Center Stage! (Center Stage! #1) (27 page)

“This is for your own good, Allison. Trust me. Last year, Laurie Hanover should have won. She should have at least made the final four. But one of the stylists talked her into redoing her image with pink hair and all this crazy eye makeup mid-season, and she was voted off within two shows. So, it’s up to you whether or not you want to win.”

Although I never formally agreed to the change in direction, Martha cut my hair the way Nelly requested, and I did nothing to stop her. Later that night when I posed, grumpy and defeated, in front of the mirror in my hotel suite, my reflection looked like that of a complete stranger. The haircut made me look older. So did the heavy liquid eyeliner that my mother would never have let me wear to school. But I didn’t look older and
cooler
, like Eunice, or older and
sexier,
like Robin. I just looked like a young attorney or librarian.
Not
like the kind of singer who would open for All or Nothing on a world tour, I feared. And not at all like
me.

As long as Nelly continued to be my coach, my only hope was to make a game out of playing the role of
Allison Burch, Nelly Fulsom’s protégé!
I would dutifully follow orders, suppress my sarcasm, and do whatever Nelly asked of me short of square dancing. For the rest of the week, I applied makeup as Geoffrey had taught me, and earnestly tried my best to follow Nelly’s advice. It was hard to believe that she was giving me advice intended to help me win, but I couldn’t make the argument that she was nudging me toward doom when all of her direction was logical.

On Friday, I caught Elliott staring at me as we all piled into limousines bound for the Dolby Theater. His expression was neither angry nor dismissive. Even though by then I’d gotten used to my strange new appearance, fresh shame rose within me. A few minutes before my turn on stage, I received a text message from him that I was sure was intended to distract me.

ELLIOTT 6:14 P.M.

?

Question mark? Was he serious? I forbade myself from thinking about him or bitterly wondering whatever happened to his female friend while I sang. In front of the cameras, I delivered a knock-out performance doing my best to incorporate every bit of direction Nelly had given me so that she wouldn’t publicly humiliate me with her feedback. When I prepared to belt out the part of the song that required the most emotion, I straightened my back to avoid squatting even by a half-millimeter, knowing that Nelly would notice. Upon my triumphant return to the Group 2 prep room, I decided to text Elliott back with a taste of his own medicine.

ME 6:26 P.M.

??

Not surprisingly, he didn’t text me back. Instead, I received a text from Nicole after the episode aired on the West Coast.

NICOLE 9:24 P.M.

Um hello bad hair!

I couldn’t very well explain to her in brief text messages how I no longer had any control over my own appearance, the songs I performed, or even my own schedule since my daily life consisted of showing up wherever and whenever I was expected. The more I thought about how to reply to Nicole about my haircut, the more I was bothered by the tightness of the white skinny jeans I was wearing (also Nelly’s choice). I’d been uncomfortable playing the role of Nelly’s little protégé all week. If I dared to text Nicole back and convey my true feelings, my entire act might crumble. So instead, I slipped my phone back into my purse and busied myself with my Kindle to distract myself from watching the television monitor in the room.

Later that night, it was announced that I would hold on to first place for another week, and Eunice was sent home. I forbade myself from looking over in Elliott’s direction for his reaction. There was a brief moment when Jay Walk, who had chosen the Wild Card, seemed to be considering sending a guy on his team home in exchange for claiming me. But he decided against it, and I remained stuck with Nelly. My parents had arranged for a surprise that night in celebration of my two consecutive weeks in the top position. They’d gotten permission from Claire for me to go home for dinner as long as we didn’t make any stops in public and avoided paparazzi.

“We figured after being pampered and eating restaurant food for two whole weeks, you’d be in the mood for some of your mom’s cauliflower mash and an opportunity to load the dishwasher,” Dad joked on the way home. It felt like years had gone by since the last time I’d passed through the streets of West Hollywood that led to my house. “And we’ve been saving Buster’s litter box for you since you enjoy cleaning it so much.”

“You’re such a comedian, Dad.”

Our house seemed a little smaller than it had the day I’d left with my suitcases. Three guys with cameras popped out of parked cars when we pulled into the driveway, and Dad drove into the garage to escape them. Incredibly, one of the photographers actually dropped down to his knees to continue shooting pictures of us until the automatic garage door was completely closed. I wondered if any magazine in America would really want grainy snapshots of the Burch family bicycles all propped up on kickstands at haphazard angles in our dusty garage, surrounded by Tetris-like stacked boxes of Christmas decorations. My life had officially become crazy.

Eating dinner with Mom and Dad at our little table in the kitchen was surreal. It was such a relief to have company that I wanted the evening to last forever. At the same time, I was eager to get back to Studio City, as if being away from the hotel was detracting from my chance of winning.
 
I didn’t want to admit that I’d missed everything about our house. From the National Aerospace Society calendar hanging in the kitchen to the distant scent of the organic peppermint oil soap that Mom used to wash our floors, I'd missed it all. All of the things that made home what it was would still be there at Christmastime after the season wrapped, I reassured myself.

But I’d couldn’t suppress a glimmer of uneasiness about how homesick I’d get if I went on tour with All or Nothing for a full eight months.

“I was wondering if you might like to hang out on Sunday,” Mom said as she served me a scoop of chia seed pudding, a rare treat. Under normal circumstances, I would not have been allowed to eat a dessert so late at night. “On Saturday, I have a meeting with the church board about the event at the Children’s Hospital, but I thought it might be fun to spend Sunday up at the hotel with you.”

My heart leaped at the prospect of hanging out with my mom for a whole day, but then I considered how awful it would be if she saw firsthand how the other contestants treated me. I still hadn’t been completely honest with my parents about how my experience on the show had been. My phone call home the night Christa had been voted off had been the first time I’d ever given my mom any indication that I wasn’t out of my mind with joy every second of every day. “Okay,” I agreed, deciding that I could entertain her in my suite for the day if the other contestants were hogging the pool or lounge area.

I trudged down the hall to my room after loading the dishwasher. Not intending to fall asleep, I sank into my mattress breathing in the comforting smell of the lilac-scented dryer sheets Mom used. It was after midnight, and I knew I was due back at the hotel, but the dark security of my familiar bedroom cast a sleeping spell on me. When I next opened my eyes, the sky outside my bedroom window was orange with sunrise and Dad was leaning in my doorway, carrying his nerdy thermos of coffee.

“Time to rise and shine, tiger,” he said. “We need to get you back up to Studio City.”

My muscles were stiff and creaky. I’d never bothered getting underneath the blankets on my bed; I’d just leaned back with my legs hanging over the side and passed out. Mom had already left the house without even waking me to say goodbye.
Center Stage!
and the Neue Hotel seemed like a foggy, half-forgotten bad dream as I gulped down some cereal at the kitchen table and climbed back into the Volvo with Dad. It only became my cold, harsh reality again when we turned off the 101 Freeway, and the hotel came into view.

“Mom’s real excited to spend Sunday with you,” Dad told me. “I’m afraid she’s suffering from a bit of empty nest syndrome with both you and Todd out of the house this fall.”

It hadn’t occurred to me that my absence would be cruel to Mom. I knew she missed Todd pretty badly, but they spoke on the phone every day. “I didn’t think she’d miss me that much,” I admitted.

“Of course she misses you,” he said as we pulled into the parking lot of the Neue Hotel. A photographer who was sitting listlessly on a lawn chair at the edge of the lot stirred to life and lifted his camera. “It’s hard on moms when their babies leave home. And you don’t need me to tell you this, but your mom considers you one of her best friends.”

“What about dads?” I asked. “Isn’t it hard on them when kids leave home?”

Dad idled in front of the entrance to the hotel, and one of the bell hops held the front door to the lobby open for me. He replied, “Dads enjoy having all the soy ice cream to themselves after kids leave home.”

On Sunday, Mom arrived at the Neue Hotel with a surprise: Nicole. Nicole had taken the day off from Robek’s to hang out, carrying with her an armload of gossip magazines and her manicure kit. I quietly informed her that there was little likelihood that we’d be seeing Elliott that day since I assumed
he
was probably the reason she’d come for a visit. I’d already told her about the mysterious female guest he’d brought to the hotel, and she had shocked me by acting appalled—like a true friend would.

“I’m here to hang out with
you,”
she clarified. “I don’t have time to waste on
cheaters.
 
Besides, I hope your mom buys us lunch.”

All of the other contestants miraculously left us alone at the pool. I wasn’t sure whether I should be proud or grossed out when Nicole caught Ian and one of college-aged guys from Group 4 ogling Mom in her modest black one-piece bathing suit. Since Mom taught yoga and had been mindful of her eating habits her whole life, it was fair to say that she was in pretty good shape for a woman her age. I came close to grimacing and saying, “Ew,” when Nicole nudged me in the ribs and nodded in Ian’s direction. Then I was reminded of what my father had told me yesterday in the car about my mom considering me a friend.

“Don’t look now, but those trolls from the show are checking you out, Mom,” I said as I slathered on sunscreen. I figured it would probably do my mother’s ego a world of good if I informed her that she was the talk of the hotel pool.

Naturally, she looked around wildly trying to catch the men in the act. Her eyes fell upon the two pasty guys dipping their legs in the pool. “Who? That pot-bellied guy with the ginger beard and the guy with the poindexter glasses over there?”

“Yeah. They’re totally scamming on you,” Nicole giggled.

My mother haughtily replied, “Well, my husband’s much hotter than both of them, so they can eat their hearts out.”

At that, I did say, “Mom, that’s epically gross,” even though she wasn’t entirely wrong.

When we ordered lunch, I didn’t even object when Mom told the waiter to add extra spirulina to my salad to boost my immune system.
 
Tia, the girl from Lenore’s team who always ranked in the top five contestants along with me and Elliott, wandered over with a towel wrapped around herself. She asked if she could sit in the empty pool chair on the other side of Mom’s, since it was the only remaining available chair. My chatty mother got the girl’s whole life story out of her that afternoon. It was a huge consolation to me to hear that Tia felt completely isolated on her team, too.

“No one talks to me anymore,” she confessed. “The first couple of weeks, everyone was friendly. But everyone avoids me like I have some kind of infectious disease now that the competition’s getting more serious.”

Not wanting to give my mom or Nicole any indication that I was experiencing the same ostracism, I listened sympathetically. Tia mentioned how homesick she was for Miami. Considering everything I’d been through so far that season, I knew I would have folded already if I were in another city, far away from my parents. Nicole gave me and Tia each one of her specialty manicures: pink and green cheetah spots for me, and neon stripes for Tia, both with a coat of glitter on top.

“We should have that lovely girl over for Thanksgiving,” Mom decided after Tia excused herself to go up to her suite. “If they’re letting you celebrate the holiday, that is.”

“I don’t know if they are, Mom,” I said. Up until that point I hadn’t wondered whether or not we’d be released from the hotel to visit our families for Thanksgiving, but it was improbable. The realization made me sad because it meant I wouldn’t see my Grandpa Norm or my Grandma Jean until Christmas. I’d also miss out on a slice of my Aunt Nancy’s pumpkin cheesecake.

“Well, I hope they ease up on the rules,” she said. “Your brother mentioned that Taylor’s coming back to Los Angeles for the long weekend and he invited her to have dinner with us.”

It was a very fortunate thing that Nicole was out of earshot on the other side of the pool flirting with a hotel bartender who probably had no idea she was only seventeen.

“What?” I asked, sounding more surprised than I intended. “How does Todd know what Taylor’s doing?”

“They’re in touch, apparently,” Mom said, distractedly picking at her fingernails. “I think your brother sees her from time to time now that they’re both on the East Coast. It’s very kind of him to check in on her after all she went through over the summer.”