The Boyfriend App (22 page)

“I need the phone!” I yelled above the music.

Lindsay handed it over. We were so close to the stage I could see bodyguards dressed in black behind the maroon-colored velvet curtains. Stage managers carried clipboards and talked into radios. I made out the rectangular outline in Danny Beaton’s pocket. (Part of Danny Beaton’s deal with Public was that he Tweeted from his buyPhone while onstage.)

“Everyone has a light . . . inside . . . and they have to let it shine.”

The violet color on stage morphed into a shimmery, golden haze.

I pointed my phone at Danny but I couldn’t do anything until he made eye contact. Dozens of girls scattered the front few rows. I wasn’t sure how I could . . .

A glittery pink color flashed in the darkness a few seats down our aisle. It was the color I’d created by blending hot pink with fluorescent white, and I’d recognize it anywhere: the Boyfriend App’s heart graphic.

“And when you let it shine . . . you’re divine . . .”

Blake lifted her buyPhone and smirked at me. It was covered in a shimmery gold case I recognized as an exclusive for the buyPhone 17.5—just released this week. The Boyfriend App’s graphics flew over the screen.

Blake was laughing as her fingers danced across the keys. She pointed her phone at Danny.

No!

“So, girl, you’ve got the key . . .”

Danny danced-stepped closer to Blake. He twirled a half circle and sang with his back facing the audience.

“Just be yourself . . . no one else . . . it’s who you’re meant to be . . .”

He clapped a hand against his thigh and spun around. He was moving back in my direction when a black sequined bra hit him in the face. I turned to see Blake yank her V-neck top up to her chin and flash her boobs.

No freaking way.

Danny didn’t miss a beat. He linked a finger through the bra strap and twirled it above his head. He was turning toward Blake and her fully loaded buyPhone when another bra hit him smack on the forehead. It was enormous and beige—a total Mom Bra. I turned to see a forty-something lady screaming her head off, topless. A hot-pink string number sailed through the air, followed by a padded white one, and then a navy mesh one. Blake had ignited a Bra Riot. They fired at the stage from all angles—big ones, little ones, lacy ones, satin ones, black ones, white ones, and a neon-yellow one.

Blake still pointed her phone, but she was stomping her silver platform sandal, too, and looked pissed. Danny twirled the bras around his fingers and improvised a new dance routine, crooning, “Whoa, ladies!” into the microphone between verses. Girls screamed at the top of their lungs and jumped up and down. I’d never seen so many boobs.

I slammed my hand against my pocket. Something scratched my fingertip. I grabbed the warm tuft of navy fur and cradled my rabbit’s foot in my palm. The Notre Dame logo caught the hazy light from the stage and I remembered his face—the way it softened as he passed the rabbit’s foot into my open hands. The way his smile made me feel like I was everything.

This will bring you luck.

I wound my arm back and threw it. The navy crescent arced through the light—a dark moon sailing through a golden sky. Danny opened his palm and his fingers closed around the logo key chain. The rabbit’s foot danced in the spotlight. He glanced down at his hand. His face broke into a smile before he caught my gaze.

IT’S ON

Danny’s feet went rubbery and he stumbled mid-dance move. He looked down at me with wide, blinking brown eyes. The music screeched to a halt.

I raised my fingers and gave a little wave.

Hi, Danny,
I mouthed.

Danny jumped from the stage and nearly knocked me to the ground. A shocked
whoosh
sounded across the stadium. Cameramen rushed down the stairs and into the audience. Their creaturelike black lenses attacked us from all sides, leering in our faces.

Claire stood frozen, staring at Danny. Lindsay’s mouth dropped, staring at me.

Danny’s hands wrapped around my waist. Sweat glistened over his face and beaded peach-colored stage makeup. I was close enough to see the white microphone bud in his ear, and the silver St. Bernadette medallion on his leather rope necklace. My heart pounded as he pulled me to him and the audience erupted. I turned my head before he could kiss me, and spoke into his ear. “See the little girl next to me?”

Danny turned to Claire, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The audience was cheering louder now. Stage managers barked into their headsets. Big guys dressed all in black barreled down the stairs on the side of the stage and closed in on us.

I ran my fingers through Danny’s fauxhawk. “I want you to take her onstage and sing the rest of this song to her,” I said. “And if you sing it better than ever, I
might
consider kissing you.”

“But I can’t sing it better than ever,” Danny said, devastation washing over his face. “I’m lip-synching.”

Oh, Lord.
“Just lip-synch your best. ’Kay, Danny?”

Danny glanced at Claire. It was the first night my aunt Linda let her wear “makeup,” and her little lips were painted pink from the $1.99 strawberry gloss Lindsay and I found at CVS.

He reached out his hand and Claire took it. Her green eyes were saucers staring up at him. The audience screamed. Danny hoisted Claire onto the stage and her image was broadcast on six YouTube-logoed television screens hanging from the rafters. The world was watching, which meant so were Claire’s third-grade classmates.

Lindsay grabbed my hand and didn’t let go. “Go, Claire!” she screamed, jumping and waving crazily.

Danny led Claire toward center stage. He squinted through the lights to see me, and I gave him an approving nod. Claire’s pink capri pants were tucked into her glossy riding boots. Her crop was wedged into the top of the right one. Her face split into a grin as Danny twirled her and the music started up again. I glanced up at the television screens to see a shot of the audience freaking out and holding up signs like
BE MY PROM DATE, DANNY!
The camera panned back to Danny and Claire in the center of the stage. Danny’s sneakers flashed as he kissed Claire’s cheek.

I couldn’t stop myself. I glanced down our row.

Blake and the three Martin sisters stared at Claire in disbelief. Jolene whispered something in Joanna’s ear and Joanna shook her head. If envy had a face, it was Joelle Martin’s. And then there was Blake, who covered her boobs with her top and looked on the verge of exploding.

Danny took both of Claire’s hands in his and started singing.

“So, girl, it’s time to let it shine, that light of yours, it’s all within you . . .”

He got down on his knees like the Bachelor proposing, and sang the rest of the song to Claire while the audience whooped and cheered.

“Let the truth reveal itself. Be the light. Enter the realm of truth.”

My little cousin stared at him for the duration of the song like they were the only two people in the world. The closing piano notes tinkled through the sound system. Lindsay and I held hands and hopped up and down with the rest of the audience, screaming Claire’s name. Endorphins flooded my system—
naturally
—sans Public software. I’d pulled it off. And maybe the Boyfriend App wasn’t going to win the contest tonight—but it changed us. It brought Nigit and Lindsay together. It gave Claire the singular moment every teen and preteen across America dreamed about. And it changed me: It showed me my power to create.

Claire tapped Danny’s shoulder. She stood on tiptoes and said something into his ear, gesturing with her tiny hands as she spoke. She turned, pointed at me, and smiled.

Danny moved to the end of the stage and pushed off with one hand beneath him, one reaching out to me. The cameras were on me and I tried not to think about how nervous my face must’ve looked. Up close I saw one of Danny’s eyes had blue mixed in with the brown. I breathed in cologne that smelled like sandalwood. I thought he was going to try to kiss me again, but instead, he lifted me onto the stage. I could barely think straight with the golden light swirling around us, and the deafening screams from the audience. Danny inhaled and his microphone made it sound like a hurricane. He waited until the cheers died down and said, “I’ve just been informed that the girl of my dreams is the very sexy programmer Audrey McCarthy, creator of the Boyfriend App, now available for download at the Public app store.”

My heart stopped.

When it started, it pounded with a wild fury, making up for lost beats.

Danny leaned forward and kissed me in front of all of Indianapolis, Indiana, the United States, planet Earth. He kissed me as the BFA’s heart-shaped graphic flashed in shimmery pink bursts across the dark stadium. He kissed me as Claire stood on the side of the stage and clapped. He kissed me as YouTube reached a record number of viewers around the world. He kissed me as a snarling Blake tried to climb onstage and was escorted from the premises by security. He kissed me as the Boyfriend App exploded in popularity—momentarily shutting down Public’s site as hundreds of thousands of people downloaded.

He kissed me as I won the contest.

UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

.....................................................................

chapter twenty-five

9:39 p.m.

NewsNow.com

Chaos has been reported around the world as women download Audrey McCarthy’s Boyfriend App. Though the exact functionality of McCarthy’s app is unclear, no one seems to care once the object of their affection is in their arms.

9:47 p.m.

TechTastic.com

Might anyone be wondering how it is the Boyfriend App functions? Or is our world so consumed with being loved we’re willing to forget how and why it’s happening? Here at TechTastic, we plan to dig deeper with a test group of buyPhone users. Observation is being assembled, and testing will start tomorrow at 6:00 a.m.

10:09 p.m.

ItaliaNews.net

Translated by Giancarlo Fabrizio

The Polizia di Stato have temporarily shut down parts of Venice’s canals due to social unrest. Rumors of a youth revolt have circulated; however, no violence has been reported. Rather, the unrest is romantic in nature. Amorous teens have taken to the streets and waterways in growing numbers, making main traffic pathways impassable. Announcements and alternate routes will be posted as soon as updates are available.

10:48 p.m.

ParisianDaily.net

Translated by Anais Moreau

Pandemonium has erupted in the City of Love as Parisian teenagers swarmed the streets and nightclubs in the early morning hours armed with American Audrey McCarthy’s Boyfriend App. PR rep Lindsay Fanning says, “Audrey’s creation is poised to change the rules of love as we know them.”

Vive l’amour!

11:31 p.m.

TeensBlogToo.com

By Xi Liang

We here at TeensBlogToo wish to rescind last week’s criticism of Audrey McCarthy’s Boyfriend App. The BFA 2.0 “Get Your Dream Guy” RULES! I can speak from experience: I just made out with the formerly elusive Jason VanDercar on the hood of his Mercedes.

Hotness Factor: 10!

12:09 a.m.

Twitter.com

@DannyBeaton: parts of tonight’s concert a blur . . . guess that’s what happens when you’re #InTheMoment performing. Catch ya later, Indianapolis!

1:11 a.m.

FashionBecomesMe.com

Just now arriving home with my cousin, YouTube sensation Audrey McCarthy, creator of the Boyfriend App, winner of a $200K tax-free college scholarship. Audrey can barely form words! So cute. She shook her head the whole way home (for like three hours) and asked, “Is this really happening?” over and over! Right now she and my little sis are dancing around the parking lot of her apt. building (see pic below) singing “Ignite the Light.”

In an exclusive interview with FashionBecomesMe, Audrey says, “Thank you so much to everyone who downloaded the Boyfriend App. I am so grateful.”

More fashion coverage from Danny Beaton’s concert coming tomorrow . . . stay tuned!

2:32 a.m.

WorldNews.net

“We were just getting started!”

It’s a cry heard echoed in different languages across the world as Public removes the Boyfriend App from its server and—even worse—remotely disables the app from buyPhones.

2:36 a.m.

Twitter.com

@AlaskaGirlBrrr: WTF, Public? Finally making out w my Dream Eskimo and you pull the plug on the BFA? Now my DE won’t even share his hot chocolate w me. BRRR!

3:03 a.m.

ChannelThirteenNews.com

“I tasted love, and now it’s gone,” says a tear-streaked seventeen-year-old Florida girl who asked to remain anonymous.

One thing’s certain: For lovesick women everywhere, the return of the Boyfriend App can’t come soon enough.