Starkissed (7 page)

Chapter Nine

“Okay, why the hell didn’t you tell me about him on Saturday?” Alyssa’s voice bursts through the earpiece of my Bluetooth headset. I wince at the loudness of her proclamation and my grip on the steering wheel slackens just enough that my car glides over the yellow line into the left lane. Thankfully there’s no oncoming traffic and I quickly right the car.

I shrug, knowing full on she can’t see me. “I didn’t think it would end up being a national incident.”

“So what? A guy kissed you Sydney! Who cares if he’s famous or not. That’s big news.”

“I guess.”

“Come on, admit it! You had fun. You like him don’t you?”

“I do not. He’s ruined my life.”

“You’re a teenager. A million things are going to ruin your life. But look at the pictures Sydney. You’re all flushed and glowing. I don’t care if you deny it, I know you, and when that boy kissed you, you liked him.”

“Maybe I did,” I sigh. “But not now. Now I’d just like to slap him.”

“Love it…oh damn,” her voice drops. “I have to go, Marcelle is on the warpath again. Emma Stone just backed out of the cover for June. I’ll call you back as soon as he’s gone.”

Before I can even whisper a goodbye, the line goes dead. I’m about to yank the headset out of my ear when it beeps with another call.

“Hello?”

“Sydney,” my mother says. Crap why didn’t I check call display before I answered? “You’re father is very angry.”

“I’m sure. But is he still crazy?”

“Marginally, but I think he heard what you had to say.”

“Good.”

“So this tantrum you’re having, should we expect it to last much longer?”

I stare out the windshield. I’ve been driving around aimlessly for over an hour. When I first left the house I considered heading to Caroline’s, but with her current dazzlement at the idea of popularity, I just didn’t want to deal with her right then. She’s probably at home, sitting in front of her computer, trying to get up the nerve to finally friend request Liam. It’s been a goal of hers for the past year. She’s gotten so close, but every time she attempts to do it, she freezes up and shuts down the computer. But now that they’ve sat beside each other at lunch and even grazed thighs, she’s probably worked herself up into another frenzy.

So instead of heading for her place, I’ve just been driving up and down the streets of West Plane.

“I don’t know,” I tell my mom.

“Well...could your tantrum say take you to the grocery store?”

“Yeah, I guess so. What do you want?”

“Well, I have some ground beef in the fridge, so I was thinking hamburgers for dinner. But we don’t have any buns.”

“Fine, whatever.”

“Or tomato or lettuce, and I think we’re running low on barbeque sauce. Oh and pick up some blue cheese and maybe some mushrooms.”

I roll my eyes, but agree to forage for the items on her growing list. Why we can’t just be like normal folks and have hamburgers with processed cheese and ketchup I’ll never understand. But no, she has to have the basil mayo and the designer cheeses.

“Oh and honey,” her voice is a little breathy with enthusiasm. “Does Grant have the number for the house?”

“No. He doesn’t have any number. Why?”

I hear her exhale a little sadly and her voice has lost that excited pitch. “Oh nothing, just some boy called and asked for you a little while ago. But he didn’t give me his name.”

“A boy called? For me?”

“Uh huh. Have fun shopping. Bye.”

I hang up and yank the Bluetooth headset out of my ear. A boy called the house looking for me? It had to be Paul, Zane, or Alex...but they never call the house. Just my cell.

I turn the car off Carmen Way and head toward Wilcox Avenue. Mom usually buys her groceries at the trendy store downtown with its organic produce and fresh made bakery items. But I prefer to hit the big chain store near Colin’s garage. Everything is practically half the price as the store downtown and they have a book section which boasts a pretty decent discount.

It takes me a little over five minutes to get there. The parking lot isn’t too full and I manage to snag a spot near the front doors. I grab a plastic shopping basket and head toward the bread section. Nothing here is fresh, all made off site, but I manage to find a bag of reasonably unsquished buns. I drop them in my basket and head toward the produce section.

I reach up to pull one of those tissue thin plastic bags off the roll to put my tomatoes in, but the perforated edges refuse to separate. I pull a little too hard and the bag splits in half. I drop it in my basket and attempt another one. This time it frees from the roll, but I can’t seem to get the top to open and then it rips. I’m going for my third try when a voice pipes in behind me.

“You need some help with that?”

I freeze. I know that voice. Grant West may be a mystery to me, but I’d know the sound of Colin Wicks’ voice anywhere.

I look down at my wrinkled shirt and wonder if I was in bed long enough earlier to cause bed head. I was too pissed at my family to look in the mirror before I left the house.

I turn around slowly. “Um...I’m okay.”

Colin smiles, the skin around his eyes wrinkles just a tad and I nearly fall over. He looks down at the two already destroyed bags. “You sure? Those bags can be tricky.”

“Right. Yeah.”

He laughs and reaches out toward me. At first I think he’s trying to touch my face, but then I realize I’m standing in front of the bag roll. I step to the side.

He must have just got off work because I can see a bit of black grease smeared on the back of his hand. His clothes are clean, though. He’s wearing a jeans and a blue T-shirt that rides up, exposing just a tad of his stomach, as he reaches for the bags.

He pulls one off the roll and kind of rubs the thin plastic until the two layers separate. Then he pulls the edges of the opening apart and motions for me to drop my tomatoes inside. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

I wonder if he’s seen the pictures and cringe. It’s not like he’d even care, but you know, just in case, I don’t want him thinking I’m with anyone else. But he doesn’t say anything and I’m not bringing it up. Unsure what to do, I step back, toward the lettuce.

“Oh hey Sydney,” he calls. He never forgets my name, ever. And of all the people in the world, he sounds the best when he says it.

“Yeah?” I cough.

“I called your house earlier actually.”

“You did?” Oh my god. Oh my god. He’s the one mom was talking about? Colin’s never called me before. Why would he call?

“Oh?”

“Remember last month when you brought your car in and told me you wanted a stereo but couldn’t afford a new one. You asked me to keep a look out for used ones for you?”

“I remember.”

“Well one of my buddies just got a new car and the stereo in his old one is pretty decent. He’s trying to sell it. It’s fifty bucks.”

“Sounds good.”

“And I can install it for twenty-five.”

“Great,” I nod. Of course. My car. That’s what he called about. Stupid Sydney. He wasn’t looking for a date.

“Right then. I’ll have the stereo by Thursday night. So bring your car in Friday?”

I agree and he smiles, then he turns and walks off toward the dairy section.

“Bye,” I whisper.

Chapter Ten

“Don’t freak out, okay?” Caroline corners me in the student parking lot the next morning. When I pulled into the lot she was leaning against her car, two cups of Starbucks in hand. When she saw me, she practically chased me to my spot. She was pulling open my door before I could even reach for the handle.

I take the coffee she’s thrusting at me and shrug. “Okay.”

“I didn’t do it, I swear.”

“Do what?”

“Someone, I don’t know who, but someone told.”

“Told what?”

“Your name. It just happened.”

“My name? What are you talking about?”

“Okay you know all the pictures of you and Grant online?”

“Of course.”

“Well they’ve just been calling you unnamed girl, or mystery girl, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Well someone must have sent out a tip, because this was just posted online.” She hands me her phone once more, and I’m absolutely sure I’m not going to like what I’m about to see. I peer down at the glossy screen and for the second time in two days my heart drops to my knees.

The headline reads:
Grant’s Mystery Love Revealed

Then right below is my school portrait taken last September. It’s not a terribly bad photo or anything. I actually look okay. But that’s not the point. The article beneath says:

Grant’s mystery girl has been revealed as none other than New Mexico native, Sydney Kane. Sydney is an eleventh grade student at West Plane High School. No word on how her and Grant met, but kudos to him for finding someone outside the business. After that train wreck of a relationship with Summer Stone, he could use a little normal loving right now. Don’t you think? And what about this Sydney? Cute as a button we say! Post your comments below.

I hand Caroline back her phone. “I thought you said the story would die!”

“I know,” she shakes her head. “I guess they want to squeeze as much juice of out you as possible. And someone who knows who you are just tossed you into the juicer.”

“Great.” I stalk toward the school.

“Sydney wait,” Caroline rushes after me. “Um, this might mean...”

“Mean what?”

“If they know who you are and where you are, the paparazzi might just...come here.”

“What?”

“Well they think you’re with Grant! And now that they have a name and location, just don’t be surprised if it happens.”

“I think I’m going to be sick. Who even did it?”

“I don’t know. How many kids go to this school? How many people live in this town? It could have been anyone.”

I stare hopelessly into Caroline’s eyes. A week ago only a handful of people could be bothered to remember my name, yesterday the whole town knew it, and now today...the whole world?

***

Today I don’t sit down in the cafeteria until every single one of my friends is already seated. I’m flanked on either side by Zane and Alex. Shanae, Paul, Tara and Caroline sit across from us. Still somehow Michelle and her minions manage to squeeze in. Liam sits down next to Zane and Caroline practically weeps onto the Formica surface of the table, silently wondering why he didn’t sit by her again.

“I’m having a party on Friday night,” Michelle announces. Everyone looks up but me. I stare at the turkey sandwich I brought from home.

“You guys should come,” Michelle leans over and stares at me and my friends. I hazard a look up.

“Us?” Paul frowns.

“Um yeah,” Michelle smiles, like Paul ought to feel silly for not expecting to be invited to her party.

Back to my sandwich.

“You’ll be there right Sydney?”

I shove a bite of turkey into my mouth.

“It’ll be so fun. And I know Angelina will be there.” Clearly Michelle doesn’t realize that Angelina and I mostly despise each other, because if she did she wouldn’t be using Angelina as party bait. Unless Angelina is pretending to like me to her friends because of the whole Grant thing. I hope not. I was hoping she would convince them I’m some nobody that none of them want to associate with, let alone speak to. I peer up and look around the table. Despite the fact that all of her friends are surrounding me, she isn’t even here. Where is she? You can’t count on anyone these days.

“I’ll think about it,” I shrug.

“Great.” She seems to take this as a confirmation of my attendance. “And if you want to bring anyone else...” she adds. Anyone else of course means Grant. Stupid, stupid Grant. I ought to go to that party and bring along every nerd and geek this school has to offer. That would certainly thrill Michelle.

“Yeah. Okay.”

If, unlike Caroline, you don’t have a phone with high speed internet access, then school is a great way to cut yourself off from the rest of the world. For all I know photographers are lining up outside my house this minute but I’m none the wiser and I’d like to remain that way. Which is why when the final bell of the day sounds I’m far less inclined to go home than ever. At least I can count on the fact that my parents will be at work. After missing all day yesterday, neither of them can take time off to torture me today.

I slowly drag myself through the halls of the school, following after Caroline, whose step is a little more snappy.

“I bet your house is on TV right now,” she says excitedly.

“Oh God.” I feel like I’m going to throw up. I may have managed to confuse my dad out of grounding me yesterday, but if photographers start following me around I’m dead. Caroline stops and waits for me, impatiently ticking her foot against the floor. “Maybe we should go to your house.” I suggest.

“Hell no.”

***

“No way. This isn’t right.”

I smile.

“But your name is everywhere!”

“Oh well,” I exhale loudly and climb out of the car. No photographers. No news crews. Nothing. Just our regular old front lawn, slightly overgrown since Tommy, the kid who mows it, is sick with mono right now.

Caroline follows me up the front walk, dejected. “I don’t get it. You’re Grant West’s girlfriend! They should be everywhere.”

“I’m not his girlfriend.” I drone. I should record myself saying it and just hit play every ten minutes.

“No one else knows that, though.”

I rub my forehead. Poor Caroline. For a second I feel like I’m letting her down, not wanting my picture in magazines. But that second is very brief.

“Come on,” I drag her into the house. “Let’s get some ice cream.”

No one else appears to be home. Not that I’m surprised. Everyone else usually has things to do in the afternoon, well except Ava, but she’s probably off with some friends plotting to free a herd of cattle or something.

I grab a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and Caroline runs upstairs to get my laptop so she can check her email. Her phone’s battery died during fifth period.

She returns a few minutes later, just as I’m shoving two heaping bowls of Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough ice cream across the counter. Caroline scrambles up onto one of the stools and I maneuver around the counter and sit next to her.

For a few minutes Caroline ignores me while she logs onto her email account. Then she navigates to Facebook.

“You’re already logged in,” she says. “Can I log you out?”

“Sure.”

But something stops her.

“Holy crap!”

“What?”

She laughs. Loud and excited.

“What?”

She turns the laptop so I can see the screen. “Look.”

I scan the page before me, unsure of what I’m supposed to be looking at. Paul just updated his status to ‘taking a shower’. Is she finally picturing him, instead of Liam, naked?

But then my eyes see it. Top right corner of the screen.

“No bloody way.”

“Yes way. You’ve got 7,896 friend requests. That has to be some sort of record!”

I turn away from the screen, the queasy feeling in my gut is back. Caroline starts scrolling through the list.

“Oh my God Liam wants to be your friend. Add him!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to be his friend. Or anyone’s friend.”

“Fine,” she says glumly. “But you know, if you’re friends with him...then I could add him and it wouldn’t look stupid.”

“Caroline!”

“Okay. Okay.” She closes the page, but brings up a new browser. “I wonder how many people are following you on Twitter.”

***

The madness doesn’t cease with Twitter (I have 11,022 new followers, by the way).

About ten minutes later the house phone rings.

“Hello,” a woman’s voice says. “May I please speak to Sydney Kane?”

“This is her.”

“Fantastic. My name is Miriam and I’m doing a story on you for
Celeb Central Magazine
. How does it feel to be dating the most famous man in the world? How’s the sex?”

“Uh, uh,” I warble before having the common sense to hang up.

The phone rings again. I pick it up and this time look at the display. It says Unknown Name. “Aren’t you going to get that,” Caroline asks.

I shake my head and tell her about the last call. At first she seems rightly outraged. But then that little gleam I’ve come to know and fear returns to her eye. The next time the phone rings she answers.

“
Hello
will pay you $20,000 for an exclusive!” she hisses.

I shake my head furtively. No way.

“I can probably bring them up to thirty.”

“Hang up Caroline.”

She looks disappointed and hits the end button. But it doesn’t matter, the calls just keep coming. I try ignoring the ringing, but it won’t stop. It echoes in my ears from every room in the house. Trill. Trill. Trill.

Finally Caroline does something useful and unplugs the main line.