Starlet's Web (The Starlet Series, #1) (32 page)

Her actions actually made me come to realize how much I loved Manuel. We had become so close through email and texting, with me helping Manuel cope, that I only realized that I was
in love
with him in the month following the break-up. If Kate had never lied, they would probably still be together. Manuel would have continued to repress his feelings for me. And I would have remained both of their best friends. She would have been his lover and I would have been his sister.

Kate noticed my silence and studied my poker face. “You hate me?”

“I'm shocked,” I admitted.

I decided she should know my truth as well, “But I'm grateful that you messed up. I would have never been Manny's girlfriend if you hadn't messed up. I wouldn't have known that I loved him completely if I hadn't gone to prom with him and he wouldn't have asked me to prom if we didn't get so close helping each other out of our dramas. I know it's selfish, but I thank you.”

She sobbed. She had done this to herself by her deceit. I did not feel like comforting her. Her intention was to
make
Manuel love her, marry her, and keep him for herself forever. No, she did not deserve either of our friendships, definitely not our love. Forgiving her was something for Manuel to do, not for me. She hurt him.

I got up from the table. Silently, I turned and walked away.

 

Tears streamed down my cheeks by the time I parked in my garage. All the pain and confusion Manuel went through was for nothing. All the guilt I felt for loving Manuel and betraying her was for nothing. Telling him what Kate did would just bring back all the pain again. Manuel deserved to know the truth, but I would wait and tell him after his last exam. I decided to email CSY6.

Hi CSY6!

Your last email really helped; thanks.

Repeating high school is intriguing but YIKES! Doing this over again with all the immaturity of the students would make me crazy. I have made so many mistakes that I'd hate to repeat them again. No rehab next time, for sure! Too much pain and confusion. A friend of mine just told me that she fabricated being pregnant on purpose so that she could trap her boyfriend into loving her. That's so messed up! It would be so easy if we were all just honest and talked about our insecurities. But we're stupid in high school. Maybe high school is different in Switzerland so you don't have to deal with the insanity.

Your dad was really nice to help me. He spent a lot of time with my dad and my dad thinks the most of him. He likes that Jack really cares. My mom sees Jack this Sunday. I'm worried that she's going to die. My boyfriend saw one of her friends who took x-nib and is now dying of cancer. He said that the guy looks terrible. I hope your dad can help my mom, too.

How are you doing? —CSY7

I hit send and put on my swimsuit. I went downstairs and got in the hot tub. I missed Dad. I missed Mom. I missed Manuel. That was it. That was the extent of my family, all I had. I lost Kate. I had lost Dad before. I was mad at Mom, lost all trust in her. Besides, she worked all the time and wasn't around much so would her death hurt as badly as when Dad left? I couldn't bear the pain if I lost Manuel. Just the thought of it made my eyes water.

I loved Celia, Grandma May, Franz, Evan, Richard and Ira, but they were like the next tier of loved ones. I closed my eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. The hot tub relaxed me until I realized that I was desperate to marry Manuel. He was my only. Kate wanted to trap him. I felt the same way. I was sick, scared, and all I could think about was being with him. I hated that he had to leave when Dad came. I hated that he was studying in his home. I needed him with me forever and in my bed at night and in the morning—emotionally, not sexually.

“Hi, angel,” Manuel interrupted the quiet.

“Oh, Manuel, I missed you!” I rejoiced as I got out of the water to kiss him, careful to not get him wet. My eyes watered again as the feeling of loneliness and desperation stayed in the back of my mind. “Thanks for coming by. I didn't expect to see you until tomorrow.”

He looked at me inquisitively. “Are you okay, Lia?”

A tear fell down my cheek and gave me away. “It's…just…” I shook my head. “I need you. And I have to tell you the truth that I want to trap you and keep you mine forever. I don't think I have the strength to live without you.”

“I need you, too. You know it's a two-way street, you and me. I'm utterly co-dependent on you to tap the strength from those spirits of yours.”

He put a towel around me and hugged me. I relaxed.  His hugs recharged me. He alone had the power to breathe life into me with his mere presence. For him, waking up next to me tattooed his heart. Simply his embrace tattooed mine.

“Well, I've aced all my exams so far. I'm so glad you were home.” He added, “Do you want to get something to eat with me before I head home?”

“Let's eat here,” I said as I walked inside. “I splurged in the cafeteria at lunch so I have to have a disciplined dinner. I'll eat my prepared lunch and you can have tonight's dinner. Does that work for you?”

He grinned as he peeked at my body. “Wow! You change. I'll get dinner ready.”

I ate my prepared lunch for my dinner and Manuel joked about the “appetizer” that was his dinner and schemed ways that he'd have me gain weight, the ‘freshman fifteen,' when I was finally done with the Muse project. We were both very happy to have the time together. We studied for our Chinese exam. When we covered all the material, he left to go study for his other exam. I thought it would be selfish to beg him to stay.

I logged on to Gmail. CSY6 emailed me back.

Hi CSY7,

The whole point is that you don't make the same mistakes twice. Yes, the kids are immature. But who cares? It's like you're the older sibling. I lived and learned. Now I don't mess up the same way. I think through consequences before I take action. I make active choices about everything I do.

I don't date anybody. I don't want to date a girl who smokes. Europeans smoke. I don't want to date a girl who wears a lot of makeup or sleazy clothes. She also has to be athletic. So, no one meets my criteria anyway.

I went to high school in Atherton, California, where my dad lives. My mom and dad are still married, but she lives with me and my sisters here in Geneva. My dad and mom grew up here. His dad owned the pharmaceutical company before he died. My dad's brother took it over but he died, too. My dad's sister runs it and dad developed x-nib for the company.  Dad is also a research professor at Stanford. 

In California, I messed up a lot dating the first time around. I thought I was going to die so I didn't study, drank a lot, and was a jock. I was prom king. I got lousy grades so I couldn't get into a good college. I also broke up with a girl I completely loved and wanted to marry. I don't want that emotional pain in my life.

My repeated junior year has been a very good year. I have perfect scores and have learned a ton. There's no drama. No drama is nice.

I still mess up. But at least I don't hurt anyone now.

How am I? Honestly: lonely. I don't relate to people my age. I work hard to find distractions so I don't dwell on not knowing if I have a future. I want to LIVE.

It's nice to know I can tell you how I feel. Thanks.

—CSY6

I emailed him back right away.

Hi CSY6. I decided from now on I will make telling the truth to loved ones my #1 objective. Being honest with fears and insecurities is the easiest path to peace. I'm going to trust people again, starting with you. Please don't betray me.

I didn't think about how you wouldn't be making the same mistakes you made before when repeating high school. Interesting perspective.

I haven't really thought of what I want to do after I stop acting a few years from now. Now that I know I was created, manipulated, exploited… made into an actress – my insides are hollow. A co-star tried to rape me but this is far worse. I'm terrified of trusting someone again. I'm terrified of being alone. I want to elope, keep my boyfriend as close to me as possible, so I don't have to face x-nib's consequences by myself. But I don't want to trap him, either, although I completely relate to the desperation my ex-friend felt when she made up being pregnant. I hate that I'm trapped in Hollywood's web – I am the web.

The problem is that I'm really good at acting. I tried to make myself hate it, tried to think it was not what I wanted to do, that an acting career was forced upon me. But honestly, it is what it is. Acting comes naturally to me. My latest film was good, and it has been cool being a part of its success. Lately, I learned that I could continue acting but specify my own terms so that I didn't have to do industry events, which I find painful. I know it is ironic that students go to college to learn how to act and here I know how to act already.

Why would I go to college? What would I study? Do I have a future anyway? Will I die tomorrow? I'm not replaceable. The show must go on. It's so hard to keep breathing! — CSY7

I pressed send and then shut down my computer. I was ready for my Wednesday exams and history final. I heard the door close.

“Manuel, what are you doing back?” I blurted out, so grateful that he returned.

He laughed as walked down the hall to my bedroom. “I want to stay with my girl tonight. I've missed you.” He embraced me in the doorway and slowed his breathing. He relaxed. “I'm addicted to you. Now I can get some sleep.” He kissed my forehead and walked into the hallway. “I'll make you some tea while you get ready for bed. How about I hold you all night?”

I smiled. “I'd love that.”

I changed and walked towards the kitchen. I stopped when I saw Manuel gazing out the windows in the living room. I wrapped my arms around him and stood beside him, also taking in the magnificent view of the ocean and canyon. The sun had set but the sky was still blue.

He whispered, “You are this view. I've thought so since I've been a kid. You're this anomaly in Santa Monica, beautiful and pure when you should be a rich brat, all fake and superficial.”

I disagreed. “No, I thought I was real, but I'm one-hundred percent made. I'm not natural, not even close.”

“You
are
natural, just like the canyon. One hundred years ago, this canyon would have looked like a canyon north of Malibu, right? But people built homes and planted trees and plants with beautiful flowers. They grew. This is what was created, and it's beautiful, just like you. You're real and have your spirits. They're here, with you, in you.”

His words moved me. He appreciated me for what I held the most dear: the beauty and power of nature. I kissed him, but the kiss moved me too, left me breathless, filled me with love and beauty, and peace.

I melted into his glorious eyes and admitted, “You've just tattooed my heart again. We have the same values. Your spirit is in me and has been for a very long time. I used to think it was impossible for you to love me as much as I love you, but here we are. Thank you for loving me.”

“I feel the same way. You always complain that you can feel me get angry, that I emit hostility. You're the opposite. You radiate joy, like right now. I feel it. It makes me so happy.”

I smiled at him, “You emanate hostility on those rare occasions but most of the time you radiate warmth when you're around me. I feel it right now. You relax me and smell really good.”

We held each other and shared the view, letting our love fill our hearts.

 

My finals were not going well. I bombed the English final and struggled in Chemistry. I did fine in Chinese and botched the history final.

In English, I had to write an essay about Sylvia Plath's poem, but I didn't know the poem well enough. I hated her confessional poetry so I didn't study it. Manuel and Mitch hated it, too. I thought Plath's poetry was completely over-rated. She was depressed, mentally ill, and was a selfish bitch who killed herself by putting her head in the kitchen oven with the gas on while her two kids were sleeping in their beds, not caring that her kids might find her. Putting her talented but dark poetry on a pedestal irritated me. It was irresponsible that critics did that kind of crap, just like they did with my first movie, where everyone
loved
taking a horrible story of a child getting raped and putting it in everyone's faces. Why should a teenager want to read despairing poetry about some twisted lady who hated her life? Yuck. Why didn't my teacher choose Eliot or Frost. There was darkness in their poetry, but there was also hope and beauty. Seriously, I hated that this culture praises the psycho stuff and marginalizes the hopeful literature. By choosing Plath, our high school educators acclaimed her whining as excellence and an ideal that teens should applaud. Of course Plath was chosen. Of course
Left to Die
won the Academy Award. Of course Mom won Best Actress. Of course I did, too. That was the essay I wanted to write for the exam.

I also couldn't remember what a sow was, which was the subject of Plath's awful poem. I thought it was a female pig but I wasn't sure. How did I write an essay on a sow in a poem by a poet I couldn't stand reading? Why after I found out that Kate and Mom were both psycho?