Premiere (3 page)

“I totally understand.”

Mom glances at me. “But I do like your idea of including Erin in—”

“
Mom!
” I give her a warning look.

“I’m sorry, Erin, but I think you and your sister would be a good team.”

“But I—”

“And I have an idea,” Mom continues as if I’m not even in the room. “Erin is actually quite good with the camera. And I understand her desire to stay on the sidelines—she probably gets that kind of shyness from me. But how about including her in the show as part of the camera crew.”

Helen slowly nods. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. One sister in front of the camera, one sister behind it.” She peers at me again. “But how would you feel about being filmed while you are filming? Not all the time, of course, but occasionally.”

I don’t even know what to say. Mostly I’d like to make a fast break for the door.

“Well, we don’t have to resolve everything today,” Helen says. “Here.” She gives Paige a small card. “You give these guys a call and they’ll set up your screen test. And I’ll be in touch with you next week.” She stands now, as if cueing us that this interview is over.

Paige smiles so big that I wonder if her cheeks ever get tired. Then she reaches out and shakes Helen’s hand, warmly thanking her, and then Helen ushers us out and tells us to have a good weekend and that she’ll be in touch. We’re barely outside of the building when Paige lets out a loud whoop. “I can’t believe it!” she squeals, “I
cannot
believe it!”

“Don’t start celebrating just yet,” Mom warns her. “There are still some bridges to cross first.”

But Paige looks like she’s walking—make that strutting—on air as we head for the car. On the other hand, my feet feel like lead weights as I try to figure a graceful exit out of what’s sure to turn into a catastrophe, for me anyway. Because, for the life of me, I can’t see how I would possibly enjoy being involved in a show like this. It’s like being forced to play Barbies again. And wouldn’t this mean I’d have to give up film school? As much as I’d hate to play the spoiler, I can’t agree to something like this. Hopefully the whole thing will blow over, and although I’ll act as if I’m sad for Paige’s sake, I’ll be extremely thankful for my own.

"No way!" Mollie shrieks when I tell her
the news on the phone. “Paige is going to have her own show? Oh, I’m so jealous. Does she need anyone else, Erin?”

Then I explain Helen Hudson’s plan to use me as camera girl. “But I don’t see how I can do it, Mollie. I mean, fashion is so not me. And there’s film school. Really the whole idea is ridiculous.”

“Wow, your enthusiasm is underwhelming.”

“Sorry,” I tell her. “But I really don’t want to be involved.”

“Maybe I could be the camera girl,” she suggests.

“You don’t even know how to use the camera on your phone,” I point out.

“You could give me a quick course on cameras. I’m a fast learner when I set my mind to it.”

Oddly enough, Mollie’s genuine interest in this project is making me reconsider. “I suppose this experience might look good on my résumé,” I say hesitantly.

“
Duh.
How many eighteen-year-olds do you know who get to film a TV show? Seriously, why would you pass up this
opportunity? But if you do, I still get dibs, okay? Not that I’m advising you to. Really, Erin, think about it. Why would you give up the chance to be on the camera crew? I wonder how much they’ll pay you.”

“But I’m afraid I’ll be more like a
token
camera girl…like a piece of the scenery. They probably just want me to look like Paige’s little plain-Jane sister, something to make Paige look even more beautiful and glamorous…as if she needs that.”

“I hate it when you put yourself down like that, Erin. You’re a pretty girl and you know it.”

“I
know
it?” I look at my image in the mirror above my bureau dresser and make a face. My hair, which looks dull and dark and probably needs to be washed, is pulled back into a tight ponytail—not my best look. My face, void of makeup as usual, looks kind of pasty and in need of some sunshine. And that zit that had been threatening to erupt finally did, and right now it looks like a red headlight in the middle of my forehead.

“If you’d just put a little more time into your appearance—”

“What?” I say harshly. “Then I could look like Paige?”

“No. You could look like Erin…only better.”

“But that’s not me, Mollie. You know that. I’m just not into that.”

“You used to be,” she reminds me.

I don’t respond to this. I’m afraid I know where she’s going. Unfortunately, I can’t think of anything to say that will stop her.

“When are you going to get over him?” she asks me pointblank.

“What do you mean?” I decide to play dumb.

“Blake,” she says in a flat voice. “When will you let it go?”

“I
have
let it go,” I say. “That’s like ancient history.”

“Yeah, right.”

“It is. I hardly ever think of him anymore.” Even as I say this, I open my top drawer and remove a framed photo of Blake Josephson and me at senior prom. It was taken just two weeks before he broke up with me…about eight months ago, not that I’m counting.

“I mean, it was understandable for you to go into a funk then, Erin. You guys had been together for almost two years…I know you were hurting.”

“And your point is?”

“My point is,
move on.
”

“I
have
moved on. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I slip the photo back into the drawer, burying it beneath a tangled mess of underwear and T-shirts.

“If you’ve really moved on, how come you won’t go out with Lionel Stevens?”

“Lionel and I are just good friends,” I point out. “And that’s how I want to keep it.”

“Fine. But let’s talk about why you don’t seem to care about your appearance anymore. Why have you let yourself go?”

“Thanks, a lot. With friends like you—”

“Come on, you know what I mean. You used to care more. Now you’re just sort of, well, laid back.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be superficial. Maybe I happen to like the natural look.”

“And that’s fine, but you could do it with a little more panache.”

“Sometimes I think you and I were swapped at birth, Mollie. You should be Paige’s sister instead of me.”

“Hey, I’m just being honest. If you can’t take some constructive criticism from your best friend who—”

“Okay, Mollie. Thank you. I get it. You think I’m a slob. So does Paige.” I feel both angry and hurt. “I only called you to tell you about the show, not to get lectured.”

“I’m sorry.” Her voice softens. “It’s just that I care about you and sometimes it seems like you’re still hung up on Blake. That worries me.”

I take in a deep breath, shoot up a very quick prayer, and decide to get honest. “Okay…you might be right. I try not to think about him, but I guess I still feel hurt. I mean, we were so close. I thought he really loved me…and I loved him. He seemed like such a strong Christian, and I probably thought someday we’d get married.”

“I know, Erin. I thought the same things about you guys—you were like the perfect couple. And I couldn’t believe it when he did what he did.”

What Blake
did
was cheat on me with Sonya Michaels. He claimed she had been the instigator, that she had flirted with him first, but the fact of the matter was that he went for the bait. And who could blame him? Sonya is gorgeous. But she’s certainly not what you’d call a girl of faith. Not even close. And when Blake started dating her, he stopped going to youth group. I’m not sure which part of the breakup hurts the most—being dumped for a girl who’s much hotter than me or seeing Blake take steps away from his faith. The whole thing hurts. And Mollie knows this.

“So…anyway…I wasn’t sure if I should tell you this or not, but Tony told me that he’s been talking to Blake.”

Tony is Mollie’s boyfriend. He’s also Blake’s best friend. Or rather, he used to be. Tony was so miffed at Blake that they quit talking too. Just one more sad side effect of our breakup. I guess I should be happy for Blake’s sake that they’re talking
again. But I don’t even know how to react to this. So I simply say, “Oh.”

“Anyway, Tony said that Blake has been talking to Sonya about coming to the college fellowship group and there’s a pretty good chance they’ll come.”

“Oh…” Again, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know whether to be encouraged or terrified of seeing Blake again. Especially when I thought I’d finally gotten over missing him.

“So I just thought you should know, Erin. Kind of a heads-up.”

“Sure. I appreciate it.”

“I almost wasn’t going to tell you because I was worried that you might decide to skip out on it…”

The thought is already going through my mind, but I don’t confess it. “Why would I do that?”

“To avoid him.”

I sigh. “Don’t worry, Mollie. I’m not going to let Blake and Sonya drive me away from fellowship.”

“Oh, good.” She sounds genuinely relieved. “So are you still picking me up at seven?”

“Sure.” I force brightness into my voice.

“Great. I better go now. Tell Paige congrats on the TV show.”

“It’s not set in stone, you know.”

“But knowing Paige it probably will be.”

We say good-bye and hang up, and suddenly the realization that Blake and Sonya might possibly be at fellowship group tonight stops me in my tracks. Mollie was right—I do want to skip out on it. But I promised her that I wouldn’t. And yet the idea of being in the same room with them…well, it’s a little overwhelming.

“Hey, Erin.” Paige sticks her head in my room without even knocking.

“What?” I snap at her.

“Excuse
me,” she says dramatically.

“Sorry. But you could at least knock.”

Now she’s all the way in my room and peering at me curiously. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” I snap.

She folds her arms in front of her, then shakes her head. “What’s going on, Erin? You look like you want to punch someone.”

“Maybe I do.” I press my lips together and tighten my fists.

“Why?” Her features soften. “What’s up?”

I really don’t want to tell her, but before I can ask her to leave, tears start filling my eyes. I really don’t want to cry.

“Erin,” she says gently, “tell me, what’s wrong?”

And then, to my own shock, I pour out the whole story. Sure, Paige knows all about the breakup. But she didn’t know how deeply it had hurt me. No one really did, except maybe Mollie. “And he and Sonya are going to fellowship tonight and I just really don’t want to see him, but I promised Mollie I’d go. And I actually want to go because it’s a cool group and I like it.” And now I’m really crying.

Paige hugs me. “You will go, Erin. And you’ll hold your head high and you’ll look like a million bucks too.”

I pull away from her and wipe my cheeks. “Yeah, right.” I point to the mountain on my forehead. “I’ll look more like a pathetic zit head.”

Paige just laughs. “
Zit head
? Really?” Now we’re both laughing. “Listen,” Paige says, “we can totally cover that up.”

“With what?” I ask. “A ski mask?”

Her mouth twists to one side as she studies me. “How about bangs?”

“Bangs?” I frown at her. “Cut my hair just to hide a zit?”

“You’d look good with bangs, Erin.”

I roll my eyes.

“Seriously. Why don’t you let me cut your hair?” She pushes me in front of my mirror, then pulls the bungee off my ponytail to let my hair fall down. “I’ll take a little off the length and give you some bangs, and you’ll love it.”

“I’ll love it, huh?”

“You used to let me cut your hair.”

I nod as I stare at my image. I look even more pathetic now with my puffy eyes and dirty hair stringing down.

“Come on, Erin, it’ll be fun. I’ll do a whole makeover on you.”

“I don’t know…”

“Please,” she pleads.

I just shrug. Really, what do I have to lose?

And so, like a lamb to the slaughter, I place myself in my sister’s hands. She pulls out all the stops and I feel like I’ve just arrived at Spa Forrester. And to my surprise, it’s not so bad. First, she applies a facial masque, including cucumbers over my eyes, and then she assigns me to soak in the tub. This is followed by an “exfoliating” shower, along with a shampoo and an “intensive hair treatment” that smells like coconut. When I’m done bathing, she sets me outside in the sunshine where she plans to cut my hair.

“I don’t want you to see yourself until I’m all done, okay?” she says as she begins snipping away. I’m a little worried that she’ll cut it too short, but instead of worrying, I just turn on my iPod and zone out. After the haircut she takes me to
her room where she styles my hair and then starts to apply makeup.

“Please, don’t make me look like a clown,” I beg her. “Keep it natural, okay?”

“Trust me,” she says for the umpteenth time. Then she chatters happily about how great it will be to do the TV show, which she is certain is in the bag. I don’t say anything to rain on her parade. After all, she’s trying to help me.

She steps back and looks at me. “Perfect.”

“Can I see?”

“Not yet.” She frowns. “We need to dress you first.”

I feel like I’m about three years old as Paige takes shirts out of her own closet, holding them up to me as if I’m a paper doll. I’m surprised that she’s willing to let me wear something of hers, but then I realize that I’m her project and it’s all about the final results. Although Paige is taller than me, we wear about the same size in a lot of things, including shoes because her feet are small for her height whereas mine are a bit large.

It’s getting close to six when she finally decides on the outfit, which turns out to be a cute little denim skirt—which she tells me I can keep—topped by a simple white T-shirt and her black suede jacket. I’m surprised she lets me wear this jacket, but I have to admit that it feels really nice. The leather is soft and buttery. I’m even more surprised when she lets me wear her Frye boots, since she just got them last fall. Like the jacket, they’re black and are almost too tall for me, but Paige assures me they look great. I’m still not allowed to look in the mirror as she chooses accessories, finally deciding on simple hoops and a silver chain necklace.

“Hey, girls,” Mom calls as she comes into the house. “Anyone home?”

“In here,” Paige calls back.

Mom comes into Paige’s room and blinks in surprise to see me. “Oh, Erin,” she says with wide eyes.

“What?” I demand. “Do I look ridiculous?”

“No.” She shakes her head. “Not at all. You look gorgeous.”

“Really?”

“You haven’t seen yourself?” Mom looks puzzled.

“I told her she can’t see the results until the makeover is all done,” Paige says as she does a final touch-up to my hair.

“Did you do this yourself, Paige?”

Paige nods proudly.

“Well, I’m impressed.” Mom looks like she’s about to cry.

“Okay,” Paige says as she turns me around so I can look in the full-length mirror on her closet door. “Voila!”

I stare at my image in wonder. “It doesn’t even look like me,” I finally say.

“Yes, it does,” Paige insists.

“It just shows how beautiful you really are,” Mom adds.

Now Paige looks upset. “You don’t like it?”

I’m still staring at the strange girl in the mirror. She looks stylish and pretty—her hair is cut just above the shoulders in a glossy bob and the bangs, which look good, totally cover her zit. “I like it,” I tell Paige. “I mean, it’ll take some getting used to. But you did a good job.”

“Thanks!” Paige is beaming now. “You look hot, Erin.”

“I’m just in shock,” I say, still trying to absorb my new look.

“I’m getting my camera,” Mom says suddenly.

I look at the clock by Paige’s bed. “You better hurry. I need to get going.”

So Mom snaps shots of me by myself, then me with Paige. Afterward, I grab my backpack and am about to leave.

“Wait!” Paige yells. “That backpack will NOT do.”

I wait as she dashes back to her room, finally emerging with a small red purse. “It’s a fake Fendi,” she admits, “but a good one.” Then she helps me transfer some things from my pack.

“Have fun,” Mom tells me.

“You look fabulous!” Paige calls as I leave. “Knock ‘em dead.”

I almost feel like giggling as I head downstairs. And I feel something else too…kind of hopeful. Not that I haven’t been hopeful before, but I suppose I have been kind of gloomy lately. Still, I don’t think that the hope I feel is tied to my appearance exactly. And it’s certainly not tied to Blake. I honestly believe my makeover is like a God-inspired kind of hope. Kind of like a rainbow or a promise…like something really good is coming my way. I get into my Jeep and realize I can’t wait to see Mollie’s reaction to my makeover.