#famous



(From Emma): Cool. I don’t know how to say this, but I didn’t want you to get hurt. I know the show is gonna try to push you guys together



(From Emma): Kyle and I are hanging out again



(From Emma): We agreed it made more sense not to let anyone know, coz of the show. But I wanted to tell you. It wld be so unfair if YOU didn’t know.



Seriously? I’d been starting to think Emma was better than the company she kept—after all, she gave me a pep talk in the parking lot, instead of a locker makeover—but this kind of mean-girl head game BS was as pathetic as anything Jessie had pulled, just on the opposite side of the passive-aggressive continuum. I almost laughed out loud in relief—I’d been legitimately worried for a second. But this just felt desperate. And it meant I definitely didn’t have to feel at all guilty about anything I’d done—

. . . then another text came in.

(From Emma): <img loading . . . >



There was a picture of Kyle, smiling and holding a Tupperware toward the camera. He was wearing the same outfit he’d had on at school. So it was definitely from today. That had to mean Emma was the something that came up . . . the reason he’d canceled on me . . . the girl he was actually into.

(To Emma): Thanks for the heads-up. Don’t worry, we’re just playing along for the show.



(From Emma): Cool. He kinda implied that. I just wanted to make sure you knew so you didn’t get hurt. He is pretty cute after all.



(To Emma): Ha ha.



(From Emma): Obviously don’t talk about it at school, we can’t have anyone know, in case they leak on Flit. Maybe don’t even talk about it. He already feels so bad that he can’t be honest about us, reminding him would just make him feel worse. The producers are really pressuring him to “sell it” with you.



(To Emma): Sure. I get that.



It still seemed weird how insistent she was about me not saying anything, like maybe she was lying about something. But what would she be lying about? That picture proved she’d been there this afternoon—she might even be there right now. Mary had made my family sign dozens of documents—releases, nondisclosures, contract stipulations. Why shouldn’t she have made Kyle sign a few that I hadn’t seen? Maybe one about who he was allowed to appear with in public, say—or who he wasn’t?

I could feel my body sinking into the bed painfully, like all my limbs had been weighted with stones. How could I have been so stupid? Of course he wasn’t into me—we’d only spoken because producers thought I could be their reject Cinderella. For all I knew, the kiss was something Mary came up with. “Make her think you actually like her so we get some good shots of her looking enamored at the dance.” I couldn’t even blame her; I’d watch that show too.

Worse, it had worked. I’d believed in it. Believed in him.

God, I had been so wrong about everything. The idea made me so frustrated I wanted to scream.

I stared at my phone screen, eyes half glazing over. A new Flit notification had popped up.

@EHSSoccerFan: @attackoftherach_face if

things don’t work out with @YourBoyKyle_B,

would you go out with me?

#FriesWithHomecoming

You know what the great thing is about Flit? No one can tell what you’re actually thinking or feeling, they only know what you decide to tell them.

@attackoftherach_face: @EHSSoccerFan only

if you like bowling. I have a strict policy against

anyone who doesn’t understand the beauty of

bowling.

I bit my lip to keep the stupid, angry tears from spilling out of my eyes. I could put on a show too.





chapter forty-six


KYLE

THURSDAY, 1:03 P.M.

It was already three minutes into passing time before fifth hour and she wasn’t here. Where was she? I tapped my foot against the floor, trying not to stare at her empty desk. Ollie: pretending not to watch me. Me: pretending not to notice.

Finally Rachel walked through the door. Her hair was the only thing I could see over people’s heads. Annika Parker and Eleanor Chang called her name. She turned to them, smiling pleasantly.

She still hadn’t looked at me.

They were talking at her rapidly, and Rachel was nodding. Whenever she spoke her hands moved through the air, weaving words together in front of her.

Cam Eaton yelled something at the three of them, and Rachel smirked and shot something back. I couldn’t hear what she said; everyone in the room was talking. Cam grabbed at his chest theatrically, and made ridiculous googly eyes at Rachel.

Class was going to start any second. I looked at Ollie. He was drawing something on the cover of his notebook, but he glanced at Rachel every few seconds, then at me.

Maybe he thought he could keep me from liking her with the force of his eyes.

I walked up to the group. Rachel didn’t look over, she seemed absorbed in something Eleanor was saying.

“Hey, Rachel.”

She turned. She seemed surprised.

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