BONNIE™: Three! [they dunk the tortilla into the pot]
ANDREW: ¡Ai ai ai! ¡Caliente!
BONNIE™: [laughing] Hurry, it’s gonna break!
[They set the tortilla in a glass baking dish. ANDREW crosses to the sink and rinses his hands while BONNIE™ sticks her hand in a big bowl of shredded cheese.]
ANDREW: [Sneaking up behind BONNIE™. He now has a sombrero on his head.] ¡Hola, señorita!
BONNIE™: [Turns around. Her face is shocked, then she breaks out into hysterical laughter.] Daddy, you’re crazy!
[ANDREW turns up the music and begins twirling her around the kitchen.]
ANDREW AND BONNIE™: [singing together] La cucaracha, la cucaracha, la la la la la la la …
SEASON 17, EPISODE 16
(The One at the Mall)
When I wake up, someone is snoring in my bed. I turn over, only mildly alarmed—this is not such a strange thing when you have a dozen siblings.
“Benny.” I shake my brother’s shoulder.
“Hmph.” He turns onto his side, throwing an arm against his eyes to block out the sunlight.
I kick off the covers and crawl over him.
“You’re awake,” he mumbles.
I look at the clock. “It’s lunchtime. I thought it might be a good idea to get up.”
“Whereyago?” His words are muffled against the pillow, but I get the gist.
“Bathroom. Be right back.”
I open my door as quietly as possible and tiptoe across the hall. I try the knob, but the door’s locked. I don’t want to alert everyone that I’m awake—it could result in footage of my bedhead and ratty PJs that I don’t want people to see on next week’s episode. I can feel how bad I look.
But I really have to pee.
I tap on the door. “Can I get in there?”
“Almost done,” Lexie™ says.
This is Lex-speak for twenty more minutes.
“Dude. I just need, like, two minutes.”
The door immediately swings open, and waves of steam envelop me as Lex pulls me inside and shuts the door behind her. The room reeks of her expensive shampoo.
“Er, good morning?” I say, blinking in the mist.
“Oh my God, we have to talk.”
Lex is wearing a towel around her middle and another wrapped around her hair. An assortment of creams and girl-torture devices sit on the cluttered counter. This is the official girls’ bathroom, so there are about ten bottles of lotion, piles of hair accessories, five hairbrushes … any time of the day or night you walk in here, it looks like we robbed a Walgreens.
“Um. I really have to pee.”
“Go ahead, I won’t look.”
I sigh and turn on the faucet.
“Hello? Hate the environment much?” she says.
“It’s bad enough no one can pee in private in this family. The least you can do is let me harbor the illusion that you can’t hear me.”
“You are so bizarre.” Lex plucks at her eyebrows and studies her face in the mirror with an intensity better suited to nuclear physicists.
“Just because I’m not comfortable running around backstage naked between act one and act two doesn’t qualify as weird.”
“It’s a theater thing—you wouldn’t understand.” She closes her eyes as she dabs cream on her eyelids, and I take this opportunity to sit on the toilet.
After a few seconds, I flush and she opens her eyes.
“You obviously have some quality gossip to share, so out with it,” I say, resigning myself to a lengthy Lex-a-thon. I sit on the edge of the bathtub and run my hands through my rat’s-nest hair.
“So. After you went loco, the shit really hit the fan. I mean, it was like Armageddon in there.”
“Don’t look so upset about it,” I mutter.
Lex gives me her fake sweet smile and turns back to the mirror. Despite being twins, Benny and Lex couldn’t be more different.
“So, Mom and Dad and Kirk were going at it in a major way. Dad was all, ‘You never let me see them,’ and Mom’s like, ‘Well, it’s hard to get in touch with someone who never answers their phone.’ Then—and this was priceless, it’s so too bad you missed it—Kirk and Dad got in this old-guy fistfight.”
“What?”
God, how am I gonna show my face at school on Monday?
“Right? It was crazy.”
“Did they, like, hurt each other?”
“No. I mean, it was lame, but Dad literally walked over to the turkey, picked it up, and threw it on the ground!”
“Whoa.”
“Yeah. And I’m there being all, ‘Mom, make them stop,’ and Benny’s sitting at the table with his head in his hands talking about cantaloupes, and the kids are screaming. I heard Chuck say they didn’t even go to commercial, it was so good.”
“What the hell is wrong with them?” I say this louder than I intend to and immediately look at the door.
“Don’t worry,” she says, noticing my glance. “Mom and Kirk are doing Black Friday book signings all day. Mom’s gonna make a killing.”
The steam is suffocating, but Lex glows in this totally obnoxious, goddesslike way.
“What about Dad?”
“Gone. He stormed out. Said he loved us and to call him if we wanted to come to Florida.”
Even Lex isn’t a good enough actress to hide the disappointment in her voice. She busies herself with her makeup bag, like choosing the right eyeliner is the most important thing in the world.
“If he really loved us, he would have stayed.” My voice is hard, bitter. “He got himself back on TV, and now he’s famous again. That’s all he cares about.”
Lex sighs. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” she says. “Maybe Mom really did keep him from us. She was pretty hurt about … you know.” The affair. The divorce. The end of the show. End of the world.
I’m so sick of it. My whole life feels like it’s in a slingshot, and I’m just waiting for whoever’s in control to let go. Once, just once, I want to be the one pulling back the rubber band.
“Lex, this is so messed up. Aren’t you worried about what people at school are gonna say?”
Lexie™ takes the towel off her head and sprays her long locks with detangler, half of which ends up in my eyes and mouth.
“I look at it this way,” she says, running a comb through her commercial-worthy tresses. “It can only help me—I mean, people get famous for losing their fat asses or eating worms. As long as I play my cards right, I can make it on my own as soon as we graduate.”
I give her what I hope is a withering look. “Lex. Spielberg’s not interested in how well you fight with your family on camera.”
“Look, Bonnie™. I know you have this whole anti vibe going and, whatever, that’s fine. But I love the camera. I love it. So you can be a hater, but at the end of the day, this is what we’ve got. And I’m going to make the most of it.”
I stand up and push past her and out the door. “I need to eat … or something.”
“Fine. Do what you always do when someone wants to talk about something uncomfortable. God forbid you actually have to deal with your problems.”
I look back at her. “Fuck you.”
She raises her perfectly shaped eyebrows. “Right back atcha.”
I really want to hit her, and I probably would if we were a few years younger. Now I just growl and slam the door. She opens it back up.
“It must be nice,” she snaps.
I turn around. “What?”
“Being the only one Dad really cares about.”
“That’s not—”
“Watch last night’s episode if you don’t believe me. See the way he looks at you and tell me he gives a damn about the rest of us.”
She slams the door hard, leaving me alone in the cold hallway. Adrenaline surges through me, and I think about barging back in there to tell her off, except the look on her face stops me. This wasn’t Lexie™ being her usual dramatic self. She really believes
Dad loves me more.
Which is totally ridiculous.
When I get back to my room, Benny is on my computer. He immediately closes the window of the web page he’s on, but I catch it before it disappears.
“So what does celeb.com have to say about me this time?”
“They liked your dress.”
I roll my eyes and plop back down on the bed. “Lex was in the bathroom.”
“Uh, yeah. I heard the tail end of that conversation.”
“I don’t get why she said that. About Dad loving me more.”
Benny crosses his arms and leans back in the chair. His hair’s all mussed up, and his eyes are still heavy with sleep. “I don’t think Dad loves any of us very much. Not anymore. But you’ve always been his favorite.”
I open my mouth to disagree, but he just raises an eyebrow. “Whatever.”
“So…” He gets up and sits at the end of the bed, giving me one of those soul-searching Benny looks. “You wanna talk about last night?”
I narrow my eyes. “Did Mom tell you to keep an eye on me?”
“Don’t be a brat,” he says.
I dig the heels of my hands into my eye sockets and take a long, ragged breath.
“I don’t want to talk about it. But I’m sorry for not trusting your motives.”
He pats my foot. “Mom and Kirk are out—Lex told you?”
I nod. “I need to find a way to get to Patrick’s tonight.” I peek out my window, looking past the high security fence. “The Vultures are still out there.”
“Matt and I have a plan, but you’re not gonna like it.”
When he tells me what we have to do, I groan. “This is so not gonna work.”
“Let’s just try, okay? The most important thing is that Matt and Patrick don’t get caught.”
“Yeah.” I know exactly what he means—I would never want to bring this craziness into Patrick’s life. He’s already in deep enough, but at least no one is blogging about him or camping outside his home.
I bring my laptop over to the bed. Patrick’s online, which is good because I can’t talk about this on my MetaReel phone.
YoSoyChloe: Morning.
Sheldon1015: I have my sword, but I have no idea where my trusty steed went. Are you letting down your hair?
Benny reads over my shoulder. “You guys are weird.”
YoSoyChloe: Benny says we’re weird.
Sheldon1015: Weird is the new cool.
“Touché,” Benny says.
YoSoyChloe: So. We have a plan.
Sheldon1015: I hope it involves your green wig and blue sunglasses.
YoSoyChloe: Worse. It involves the mall.
Sheldon1015: On Black Friday? I love how certifiably insane you are.
YoSoyChloe: Sore subject.
Sheldon1015: Is Ben still reading over your shoulder?
YoSoyChloe: No
Sheldon1015: I love everything about you. Is that a sore subject?
YoSoyChloe: Um. Blushing. A lot.
Sheldon1015: So, the mall, huh?
* * *
“Okay, ready?”
I look in my rearview mirror. Three SUVs and two motorcycles. “Benny, this is not going to work.”
“It will. Just run as soon as I stop the car.”
“People are going to recognize us, they’ll—”
“Listen. You, Patrick, possibly on or in his bed. Are you going to give that up over a few Vultures?”
He’s right. That would be certifiable. Benny doesn’t wait for my answer. He swings into a spot, and we’re out of the car. I hear the lock chirp behind me as we run into Macy’s, cameras in our faces, people looking. I want to cry so bad, but a surge of adrenaline courses through me as we make our way through the store and then I sort of want to laugh because it’s a little bit thrilling, outrunning the paparazzi. I hear voices as we fly through the shoe department.
“Wait! Is that…?”
“Where?”
“By the mannequin.”
Click. Camera phones. Click.
I ignore the voices, the stares. Benny squeezes my hand as we split up. He’s off to menswear, where Matt is picking him up at the back entrance. I’m going into the mall, but not too far in. Patrick’s friend, Derrick, works at Hot Topic, and he’s going to get us out through an employee hallway. I don’t know if anyone has seen me yet—the mall is packed, and it smells like pretzels and sugar and new things. They’re already piping in Christmas music—it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Go, go, shit, go.
I walk fast, keep my eyes to the ground. As soon as I pass the Disney store, I see the oversized lava lamp, and I duck inside, practically knocking Patrick over.
“Hey, you,” he says. He puts a protective arm around my shoulder and guides me past various goth-inspired paraphernalia to the back of the store and behind a velvet curtain labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY.
We made it. Well, past stage one, anyway. Patrick pulls me against him, and his lips find mine in the half light. For a minute, I forget I’m a fugitive because everything’s turning to jelly, and it is so hot to be kissing someone in an off-limits place when people are after you. It’s like we landed in an action movie.
“How’d it go in Macy’s?” he asks.
I’m shivering almost uncontrollably from fear and this crazy intense want that’s attacking my muscles. I nod, trying to catch my breath. “Could have been worse, but they got tons of pictures.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I considered myself a pacifist until we got together,” he says. “Now I have a mental hit list that includes all paparazzi, everywhere.”
I smile and just hug him tighter. Then I let him go and pull my phone out to text Benny. I laugh and show Patrick the picture Benny just texted me back of him in Matt’s car, the two of them grinning wildly.
Just then the curtain parts and Derrick slips in. “Hey, Chloe,” he says.
He’s wearing a vintage Star Wars T-shirt and a hat that says COLLEGE. His nails are painted black, but I won’t hold that against him.
“Hey. I really appreciate this,” I say.
He grins. “S’nothing. Most exciting part of my day. I just spent the past fifteen minutes trying to explain to a mom why Harry Potter is not going to turn her kid into a Satanist.”
I shrug. “I don’t know, that sounds pretty exciting to me.”
I’ve always wanted a part-time job. I know that’s what privileged kids who are bored say, but I can’t imagine that level of independence. I guess I’ve worked for MetaReel most of my life, but I’ve never seen a paycheck with my name on it. I’d take a wage slave job over reality TV stardom any day.
Patrick claps Derrick on the back. “You got it?”
“Yep.” He hands Patrick a plastic card. “Just go through that door and follow the hall to the end. It’ll let you out in the Dumpster area. You said you parked your car behind the cleaners, right?”
Patrick nods.
“Cool. Shouldn’t take you more than four minutes, then.”
“Excellent. I owe you one,” Patrick says.
Derrick shrugs. “I like to see you happy, man. Later, Chloe.”
“Bye.”
He goes back out through the curtain, and Patrick grabs my hand. “Freaked?”
I grin. “Not with you.”
He presses his lips against mine, just for a second. “I cannot wait to get you to my house,” he says.
My face turns scarlet, and he laughs quietly as he leads me out the back door. Four minutes later, we’re in his beat-up Volvo, merging onto the highway.
I hold up my phone and lean in close to him. “Smile.”
I send Benny the first picture I’ve ever taken of Patrick and me, then close the phone and snuggle close to him as we head away from the total mayhem that is my life.
Reality TV Family Garners Record Viewers, But Child Psychologists Worried
By TIM FISHER, Affiliated Press
Last night’s live taping of the MetaReel revamp of Baker??
?s Dozen has already sparked a debate among child mental health experts across the nation. While nearly fourteen million Americans tuned in to last night’s show, a poll conducted immediately afterward reveals that 80 percent of viewers believe the show is negatively affecting the Baker children. “The unexpected visit by their father was clearly damaging,” says Tina Nolte, a professor of psychology at Fresno State University. “Personally, many of my colleagues and I feel that placing a child in these kinds of situations could classify as a form of child abuse.” This is not the first time the phrase “child abuse” has been used in connection with the show. The emotional reaction Bonnie™ Baker had to her estranged father’s unexpected visit reminded many viewers of the seventeen-year-old’s suicide attempt just four years ago. An attempt, many believe, that was in reaction to the show itself.
“Enough is enough,” says Janet Frazer, a spokesperson for the ACLU. The organization, which is suing MetaReel in a class-action suit on behalf of a number of former reality TV child stars, has been concerned about the issue of child labor in reality TV for over a decade. In addition to taking MetaReel, the nation’s largest and most successful reality TV production company, to court, the ACLU is also lobbying for both state and federal protections for underage performers. “When is this nation going to recognize that half of MetaReel’s shows are totally unregulated?” says Melinda Greenberg, chief counsel for the ACLU’s suit against MetaReel. A spokesperson for MetaReel denies such allegations, saying, “Both Beth [Baker-Miller] and Kirk [Miller] are confident they are acting in their family’s best interest. The children are having a blast and are eager to have the cameras in their home.”
SEASON 17, EPISODE 17
(The One with the Movie)
Patrick’s house already feels familiar to me. Even though I’ve been here only once, I’ve pictured him inside it a thousand times more. As he opens the door leading into the kitchen from the garage, the smell of cilantro and grilled chicken greets me.
“Mom?” Patrick calls.
My stomach freefalls, and I instinctively pull back, but he puts a hand on the small of my back and guides me inside.
“They’re going to love you,” he whispers.
His breath tickles my ear, and I shiver slightly as his lips graze my neck. He pulls away just before the female version of Patrick comes into the room, drying her hands on a checkered towel.