Chapter 3
Sophia
I put my phone on airplane mode and threw it across the room after hanging up, as if that would erase the conversation I'd just had, torn between a smug smile and a frown. A smile for having successfully humiliated Christian Ryder on a show that usually lauded him for his existence; a frown for having had to endure that conversation with him. The result was probably frightening.
The frown overpowered the smile in the end. Not even Christian's awkward spluttering before the break could change that. The feeling I had in the pit of my stomach resembled food poisoning, or, I don't know, kidney stones. Whatever it was, it made me sprint to the bathroom just in case I threw up.
Why did it have to be him?
"Sophia," my mom called out from the living room a few minutes later.
I kept quiet, my face hovering over the toilet as I took in a deep breath. I was fine. It was over. I couldn't keep letting him get to me like this.
"Sophia, you have a phone call." The sound of my mom's approaching footsteps made me pop my head up. Although the wave of nausea hadn't gone away, I didn't want her to answer the phone. What if they somehow tracked down our home phone number, and it was Christian on the other line again?
I scrambled off of the floor and made my way to the living room. "Don't answer it." I slid into the room, using my socks as makeshift skates on the dark, hardwood floors. I held up my hands to halt my confused mother. "Please don't answer it. Wait, who is it?"
"It's your school." She raised both eyebrows at me. "Still want me to let the call go?"
Okay, time to reconvene. "No! No, give me the phone, please."
She shot me a knowing look and handed me the phone before returning to her native habitat for the next two months: the couch. She was an elementary school teacher and was lucky enough to not have to work over the summer for supplementary income, thanks to my dad's career as a software developer. Sure, she had lesson plans she was constantly working on, but she liked to work on those from the comfort of our couch while watching the latest drama on This Is Us.
"Hello?"
"Sophia? This is Moira. I tried calling your cell, but it went straight to voicemail."
Moira Franklin, also known as my favorite teacher from the summer acting program I'd attended in New York right after graduating from high school. Although, that didn't offer me any insight as to why she was calling me on a Wednesday night. I was already set to return to New York for my second summer session in a week before starting college in the fall.
Whatever it was that she had to say was important enough to merit a late-night phone call to Nowheresville, Indiana, though, so I was all ears.
"Oh, uh, my phone is temporarily out of commission, sorry," I said, which wasn't technically a lie, although I wasn't willing to go into any more detail than that. "What's up?"
Was that an inappropriate way to greet a teacher? By the way my mom was looking at me, I had a feeling it was, but Moira wasn't your average teacher.
"Well, I have some very, very, very exciting news for you. I suggest sitting down for this. Hold onto something, too, if you can. But not too tightly, or your mom will think you're having contractions."
"What?"
"Is that not the right phrase to use in a situation like this? I'm not sure right now. I've had a few glasses of wine. Okay, I've had a bottle. But that's not why I'm calling."
I laughed and did as she said, sitting down on the recliner by the couch and holding onto the side with my free hand. "Okay, what's this exciting news you speak of? I think I'm ready for it."
"I know you are. That's why I picked you."
I pressed my lips together. "I'm still not following."
"Sophia, I've been in the business for a long time, as you probably already know by now. Botox can only do so much for a woman. So when auditions roll around and casting directors are looking for fresh new faces to fill some of their smaller roles, sometimes they turn to me to help them out."
She paused, probably to take another drink of her wine, if we were being honest. The woman loved her Moscato.
"I've never promised any of my students immediate success," she continued. "I can't promise you that. The only thing I can offer is a way to get your leg in the door. That's what I'm offering you."
I made some sort of strangled noise I couldn't quite describe. "What?"
"I recommended you for an audition in Los Angeles. Teen book adaptations are a huge trend right now, and there's another one right around the corner. It's called Kidnap My Heart. Your audition for the part of Natalie is in a week. Again, I can't promise you anything, but I can say you've got a decent shot."
"Oh, my God." Moira was right. It was a good thing I was sitting down and had something to hold onto, because I was pretty sure my entire body had stopped functioning altogether. "Are you serious? I knew you were my favorite teacher for a reason." This merited a laugh from her, one my frazzled brain barely recognized. "I mean – holy – oh, my God, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you! But wait, what about the second summer session? I'll miss some of it if I go."
"If you go? An audition like this will teach you things you won't learn in a classroom. Even if the audition doesn't go the way you want, the experience is still invaluable."
I quickly nodded even though she couldn't see me. "No, no, you're right. I'm going. Of course I'm going. I'd be crazy not to. I mean, this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. I don't care if I have to crawl there. I'll be there."
Hollywood. I had an audition – an actual movie audition – in Hollywood. And this wasn't for some shady backwoods production. It was for a bona fide, catch-it-in-theaters-next-year production.
This didn't feel like real life. I had to have been dreaming. Soon, my living room was going to transform into a white-sand beach. A shirtless Calvin Klein model would then proceed to rub suntan lotion on my back while I laid on a towel and the "Piña Colada Song" played in the background.
"That's what I like to hear." A loud crash in the background forced me back into reality. "And down goes my husband. He doesn't hold his alcohol like he used to. I'll email you the materials you'll need later, okay?"
I barely had a chance to say okay before there was another crash, a scream, and then static. I slowly lowered the phone down to my lap, unsure how to address what had just happened.
My mom had, at some point, peeled her eyes away from her show to stare at me instead. "What was that all about?"
I shook my head in awe before managing to answer. "Slight change of plans... Can I switch my ticket to New York for one to California?"
***
"Hey, toots, are those real?"
There were annoying flights, where the kid behind you refused to stop kicking your seat, and the parents wouldn't do anything to control their crotch goblin. There were flights from hell, where turbulence made you fear for your life and maybe your bladder. And then there was the flight I was on, where I was stuck between two creeps who had each decided I was their next conquest. I assumed they were brothers. They looked alike, except one had a gap-tooth, and the other was sweating like a sinner in church, despite the air-conditioned plane.
I looked over at Gap-Tooth with disdain. My boobs weren't even that big, at least not big enough to question whether or not they were real. "If you do anything to check or even move an inch, I'll break your hand."
That made Gap-Tooth shut his mouth. Sweaty, not so much. "Looks like we got a lively one over here. I like that in a girl."
"One look at you and already I can tell that you're the kind that likes anything that's female and breathes," I said, staring straight ahead, hoping if I didn't make eye contact they'd leave me alone.
Sweaty just laughed. "She wants me," he said to Gap-Tooth, as if I wasn't sitting directly in between them and couldn't hear every word they said.
"Do you know what I want?" I interrupted.
"What?" they both asked immediately.
"I want to be able to breathe through my nose again. Is that going to happen anytime soon? No, because this is a four-hour flight, and you two seem to be unfamiliar with the concept of deodorant. Since my wish can't be granted, your wishes won't be granted, either."
Just as they looked ready to counter, our conversation was mercifully interrupted by a young girl. She looked to be about nine or ten years old. She reached over Sweaty to tap me on the shoulder, and when I looked over at her, she just stood there and stared at me without speaking.
"Um... do you need something?" I asked.
Her eyes lit up. "I knew it. You're Christian Ryder's mystery girl, aren't you? Can I have a picture with you? Is your name really Sophia?"
"Where did you hear that?"
"The internet. Is it true?"
"Um."
After my conversation with Christian, I tried to convince myself it wasn't that big of a deal. I mean, how bad could it be? Well, my mom always told me I acted too impulsively and never thought things through. I usually vehemently denied that claim, but it turned out moms really did know best.
How bad could this be? Seriously, what was I thinking?
My shenanigans on Hollywood Tonight ended up going viral. I tried to avoid social media for a while to let things die down, but that didn't last long. When I gave in and checked my feeds, I realized screenshots and clips from the show had generated tens of thousands of retweets, likes, comments, and shares overnight. Entertainment media outlets had picked up the story, too, but of course, Christian "was not available for comment."
Honestly, it seemed kind of great at first. Christian's mortification was reaching a bigger audience, and it was just as funny the second time around.
Then I realized that as these videos and screenshots became more and more popular, I became more and more popular. Well, not me, per se, but the idea of me: Christian Ryder's mystery girl, as I was being called.
I knew someone was going to rat me out and reveal my identity sooner than later. Or maybe the internet tracked me down because it's the internet. I knew the nickname wouldn't last forever. I guess I just wasn't expecting a nine-year-old to confront me about my real name on my flight.
Sweaty reached over and snatched my plane ticket out of my hand. "No, her name is..." He squinted at the small letters. "Nick Belmore. You're a man?"
I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples in frustration.
This all started when I arrived at the airport with Tori and her family. They were already going on a trip to California to visit extended family, so I was able to talk my way into tagging along. My parents weren't exactly comfortable with the idea of Tori and me going off on our own, but it had to happen eventually. College was right around the corner. What difference did a couple of months really make in the long run? Still, I did what I could to soften the blow.
Since I was leaving earlier than necessary, I figured I could join Tori and her family on their vacation until I needed to go my own way. I wouldn't be alone on my journey; Tori had generously offered to stay with me throughout the entire process, partly to offer support and partly to maximize her time in California.
On our way to security, Tori crashed into someone – a very cute someone. They both stumbled, while I barely moved out of the way in time.
"Sorry," she said. "I'm sorry. I should watch where I'm going. I'm—"
"No, no, it's fine," he said. "I ran into you. It's okay."
Looking over, I realized this guy was kind of... well, he was kind of hot. Tori seemed to realize this at the same time I did. Her cheeks flushed, and she lost the bit of cool she'd had before, which sadly wasn't much to begin with. "S-sorry," she choked out.
He smiled at her and shrugged. "It was my fault. Don't apologize."
She opened and closed her mouth several times before settling on another, "Sorry."
If anything, the handsome stranger just seemed amused by her awkwardness. He smiled again and stuck out his hand. "I'm Nick."
Tori finally composed herself and smiled back, taking his hand in hers. "I'm Tori."
Looking back and forth between them, I realized I needed to get out of there and give them some privacy. They hadn't taken their eyes off of each other since they'd started talking. "And I'm the third wheel. I'll just be over here..."
They both smiled at my comment but didn't dispute it, which made me realize just how unwanted my presence was. The fact that they were still holding hands was also a pretty overt sign I needed to slyly make my retreat.
I made my way over to Adrian, Tori's older brother, to give them some space. He had just checked in and was waiting on his parents.
"Whoa, did Tori actually meet someone?" he asked.
"Looks like it. Maybe you could learn a thing or two from her."
"What? No, dude, I've got plenty of skills with the ladies. Just watch."
I would have told him that wasn't necessary had I not been a sadistic girl who enjoyed watching Adrian humiliate himself. He was no Joey Tribbiani, although he often tried to emulate him and his famous pick-up line.
"Hey, baby, how you doing?" Adrian called out to a girl who walked by.
When she barely glanced over at him, I let out an unattractive snort.
"Shut up," he grumbled.
I stopped laughing when I saw Tori running towards me at full speed. Tori never ran full-speed unless someone or something was chasing her. Actually, much like me, Tori never ran, period.
"Sophia! I need your help."
I looked at her through narrowed eyes. "With what?"
She stopped running when she was right in front of me and smiled innocently after catching her breath. "Have I told you how pretty you look today?"
"I'm wearing a baggy t-shirt, leggings and a baseball cap. I really doubt you have."
She frowned at me before reaching over and taking off my cap, stuffing it in her bag. I tried to snatch it back, but she moved her bag out of my reach. "What are you doing? I could be recognized," I said, still reaching for the hat. No, it wasn't the greatest disguise, but it was better than nothing. It was too hot for an effective disguise, okay?
"You know you can't avoid the fallout from your little conversation with Ryder forever, right?" She stared me down. Whether it was to intimidate me or once again show her disapproval of my behavior towards one of her many celebrity crushes, I didn't know. When it became clear I wasn't budging on my stance, she sighed and returned the hat. "Fine. Where were we? Oh, right. Have I told you how pretty you look today?"
I shot her a deadpan look. "Yes. Now, what is it?"
"And have I told you how much I love you? And what a great, great, great, great, great best friend you are?"
"Tori, cut to the chase."
"Well... you know the guy I was talking to over there? Nick? The really, really cute and sweet and gentlemanly one?"
"Let me guess. The two of you have fallen madly in love and want to go to Vegas to elope?"
"No, but you're close."
This made me back-track. "What?"
"Okay, no, not exactly, but Soph, we have a connection. I can feel it. We're meshing so well, and we've exchanged numbers, but we just have so much to talk about right now, and I really want to see him for a little while longer, and I know Nick and I are both headed for L.A., but it's a big city, and I don't think we'll see each other that often, if at all, and –"
"Tori, for God's sake, get to the point."
"Willyoupleaseswitchseatswithhimbeforewegetontheplane?" she blurted out, speaking so fast I barely understood her.
"What?"
"I know. It's crazy. And it's a lot to ask. But it would mean so much to me, Soph. Please? I'll make it up to you, I promise."
"Don't you think this is a little sudden? What if he's a serial killer?"
"Does he look like a serial killer?"
"Did Ted Bundy look like a serial killer?"
She rolled her eyes. "I want to sit next to him on a plane, not get into his car two seconds after meeting him. Besides, my parents and my brother will be there."
I sighed. She had a point. The likelihood of him being a cold-blooded killer was slim. But then again, that's probably what Ted Bundy's victims all thought. Or maybe this was just a sign that I listened to too many true crime podcasts. "Alright, fine, but you owe me," I said, against my better judgment.
"I promise I'll make it up to you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" She grabbed me and hugged me tightly, so much so that I was pretty sure I could no longer feel my upper extremities.
"You can thank me by letting me have some oxygen," I choked out.
"Sorry." She let go and squeezed my arm. "Here's Nick's ticket. I still have yours in my bag, so I'll give it to him in a second." She grinned at me, squeaked, and then ran back to where Nick was standing. He seemed nearly as happy as she did about the change in plans.
As I turned away, I felt my stomach sink. At that point, all I could do was pray my new seat was decent. I didn't care if I was by a window or in the aisle. As long as I was next to someone who kept to themselves, I would be fine.
I clutched my new ticket in my hand, staring down at the name printed on the front as I waited for our turn to board. Nick Belmore. Alright, he didn't sound like a serial killer, but like I said, the successful ones never did.