea.”

Colin bursts out into gales of laughter. “Oh poor Ava.”

“I know. If she found out, it would probably break her heart.”

“So you’re never going to tell her?”

“I’m sure I will, eventually, when she does something really awful to piss me off. I’m biding my time. Anyways, next time you guys go out on a date, keep your mouth shut okay?”

“About that...we’re not...” but before he can finish my phone bursts to life, filling the air with its brash ring tone.

“Sorry,” I grab it out of my pocket. I don’t recognize the number, and for a second I think it might be Grant, but then I realize the area code is local. “I should get this.”

“Of course.”

I hold the phone up to my ear and say, “Hello?”

“Where the hell are you?” It’s Caroline. “Everyone’s looking for you!”

“At the park,” I tell her. “Why is everyone looking for me?”

“Because you’re not here, duh! What are you doing?”

“I just needed a break.”

“Well breaks over. Get back here.”

“No.”

“Sydney, I don’t think you get it.
Everyone
is looking. Teachers are looking. My stupid iPhone died and I had to sneak into the office and use their phone to get a hold of you. I told them you were in the bathroom. Get back here before they figure it out.”

“Everyone is looking? Why do they care? It’s just lunch and a few classes. I didn’t even think anyone would really notice.”

“God you’re dense. Of course everyone noticed. You do remember who you are right?”

“I guess.”

“Come on, get back here before someone calls your parents and you get detention for skipping.”

“Fine,” I grumble.

I turn to Colin. “I have to go.”

He shrugs. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” I nod and head for my car.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It’s Saturday morning and almost my entire family has disappeared. Dad’s at work with Ava, Mom’s at a soccer match with America, and Angelina is locked in her room doing God knows what. When I knocked earlier to see if she wanted breakfast – don’t ask me why I was suddenly compelled to be nice, I’m still not sure – she screamed at me to go away.

It’s just past ten and I have no idea what to do with myself. Caroline has some family trip this weekend, and the rest of my friends are scattered across the state. Tara’s shopping with her sister, Alex, Zane, and Paul are at some comic book convention, and Shanae is visiting her grandmother.

I meander into the living room and scan the shelves of movies, searching for something to watch. For some reason my eyes keep drifting over to the second shelf down, third movie from the left.
Dead of Night
.

I haven’t watched it since I met Grant, maybe it will be different. Better?

I’m about to pop the disc in the player when I hear the doorbell ring. I drop the movie case on the couch and head for the hall.

I pull open the door. “Hello?”

There’s a girl, well woman I guess, in her mid twenties standing on the porch. She’s dressed in what I could only describe as business couture. A stylish, burgundy suit comprised of a tight pencil skirt with a long slit up the back, and form fitting jacket that flares at her hips. Her lips are painted bright red and her eyes are outlined in thick kohl liner.

“Sydney,” she snaps.

“Um yes,” I shift uncomfortably in my plaid pajama bottoms and oversized t-shirt. I thought the reporters were done hounding me, that when Grant took off last week he’d taken the last of them with him. Clearly not. The way she’s staring around at the neighborhood with disdain, and looking at me like I’m something she’s stepped in, this girl wreaks of city life. She must be from a magazine or something. Why else would she be here?

“Get dressed.”

“I’m sorry?”

She taps her foot, encased in a very expensive looking peep toe heel against the wood floor of the porch and cocks her eyebrow.

“We’re already running late. I’ve got be out of here by seven, so come on, let’s go. Get showered, dressed. Now.”

I hold up my hand and bite the tip of my tongue between my front teeth. “Running late for what?”

“Didn’t Grant call you? He said he was going to call you.” She sighs in a hassled, annoyed sort of way.

I shake my head.

“I’m Melody.”

“Okay?”

“His personal assistant.” She says with a high degree of self-importance.

I shrug. Grant’s never mentioned any Melody or assistant.

“I’m here to take you shopping.” She sighs. “For something to wear on Tuesday night.”

“To the premiere?”

“Of course,” she rolls her eyes.

“Well I mean, I already had something in mind...” I vaguely wave my hand in the direction of the second floor, where up in room is a nice little black dress Mom bought me at Macy’s last week.

“No,” she snorts. “I’ve seen you in pictures. You, dear, have no idea. Grant sent me and his black AMEX. We’re going fix all of this,” she motions to my body, and then my hair, “and cut that. And you’ll look like you belong in no time.”

“Belong where?”

“In his life,” she laughs. “Honey, this small town,” she waves her hands at me while searching for a word, “girl next door look is so five years ago. Now come, get dressed. We have work to do.”

I let her in the house and show her into the living room. She pulls out a Blackberry and starts typing furiously into it. There’s a Bluetooth headset in her ear and almost as soon as I’m retreating from the room, she hits a button and starts speaking to someone on the other end.

“Who was at the door?” Angelina is heading down the stairs as I race up them.

“My supposed kidnapper,” I stop halfway up, lean over the rail, and point through the hall and into the living room where Melody is just visible, perched on the edge of the couch.

Angelina leans over the banister and squeals. “Oh my God, she’s fabulous. What does she want with you?”

“She works for Grant...I guess she’s taking me shopping to pick out an outfit for the premiere.”

“The one Dad hasn’t even said you can go to or not yet?”

“The very one.”

“Ugh,” she sighs. “I really hate you, you know.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I come?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I have a strong feeling that she hates me, and the less people I have to spend time today with that hate me, the better.”

“Fine.”

***

You know in those makeover movies when some kindly person takes it upon themselves to give someone less fortunate a new look? And there’s all that fun music, and there’s smiles and excitement? Being with Melody is nothing like that. She’s, in a word, a nightmare. She drags me from store to store, tossing piles of dresses onto sales girls’ arms and then marches me to fitting rooms and dictates everything I pull over my head. Even if I like it, if she doesn’t, it goes.

She’s a tyrant in pumps. In a way she almost reminds me of Topher, Alyssa’s lackey. Neither of them like me much for one. And they’d do just about anything to get ahead in their jobs, even if it means handling the younger sister or new girlfriend. They’d probably make a great couple – bossing each other around and hating everyone else.

I try calling Grant but he never picks up. I know he was flying back into the country yesterday, but I’m not sure where exactly he was touching down – Los Angeles or New York.

Using Grant’s AMEX, Melody ends up purchasing three dresses for me – each individually worth more than I’ve ever spent in my entire life. I’m to bring all of them to New York on Tuesday and she’ll pick the one I’m going to wear that night. For the three dresses we also buy three pairs of matching shoes, three matching handbags, three necklaces, and three sets of earrings.

“What am I supposed to do with the extra dresses I don’t wear,” I rush after her, picturing myself being dragged back here to return the unworn items.

“I don’t care. Keep them.”

“But all the money you spent...”

“Is less than half of what Grant makes in one day.” She’s speaking to me like I’m some clueless, annoying child. I want to smack her.

Next we hit up the salon. My eyebrows are waxed and plucked and I’ve never experience such excruciating pain – not even when I broke my arm a couple years ago. By the time the woman is done, the skin above my eyes in bright red and tears are flowing freely down my face.

Then my legs are waxed, my toes are painted, and my fingernails are filed and buffed. Then comes the haircut. My hair isn’t that long, just below my shoulders, and I like it that way. But Melody has this crazy idea to cut it super short into a pixie cut a la Halle Berry. I fight tooth and nail to avoid that. In the end the hairdresser slices off about two inches off the length, and then she gives me some side swept bangs and a lot of layers. When it’s done I’m not going to deny that it looks good. I wonder if the goal here was to make me look older than sixteen, because I do. I could pass for eighteen in the very least, and I’m not even wearing much makeup.

“Well you don’t look terrible,” Melody nods.

The trunk of the town car Melody used to come pick me up is absolutely full of dress bags and shoe boxes. I climb into the backseat and slide over so Melody can fit in too.

Instead of getting in, though, she simply leans forward and pokes her head through the door. She indicates the driver standing behind her. “Phillip will take you back to your house. I’m heading for the airport. Remember to bring everything on Tuesday. I’ll email you the details of your flight tonight.”

“Um sure...”

She whirls around and disappears in a haze of Chanel no.5 and self satisfaction. Phillip closes the backdoor and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Anything else Miss?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Just take me home I guess.”

***

When I get home Mom, Angelina, Ava, and America all oooh and ahhh over my new clothes. They can’t believe I get to keep them all, neither can I. Every time my eyes pass over one of the price tags I feel a small eruption in my chest, not of pleasure, but guilt. Up until this morning I still hadn’t decided whether I was going to the premiere or not. I guess I have to now. In the car, on the way home I called the store, just to see what their return policy is, and unless I have the original credit card the items were purchased with, all I would get is store credit. There’s no way to get Grant back his money without him or Melody by my side.

It’s all mine.

Dad better decide to let me go. And I better decide to let Colin go.

America and Mom head downstairs to make dinner while I start putting my things away.

“Oh Sydney,” Angelina says as I carefully hang the first dress bag up in my closet. “That Colin guy called for you today.”

I whirl around, so does Ava.

“Colin called you? Why?” Ava asks.

I shrug. We both look at Angelina. She looks at us both like we’re crazy. “He said you left some sweater in the park yesterday. He’s working all weekend otherwise he’d come drop it off, but you can pick it up at the garage if you want.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Angelina says and leaves the room.

Ava turns to me and says, with suspicion and a hint of anger. “Why were you with Colin in the park yesterday?”

“I wasn’t
with
him. I was just there and he showed up to play basketball. We ran into each other.”

“Right. Whatever.” She hugs her arms to her chest and leaves the room as well. That was weird. Why would she be acting all suspicious? Unless she knows. Oh crap, that makes so much sense. Of course she knows! Last week in the theater, the way she was watching me? The way she grabbed Colin’s hand all territorially. She knows I like him.