“Thank you, honey. I promise by the time you get back, your room will be cat-free.”

“Sounds good.” I pointed to the boxes in the closet. “Do you remember which one might hold my sweats and tees?”

She gave me her sad eyes again. “I have no idea. You’ll just have to go through all of them.”

“Okay. I will.”

I went to the closet and pulled down the first box. My mom left the room and closed the door behind her, presumably so the cat wouldn’t get out.

“Is now the time you’re going to jump on me?” I asked the air around me. The cat didn’t respond. I snapped a pic of the litter box in the corner and sent it in a text to Amanda with the words: I’ve been replaced by a cat.

Your dad got a cat? Maybe it will divert some of his attention.

I smiled. I wish. No, my mom got a cat.

She needs to play the card game with you so she knows the important details about your personality.

Right? What are you doing with your day off?

I have escaped my trailer and am going to crash at a friend’s place.

Have fun!

I sat down and opened the first box from my closet. It was everything that had been on my dresser and taped onto my mirror—mainly pictures and jewelry. My mom hadn’t mentioned packing away the top of my dresser but when I looked over there now, sure enough, it was bare except for a weird-looking ball. The cat must’ve gotten into my things up there as well. It was fine. This was fine.

I turned my attention back to the pics and flipped through them. Most were from a musical I had directed over the summer—The Music Man. I had been a good director; I encouraged the actors and gave positive feedback. At least most of the time.

I dropped the pics in the box. No, I wasn’t going to let myself obsess on my day off. I needed a distraction.

Fourteen

After digging through five boxes to find clothes, reading my brother and sister a book before bed, and filling my mom in on the exciting world of moviemaking, I asked, “Do you mind if I hang out with some friends tomorrow, Mom?”

My mom sat next to me on the couch with a big glass of ice water. “No, of course not. You should.”

“Thank you.” The clock on the wall said it was close to ten. “Where is Bill? I thought he’d be home by now.”

“It’s that case I was telling you about. It keeps him late almost every night.”

“Tell him I said hi, then. I’m going to bed.”

She squeezed my arm. “I will. I’m glad to have you home, Lace.”

“I’m happy to be home.”

The cat hadn’t shown her face the whole time I’d been in my room—her room?—earlier. Mom had said she hid under the bed a lot. “Don’t jump out at me,” I said as I walked in the room this time. It didn’t smell anymore because my sister had cleaned the litter. “We’ll just have a mutual understanding, yes? You leave me alone. I leave you alone. It will be for the best.” I tiptoed to my bed, then hopped into it quickly.

It didn’t take long for me to fall asleep.

It had been a while since I’d been to a milkshake or burger place, but Abby had suggested the place in town that served both in equal quantities.

Abby jumped up and gave me a hug. “I’m so happy you’re here.”

“Just for a couple more hours.”

Cooper offered a wave and a smile. I didn’t know Cooper as well as Abby. I’d gotten to know her mainly in the time where she was trying to get over him because she loved him fiercely and he didn’t know he loved her back yet. He’d obviously come to his senses. He was cute. His look screamed surfer boy—blond hair, tan, athletic build.

“Do you surf, Cooper?” was the first thing I asked when I joined them at the table.

“No, I do not.”

“Huh.” I sat down and put on my smile. “Hi.”

“What’s with the surfing question?” Abby asked. She had her hand in Cooper’s, and their chairs were close.

“He just looks like a surfer boy. Don’t you think?”

“Is that an insult?” Cooper asked. “It felt like an insult.”

I laughed. “Do you have a problem with surfers?”

“No, but it feels like you do.”

“It does? I don’t. Surfers are cute.”

“She thinks you’re cute, babe,” Abby said.

“I do,” I said.

Cooper winked at Abby. “Are you going to let her flirt with me like this?”

“I will defend you with my life if I need to,” Abby said. “But not until after I have a milk shake.”

I picked up a plastic-covered menu from the table. “No lives need to be sacrificed. I was just pointing out beauty. I also think Abby is cute, and I’m not trying to steal her either.”

“Speaking of beauty,” Abby said. “How is Grant James?”

“You find Grant James attractive?” Cooper asked Abby.

“You don’t?” she said back, as though this was the most shocking thing he’d ever said.

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve seen hotter.”

As they proceeded to get into a debate about Grant James, I realized the last time I talked about Grant was with Donavan. That conversation came back to me—his admitting he’d been the writer of the viral review. The review that was messing with Grant’s head and in turn messing with our chemistry on camera. Even if Grant didn’t think it was him too, Amanda thought it was and so did I.

“For the record,” I said out loud, maybe too loud, “I liked his last movie. I thought he was great. He’s a good actor.”

They both paused in their discussion and looked at me, confusion on their faces. “We didn’t say he wasn’t,” Abby said.

“Oh, I thought that’s what you were talking about.”

Abby tilted her head. “No, we were being much more shallow. Are you okay? Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine.” Apparently I was letting Donavan get in my head now.

“Has the infamous kissing scene happened yet?” Abby wiggled her eyebrows.

“Soon.” I remembered when I first read in the script that I had to kiss Grant James I thought it would be fun. Now it sounded like a test I wasn’t prepared for. Something I needed to study for. Something I’d been studying for. Well, except in the way Amanda had suggested—by finding someone in my real life to have real feelings for. I wondered if I kissed someone for real, someone I wanted to kiss, if that would help. No. I shook my head. I didn’t need to do that. I was an actress. “I just have to become Scarlett,” I said.

“Who’s Scarlett?” Cooper asked.

“My character. I need to channel her and it will be fine.”

“Order number seventy-two!” the worker behind the counter said, and Abby jumped up.

“Oh, you already ordered. I better go place my order or you’ll be staring at me while I eat,” I said.

I ordered grilled chicken and a water, even though the guy behind the counter looked at me funny, then I sat back down. Cooper’s fries looked so good I almost stole one, but I kept my hands to myself.

“So talk to me,” Abby said. “You seem stressed about things. Normally when you talk about a project, you’re overflowing with excitement.”