“You were funny,” Liza said.
“For sure,” Alana agreed. “You played the snark to Victoria’s straight. It almost seemed like you two meant to play it that way.”
“You used the word almost.” I sank to the floor and pulled my knees to my chest.
“You sounded a tiny bit froggy, but otherwise you were okay, Kate,” Liza said, playing with her blonde ponytail. “I don’t understand why you’re freaking out.”
“Thanks, Liza.”
“Did your group come up with any ways to get more callers?” Alana asked.
In class today, Ms. Lyon had split us into different groups to try and brainstorm ideas.
“Not really.” I sighed from my spot on the floor. “My group was too busy giving me advice on how to be more charming and likable on air.”
“Oh yeah, what kind of advice did they have?” Alana asked, shifting on my bed.
I thought back to their shouted suggestions. “One was to smile while I talk. Then I would at least sound happy.”
Liza screwed her lips up into a smile. “Does that really work? Do I sound happy right now?” she asked us.
“You sound like a robot,” Alana said. “You’re supposed to both smile and move your mouth.”
“Is that possible?” Liza practiced it a few times, whispering different words with a smile pasted onto her face.
“What about your group?” I asked Alana. “Did they come up with brilliant plans for more calls?”
“No. They’re thinking that once the first episode airs, more people will call in.”
“Based on what, exactly?” I asked, feeling defeated. “My winning charm?”
“Based on wanting to be on a podcast, I guess.” Alana shrugged.
I tapped my bare feet against the floor. “Maybe we’ll have to assign all the people who are in Thursday’s postproduction lab to call in on Wednesdays with fake problems,” I said, remembering how Alana had called in. “They can work on their voice manipulation and acting skills.”
Alana scooted off my bed and came to sit on the floor next to me. She put her arm around my shoulder. “Look on the bright side.”
“There’s a bright side?”
“It can’t get any worse than that episode, right? It will only get better from here.”
“You just totally jinxed it. Next week someone will call in about undercooked meat at the local hamburger joint.”
“Or they’ll want you to help them with math homework,” Liza said in her robot smile voice. Then she checked her phone. “Oops, my mom just texted that it’s dinnertime. I’ll see you guys later.” She bounded off my bed and was gone.
Alana squeezed my arm. “You are being too hard on yourself. Let’s forget about this stupid podcast for now, okay?” She pulled me to my feet. “It’s Friday. We are going to find something amazing to do.”
“This is Mr. Young’s hotel,” I whispered to Alana half an hour later. We stood outside the metal gate that led to the pool and hot tub. “Are you trying to make him hate my family more?”
“You think Mr. Young mans each and every one of his properties on a Friday night?” Alana waved her hand through the air, her big brown eyes sparkling with excitement. “Please. Besides, he owns all the hotels in town. So it’s not like we have a choice if we want to go hot tub hopping.”
This had been Alana’s amazing plan for Friday night. The two of us wore swimsuits under our shorts and tank tops, and we were ready to sneak in.
“Mr. Young doesn’t own Sierra Inn,” I pointed out.
“True,” Alana said. “And that’s why Sierra Inn doesn’t have a hot tub.”
A couple headed down the path toward us and Alana pulled me out of the way. “We forgot our key,” she said when they reached the gate.
They used theirs to let themselves in and held the gate open for us.
“See, easy,” she said under her breath. “Think of this as what Mr. Young owes you for all the trouble he causes your family.”
I looked around. Lights strung overhead reflected off the wet, stamped concrete. The pool was lit a bright blue and the hot tub bubbled with white steam. Pine trees hugged the back side of the fence, like towering guards. The moon rested just above one, as if the tip of the tree had pierced it and held it in place. The whole atmosphere was gorgeous and I could see why people came to Lakesprings for honeymoons and family vacations and weekend getaways. What I didn’t understand was why anyone ever wanted to leave.
Alana and I stepped into the hot tub and I slid into a corner, letting the heat work at my muscles.
Alana nudged my foot with hers. “See, I knew you needed this. You should never question my plans. They are always perfect.”
That night, after Alana dragged me to three more hot tubs, I lay on my bed decompressing. As much fun as I had with my best friend, I liked my alone time, too. That reminded me of a text Hunter had sent me months ago. I pulled it up on my phone.
It’s okay to gain your energy from silence, he’d written. Silence isn’t static.
I smiled. Hunter got me. No, Hunter obviously didn’t get me, because he’d stopped texting me ages ago. I should’ve just deleted all his texts and his contact info and unfollowed him on social media so I could stop torturing myself. But I didn’t delete anything.
My bedroom door was nudged open and Uncle Tim’s dog walked in. He was a big dog, some mix that included Great Dane. Of course he came straight up to where I was lying on my bed and stuck his nose on my cheek.
I covered my face. “No, CD.”
My cousins and I called him CD, short for Community Dog, because he spent so much time in all of our houses. I didn’t even remember what my uncle had originally named him two years ago.
“Come on,” I added, “you’re in the wrong house.” I rolled off my bed and stood up. CD followed me out my door, outside the house, and into the backyard. I walked to the right, stopping at my uncle’s back sliding door. I gave a cursory knock and waited ten seconds before I slid open the door, pushed the curtains aside, and directed CD inside.
My uncle sat at the kitchen counter eating a bowl of cereal. He looked up when I appeared and a smile lit his face.
“Kate! Hey.”
“Hi, Uncle Tim. CD thought I needed a friend tonight.”
“Ah, sorry about that.” Uncle Tim patted his leg. “Come here, boy.”
I’d started to leave when my uncle called me back.
“Do you want some cereal?” he asked.
“It’s eleven o’clock at night.”
“And?”
I shrugged. “And nothing, I guess.” I pulled out the stool next to him and sat down. He got me a bowl and pushed over the milk.
“How’s the new school year so far?” he asked as we ate together. Uncle Tim’s kids were my younger cousins; they were all still in preschool or elementary school.
“Decent,” I answered, my mouth full of cereal. CD, curled up beside my uncle’s feet, began to snore.
“And your brother? Is he adjusting to high school well?”
“I think so. He hangs in the library and reads.”