Starry-Eyed (56 page)

“Destiny, daaaaahling, you look fabulous!” says a man with a British accent who I've never seen before in my life. He's tall and skinny with a thick goatee on his chin, wearing a black T-shirt, black skinny jeans, black boots, and sunglasses—very Los Angeles.

I steal a quick glance at the studio ID hanging from the lanyard around his neck.
Quincy Dash, Director
. He leans in to give me a quick peck on the right cheek and then the left—very British.

“Are you ready to make love to our ears, my little starlet?” Quincy puts his sunglasses on top of his head either because he wants to get a better look at me or because, well, we're indoors.

“We are ready for you,” he continues. “Now take off that robe, get some sand between your toes, find your light, and sing your heart out!” He throws his hands in the air dramatically. “Ready on the set!” Quincy yells, making his way back to a row of cameras.

“Break a leg,” Stacy says, coming behind me and removing my robe. As if having to sing a brand-new song in a huge movie surrounded by a bunch of strangers wasn't bad enough,
I
have to do it wearing a bathing suit. This couldn't get much more strange and surreal.

“Places, please!” Quincy barks.

I have no idea where I'm going. Then I spot Tad's familiar face.

He's standing on the set, in the center of the action, flashing his perfect smile at me. He motions me over with his hand. He's wearing a pair of bright red swimming trunks and a red T-shirt with the sleeves cut off.
LIFEGUARD
is printed on the front.

He can give me CPR anytime
. Then I think,
Concentrate!

“You okay?” Tad says. “You look a little pale.”

“I'm fine. Some bad tuna for lunch, I think.” I give my stomach a little pat with my hand. “I totes forgot where we're standing for this scene.”

“Destinyyyyyyyy,” Quincy says. “I heard that.” He points above my
head. I look up to see a microphone hanging above me.
Caught
.

“We're good!” Tad shouts. I look at him. “Just follow my lead,” he says softly, giving me a wink. “Don't worry about the cameras or what anyone else on set thinks. I know you can do this.”

Even though he is encouraging Destiny, not me, his words give me the bit of confidence that I need. I know what I have to do. There's no more pretending I'm famous. This isn't about being famous at all—this is about doing my job.
Destiny's
job. None of the people in this giant room really care that I'm famous; they only care that I finish my work so we can all go home for the night.

I close my eyes and really concentrate. Is there more to being a star than parties and pictures and having fun? Was Dad right? Is becoming an overnight sensation just a fairy tale? Is this going to take some work? I think about what it means to be an actor. I think about what it means to be a singer. I know the words. I know the music. I've got Tad to make sure I know where I'm going. I'm going to be all right.

I think.

“Marvelous!” Quincy shouts. “Quiet on the set! Roll playback!”

The familiar melody of the song I've been practicing all afternoon blares in the background. Out of the corner of my eye, I see extras start to dance and move to the music.

Tad grabs my hand and pulls me toward a row of beach chairs. He stands behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“Smile,” he whispers. So I do, staring at the wall ahead, imagining it's some beautiful ocean view—the kind meant solely for postcards and the covers of magazines.

“And. . . action!”

INT.—LA TRANSIT BUS—EVENING

I manage to slip out of the studio unrecognized wearing an old sweatshirt and a brown, floppy hat I found in Destiny's dressing room. My face is wiped clean of all the makeup that had been applied that afternoon. Not a trace of celebrity on me anywhere. No more limousine, no more paparazzi to greet me at the front door.

I'm Monica Perlstein again.

I catch the express bus from nearby the studio to Beverly Hills. I sit staring vacantly out the window. It's hard to take it all in. It's the sort of day that people only have in the movies.

I couldn't have asked for my time at the studio to have gone any better. Sure, we had to start over a few times because I forgot the words. And sure I was nervous and freaking out the whole afternoon, but in the end, it all turned out okay. I think back to being surrounded by a wave of well-wishers after we finally finished filming the musical number. People I had never met or seen before in my whole life congratulating me on a great job.

“Who knew you could sing like that?” Quincy asked me. “I mean, darling, I wasn't even sure we were going to make it through today. I guess we can stop looking for a vocal double for you now.”

If I were actually Destiny, that comment would've really offended me, but as it turns out, I
was
the vocal double, more or less, and I'd performed beautifully. I let the comment pass with a smile and a hug. No harm done.

I hop off the bus at my street corner. I see Dad's car in the driveway and the lights on in the living room. Luckily I texted him earlier saying that I would be studying at a friend's house all afternoon.

Destiny and I promised each other never to tell anyone about the switch we had made. I won't have to tell Dad about the incredible yet exhausting afternoon and evening I've had. I don't think that he would believe it anyway.

INT.—PERLSTEIN HOME—EVENING

“Hi, sweetie!” Dad says the moment I open the front door. “In the kitchen.”

I take off my shoes and throw them into the closet just inside the door. Then I drop my book bag on the floor and head into the kitchen. Dad is sitting at the table, alternating between reading a script and watching the evening news. The smell of Chinese food fills the house; a dirty plate and an empty plastic container sit on the kitchen table.

“There's dinner for you in the fridge,” Dad says, looking up from his script. “How was the rest of your afternoon? You look exhausted.”

“Big math exam tomorrow. We were cramming for hours.”

He squints. “Is that what you were wearing earlier?”

I stare down at my clothes. I'd forgotten that Destiny and I switched clothes earlier today. I wonder if I'll ever get the skinny jeans and new top back from her. Surely this old sweatshirt and baseball cap weren't a fair trade.

“It was dumb, really. I spilled a whole glass of diet soda on myself at Stephanie's house—a freak studying accident!” I laugh. “So she let me borrow this.”

“Klutz.” Dad chuckles and shakes his head. “I left you an egg roll in the microwave.” He motions to the kitchen counter.

“Dad, listen, I've been thinking.” I spoon some General Tso's chicken onto a plate. “What would you think about my signing up for drama club at school and maybe taking acting lessons? Is there someone you could recommend for me to go study with?”

Dad puts the script down on the table, picks up the remote control, and mutes the television. “Seriously?” He takes the reading glasses from his nose and slips them into his shirt pocket. “Earlier you were only interested in a quick ascension to stardom. Now you're willing to put some work into it?”

I think of my conversation with Tad, how he said that he was a normal kid—that acting was a privilege. Then I think of what it felt like to be on set, to be performing in front of a camera. To have Quincy tell me that I did a great job.

I can feel a smile begin to creep across my face. “I know, I know.” I sit down across from him. “Sometimes I
do
listen when you talk to me, you know?”

“So, that's it? That's all it took?” he asks, with a slightly vexed look.

“I think I've been concentrating too much on magazines and blogs lately, and not enough time thinking about what I really want to do with my life. It's not just about getting your picture taken and going to fancy parties. Acting and singing is hard work. It takes discipline.”

“You realize, of course, that's what I've been saying to you all along, right?” Dad grins from ear to ear.

“Of course.” I take a bite of chicken. “Sometimes it just takes a little time out in the real world to make you come to your senses.”

Dad leans back into his chair. “Well, if this is what happens after you spend an afternoon at Stephanie's, you should see her more often!”

“It's not Stephanie. I think it's more like fate. Or . . . destiny.”

Yeah
.
Destiny
.

. . . . .

I never saw Destiny again after that day.

Well, that's not exactly true—I did see her, in the movies.

I went to
Tidal Wave
by myself one afternoon after school. I sat in that dark theater, waiting to see myself onscreen. Would I look any different in my scene than Destiny did in all the others? My stomach tied in knots waiting for that moment. Fortunately or unfortunately, that moment never came. My scene got cut.

I would read later, in an interview that Destiny and Tad gave, that it was cut for time so the movie wouldn't be so long. Quincy also told some big magazine that the musical number was the absolute best part of the movie and that everyone was sad when they decided it had to go. I cut out that article and pinned it to the bulletin board above my desk.

I never saw myself onscreen, and none of those photos taken outside the studio that afternoon made their way into a magazine. I wasn't
really
a
star. That was okay with me, though. My favorite memories of that day aren't of being famous. They're of being happy.

And maybe I
will
be a big, famous actress one day. But if not, I'll be happy just being me.

CONTRIBUTOR BIOS

Clay Aiken
has evolved into a versatile and beloved popular entertainer since coming to national attention on the second season of
American Idol
. In October 2003, he launched his first solo album,
Measure of a Man
. The record sold three million copies and debuted at number one on the
Billboard
200. It was the highest-selling first album for a solo artist in ten years, going double-platinum and netting Aiken an American Music Award. He has released five well-received albums total, selling over six million copies worldwide.

In 2004, Aiken penned a best-selling memoir,
Learning to Sing: Hearing the Music in Your Life
. It was an instant
New York Times
bestseller, holding the prestigious spot for seven weeks.

In addition to taking the stage on nine separate tours, in 2008 Clay began his critically lauded stint as the inept yet endearing Sir Robin in the Broadway musical
Monty Python's Spamalot
.

Clay has been an ambassador for UNICEF since 2004. The same year, he started the National Inclusion Project with cofounder Diane Bubel. NIP supports the integration of children with disabilities into the same environments as their nondisabled peers. In 2012, Aiken was runner-up to Arsenio Hall on the fifth season of NBC's
Celebrity Apprentice
to raise funds and awareness for the National Inclusion Project.

Marc Acito
wrote
How I Paid for College: A Novel of Sex, Theft, Friendship and Musical Theater
, which won the Ken Kesey Award for Fiction, was Editors' Choice by the
New York Times
and a Top Teen Pick by the American Library Association. Translated into five languages, it inspired a sequel,
Attack of the Theater People
. He is also a book writer of musicals, including
A Room with a View
and
Allegiance
, which broke the box-office record at the Old Globe Theater. His comedy
Birds of a Feather
won the Helen Hayes Award for Best New Play. A product of the musical theater program at Carnegie Mellon, Marc has written about theater for
Playbill
, the
New York Times, American Theatre
, and National Public Radio's “All Things Considered.” A book doctor to writers of all mediums, he teaches story structure at New York University. Visit him online at
www.MarcAcito.com
.

Josh Berk
is the author of
The Dark Days of Hamburger Halpin
, which was awarded a Parents' Choice silver medal and named a best book for teens by
Kirkus Reviews
and
Amazon.com
. His second comedy/mystery teen novel was
Guy Langman: Crime Scene Proscrastinator
, and his series for younger readers begins with
Strike Three, You're Dead
. He is the executive director of the Memorial Library of Nazareth and Vicinity and lives in Bethlehem, Pennsylvania. Josh was the star of the 1986 Hanover Elementary School fifth-grade musical
Hanover Goes Around the World
. He still knows all the words to “Waltzing Matilda.”

Alex Flinn
was nine when she took semiprivate violin lessons with a far-more-talented girl whom her mother dubbed, “Nancy First.” Though violin (and—ahem—clarinet) didn't work out, Alex found her stride with vocal music, studying musical theater in high school and opera in college. She drew on these experiences for “Becca First,” and for her novel,
Diva
, about a performing arts high school. Alex is the author of such novels as
Beastly
, a #1
New York Times
bestseller;
Bewitching
, a companion to
Beastly; A Kiss in Time;
and
Cloaked
. Her books have been translated into over twenty languages. She is a nonpracticing attorney who lives with her husband, daughters, and way too many pets in Miami, Florida. She is also the author of
Towering
, a modern retelling of
Rapunzel
.