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“I’m sleepy,” I said. When I closed my eyes, reruns of the Chipmunk Super Highway girls singing and dancing overtook my brain. I could see clearly now that the little tambourine Chipmunk was Alanna. Remembering that, I next recalled that I had once owned a lunchbox with her face on it. Not even a nice lunch box, but a pathetic, thermosless hand-me-down from my younger cousin. My own futility smothered me like a lead blanket. I sank down farther and farther in my seat.
“What’s bothering you? Tell us,” said Alanna, giving me a poke in the forehead.
“Nothing,” I said. I blinked my eyes a couple of times, trying to erase the memory of that lunchbox. On top of the annoyances of the moment, I was distracted by worries about Pete and the pillow fight girl. I’d tossed and turned all night, obsessed with scenarios of the two of them frolicking naked in goose down ecstasy. Then, while trying to sleep at the airport, I’d overhead some producers discussing Vanessa. It turned out that she and Bernie had called off their engagement, and she was coming back. She would be meeting up with us in Denver. I hadn’t bothered to tell the other girls. I wasn’t even supposed to know about it.
Also, I’d realized when I’d looked at my plane ticket that somehow it truly was two months later than the day I’d first arrived in Los Angeles, and that Pete had every reason to be upset with me. Not to mention that it was my mother’s birthday. I’d asked a producer if I could call her and I was told I couldn’t. I resented having to ask for permission for something so basic, and then being told No. It reminded me of being a child and having to ask to use the restroom during school. It was outrageous. I felt all around horrible and was considering quitting the competition. I figured that with Vanessa’s return, perhaps they’d all barely notice saying goodbye to me. If only I hadn’t developed the teensiest bit of real feelings for Bellamy.
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“Do you know what a Chipmunk Super Highway is?” asked Alanna, with her pretty, sneery little smirk.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
“I think I heard you start to hum School Blues a second ago.”
“I did not.”
“Maybe just the first few notes?”
“No.”
“I think you did.”
“Uh uh. No way,” I said.
“Were you in my fan club? We had a fan club, but I also had my own fan club. Did you belong to both fan clubs or just mine?”
“Neither.”
“Hmm. I’ll bet there’s a letter from you in the giant crate of fan mail at my parents’ house.”
“I’m certain there’s not,” I said, fully aware that there might be. “How sad of you to hold on to those old mementos of your better days,” I added.
“Well played, Drabby. You’re more of a bitch than people know.”
“So are you,” I said.
“I hope that doesn’t make you think we have anything in common. Anyway, do you know what a Chipmunk Super Highway is?” she pressed on.
“No.”
“It’s a downspout,” she said. And then she burst into giggles.
I crossed my arms and sighed. It was like being trapped in seventh grade.
“Why are you such a grumpy-puss today?” asked Deb.
“No kidding,” said Klassie. “I’ve never seen you so miserable.”
“I don’t know,” I said.
“They’re right,” said Alanna. She replaced her sneer with a look of sappy, condescending concern. “You’re so… pardon me for saying this, but I’m worried about you. You’re so… bitchy looking. Are you suffering from something you’d like to share with us?”
“It’s my mom’s birthday,” I said. “I asked them if I could call her to wish her a happy birthday and they told me I couldn’t. I think they’re taking this whole lock-down thing a little too far.”
“It was my mom’s birthday last month and I couldn’t call her,” said Klassie.
“Okay,” I said.
