Pop Princess (18 page)

The song ended; the crowd cheered. Montana pointed at me. He mouthed at me the words: “A hit.”

Less than a year ago
I was scrubbing down floors and toilets at the end of each shift at the Dairy Queen. Now, Cinderella was in full pop princess glory, in front of a television camera with microphone in hand, standing before the gigantic top-floor windows of a loft television studio in Tribeca to introduce “Bubble Gum Pop,” her first single, which would be officially released on Tuesday. The full album, to be called
Girl Wonder,
would follow a few weeks later. In the distance outside the windows were views of the Hudson River and midtown Manhattan, but the closer view outside featured a giant billboard on top of a nearby building advertising a new line of sneakers targeted at teen girls—an ad featuring yours truly, bent over, her butt high (and airbrushed way thinner) and her grin wide as she laced up the shoes, with two guys smirking happily at the rear view.

Earlier in the dressing room, J, the radio/TV host whom I had met at Kayla's party for me, had come in to say hi. “You seem nervous,” he said. Nervous about what? That I was about to be interviewed in front of a live studio audience of kids my own age, for a television program that was broadcast across the globe for millions to see? Me, nervous? Nah.

Kayla, sitting next to me having her makeup touched up, said, “This girl's a pro; she'll be fine.” She patted my arm, which felt almost like a slap. She was still mad about a blind item that had recently appeared in the gossip column of her favorite tabloid newspaper:
WHICH underage prospective pop star upstaged her superstar mentor at an exclusive over-21 club hangout recently as she table-danced with not one but two of the hot young male stars who had been invited to keep company with the queen singer, but who instead spent their dance floor time fawning over the new princess?
Tig said Kayla was even more mad that Montana had agreed to produce an official remix of “Bubble Gum Pop.” Kayla had been trying for almost a year to get Montana to work on one of her tracks.

The show was
J-Pop,
a live music video show broadcast every Saturday morning to the viewing demographic that had just graduated from Saturday morning cartoons but still needed a weekend morning TV baby-sitter to go along with their Cap'n Crunch. “This is it,” Tig said to me.

“That's right,” Kayla added. “This is the last appearance I'm making for you. I gotta be in Cali tomorrow to shoot a video, and we still have to hire more dancers and do tech for the tour. Wonder, you're on your own after this.”

My nerves caught up with me in the form of my bladder; I always have to pee when I'm anxious. I excused myself from the dressing room, where Kayla, Tig, Jules, Karl, J, and an assortment of stylists and producers were hanging out preshow. Bathrooms—whether they were in Tig's offices, at Kayla's brownstone, the record company, or the recording studio—had become my haven, the one place I could be alone. As I was washing my hands I looked out the windows of the bathroom and saw the billboard advertisement featuring my picture. I stood up on the sink to climb into the window perch, where I nestled my body, legs against the wall, in a V shape to look out the window.
J-Pop
was set to go live in a matter of minutes. Tig's words echoed in my mind:
This is it.
No turning back now. I stared at the billboard advertisement, thinking it funny how the image looked in comparison to my strange lifestyle: I was splayed across a billboard representing the All-American Girl, pretty but not beautiful, innocent yet sexy, your basic cute and fresh girl at the mall. Yet how many All-American Girls graduate from high school outcast-slash-dropout to pop princess wanna-be, sixteen years old yet essentially living on her own, parentless—and crashing in the spare room of a pop diva's brownstone?

I understood now why Dean Macaroni had been so dismissive of me when we'd been reintroduced at Steam, why Liam had been contemptuous when I'd been introduced to him as Kayla's protégée: They immediately saw me as a product, not as a person.

My cell phone rang, Devonport calling. I said, “Hi, Mommy!” into the phone but it was Charles, not Mom. “Hey, butthole, the whole town is tuning in to
J-Pop
this morning. Don't screw up or I won't be able to show my face in school Monday.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” I could just see Jen Burke watching
J-Pop
this morning, then immediately starting an Internet smear campaign ratting me out as a Devonport High loser who should be shunned, not camping out with music industry A-listers.

“Don't be like that. You coming home to visit soon or what?”

“I hope so,” I said, and I did hope so. After the months of work and preparation, I wouldn't have minded a nice weekend in dead-end Devonport. I'd sleep till noon with Cash lying at the foot of my bed, I'd be awakened by salty breezes coming into my room and Cash licking my face, Mom and Dad would take care of me, do my laundry and take me out for a lobster roll and a giant ice cream sundae (not from Dairy Queen)—man, that would be so nice. I wouldn't even care about running into Jen Burke or Doug Chase cuz I'd be telling Mom and Dad about this new guy in my life who goes to Dartmouth; Dad would be all over that.

Dad got on the phone. “Hi,” he said. He was always so formal with me now, never offered a “honey” or a “sweetie,” not even a “dear” when he spoke to me. “Good luck today—I'm sure you'll do just fine. We'll expect to see you in June for the G.E.D. test. Here, Mommy wants to wish you well.”

Dad didn't wait for a response, which was okay with me—I dreaded the moment I would have to tell him I was backing down on my one sworn promise to him. I hadn't studied for the G.E.D. and had no intention of taking it. It seemed to me that now that my income was supporting myself and our family's home improvements, why should I be held accountable for that test anyway? Clearly I didn't need a high school education to make it on my own. I was doing just fine.

Mom said, “Hi, sweetie, I'm so excited and
nervous!
But I know you'll be great; I'm—
we're
—so proud! Henry and Katie are here. We're having a little celebration in your honor. I wish I could be there with you, but Charles has a skate meet later today.”

I didn't bring up the fact that Charles had a skate meet like every other week, but how often was your daughter appearing on a famous TV show to debut her first record? I could only imagine that her absence was because of Lucky, that all the pain of our loss would hit her harder if she joined me on this important day, when she'd never gotten to see Lucky reach this point.

Mom said, “Here, someone else wants to say hi to you.”

Katie's voice squealed, “OH MY GOD, Wonder! The whole town is talking about you; everyone at school just can't believe it! Are you hanging out with Kayla? What is she like? What other famous people have you met? I am so PSYCHED for you!”

How nice, Katie. I couldn't help but remember that our shared DQ experiences and years of knowing each other hadn't meant she wouldn't dump me at school the minute she got popular.

I said, “Is Henry there?”

There was a silence, then I heard Katie whisper, “But she wants to talk to
you\”

Opera Man came onto the phone, singing,
“Is this the girl/who doesn't return my e-mails/doesn't/I suspect/even open them? I'm going/to slit my wrists now!”
I grinned wide, then worried that the smile might have smudged lip gloss onto my teeth.

I so suck. If Liam had sent me an e-mail, I would have canceled every voice and dance lesson, every business meeting, any recording session, just to spend the whole day composing the perfect response to a guy I barely knew, but I hadn't once bothered to e-mail or call Henry, whom I'd known since forever.

Kayla burst into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. I jumped down from the window perch so she wouldn't rag on me for scuffing my pants or not meditating or whatever she does before an important public appearance. And since there is no such thing as a private cell phone convo when Kayla is present, I mumbled “Sorry, gotta go” into the phone and turned it off. Now I double-sucked. I promised myself I would call Henry back later to apologize for getting off the phone so quickly.

Kayla went into the stall. “Swear to God, if anyone follows me into this bathroom I'm gonna scream! Sometimes I just get so sick of people touching me all the time—can you sign this, can we take a picture of you with us, blah blah BLAH! The only place I can get any friggin' peace is the friggin' bathroom.” Then, insta-mood change that was vintage Kayla. “Wonder honey, are you ready for your big day?”

She came out of the stall to wash her hands, telling me, “That outfit is adorable.” I had on tight white capri denim pants and a tight white T-shirt with the Wonder bread logo across the chest, along with a pair of the sneakers whose brand I was now promoting, in colorful shoelaces that matched the blue, red, and yellow Wonder bread logo colors. Kayla touched my hair, fixed a smudge of my eye makeup. “Go like this,” she said, blotting her teeth. “Now this,” she added, rubbing her teeth with her index finger. I followed her instructions. She pulled a little tube of Vaseline from her pocket. “Put this on your teeth so they'll shine on TV.” She patted my bum. “Good girl! The boys are gonna love you!”

I had a question I had been dying to ask her for weeks now. Since I seemed to be in her good graces at this particular moment, I took my shot. “Heard from Liam?” I put on my best
no big deal
voice.

“Liam! What the hell, you're asking about Liam when you're about to appear before millions of people on TV? What, do you like him or something?”

Very bad strategic move on my part. I knew I should have trusted my instinct not to ask her about him. “No!” I said. “I was just curious. . . .”

Karl's knock on the other side of the bathroom door saved me the inquisition I know Kayla was about to put me through on why the hell I cared what Liam was up to. Karl's voice grunted, “Kayla, they're ready for you.”

Kayla gave me a quick once-over. “Do great today. Liam? LIAM? Whatever! Think of Lucky, think of me.” She headed toward the door, unlocked it, then turned back to me and winked. “Just don't do
too
great—I'm not quite ready to retire yet!” And she was gone.

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Jules rushed inside the bathroom calling, “Wonder!” When she saw me staring absently out the window, she snapped, “Showtime, girl! Get your ass out there,
now
! Kayla's just going on.”

Jules hustled me over to the curtained guest entrance of the
J-Pop
set to wait before being announced. From the playback screen overhead, I saw J standing before the camera. He said to the audience: “We're introducing today a singer we think is going to be huge. But it's not me who's gonna tell you all about her. It's . . .” And then the cameras panned to Kayla as she burst into the studio, followed by a deafening roar of screams from the studio audience. The audience jumped on its feet, cheers and whistles and screams and high-fives all around.

“What's up NEW YORK?” Kayla said. The girl could work a crowd like no one else. In front of the cameras, with a studio audience, all of a sudden her attitude was all street, her language hip-hop, as if she'd grown up in the hood and not in a big Victorian house with an organic garden and Birkenstock parents in Cambridge, Mass. She chatted with J for a few minutes about her upcoming tour, the new video she was about to shoot, her possible movie career down the road. Then they got down to business—my business. Kayla turned to the audience: “So y'all
know
I am touring this summer, so now what I gots ta do is introduce y'all to my opening act, she's like my li'l sis, I've known her since we were coming up together in Boston. Give her a big shout out, awright? Wonder Blake!”

I rushed onto the stage, almost tripping over the soundstage wires, to where J and Kayla were standing. The camera zoomed in on the billboard outside the windows behind us. My heart was pounding a katrillion beats per second. But with the camera on, there was a comfort zone I'd known since
Beantown Kidz.
Somehow, the scene was less frightening than the nervous anticipation I'd experienced in the dressing room and the bathroom.

I could feel the excitement in the air, but I knew it came from Kayla's surprise appearance, not because of me. A frat dude type guy in the audience stood up and shouted, “Kayla, you're so HOT!” Kayla hand-gestured a phone signal with her thumb at her ear and her pinkie at her chin. She mouthed
Call me!
but to the camera, not to the boy in the audience. The crowd laughed.

J said, “Wonder, welcome, we're excited to have you here.” He turned to the camera. “Everybody here knows about
Beantown Kidz,
how it launched the careers of Kayla, Freddy Porter, and Dean Marconi. Wonder's another
B-Kidz
alum—”

“She was like the baby of the group,” Kayla interrupted. She put her arm around me in a sisterly grip. She even played with the ends of my hair, like Lucky used to do.

J said, “But now this girl is all grown up. She's got a debut single we're premiering here today.” J turned to me. “Wonder, I first met you at a party at Kayla's house recently. The thing I noticed about you then—I think everyone at that party noticed—was how you dance. You just tear it up on the dance floor.” Yeah, just gimme a few Cosmos, J, and watch me go!

Tig had told me to just be myself, not a Kayla clone. I said, “I love to dance! But mostly I was psyched that I got to dance with Will Nieves from
South Coast
in my first video. I have been crushing on him since seventh grade.” I saw several girls in the audience nod their heads appreciatively.