“Read it!” someone from the audience yells. The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. My skin tingles with anticipation, and I hold my breath, hoping. The moderator puts the microphone to his lips.
His smile gets wider, but I’m close enough to see the beads of sweat bursting out on his forehead. “Looks like Bonnie™ and Benton™ Baker are pulling a little prank.” He doesn’t open the letter. “It’s a little early for April Fool’s, though, isn’t it?” Cue forced laugh. “All right, let’s get started with—”
“What’s it say?”
Wait, I do recognize that voice. Tessa? I look in the direction it came from, and my heart glows as I catch sight of Tessa, Matt, and Patrick in the audience. We’d told them not to come, but they hadn’t listened.
“Read it!”
And there’s Matt. I nudge Benny, and his eyes grow wide as he sees his boyfriend.
“Freedom of speech!”
That was Patrick. Of course. Our eyes meet—a long-distance version of a stolen kiss—and he grins before disappearing into the crowd. Security is already moving through the mass of people, searching for them.
The moderator glances at the cameras and then shrugs his shoulders in defeat.
He reads our letter in an increasingly contemptuous tone, but at least our plan is working. We’re telling the world how we feel without saying a word.
To Whom It May Concern:
We, Bonnie™ and Benton™ Baker, are taking a vow of silence as an act of peaceful resistance against the continued presence of MetaReel in our home and lives. We have decided to abstain from participating in a production we have both, in many different ways, asked to opt out of. This is not a prank or a ploy at getting attention. We have enough attention. We do this not out of disrespect to our family but, rather, out of respect for our rights as individuals. Our efforts to keep our family off the air have gone unheeded—
He stops, but the crowd starts booing him. Chuck throws Benny and me a disgusted look, then turns on his heel and stalks off. The moderator continues.
—and our most personal stories have been made public without our willing consent. For most of our lives, the word privacy has not been in our vocabulary. Being on Baker’s Dozen was never something we had a choice in. While we are thankful for our family’s efforts to provide for us, we strongly object to our lives being used for entertainment purposes. Thank you.
Bonnie™ and Benton™ Baker
Pride—faltering at first, then stronger—surges through me. I’m doing this; I’m finally standing up for myself. There are murmurs in the audience and then—scattered applause. Not everyone is clapping for us: most people look confused. Snap. Snap. Snap. More pictures. Hundreds of them.
Mom: “Get up.”
She forcibly pulls me and Benny out of our chairs, gripping my arm so hard I wince. As we stumble down the stairs and across the convention floor, the moderator puts his hands up in the international gesture of Everyone Please Shut Up. My siblings follow our departure with shocked eyes—the little ones still don’t get what happened, but they know we’re in trouble. Lex actually smirks and shakes her head admiringly. I raise my eyebrows as if to say, See, you’ve been underestimating me all along. When we get to the hallway where the greenrooms are, Mom lets go of us; she looks like she’s going to have an aneurysm.
“How dare you embarrass our family like this,” she says. “Do you have any idea what the repercussions of your little prank will be?”
I’m itching to yell back. To say, Didn’t you listen to the letter? It’s not a prank! But I can’t take the tape off yet.
Mom throws up her hands as a MetaReel camera comes into the hallway.
“I don’t know what to do with you two. Benny, first it’s drinking, now this. Bonnie™, you’re acting like a child, throwing tantrums, getting violent … this is simply unacceptable.”
Violent? Oh, right, the notebook throwing.
She pauses, taking us in, measuring her breaths until they are socially acceptable inhales and exhales. “I know you want a rise out of me, but you’re not going to get it. Hopefully someday you’ll learn there are more appropriate ways to voice your concerns. Excuse me while I go clean up your mess. Again.”
I look at my mom for a long moment. I don’t know what I was hoping for—maybe I wanted her to drop everything and demand that the cameras be turned off. Or perhaps I thought she’d scream at me so America could see, once and for all, how messed up our family is. I know one thing I wasn’t expecting: her indifference.
She turns toward the press conference and says over her shoulder, “Don’t even think about going back out there.”
The camera stays on us for a while, but eventually drifts out the doorway, returning to the press conference and the red carpet. Benny and I look at each other, and his eyes crinkle up, like he’s smiling through the tape. I nod.
It was worth it.
Viewpoints with Eileen Smith KTOK AM 540
EILEEN SMITH: Good afternoon. If you’re just joining us, today we’re talking about the outrageous protest by Baker’s Dozen stars Bonnie™ and Benton™ Baker during the show’s live taping last night at the Ultimate Reality™ Expo in Los Angeles. I’m here with Chuck Daniels, the head producer of the MetaReel show. Chuck?
CHUCK DANIELS: Thank you, Eileen. I just want to say that Bonnie™ and Benton™ have always had my ear when it comes to any problems they’re having. As you probably saw on last week’s episode, Bonnie™ was pretty upset about her mother reading her diary. I believe she’s just acting out with some normal teenage aggression. Both kids are back at school today without tape, and the family has gone back to normal.
EILEEN SMITH: What do you think of the MetaReel boycott the United Parents Coalition is calling for?
CHUCK DANIELS: I think it’s great that people are engaging with the show.
EILEEN SMITH: Is MetaReel considering including more protection and benefits for the child stars of your programs?
CHUCK DANIELS: Well, Eileen, I just make the show. You’d have to talk to our legal department about all that. But I’d like to point out that the contracts we have are good enough for the parents in our programs, and last I checked, the buck stops with them.
EILEEN SMITH: Let’s get some other viewpoints in here. I’ve got Nancy Fraser from Boston on the line. Nancy?
NANCY FRASER: Hi, Eileen. Hello, Chuck.
CHUCK DANIELS AND EILEEN SMITH: Hi.
NANCY FRASER: Well, I just want to say that as a mother of three, I can’t imagine how hard it must be for Beth. I’ve been watching the show since the very first episode, and I think Bonnie™ has just gotten a little too big for her britches. If you ask me, what that girl needs is a good spanking.
EILEEN SMITH: Okay, uh, thanks, Nancy. We’ve got Tim Birch on the line from Phoenix. Tim, what do you think of Bonnie™ Baker?
TIM SMITH: I think that girl needs to run as far away from her crazy family as possible. What MetaReel and her parents are doing is criminal. Forcing these kids to be on camera is—
CHUCK DANIELS: Now let me make this clear. MetaReel is in no way forcing these children to be on the show—they have a father in Florida. Bonnie™ and Benton™ are aware that remaining with their mother means staying on the show. Trust me, we’re not handcuffing kids to our cameras.
EILEEN SMITH: We’ve got to go to commercial, but don’t switch that dial! If you have a question for Chuck about Baker’s Dozen or a comment about last night’s episode, pick up your phone or put on that Bluetooth if you’re on your commute. We’ll be right back after these messages from our sponsors.
SEASON 17, EPISODE 28
(The One with the Lawyer)
I’ve never realized how Chuck’s face resembles a piece of ham. It really does. It’s a big hunk of pink, glistening flesh with a ring of fat around the outside. Put some brown sugar on him, and you’ve got Christmas dinner. His beady little eyes flash at me when I come down the stairs. It’s Wednesday, the day after the vow, a
nd I’ve been holed up in my room, doing homework. It had been a great day at school. For once it feels good to be a celebrity. Schwartz started a round of applause for me in class, and a few people actually came up to me to say they thought what we’d done was awesome. Diane Le Shrink gave me not two but three packs of Skittles, and Patrick dragged me into the janitor’s closet for half the lunch period.
I touch my lips as I remember his heat, the way his skin melted into mine.
“Bonnie™, did you hear what I said?”
I look at Chuck, my face flooding crimson. “Uh. No. Sorry.”
“I said, we need to go outside for a little chat.”
Outside, as in, not overheard by MetaReel. So when he wants privacy, it’s okay to ditch the cameras?
“We can talk here.”
He looks in the direction of the living room, where Puma Guy is capturing a few of my brothers arguing over a soccer ball. “No, we can’t.”
Sighing, I get up and follow him out the front door. It’s a cold January day, the sky a slab of marble, and I shiver, wishing I’d grabbed my coat. He’s silent as we trudge through the dead grass along the security fence. Finally he stops in the middle of the side yard and fixes me with a seriously sinister glare.
“Just what exactly do you think you’re doing?”
Annoyance surges through me—who is this guy? He’s not my dad, not my teacher, not someone who should have any authority over me at all. So why is he in control of my life? I force myself to stand a little taller.
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing, Chuck. That’s sort of the point.”
He sticks his doughy face closer to mine, his pointed nose inches from my own. “I’m only going to say this once, Bonnie™, so you better listen. I can ruin your family.”
“You mean like how you ruined it four years ago?” My voice cuts through the space between us. “You knew Dad was in that guesthouse. You knew when you told me to go get him. How do you sleep at night?”
His eyes are cold, betraying nothing: no surprise, no guilt. “Push me, and I will make your mother wish she had never signed up for this show. I’m not going to let you and your faggy brother fuck up my entire career because all of a sudden you’ve gotten camera shy.”
I stare at him, too shocked to even wipe away the drops of his spittle that have sprayed my face.
“No more stunts,” he says. “I’ve got the goddamned ACLU on my ass, reporters calling night and day. One more prank like this, and we’ll pull the plug on the show and sue the hell out of your family for defamation of character and lost revenue. It’s your choice. But I’d think long and hard. MetaReel isn’t going to play nice.”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond. By the time I find my voice, he’s already gone back into my house—no. He’s gone back to the set. Cold uncertainty pushes against my ribs, filling me up. Chuck isn’t bluffing, that much is clear. My elation over the great day at school evaporates. The statement we made would be meaningless if we just keep doing the show, but if we say anything, then we’re responsible for landing my family in the poorhouse.
I’ve got to talk to Benny.
I trudge back across the lawn, but when I get inside, he’s sitting at the kitchen table with two cameras on him, holding the cordless phone to his ear. Mom and Kirk lean against the counter, watching him. When she sees me, Mom points to the table—You. Sit.
I sit.
Which doesn’t make me feel like a badass revolutionary at all.
“Dad … no. No, we don’t want—” Benny puts his hand over the receiver. “It’s Dad. He’s offering to have us go live with him.”
I hold out my hand, and Benny places the phone in it.
“Dad?”
“Hey, honey.” His voice is fake-happy, tight. “I was just talking to Ben about you guys maybe coming to stay with me. Sounds like it’s pretty rough over there for you.”
“They put you up to this,” I say.
“No!” But even though we’re hundreds of miles away, I can tell he’s lying. He’s clearly under duress.
“Dad, Benny and I aren’t going to move to Florida. We only have four months until we graduate.”
He sighs. “But—”
I open my mouth to say we didn’t do the vow of silence just so that we’d get secreted away by MetaReel, but Chuck catches my eye and gives an imperceptible shake of his head. Big Brother Is Watching You.
“Look. Thanks, Dad, but Benny and I have a life here. We have school and … friends.”
I think of Patrick, of leaving him to go live with my alcoholic father and whatever floozy he’s shacking up with in Miami. Or Benny leaving Matt before they can go to the winter formal together. No. There has to be another way.
“Well, okay, if that’s what you want.”
He’s so obviously relieved that I want to beat the phone against the table.
“Yes,” I say, trying to control the emotions that are desperate to burst out of my skin. “That’s what I want. Benny?”
He nods.
“And Benny too,” I add.
“Well, I … I love you guys.”
Long dramatic pause.
“Huh,” is all I say.
I hang up the phone and look at Mom. She shrugs her shoulders and turns back to the soup that’s simmering on the stove. Right now, we have a policy of détente—it’s Cold War status up in the Baker house.
When Benny and I get back upstairs, I pull him into my room and tell him about the conversation with Chuck.
“You’ve gotta call that lawyer back,” he whispers. He looks at the door. “Like, now.”
I think of how Lark™, my little brother from India, still wets the bed even though he’s nine. Benny, hiding who he is because he doesn’t want his sexual orientation to make national headlines … and drinking on the sly because the pressure is too much. Lex, screwing lots of boys because she doesn’t get enough love or attention at home. And the others—night terrors, temper tantrums, and God knows what else. I could walk away and let them sort out this mess for themselves. Not have the lawsuit. Just get out, graduate, and move on. Or I could stand up for all of us.
“Yeah.”
I pull her number up on the cell phone Patrick gave me. After the third ring, a crisp what-is-it-I’m-saving-the-world voice answers.
“Melinda Greenberg,” she says.
“Hi. Uh. It’s Chloe. Chloe Baker.”
“Hi, Chloe.” Am I imagining the undercurrent of excitement in her voice? “I thought I’d be hearing from you. You okay over there? I was watching last night.”
“Not exactly. I think my brother and I need to meet with you.”
“How’s this Saturday?”
* * *
We spend most of Saturday morning in Melinda Greenberg’s cluttered office, building a case out of long-ago hurts and purposely forgotten violations. We talk about things like the incident in season twelve when my dad called Mom a “media whore bitch from hell” on Dr. Phil during a segment on marriage counseling. Or how MetaReel had organized a trip to a nutritionist when I was gaining a little weight and how I’d had to stand on the scale in front of the cameras while he outlined all the ways in which my body wasn’t good enough. A few weeks later, the cameras tagged along when I went back to the same nutritionist after Mom caught me throwing up my dinner.
I try to explain to Melinda how being on camera makes you start watching yourself, not even knowing where the camera “you” ends and the real “you” begins—like having multiple personalities. She tells us we have a strong case and we just might win, but that it will be hard and ugly. She asks us, over and over, if we are sure we want to do this. That it means even more publicity and that MetaReel won’t hold back any punches.
We point to the contract on her desk and ask where we need to sign.
SEASON 17, EPISODE 29
(The One with the Boutonnieres)
Two weeks. In two weeks I will turn eighteen. Thus far, word hasn’t leaked about our visit to
the lawyer, so we decide not to mention it at home until Melinda gives us the go-ahead. Now I’m at Patrick’s, smuggled away there after school in his mother’s SUV. I wonder if the MetaReel camera dude who was supposed to drive home with me is still waiting.
We’re lying on Patrick’s bed, our limbs tangled, my head on his chest.
“So Tessa’s parents are cool with it?” he asks. Tessa and her family have agreed to let Benny and me move in with them as soon as I turn eighteen.
I smile contentedly as he runs his hands through my hair.
“Yeah. I told them the Vultures would descend, but I think Mr. Lee’s excited about getting to do our story.”
I feel Patrick stiffen. “So they’re only letting you stay there if you repay him with interviews?”
I sit up and look down at him. “It’s not like that.” He purses his lips, his brown eyes flashing. He’s pretty sexy when he’s protective like this.
“Seriously. I can’t help it if my best friend’s dad is a reporter. And he didn’t ask. In fact, when I offered to give him the exclusive, he flat-out said no.”
Patrick snorts and sits up in one fluid, agitated gesture. “Chloe, when are you going to stop letting people walk all over you?”
I frown at his frustrated tone. “I’m not letting him walk all over me. I want to do the interview. It’s the only way I can control the message.”
I’m starting to sound like my lawyer.
“But he’s got to be objective,” Patrick says. “Which means he’s gonna have to say stuff you won’t want him to say.”
“Patrick.” I put my hands on his knees and catch his eyes. “I trust the Lees. And it’s really the only place where Benny and I can both go and feel totally comfortable. It’s the best-case scenario in a worst-case situation.”
He sighs and wraps his arms around me. “I just don’t want anyone else to hurt you,” he murmurs against my hair.