Generations 2.7 kindle (9 page)

Chapter Six ……

J
ackson was right. Kat knew it deep down. She couldn’t cut class to go primp for a guy. Even if that guy was Ben. Plus, she had a test in sixth period. It would be a pain in the butt to schedule a retake. So she stayed at school. But she bummed some make-up from Hannah and some hairspray from Macey. She felt presentable-er by the end of school.

She was supposed to wait near the marquee, but she had yet to see Ben’s silver muscle car. She sat on the handrail, keeping an eye on the parking lot entrance. The major after-school rush was over. The parking lot had cleared out. Had he stood her up? Or worse, had he seen her blah-de-dah common clothing and left?

Kat reached for her phone. She was going to call Jackson and see if, by chance, she had misunderstood the plan. That’s when she heard someone yell her name. Ben’s head was sticking out of the window of a red sports car. He waved. He wore sunglasses, but nothing on his head. She could tell it was him. Could anyone else tell? That thought made her run to the car. She didn’t want him to get mobbed before she was there to take part.

“Sorry,” she said as she slid in the car. “I didn’t see you. I was looking for the … uh … Camaro.”

“Challenger,” he corrected. “Although I do have a Camaro too.”

“Were you here the whole time?” Kat asked, embarrassed.

“Yeah. I’ve been trying to get your attention … you know, without getting any attention.” He smiled a very large, very white toothed smile. It made Kat want to go home and apply Crest Whitestrips. Hers never seemed to get quite that white.

“Forget your wig?” she asked.

“Yeah. Or someone did. All my cars are supposed to be stocked with disguises. You know, hats, wigs, glasses … but this one hasn’t been stocked yet. It just came in this weekend—special order—and apparently my garage guy didn’t get around to stocking it.”

“Dang. I hate it when my garage guy doesn’t do his job. Forgets to stock my car with gum, and fingernail files. It’s irritating.”

No smile now. “You making fun of me?” he asked.

“Oh, no. No,” Kat panicked. It had sounded that way, hadn’t it? “It’s just different, you know, from my life. I don’t have a garage guy. Just my dad. But I think he’d be ticked if I called him that. He doesn’t do cars … except for the gas and washer fluid.”

Ben’s smile came back. “You’re kind of hard to get,” he said. “I never know when to take you seriously.”

“Serious?” she didn’t mean to use that word. She sounded like a copy cat. Or was it a copy Kat? Both were lame. “Well, I pretty much joke all the time. So you really don’t need to take me seriously. Unless, like I’m crying or something. But even then, I might just be laughing really hard, ‘cause sometimes I cry when I laugh. So, you just never know.”

He laughed. “Well I guess I’ll just have to figure you out then. Unravel the mystery.”

Her stomach bubbled. She did what she knew best: changed the subject. “So, Jack said we need to be at the studio by four. We should probably get going, unless you’re planning on driving over 100 again.

“Can’t,” he said. “There’s a speed trap set up on the 101. And red cars are always targeted. So I’ll be going slow.”

“Oh Frog Suck. I was hoping to laugh in the face of death today.”

“Frog Suck: where was that again?”

“Wyoming.”

“That’s bad. Real bad. Glad I don’t have that on my birth certificate.”

Even though she had just reminded Ben that they needed to get going, his car still remained in park. “So then, if we can’t go over the speed limit, we should really get going.”

“We’re not really in any hurry to get there. We changed the schedule today.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. We changed a lot of things. Didn’t Jackson tell you?”

“He said that there were going to be changes, but he didn’t say what.”

Ben smiled big again. “Really? I thought for sure he’d tell you.”

“He said he couldn’t.” Kat answered, a little confused. “And Jackson is real big on being trustworthy.”

“That’s cool. Real cool.” Ben rested his arm on the door, kind of leaning back all relaxed like. His body language said that he had no intention of leaving the parking lot, ever. “So I get to be the one to tell you? Sweet.”

“Tell me what?”

“We want you to be in the video.”

“Me? Why? Where?” Really, was that all Jackson was upset about? That Ben had added her to the video? That’s what she’d call a Chernobyl overreaction. Add her to one of the rooms as one of the motionless generations of family members. What’s the big deal?

“Well, we want you to dance. In all the scenes. You’ll be my co-star.”

Her head stared to swim. Not only was this … like … awesome, it was also … like … confusing. There was no co-star written in to the treatment. It was just Ben and a bunch of frozen people. And frozen people don’t dance. “I’m confused,” she admitted. “Where exactly would I be? And why exactly would I be dancing?”

“That’s where the changes come in. After I saw you dance, I knew we needed to incorporate that into the video. Each generation is defined by the popular dance of that day. So rather than just being an emotional journey—a family history journey—it’s going to be a pop culture journey. I think it will be more dynamic this way. Not such a pull on the heartstrings, but more eye-catching. Which is what makes a killer video. You have three and a half minutes to tell a story: to transfix your viewers. And you want to give them a reason to watch it over and over again. That’s how this version is different. There will be so much going on—so much to see—that you can’t catch it all in one sitting.”

Whoa. No wonder Jackson felt like his foot had been stomped on. This treatment was so different. And all because Ben had watched her do the Lindy Hop? Yeesh. Jackson must think that she’s a major Nacho Bellgrande. “So it’s an entirely different treatment?” she asked with apprehension. She felt the need to defend Jackson. He’d been snubbed. And that’s no way treat her best bud/fake stepbrother.

“Well, not entirely. The concept is the same. The treatment still flashes between decades, but now it’s in a nightclub instead of a house.”

“And instead of the other actors being more like scenery, they now are part of the action?”

“Let me back up,” Ben said. “I’ll help you get a visual. Jackson’s original treatment had me moving through the decades while everything else was frozen in time. This is essentially the same. I move from nightclub to nightclub—decade to decade—but now there is motion in each decade. But it’s like each decade is stuck on a closed-circuit video. They never move forward. Each nightclub will have a distinct, separate crowd. With the exception of you. You’ll be in each decade. And I’ll always be watching you, working my way through the crowd of dancers to get to you. But, since I’m like a ghost, I’ll never be able to reach you.

“Then during the second half of the song, everything changes. I’m no longer this phantom floating through the decades. I’m part of the action. And I reach you. I dance with you. I join you in each decade. We become … this immortal couple that is untouched by time. Cool, huh?”

Well, yeah, it sounded cool … but still. “Is it okay to change Jackson’s idea like this?”

Ben looked mystified. Had it never occurred to him that Jackson might feel trampled? “Of course. Jackson’s game. Plus, this one’s better. And it’s all because of you. I would have never thought of this if I hadn’t watched you dance on Friday. Amazing, isn’t it? Like fate.”

“Shya. Amazing.”

Holy crapoly. No wonder Jack was being a Peever. He had been told that #1. His idea wasn’t as good as Ben’s and #2. Ben’s creative muse was attributed to Kat. Ouch.

“It’s a big change; there’s a new set to build and dances to choreograph and all, but everyone is working overtime to get it done. Everyone is really excited about the new version. Plus, we got Ernie Dixon to choreograph. How cool is that?”

“Ernie Dixon? Seriously? At the last minute? How is that possible?”Okay, Ernie Dixon was like the greatest choreographer ever. The last three breakaway Broadway plays: his. Those two made for the big-screen musicals that made musicals popular again: his. And the closing ceremony at the last Winter Olympics: his. There’s no way that Ernie Dixon was going to do a video for a teen pop artist. Even if that certain pop artist was incredibly good-looking.

“Paul just called him and asked him. We flew him in from New York last night.”

“Just called and asked? No way.”

“Well … there may have been a little more to it than that, but the point is that Ernie is here and he wants to see you dance. Today.”

Kat’s brain just left skid marks inside her skull. Stop. She’d been entirely selfless for … what was that, three minutes? She’d been thinking about the injustice done to Jackson. She’d been compassionate long enough to be considered a good friend, right? ‘Cause now she needed all her energies focused on
not
having a conniption fit. Everything Ben had said about the video was just now sinking in. She would dance: in every scene. He would dance with her. He would
reach
her. They would be a … couple? Genghis Khan.
    

She was getting sick. Nauseous. And she felt like she was having a heart-attack. She hoped the heart attack came before she threw-up all over the black and red leather interior of Ben’s new sports car. A heart attack would be better than a nervous stomach losing her three dollar lunch.

“Katrina?”

When he said her name, she realized that she hadn’t responded—or looked at him—in a least a minute. She turned her face towards his. He looked … concerned maybe? Or apprehensive? Was she turning green? Were the beads of sweat that she could feel erupting out of her pores—pretty much all over her body—visible?

“You okay?” he asked.

Her answer was the complete opposite of what she felt. “Fine.” She even managed to answer in a calm tone. “I just hadn’t really planned on dancing for Ernie Dixon … today.”

He gave a small chuckle. “I know, surreal, huh? But don’t sweat it: you have the part no matter what. You’re the one I want to dance with. Ernie just needs to see … your range of movement before he finishes the choreography.”

“Finishes it?”

“Yeah, he’s been working at it all day. He hopes to have it done tomorrow. We will practice all the rest of this week while the set changes are being made. Then we can start filming by mid-next week, at the latest. We should only be a week or two behind schedule. But they’ve promised to make that time up in editing. We’ll still release on schedule.”

“Oh. Wow.” Kat was astonished that she was able to speak two words. Her brain felt like a firecracker had exploded inside.
Ben wants me to be his female lead. Ben wants me to be his female lead.
She couldn’t really get past that thought. Well, maybe except for the other thought that kept ticking through like an Emergency Services alert message. The kind of message that distracts you from your favorite show, but isn’t important enough to interrupt the program entirely. It said: YOU’RE GOING TO DANCE FOR ERNIE DIXON.

Ben was talking again. Kat had to snap out of it to listen. “So we need to get a parental release signed. Can we take it over to your mom?”

“A parental release?”

“Right, minors have to have permission to be filmed. Do you think your mom will be okay signing that?”

“Um, my mom’s at work.” Then Kat gulped. This amazing opportunity, this dream finding its way into her reality, could be taken away. Her mom was not a big supporter of childhood stardom. She’d vocalized it for years, but increasingly in the last few days since Jack had made his announcement. Not that she had made any references to Jack’s new gig. She just kept saying things like “Let kids be kids. There’s more than enough time to be an adult.”