Read Online The Real Real by Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Emma McLaughlin, Nicola Kraus
Tags: Fiction
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sidelong glance to the cell phone she angles up with her wrist. “But we don’t really have time for that.”
The microwave beeps from the kitchen, signaling Caitlyn’s masks are ready to be removed. “Sorry, let me just get that.” I turn for the kitchen with Kara at my heels.
“Yeah, so, Jesse, I’m sorry I haven’t been around for morning check-in this week, but there’s been a lot to get organized with the changes. We’ve finally got the whole thing figured out—we’ll keep following you in school docu-style. But on weekends we’re gonna kick it up a notch, and I’m just really—psyched—to get—filming.”
73
She smacks the Formica counter for emphasis.
“She’s in the cast?” I ask. Kara looks at me blankly as the timer beeps. “Caitlyn. You figured it out?”
“Can you—” She tilts her head at the microwave.
“Sorry.” I hit the “clear” button.
“I’ve managed to stave off a migraine for a week now, and I’m hoping to set a new record for myself, you know?”
“That sucks. I mean, that’s great? About the record?”
WHAT ABOUT CAITLYN?!
“So . . .” She purses her lips and tick-tocks her head.
“Right. Fletch is flying in as we speak, and he wants to meet with you first thing tomorrow. So, apologies, but we have to put a pin in Caitlyn for tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” So not. “But, what does that mean exactly?” I flash to us sticking a cartoon-sized safety pin into my best friend’s bum.
Kara shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her green down vest lifting around her ears, clearly getting impatient with me but trying to pretend she’s not. “It means I told Fletch your ideas and he was really psyched. And he’s the producer, and it’s a creative concept you pitched, Jesse, so it falls under his purview. I’m just the associate producer. But you gave everyone a ton to think about, and it really set us off on what I believe will be a totally compelling direction for our viewers. I’m just really psyched about it. They’ve tripled our crew, we got an award-winning cinematographer, and Fletch is 74
entrusting me with one of the biggest production budgets in the network.”
My heart rises and crashes with her every verb as a cold rivulet snakes down my neck from my dripping topknot.
“That’s great that you’re excited. I mean, I’m glad I could help. It’s just, Caitlyn’s upstairs—”
“You did more than help! Jesse, you totally saved this show.” Kara’s cell trills and she flips it open, her other index finger extending to me. Can she even open that thing without her other finger popping out—does it happen when she’s at home and she just finds herself pointing at her cat? “Yes, we’re on our way. . . . I know that, Ben.
Crap! Okay, we’re leaving right now. Yesyesyes, walking out the door.” She flips the phone closed and circles the table to put her arm around my shoulder. “Jesse.”
This is awkward. “Yes?”
“Tomorrow. I promise. Now we gotta move. We just figured this shoot out today, and we’ve got the whole scene set up. You gave us our A and B plotlines, but we gotta do a little C tonight, set the tone, establish dynamics.” She walks me back to the living room toward the front door.
“The van’s outside, so grab your coat—”
“I’ll just run and get Caitlyn; she’s almost ready.” I break from her to head up the stairs. “We’re hanging out—I can’t just leave her here.” But Kara grabs my wrist as her cell rings again.
“Jesse, no! We need to leave now . Right now. We’re risking running over.” She flips open her phone, keeping 75
her hand on my arm and kicking a pair of Mom’s boots from the drying mat over to my bare feet. “We’re here. . . .
Then start with Nico! I don’t know, the barrel curls.” She swipes up the boots and shakes them in my face to take.
“How about Caitlyn just watches?” I ask as I grab them, stuffing in my feet, trying to catch Kara’s
The microwave beeps from the kitchen, signaling Caitlyn’s masks are ready to be removed. “Sorry, let me just get that.” I turn for the kitchen with Kara at my heels.
“Yeah, so, Jesse, I’m sorry I haven’t been around for morning check-in this week, but there’s been a lot to get organized with the changes. We’ve finally got the whole thing figured out—we’ll keep following you in school docu-style. But on weekends we’re gonna kick it up a notch, and I’m just really—psyched—to get—filming.”
73
She smacks the Formica counter for emphasis.
“She’s in the cast?” I ask. Kara looks at me blankly as the timer beeps. “Caitlyn. You figured it out?”
“Can you—” She tilts her head at the microwave.
“Sorry.” I hit the “clear” button.
“I’ve managed to stave off a migraine for a week now, and I’m hoping to set a new record for myself, you know?”
“That sucks. I mean, that’s great? About the record?”
WHAT ABOUT CAITLYN?!
“So . . .” She purses her lips and tick-tocks her head.
“Right. Fletch is flying in as we speak, and he wants to meet with you first thing tomorrow. So, apologies, but we have to put a pin in Caitlyn for tonight, okay?”
“Okay.” So not. “But, what does that mean exactly?” I flash to us sticking a cartoon-sized safety pin into my best friend’s bum.
Kara shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her green down vest lifting around her ears, clearly getting impatient with me but trying to pretend she’s not. “It means I told Fletch your ideas and he was really psyched. And he’s the producer, and it’s a creative concept you pitched, Jesse, so it falls under his purview. I’m just the associate producer. But you gave everyone a ton to think about, and it really set us off on what I believe will be a totally compelling direction for our viewers. I’m just really psyched about it. They’ve tripled our crew, we got an award-winning cinematographer, and Fletch is 74
entrusting me with one of the biggest production budgets in the network.”
My heart rises and crashes with her every verb as a cold rivulet snakes down my neck from my dripping topknot.
“That’s great that you’re excited. I mean, I’m glad I could help. It’s just, Caitlyn’s upstairs—”
“You did more than help! Jesse, you totally saved this show.” Kara’s cell trills and she flips it open, her other index finger extending to me. Can she even open that thing without her other finger popping out—does it happen when she’s at home and she just finds herself pointing at her cat? “Yes, we’re on our way. . . . I know that, Ben.
Crap! Okay, we’re leaving right now. Yesyesyes, walking out the door.” She flips the phone closed and circles the table to put her arm around my shoulder. “Jesse.”
This is awkward. “Yes?”
“Tomorrow. I promise. Now we gotta move. We just figured this shoot out today, and we’ve got the whole scene set up. You gave us our A and B plotlines, but we gotta do a little C tonight, set the tone, establish dynamics.” She walks me back to the living room toward the front door.
“The van’s outside, so grab your coat—”
“I’ll just run and get Caitlyn; she’s almost ready.” I break from her to head up the stairs. “We’re hanging out—I can’t just leave her here.” But Kara grabs my wrist as her cell rings again.
“Jesse, no! We need to leave now . Right now. We’re risking running over.” She flips open her phone, keeping 75
her hand on my arm and kicking a pair of Mom’s boots from the drying mat over to my bare feet. “We’re here. . . .
Then start with Nico! I don’t know, the barrel curls.” She swipes up the boots and shakes them in my face to take.
“How about Caitlyn just watches?” I ask as I grab them, stuffing in my feet, trying to catch Kara’s
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