Page 33 of Make The Cut

“I’m pregnant.”

Pregnant.

Back then, at seven years old, I had no idea what that word meant. It sounded funny, the way all words do if you repeat them half a dozen times. Like they’re spelled wrong. I took the word apart into two syllables and it didn’t mean anything to me. I looked it up in the dictionary and it said “carrying a child.” But I didn’t see Lauren carrying a baby or even a toddler.

So there must have been a mistake. I never heard the rest of the conversation because Mom kicked Lauren out right after that. We never used the nice china again after that.

That night, my dad came home, and my mom and dad got into a huge argument. And a week later, he was staying in the guest bedroom downstairs.

Six months later, he signed a contract to open a new restaurant and he moved to Japan.

Pregnant. Two syllables that destroyed our happy family—or whatever illusion I’d once had of it.

Chapter Seventeen: Naoya Sugawa

Somehow, after putting up the first YouTube video, we garnered over five million views. I didn’t even put it up on my personal channel, but on a separate channel for the TV show. My almost lighting a man on fire has been turned into a meme. Which means I’m now famous once more for all the wrong things.

Then again, a lot of the comments are speculations about my tattoos, song lyrics, and relationship status. Some of them are about how much they love the TV show. I’ve tried not to read them, especially the ones that wonder whether Poppy and I are secretly dating.

Now that the first YouTube video was so successful, we’re going to film a second one. Mitchell chose the location again, but he assured me it’s way more laid-back than the first one, so I show up wearing baggy jeans and an old UCLA t-shirt. Not that I’ve ever been one to wear fancy clothes.

“You look nice in that shade of blue,” Poppy says when she pulls up to the location a few minutes after me. Seeing her in black leggings and a black t-shirt, I realize this is the least colour I’ve ever seen her wear. It doesn’t suit her. She brings colour to my too-grey world. Camera crews are already rolling, ready to catch each of our minute interactions and broadcast them for the world to interpret in a thousand ways. “It matches your hair.”

“Thanks, Red.”

I hold open the door for her. We step into the building and realize immediately that it’s a laser tag place.

Laser tag? I haven’t played this game since I was in high school with my buddies.

Poppy chews on her lower lip. “I will admit that in dodgeball, I was always one of the girls who just stood at the back of the gym and tried not to get hit.”

“But how’s your aim?” I say, nudging her. “I thought you were Annie Oakley.”

Her chest puffs out a little, her chin lifting at the comment. “Idohave some experience with firearms, you know.”

“Good to know. I call being on your team,” I say just as two more people step into the laser tag facility. We both turn to see…

Skye Holland and Leo Perez?

“Hey, guys.” Skye fidgets with the end of her braid. “Somebody named Mitchell told me you guys would be here?”

“Yes, but he didn’t mention the camera crews,” Leo says, gesturing to the half-dozen cameramen who are standing awkwardly around us and filming.

“Oops,” Poppy says. “I did tell you I was doing this YouTube series with Naoya, right?”

“Yes,” Skye says. “You just never mentioned that you wanted us to be involved.”

Just then, Mitchell comes bustling through the door. He’s taken on a quasi-producer role for this show, which I try not to mind. One less thing on my plate, even if I usually prefer to be in complete micromanaging mode when it comes to the entirety of my career. “Sorry, I’m late. Oh, good, you’re all here.”

“You told us all to be here,” Leo says. “Presumably. I guess this is some kind of rematch? We’ll finally get to finish the fistfight that we started, Naoya?”

The twinkle in his green eyes tells me he’s not serious.

“Nah, I don’t want your wife to have to watch you lose,” I joke.

We get signed up for laser tag and put on the requisite gear, the vests and pads at least not smelling of someone else’s sweat.

“So, girls versus guys?” Poppy suggests. She somehow makes laser tag gear look fashionable and sleek with her black leggings and t-shirt beneath, like a ninja. I feel like a clumsy turtle by comparison.

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