He went on to demonstrate how the very word itself is a warning. It’s all right there in the spelling, impossible to ignore: ass-u-me. And yet people still choose not to see it and assume all kinds of things, about all kinds of people, on a regular basis.
It’s not like I didn’t listen. But at the time, all I really got from that talk was that my dad feared I’d be marked as unpopular bully bait from day one and felt the need to prepare me.
It’s only now that I truly get the lesson.
Too bad it’s too late to change the fact that I assumed I could outwit Ezer and this dream life, only to have them outwit me.
Though it’s not the only assumption I’ve made. I’ve assumed all kinds of things about everyone here, and now it’s time to challenge at least one of them.
It’s a really big risk that could very well backfire, but with Ezer tracking my every move, I have no choice but to go on with the show. Which means if I’ve any hope of pulling this off, I’ll have to narrow my list of suspects and pin all my hopes on the one person I’m not even sure I can trust but is the only one who might be willing to help me.
With my hair purposely messy and my face powdered down, I stand outside Ezer’s front door waiting for the director to shout, “Action!” That’s my cue to enter wearing a surprised face while Eileen clasps me tightly to her chest and wipes nonexistent tears from her cheeks as she reminisces about the miraculous day she brought her little Christmas miracle (that would be me) into the world and how she knew right away I was destined to be a star.
Joe stands alongside us, beaming for the camera while droning on about how proud I’ve made him. Until the camera pans to focus on the fake Sir Dasher Dashaway dancing circles at my feet, and Joe drops the proud expression for one of extreme boredom, like he’d much rather be hitting balls on the course than praising me on TV.
Holly takes the Santa hat from her own head and plops it on mine, all the while recounting some staged story about my absolute adorableness as a baby, which comes off as so freaking lame I’m embarrassed for all of us. I mean, what self-respecting sister would ever say such a thing?
Do people actually believe this stuff?
Was I this gullible when I watched the Josh Frost show?
And am I the only one bothered by the complete lack of reality in my reality show?
Where were the cameras when my mom was dissing my sweater and raiding my wallet?
And how come no one ever thinks to film one of Ezer’s incessant lectures or meltdowns?
Heck, even Sir Dasher Dashaway got a stunt double when he overindulged and ended up hurling his cookies all over the floor.
If it doesn’t appear perfect—or at least charmingly imperfect—it won’t make the cut.
And I guess that’s what bugs me the most. All this time I longed for a perfect life surrounded by perfect people, only to discover that a real life, a good life, is anything but.
Still, I do my best to play along. For one thing, I can’t afford to alarm Ezer any more than I already have. I need to convince him he can trust me—that I’m fully committed—that I’ve come to my senses and wouldn’t even consider messing up a good thing. Problem is, I’m not that good an actor. But with my future happiness on the line, I’ll do whatever it takes.
It’s not until the fake Dougall goes for a fist bump, mumbling, “Happy birthday, bro! So glad you made it,” that I get all choked up. Not because I believe he gives a flying flip about my birthday but because it makes me miss the old Dougall, who always means what he says. Though by the time I reach the end of the line where Tinsley waits, looking impossibly pretty, I’ve got my emotions in check.
“Happy birthday, Nick.” She leans in to kiss me.
But as irresistible as she seems with her eyes closed and her lips willing and ready, I turn my head so her lips land on my cheek, making it more like a kiss from your nana than a kiss from the girl you’ve wasted the last year and a half dreaming about. When she pulls away, trying to hide her own surprised face, I whisper, “Thanks, Tins.” My eyes bore into hers as if to silently say, I know what you did.
“Cut!” the director yells, insisting we shoot it again. “You’re in love! So deeply in love you gave her a someday ring! Come on, Ninsley—show the fans what first love looks like!” He tries to ignite a flame that’ll never spark again.
Inwardly I roll my eyes. Still, you have to pick your battles in life, and this one isn’t at all worth the fight. We’re on a tight schedule. Everyone wants to go home and spend the holiday with their family, me included.
This time I let Tinsley kiss me. Starting a slow countdown from three to one the second her lips touch mine, then moving straight into the scene where we’re pretending to be relaxed and happy, until my parents and Holly disappear into the kitchen, only to return with the most humongous birthday cake I’ve ever seen. And that’s when I realize, at this exact moment, my every wish has come true. Tinsley is my girlfriend—I’m the most famous teen in the world—and my birthday is no longer overshadowed by the holiday.