“We have a very special treat for you,” the guy on the small stage up front says. “I’d like to welcome you all to an advance screening of Incident on 57th Street, hosted by GLAAD and The Center! Sit back and enjoy!”
The cast sits in the very back while the movie plays. I wonder what it’s like to watch yourself on-screen, seeing the same scenes over and over. I hate hearing the sound of my own voice; seeing your entire body up on a gigantic screen must be a thousand times worse. I wish I had another interview with Marius so I could ask about it.
As the closing credits roll, the lead actors get up onstage to thunderous applause. It’s loudest when Marius walks on. I can’t tell if it’s because he’s the best one in the movie or because he’s the youngest person there—or just because he’s Marius. Kids in the audience line up behind a microphone to ask questions. It looks like a ton of people from back here, but it must not be, since they’re letting every single person go up.
There weren’t enough seats on the stage for Penny, so she’s sitting in the front row with me. If she’s feeling slighted or pissed about the mix-up, she doesn’t show it, smiling widely and clapping along with the rest of the crowd.
“Do you ever feel jealous?” I ask. I’m not sure why; it just jumped out of me. “That you aren’t called up to stuff like this with them?”
Cameras are flashing all over—professional cameras with big, dramatic gear and smaller phones. A young kid stands next to Marius, saying something that makes him grin. On the other side of the stage, Art Springfield talks to an older audience member.
“Yes,” she says almost instantly. “Not all of the time, but definitely during stuff like this.”
I’m not surprised that she feels that way, but I’m surprised she told me.
“It’ll get better,” I say, even though I’m not sure. “You’ll get another movie, right?”
“I don’t know.” Penny shrugs. “That’s what I tell myself.”
I can’t read her expression. Before I can think of something reassuring to say, she changes the subject.
“Listen,” she says, lowering her voice. “Do you know when you’ll have a draft of the story ready?”
My stomach squirms. With the murmuring and laughing, it’s hard for anyone to hear what we’re saying. Still. Talking about this in a public place makes the hair on my arms stand up.
“I don’t know,” I say, which is the truth. “I still feel like we need more people.”
“We do,” she says. “But we also have to start figuring out where we’ll get this published. We can show them what you have already, right?”
What I have already is a bunch of interviews that I’ve only halfway typed out. I don’t think she needs to know that, though.
“It’s pretty rough,” I say instead. “I’ve been kind of busy.”
Penny looks back onstage. Marius is signing a kid’s arm, laughing. I smile.
“Right,” she says. “Busy.”
“I’m supposed to write a story about him!”
“I didn’t say anything,” she says, folding her arms. “But is it so much to ask that you write a draft? Even if it’s just a rough one? And then maybe I could—”
“Do you think it’s safe?” I ask. “To, like, have the draft floating around? Especially with the stuff that’s in it?”
Penny bites her lip.
“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m just saying. You don’t want the wrong people to see it. Especially with the names.”
“You could remove the names?” she says. “Just for now?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll just send it to one person,” she says. “Or I won’t even send it right away. I’ll pitch it first.”
Part of me wants to bring up pitching to Deep Focus again, but it doesn’t seem like such a great idea anymore. Then the magazine will know exactly what I’ve been doing on the side. What if they tell me to stop?
“That makes sense.”
“Great. We have that done.” Penny grins, looking extremely similar to the little sister she played on Disney Channel a few years ago. “Now spill the details on what’s going on with you and Marius. He won’t tell me.”
My heart does a weird floppy thing. I feel like one of those fair maidens from old books who fainted at the mention of violence. I really need to deal with that.
“It’s…” I don’t know what to say. “It’s kind of embarrassing.”
“Why?”
“It’s…” My voice trails off. I’m not sure how to articulate what I’ve been thinking about. “I don’t know. Thinking about all this stuff with Lennox and then the guys at my school, it just makes me feel like guys are bad. And it makes me feel, like, irresponsible for liking them. Like I shouldn’t be attracted to guys because of what can happen.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “I—I don’t—I really don’t know, Josie. Maybe it’s just guys with a lot of money. A lot of the guys I worked with were really sweet when we were younger and then went through horrible phases when we were teenagers. But they’re better now. At least that’s what I think.”
She sighs like an old woman. It’s hard not to feel for her. Penny is only a few years older than me but has already had so many different experiences. I wish she hadn’t had some of them. Girls have to deal with so many things boys don’t even have to think about.
“I guess the problem is that you don’t know,” she says. “Guys are a case-by-case thing. On the whole, they’re horrible. I guess there are nice ones. I’m just not willing to risk it, so I don’t date.”
“What if you do meet a nice guy?”
“I don’t know,” she says. “I would wait to see what he’s like when he’s not nice.”
@JosieTheJournalist: #ProtectWomenOfColor
“It’s just weird. Like, they all know each other and have talked about what’s happened with each other and everything. But they didn’t notice the same thing happening
