The Pretty App (11 page)

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Dear Sara,

I just wanted you to know that I had Joanna and Jolene take down the page they made about you on Public Party. I’m really sorry I didn’t stop it in the first place.

Blake

P.S. Maybe think about untagging yourself from unflattering photos? It’s just not the best idea to leave up the ones where your bathing suit is basically falling off. No offense. I’m just trying to be helpful.

On Monday morning, I met Joanna and Jolene in the parking lot outside of school. I’d spent practically all of Sunday staring at my phone and waiting for Leo to call, which I
hadn’t done with a guy in years. But he never called; he never even texted. And it’s not like we’d made a plan to talk, but it just made me even more nervous for today. I wasn’t sure what it was going to be like at school, or how we were going to act when we saw each other.

“You look amazing in those,” I said to Jolene when she and Joanna got closer. She was wearing the black corduroy shorts I gave her, with thick, gray patterned tights, and they looked even better than the pair she’d wanted to buy at the Deb.

Jolene mumbled a quick thank-you, and when I got closer, I saw mascara smudged beneath her lashes. Her light blue eyes were bloodshot, and Joanna looked upset, too. If they were normal sisters, I’d have figured they’d had a fight on the way to school, but I’d barely seen them argue in the years I’d known them. It took some gentle prying, but Jolene finally confessed her crush on Woody.

“And then I asked him if he’d ever want to go to junior prom with me,” she said as we stood in the parking lot, the early morning sun making it feel like spring. “And he just sort of smirked and said, ‘We’ll see.’ I mean, it’s not even his prom. But it’s like he can’t take himself off the market in case some other junior girl asks him.”

Joanna squeezed her sister’s hand. “I was the one who convinced her to ask him,” she said guiltily.

We started walking toward school, and I listed all the reasons Jolene could do better than Woody. (Number one: He actually made really weird grunting noises like an English bulldog the time we hooked up.) I wanted to go through
the main entrance because I was dying to see Leo, but I didn’t want everyone to see Jolene like this. So I guided them around the D wing toward a back door, where it was usually quiet. But when we rounded the corner, there were a group of theater kids sitting on benches, listening to music and drinking from Styrofoam Dunkin’ Donuts cups. A bell buzzed inside Harrison, and all at once they jumped up with their bags and music and water bottles. The commotion swallowed us, making me itchy with nerves.

“Move,” Jolene hissed at a freshman with glasses and a beehive-esque hairdo.

Nic’s words echoed through my mind:
I get that you hurt people because you feel like crap about your own life.
And even though it sounded straight out of an afterschool special or
Barney & Friends
, I couldn’t really deny the connection.

“She didn’t mean that,” I said to the freshman, forcing a smile even though claustrophobia was taking over me.

“What was
that
?” Joanna asked when we got past the group.

The metal bar was cold in my hands as I pushed open the back door. “I’m turning over a new leaf,” I said, holding the door for her. “There’s a new study—from Finland or Iceland, or somewhere cold like that—saying random acts of kindness have health benefits.”

Joanna’s blond eyebrows arched. The door clanked shut behind us, and we made our way silently to our separate homerooms. I kept my eyes peeled for Leo and thought about the things I could say if we bumped into each other.
Hey, how was the rest of your weekend?
Or maybe that was too casual.
Maybe something like,
Hey, thanks again for everything you did for my sister.
Or maybe something about our date?
Saturday was amazing. I haven’t stopped thinking about you.

I slowed in front of the computer lab and saw Audrey and Aidan talking to their teacher, Ms. Bates, but Leo wasn’t with them. Audrey turned and saw me, and I quickly looked away, a little embarrassed. We’d driven home from the Grotto on Saturday night barely saying anything to each other, and when I’d dropped her off, she’d said, “Take care of yourself, Blake.”

Something about the way she said it left me feeling like I’d lost whatever small spark of friendship had flickered between us that night.

I didn’t see Leo in the hallway between classes, and he wasn’t at lunch that afternoon. I tried texting him:
You okay? Harrison=Dull City without you
, but he didn’t write back. I got desperate enough to ask Xander and Woody if they’d seen him, but they hadn’t. And when Xander mumbled something like, “So now you care about Trogs?” I couldn’t even be bothered with a comeback. Why hadn’t Leo answered my text? What if something was wrong?

I was scanning the auditorium for him at the start of College Prep when Hot Gym Coach waltzed in with his nipples on high alert under his lacrosse jersey. “Good afternoon, soon-to-be high school graduates,” HGC said. “Today we’re going to talk about balancing your social life with your academics.”

“Snooze fest,” Kevin Jacobsen said behind me, reeking
so strongly of pot I worried I was getting high for the first time off his cliché flannel shirt.

Class went on forever, and I was so busy thinking about everything that had happened over the weekend that I didn’t notice a bunch of kids were staring at me. But then Joanna elbowed my rib. “What the hell is going on?” she asked.

I glanced up to see Goth Girl peering at me through her black lace veil. Chantal Richardson had turned in my direction, too. Carrie Sommers opened her mouth into a huge
O
, and then put three fingers up on either side of it to make a
WOW
, one of her favorite cheerleading moves. Nina Carlyle was ESPing death wishes in my direction with her dagger-eyes stare, but that was normal.

“I have no idea,” I said to Joanna, and then Theresa “T. Rex” Rexford boomed out in her deep voice, “Woot woot!” and Lindsay’s friend Princess Di held up her phone and said, “Holy crap, Blake!” Nigit said, “Holy Sepiroth,” and soon everyone was talking and staring in our direction.

“Would someone like to share what’s going on?” Hot Gym Coach asked, standing erect like an armed guard at a monument.

Nigit shot up from his chair. He loved having the right answer. “I’d like to share, Coach, sir,” he said, like he wasn’t sure how to talk to an athlete. “Blake Dawkins was selected as one of twelve most beautiful girls in America. If she chooses to accept her candidacy, she may appear on a reality show sponsored by Public Corp., and she may gain fame and fortune.”

My throat felt like it was closing.

Nigit turned to face the class like he expected them to clap. Then, to HGC, he said, “Thank you, sir, for the opportunity to answer you.”

All eyes were on me. It suddenly felt like time had stopped with everyone’s face frozen in awe, and I felt my anxiety skyrocket. I sank down an inch or so in my seat. Could this possibly be real?

Joanna shoved her phone in my face. I grabbed it and saw the evidence right there in front of me: my name on a list with eleven others. A banner above our names read:
THE PRETTY APP LIVE: THE NATION’S FINALISTS
. My hands started shaking. How had this happened? Was I seriously chosen out of all of those thousands of girls? Maybe Public looked at my application more closely because they knew my dad? Or maybe it was because Audrey, Nigit, and Aidan were last semester’s finalists. Maybe the contest people recognized Harrison High School on my profile?

My insides felt like they were on fire. This could be the start of my new life—it could be the way Leo and I talked about it: I could go to LA and see what it was like there, and watch TV-making behind the scenes. And who knew what could happen to me because of this show? Everything could change.

Xander jumped up from his seat in the front row near Hot Gym Coach. He pumped his fist in the air and yelled, “That’s my girl!”

I definitely wasn’t his girl, but something about it still
felt good, like he was proud of me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done anything to make anyone proud. And If I could do this one thing—if I could go to LA and win the contest—maybe I’d make a whole bunch of people proud. Nic. My parents. The other kids at Harrison. Maybe they’d remember me as someone different than I really was here. Maybe they’d forget my mistakes. Maybe
I’d
forget my mistakes.

Nigit jumped up, not quite as athletically as Xander, but just as excited. “Go, Blakey!” he shouted. A few more kids stood up and started cheering. Nina Carlyle yanked Max Laudano back down as he tried to stand, but obviously I couldn’t please everyone. Even the kids who weren’t standing or cheering were all staring at me in awe, looking almost happy about it.

Joanna and Jolene were freaking out on either side of me, clapping and squealing. “Stand up, Blake,” Joanna hissed.

“Take a bow or something,” Jolene said, trying to nudge me out of my chair.

“This is probably the best day of your life,” Joanna said.

“Besides your wedding,” Jolene said, and I couldn’t tell if she was serious.

“Stand
up
,” Joanna hissed again.

But I couldn’t. My nerves were going so wild I worried I’d fall out of my chair. Was this really happening? Was I really going to LA to be on a TV show? Were my parents even going to let me do this?

My parents. I had to convince my parents—especially
my dad. Politicians’ daughters do
not
go on reality shows. My mind whirled as I tried to take it all in. And then Hot Gym Coach raised his voice to say, “Congratulations, Blake,” over the chatter of the students. He checked the fat black rubber watch on his wrist. “Class is dismissed five minutes early,” he said. “You should all congratulate Blake on a job well done.”

“It’s not like she did anything,” Nina Carlyle pointed out from her seat on the far end of the row.

“Uh,” Hot Gym Coach said, stalling, like he didn’t know how to answer her. Maybe because she was right: I didn’t
do
anything. But so what? Was it really that different from how God gave some people smart brains? I didn’t get one of those. I got
this
.

I sat there, glued to my chair, wishing Nina hadn’t said it and wishing someone would jump to my defense, but most of the kids just nodded like they agreed with her. I busied myself checking my phone as they all packed their bags. There was an email from
[email protected]
, and I opened it to see a welcome letter with five documents attached. Maybe contracts for me to sign?

I skimmed the letter, which was mostly a congratulatory note that announced filming would start in four days in Los Angeles and that I was allowed to bring one guest to accompany me. The last paragraph said I had to scan and return the attached contracts with my signature within twelve hours or my spot would be forfeited.

I clicked on one of the attachments and glanced over some of the clauses:

Any immoral behavior bringing negative attention to PUBLIC CORPORATION as so deemed by PUBLIC CORPORATION will not be tolerated. Engaging in such behavior will cause any contestant to forfeit the right to compete and may result in PUBLIC CORPORATION seeking damages (punitive and otherwise).

CONTESTANTS in
The Pretty App Live
may not leave the grounds at any time unless escorted by staff during the production of the live shows. Failure to comply will result in immediate dismissal from the contest. Please be advised that film crews and hidden cameras may record any and all action on the
Pretty App Live
campus at any time at the sole discretion of PUBLIC CORPORATION (save in restrooms and shower areas). PUBLIC CORPORATION holds the sole rights to this footage and may use it for broadcast, promotional, and marketing materials at any time in perpetuity.

It all felt so unreal. I scanned the auditorium and watched other kids sling backpacks over their shoulders. Were they going to come talk to me? They were definitely talking
about
me. I heard my name echoed through the auditorium.

“I can’t believe this!” Joanna was saying as Jolene unwrapped a chocolate-chip granola bar.

“You could be famous, Blake,” Jolene said, taking a bite. The smell of chocolate filled the air between us.

“You’re going to meet Danny Beaton,” Joanna said. “Maybe you’ll even start dating him or something.”

I didn’t want to date Danny Beaton, but I smiled anyway, like I was enjoying all of this. I didn’t want to date anyone other than Leo. Where was he?

The same group of theater kids we’d seen behind school that morning walked up the red-carpeted aisle toward the exit. They were staring at me, but they didn’t stop to say anything. And then one of the girls used her overenunciated theater voice to say, “
What a sweep of vanity comes this way!
” It sounded like Shakespeare, and she was most definitely poking fun at the Pretty App contest, and at me. The others pretended not to think it was funny until they passed us and started giggling. Whatever. They could have their stupid plays. I had
television.

Goth Girl shuttled along after the theater kids, not stopping, either. Same went for the potheads, and same for Nina Carlyle and Max Laudano. They were definitely all talking about it among themselves, but it was like no one wanted to share it with me.

I tried to pay attention as Joanna and Jolene went on about how crazy it all was. I sat there trying to act like my two best friends were enough, like I didn’t need anyone else.

The Trogs made their way up the aisle, and I held my breath. Maybe our courtyard lunch last week was enough to change things. Maybe they’d stop. I messed around in my lavender handbag, pretending to look for my keys or my makeup or some imaginary thing I’d lost. When I could feel them there, waiting outside of our row, I looked up. Audrey, Aidan, Nigit, Lindsay, and Mindy were grinning.
I shoved my phone into my bag and stood. I couldn’t help but smile back.