“This is the closest I can do,” the driver says. Down the street, there are lines of people, probably waiting to catch glimpses of the actors and other famous people going inside. I take a shaky breath. I wish Alice were here.
I pay him before forcing myself to climb out of the cab. My phone is in my left hand. My lifeline.
The flashing lights are blinding, and the crowd seems even larger the closer I get. Lots of teen girls. I don’t recognize the older couple on the red carpet. The little metal fences that security put out to keep people from getting too close block my path. I squeeze in among the fans, pushing my way to the front. Every time someone walks past, they scream loud enough to make me wince. I’m not so different from them, though. I’m just a fan in a fancy dress.
I don’t see Marius. Did he go in already? My hand clenches around my phone. I could just wait here until he gets out. I wonder how long that will be. It’s freezing and I didn’t think to bring a jacket. But what choice do I have?
I glance back to where the taxi was, but it’s long gone by now.
“That’s a really pretty dress,” a girl behind me says. “It looks great on you.”
“Oh,” I say, looking down, like there’s a chance she might be seeing something different. “Thank you.”
It makes me smile, even as I jump the barrier. I’m taking the long way, staring up at the theater, lingering. Security makes it hard. They’re all over the place, and everyone is so much bigger than me. Maybe this wasn’t the best idea.
I guess I could just send him what I wrote after the show. But it won’t be the same. Marius and I will never be together again the way we were before everything happened—just hanging out in his apartment, like the outside world didn’t exist. It was the only time I really felt fine with the world being small.
“Wait, wait, wait. Josie!”
I look over my shoulder, and there’s Marius, running out of the theater. I whirl around to fully face him, almost tripping on the bit of the dress that comes down to my ankles. A warm, familiar hand grabs my wrist, steadying me. I look up at Marius’s face. His eyes don’t move. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since Sunday. I could’ve looked at pictures, but every time he popped up on Twitter, my heart hurt. Distantly, I know that’s how it’ll feel when I go back home and all of this is over. I force the feeling down.
“Hey,” I say. My voice is soft. “I thought I’d missed you.”
“I just saw your message.” He lets go of my wrist. His eyes dart around my face, eyebrows creased together. There’s something reserved, pinched about his expression. It’s like he’s holding something back. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I try to laugh, but it sounds more like I’m choking. “I came to see you.”
Ever since I set eyes on him, I can’t stop looking, like he’ll disappear if I blink. He looks more handsome than ever in a suit that fits him like a very expensive glove and a blue tie that sets off his eyes. The nose ring is gone. Maybe his mother made him take it out. I wonder if she’s around somewhere.
“Really?” The corner of his mouth turns up. “Little ol’ me?”
I bite my lip, glancing at the phone in my left hand. The idea of reading the entire thing out loud is much more daunting than it originally was. A woman comes over and touches Marius’s shoulder.
“The ceremony is starting,” she says, side-eyeing me. “And you need to be inside.”
“I know,” Marius says, not looking at her. “I just need five minutes.”
She doesn’t look away until she gets inside. I wrap my arms around my middle, then think better of it, resting my hands at my sides.
“You’re wearing the dress,” he says, eyes widening. “And you look…”
“Marius.” I grip my phone. If I don’t do this now, I’ll lose my nerve. “I wrote something. And I just—just let me finish it, okay?”
He nods. I see his throat bob before I glance back down at my screen and take a deep breath. Local Girl Is Shitty
A local girl’s ill-mannered antics have earned her the self-imposed label of “shitty.”
Josie Wright, 17, spent more than two weeks interviewing Marius Canet, 19, an incredibly talented young actor, for a profile that will be published in Deep Focus magazine next week.
Marius grins, momentarily blinding me. The noise of the crowd starts to subside; they’re craning to listen. I go back to reading.
Before meeting him, she didn’t have much of an opinion, until she saw his performance in Incident on 57th Street. She couldn’t stop thinking about him after that. You see, Wright hadn’t even seen that much emotion from kids she went to school with in real life, let alone from a young actor in a film. He made her cry. She wanted (and still wants) him to win all of the awards.
It’s too bad she messed it up. When Wright learned Canet would be working with Roy Lennox, she worried Canet would turn a blind eye to the abuse happening on set. He already didn’t want to talk about the allegations during his interview, and Wright felt this was because he didn’t care about anything but his career—a stark contrast to his otherwise kind and compassionate personality.
By repeatedly pestering Canet, Wright felt she was doing what she had to do to advocate for the women who had been victimized. Canet did not agree. She pushed and pushed, even though Canet was uncomfortable, because she felt her plan was more important than what he wanted. For that, she’s incredibly sorry.
Wright’s sister Alice Wright, 19, said Josie has a habit of being shitty.
“It’s annoying,”
