“But I understand if you’re into Plum. I’m sure she’s perfectly nice once you get to know her.”
I shake my head. That’s where she’s got it all wrong. “There’s nothing perfect about Plum.” I pull myself up another two feet. “But that’s what makes her so cool. She never tries to pretend to be something she’s not.”
Tinsley grows quiet, taking that in. “Sounds like you really like her,” she says, and, if I’m not mistaken, she sounds a bit jealous.
“I don’t even know her,” I reply, realizing it’s true.
“Anyway…” Tinsley pauses so long that for a moment I think she might’ve gone. But she remains right in place, hand shoved into her pocket, as she sways from side to side. “I just wanted you to know that,” she says. “You know, before you go away for good.”
I squint, not quite understanding.
“I swear I had nothing to do with it. I’m not even sure I believe this Greentree place really exists.”
She lifts her face toward me, and between the soft golden glow of the yard lights below and the shining full moon above, she’s probably the prettiest I’ve ever seen her, and that’s saying a lot. Only it no longer affects me the way it once did.
“Come down from there, Nick.”
I pause, unsure what to do.
“There’s no way you can get past those spikes at the top without causing some serious damage to yourself. Those aren’t decoration, you know.”
I look up and see that she’s right. In my rush to flee, I never once considered how I’d get past those razor-sharp points.
I drop to the ground. Aided by gravity and the weight of defeat, I land before Tinsley.
“Before I open the gate, just tell me one thing—” She slips her hand from her pocket, revealing the remote control she holds in her palm. “What’s she like? You know, the other me—the one you told me about by the pool. Is she nice?” Her voice lifts with hope, like we’re just two normal people having a conversation about an alternate world.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’ve never even talked to her. She has no idea I exist.”
“Then she must be an idiot.” Tinsley grins.
“Nah, she’s just a girl.” I shrug, realizing the same goes for this version of Tinsley. I convinced myself she was perfect, then pretty much the opposite of perfect, only to realize she’s like most people—somewhere in the middle.
Her face grows thoughtful, then more resolved, as she pushes the button that opens the gate. And just as I’m about to slip past, she calls me right back. “Will this help?” She pulls a skateboard from the bushes and offers it to me. “I keep it hidden so I can sneak away when Ezer gets on my nerves, but I can always get a new one.”
“Thanks.” I flip it into my hand and sprint for the street like my life depends on it.
It does.
24 Minutes and 52 Seconds till Christmas
VULTURE, MEET PREY
The worst thing about being an International Superstar on the run is that I’m easily recognized.
The second worst thing is that I’m so used to being chauffeured around town I have no idea how to navigate the city on my own.
And to make matters worse, I pretty much suck at skateboarding.
Then again, I’m really not that great of a singer either, and in this dimension I’m considered one of the best. So maybe it’ll be the same with skating.
Turns out it’s not.
Still, that doesn’t keep me from barreling down the Tinsel Hills sidewalks in search of Dougall and the stolen ticket. Though considering how he rides a skateboard more often than me (from what I’ve seen, it’s pretty much his go-to mode of transportation when Sparks isn’t chauffeuring us around), he definitely has the competitive edge. I mean, I barely ever ride the skateboard I own back in Greentree.
Despite the late hour, the streets are surprisingly busy, and I’ve barely gone a few blocks when I spot a crowd of paparazzi swarming the corner just a few feet ahead, as drawn to my failure as they were to my success. My blood is in the water, and every shark in the vicinity is swimming right for me.
I’m just about to change course when I see Dougall trapped in the center of them. The paparazzi jostle around him like vultures hunting their prey.
This is perfect.
They’ve got him right where I want him.
It wouldn’t take much to jump him and steal the ticket right out from under him. The paparazzi wouldn’t even try to stop me. They’d be too busy filming.
I curl my hands into fists, ready to pounce at the first opportunity.
“Tell me, Dougall,” one of them shouts. “Is it true you were only pretending to be Nick’s friend so you could enjoy all the perks?”
What?
That’s not at all what I said. Though, if I’m going to be honest, I have to admit it was definitely what I implied. It’s how I’ve felt this whole time.
“Dougall, hey—over here!” Another one shoves his camera into Dougall’s face. “Are you really just another wannabe celebrity?”