The Truth About Hollywood

My heart stopped beating, and I got really dizzy, like I was about to faint. Slowly, I turned to find Danny, looking angrily at me from the driver's side of his car.

"I, um, I can...I can explain," I stumbled clumsily. Then, I took a small breath and continued, "My dad was really late, so I just called him to say that I'd walk home."

"And it never occurred to you to call me?" I could tell by the sparkle in his dark eyes that he wasn't buying even one second of my fabricated bullshit. Not that I blamed him at all. I needed to spruce up my lying skills...

"Uh, no?"

He let out a huff before nodded to the passenger's seat. "Get in."

"I can't. I have to get home."

"Claire, we need to talk. And plus, I can get you home way faster in a car than you can walking."

I grumbled instead of answering, walking slowly over to the passenger's side and getting in, biting my lip. I was so worried what he was going to say. It wasn't like he could have figured out what was going on between us, right? No, that wasn't possible...

"Okay, will you tell me what's going on?" Danny snapped as he pulled away from the curb. "We used to be good friends, at least that's how it seemed to me, but now you're just ignoring me altogether. Did I do something wrong?"

YES! I wanted to scream. I wanted to tell him everything, to start crying, to have everything out in the open. No more secrets.

But I chickened out. "No," I mumbled, crossing my arms across my chest.

"Work with me here," he said in a gruff voice. "I'm just trying to get it. Did I say something to upset you? I'm sorry if I did. This sounds gay of me, but I just miss how we were. I just want to be friends again, how we were."

"Well, we can't!" I burst out without thinking. My eyes grew wide and I slapped a hand over my mouth. I couldn't believe I had just said that. What the hell was I thinking?!

"Why not?" he whispered. "Will you just talk to me?"

I sighed loudly. "Danny, you're such a guy."

"Um...thanks?"

"No, that's not a compliment. Think back, think back real hard. Now when did I start acting weirdly around you?"

"Um...I don't know... a few days ago?"

"And...? What happened around there?"

He looked over his dashboard at the road, looking pensive. "I...I don't remember..."

"Oh my God!" I exclaimed. Next to us, there was a park. "Pull over there. I'm not having this discussion inside a car."

Danny shrugged and did what I said. We both got out and started walking around. "Alright, now...I don't want to tell you what I'm about to tell you, but I'm going to anyway because I feel like it needs to be out there."

"Please do," he encouraged, looking relieved. He was just happy that the weirdness was going to be over. Little did he know that it was just beginning...

"Okay, so your tiny brain can remember that you kissed me on the set the other day, right?"

"I said I was sorry about that!" he interrupted. "It wasn't like it meant anything!"

"That's just it!" My voice was raised, and I knew it, but I was too frustrated to make myself lower it. "It didn't mean anything! That's why I'm upset!"

Danny got really quiet, mulling everything that I'd just said through his head. "So you...?"

Great, I had to spell it out for him. "I like you, okay? I'm sorry. I can't help it. I've been trying to stop, but that hasn't been going too well for me, especially when you want to drive me around everywhere. Any time I see you, I just... It's like I've regressed through my progress, if I've even made any at all. Don't you get it?!"

He just stared at me. My eyes started to fill with tears. "You know what? Just forget it. I'm going home."

I turned and started speed-walking away. I didn't want him to see that I was crying, I didn't want him to see that without saying anything, he'd just said it all. How were we even going to look at each other now?

Once I was a few feet away, I turned back to him and called out in a shaky voice, "By the way, Stella likes you too! You should ask her out! You guys would be great together."

Danny started to say something in a loud voice, but I didn't stick around to listen. It was like my soul was on fire, and all I wanted to do was lock myself in my room and listen to music. Maybe it would help calm me down or something.

I ran the rest of the mile home and ignored my father when he asked how filming was. In my rage, I slammed my door shut as loudly as I could. That made me start crying harder because I realized that I probably caused my mother a hell of a lot of pain. No matter what I did, where I went, I just made everyone uncomfortable and caused them pain.

After fifteen minutes or so, my tears were gone. I had nothing left to cry any further. Instead, I just stayed curled up in the corner of my room, letting the eerie sound of Strawberry Fields Forever by The Beatles filter through my mind instead of any thoughts. Thoughts were dangerous.

There was a knock on my door somewhere near six thirty, and Dad let himself in instead of waiting for an answer. I wiped my eyes furiously, knowing that I looked horrible. I didn't want Dad to ask any questions.

"Dinner's ready," he said simply, surprising me, before walking right back out of the room. I stared at the closed door for a second in awe. Had he not noticed? Had he not cared? Or did he just not want to make anything worse? I hoped it was the latter.

I washed my face and hands before walking downstairs for dinner. Mom was pushing her food around her plate. Her skin was so deathly pale, taking on a gray appearance, and her eyes had absolutely zero personality. It was almost like she was dead sitting there.

"Honey, please eat," Dad soothed, putting an assuring hand on her arm.

"What's the use?!" she snapped, standing up and sending her chair skidding across the floor. "I'm just going to die in a month anyway!"

My jaw dropped. I couldn't believe that she'd just screamed that in front of me.

"That's not true, baby," Dad tried to convince, but she just scowled at him before running up the stairs.

He put his face in his hands, his elbows on the table. His food was virtually untouched. Noticing that no one else ate, I stopped eating too, putting my fork down on my plate gently so I didn't make a noise.

I stared off into the distance, and Dad stayed like that, a thick silence settled between us. "I guess you know what the doctor told us the other day, huh?" he finally voiced, picking his chin up so it was resting on top of his entwined hands.

"I already did," I admitted.

He nodded and walked back up the stairs, leaving his food on the table.

With a sigh, I cleaned up everything that was left, which was pretty much all the food that Dad had made. Once I was done, I leaned down and rested my forehead against the counter.

This TV role was supposed to kick-start my life, make everything a lot happier and easier. Instead, it was just ripping everything apart.