Despite what Chrissy thought about my proficiency in lying, I couldn’t think of a plausible explanation.
Thankfully Donovan spoke before I had to. “We met online at a forum for people auditioning for America’s Top Talent. We’ve been texting and calling each other for, um . . .” He turned to me to supply a time period. He had no idea how long I’d planned on auditioning for the show.
“Weeks,” I said.
“Weeks,” he agreed. “It seems longer.”
Mom sat in the corner chair, her eyes sharp on us. I was afraid there was disapproval in that sharpness. If she didn’t like Donovan now, she wasn’t going to be happy when she found out he had a police record. “You sang at the auditions too?” she asked him.
“I did a magic act.” He gestured at his clothes as though this explained them. “I make things disappear, do a little sword play, that sort of thing. I didn’t even make it into the finals.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mom didn’t sound it. She sounded worried. “Are you planning on going into show business?”
“No,” he said. “This was more of a bucket-list thing. I’m going to college in the fall. Business major.”
Mom brightened at the word college. “That’s nice. Where are you going?”
“Wherever Sadie decides to go.”
Mom arched an eyebrow at me. “Are you going to college?”
“Yes,” I said.
And I was as sure about it as I sounded. After everything I’d gone through, I didn’t feel the rush to jump into the spotlight. Or maybe I just didn’t need the validation anymore. I could take a few years to find out who I was before I let the music industry define that for me.
“I still want a music career,” I said, “but college will be a good thing. Maybe sometime I’ll want to teach music.”
Donovan nodded. “You should take accounting classes. You’re going to need to know how to handle all the money you’ll make.” To my mom, he added, “She has the most beautiful voice.”
“I know.” Mom sat back in her chair, finally relaxing.
It was probably Donovan’s endorsement of college and my change of heart about getting a degree that brought about the change. She had decided he was a good influence on me.
“I keep telling Sadie this audition doesn’t mean anything,” Mom said. “She won’t even remember it in a few years.”
“Oh, I’ll remember it,” I said, and laughed.
Mom smiled and then laughed too. I knew she thought Donovan had accomplished what the ice cream could never do—made me feel better about bombing my song on camera.
But it wasn’t just Donovan. I had swum to the bottom of the sea and met merpeople. I’d walked through trees made of silver, gold, and diamonds. I’d learned to waltz, been a princess, and danced for fairies. I’d almost drowned and I’d fallen in love.
A few minutes ago, I thought I’d never see my world again, and now I was back. It put a viral video in perspective.
Mom dished out ice cream for us, and we talked until it was time for Donovan to catch his bus. Mom and I drove him to the station parking lot. She waited in the car, while I walked Donovan inside and said goodbye.
When we reached the line at the counter, I pulled my wallet from my purse. “You’ll need money for a ticket.” Gold and silver filled his pockets, but he couldn’t use that here.
Donovan shook his head. “Don’t stress it. I’ll use the invisibility cloak to get on the bus.”
I took money from my wallet and held it out to him. “I’ll worry less if I know you’re traveling the legal way.”
He tilted his head in disbelief. “I just chopped you out of a killer bush, saved you from evil fairies—and now you’re worried about whether I’ll be okay on a bus?”
“Yeah.” I kept holding the money out.
He took hold of my free hand and gave it a light squeeze. His hands felt rough in mine, rough and warm. “You don’t have to worry about me. I have a lot of experience taking care of myself.”
“I know, but I’m going to worry about you anyway.”
He finally took my money. “Okay.” He tucked the bills into his pocket, then lowered his head so his forehead touched mine. “And by the way, I love you too.”
I glanced up at him, surprised. “What?”
“Nothing . . .” he said with a grin, “that we can’t talk about later.”
I took hold of his hand again. “I think now is later.”
He laughed, pulled me closer, and gave me another kiss.
Chapter 30
The video of my audition went viral faster than I’d imagined. I had one day at home, one day of normal life, before the show aired. After that, the internet went crazy. At first it was a montage of my performance. Then a meme popped up, and people tacked the footage of me heaving onto other videos so it looked like I was throwing up in response to a myriad of things. Political opinions. Celebrity fashions. Jason’s latest music video.
Donovan actually made that one. He took a clip of Jason singing, “Do you want me, baby? Do you think I’m the one?” and then cut to me throwing up in front of Jason. The video had a million views by the end of the day. I didn’t know whether to laugh or yell at Donovan for thinking the whole thing was funny.
It was easy for him to see the humor in my ill-gotten fame. He didn’t have to go to my school. For a couple days, it seemed like the entire student body had nothing else to do except make comments about my performance or walk around the school pretending to vomit.
I tried to be a good sport. I said things like: “Just doing my part to put our town on the map,” and “The judges got it wrong. Projectile vomiting was my talent.”
A few people were extra nice, which sort of surprised me. The girl at the locker next to mine hadn’t spoken to me all year, but when she saw me, she said, “Don’t listen to the jerks here. At least you had the courage to walk out onto that stage. Most people at this school wouldn’t do that.”
I nodded philosophically. “Which is why most people at this school still have their dignity.”
She laughed, and didn’t look away. “You’ve got a good sense of humor. I don’t know why you’ve always been so quiet.”
Because I’d been afraid I would say the wrong thing. Because I’d been afraid people would criticize me. Because it was easier not to draw attention to myself. The upchucking video pretty well blew that strategy out of the water. Now I had to speak up for myself. And I found I wasn’t that bad at it.
After a few days had passed and everyone else had moved on to other entertainment, Macy and Brooklyn strolled up to me in the hallway.
“How’s your singing career going?” Macy asked.
I kept walking to my class. “Better than yours. At least people know who I am.”
“I’d rather not have that sort of fame,” Macy said.
Brooklyn wrinkled her nose. “I wouldn’t want a singing career.”
“Then you’re in luck,” I said. “You’ll never have one,” and I turned to walk into my class.
That day after school, The Tonight Show called my parents and asked if I could perform my song on Friday’s show. It was ironic that such a horrible experience on one show led to an invitation from a bigger one. I wasn’t sure whether Jimmy Fallon wanted to give me a chance to redeem myself or whether he was expecting me to fail again in an equally entertaining way.
I accepted without hesitation.
I flew to New York with my parents and spent the next afternoon rehearsing with the band. The musicians were really nice. After they introduced themselves, one of the guitarist said, “Hey, I know you’d rather be famous for something else, but don’t feel bad about those videos. A lot of singers would pay for that kind of exposure.”
“Then it’s too bad I couldn’t sell it to them.” I only half meant it. I knew I would come through all of this stronger. I already was.