Page 11 of Off Season

Bailey’s worried eyes lift from her book and widen when I breathlessly return and close the door behind me. “Where have you been, Kam? Mommy said to stay put.”

“Bails, something is wr—"

Before I can finish my sentence, the door reopens and Mommy walks in. She grabs my hand. “Kamryn, come with me. We have a wardrobe fitting.” She gives her fake smile which I’ve come to learn is not a good thing. “It looks like you two have secured a spot in a television show. It’s premiering after the Super Bowl. It will catapult both of you to superstardom.”

Bailey and I look at each other, exchanging a million words without having to utter a single one. We overheard our father bargain with our mother that if we didn’t get this television show, she’d give in and let us go to regular school. We’ve been homeschooled by our mother to allow us the flexibility to go to auditions andattend modeling shoots. Despite our protests, we’ve been in dozens of commercials and print ads over the years.

Mommy now wants us on a television show too. She doesn’t care that we don’t want it. We want to be normal kids.

We’re sick of being on sets. We’re sick of Mommy trying to teach us math in between takes. She doesn’t even do it right. When we get home every day, I teach Bailey the right way. The same goes for grammar.

We’ve been purposefully messing up at this all-day audition, hoping they would select other child actors for the role. We were terrible. Why would they hire us?

She sneers, “You should look a little more appreciative. You two are about to become the biggest child stars on the planet. You’ll be set for life. You won’t struggle like I’ve had to.”

I ball my fists and grit out, “We don’t want to do it. I want to play softball. Bails wants to play basketball. We both want to go to real school and do fun activities. We want more time to be with our friends.” Tears threaten my eyes, but I don’t like to cry in front of her. “We want to be…normal.”

She scrunches her face in complete and total disgust. “You’re too pretty to waste your time on sports and other nonsense. Trust me, beauty fades. You should take advantage of it while you can. Why be ordinary when you two have the faces to be extraordinary?” She holds her hand out to me. “Now come on, Kamryn. Let’s go to the wardrobe room.”

I cross my arms in defiance. “What about Bailey? She needs to be fitted too.”

Mommy shakes her head. “You’re the same size, and the room is too small for so many bodies.” She grabs my wrist and pulls me. Hard. “Let’s go. We can’t keep them waiting. Your sister will read her book while we wait, won’t you, sweetie?” Her eyes move to my sister.

Bailey forces a frightened smile. “O…okay, Mommy.”

I shake my head emphatically. “I don’t want to leave my sister. This place gives me the creeps.”

Mommy grits her teeth. “Kamryn! I’m not up for your shit. Now!”

Bailey worriedly whispers, “Just go. I’ll be fine.” Bailey hates it when I get into trouble, which happens nearly every day.

I swallow hard and let my mother pull me down the hallway. I have a bad feeling about this. There’s something inside me telling me I need to get back to my sister. I need to protect her.

I look up at Cruella, my nickname for our wretched mother. “Mommy, I need to go to the bathroom. I’ll meet you in the dressing room in five minutes. Go pick out the outfits you like.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “You never let me help pick your wardrobe.”

I give her a fake smile and bat my eyelashes at her while I lie, “I trust you, Mommy.”

She slowly nods before making her way toward the dressing room area. As soon as she rounds the corner, I quickly make my way into the kitchen and start opening drawers until I find something useful.

I then sprint back toward my sister, immediately seeing Shrek about to turn the knob on her dressing room door. Shrek is what Bailey and I call the casting director. He’s a big-eared, old, ugly guy with more nose and ear hair than hair on his head. He’s always smelly and always sitting too close to us. I love making Bails laugh by making gagging faces behind his back.

Marching right up to him, I shove the fork into his upper thigh. Not hard enough to break the skin, but hard enough to cause a little pain.

He freezes in shock.

With all the bravado I can muster, I say, “If you go near my sister, it will be the last thing you ever do.”

He looks down and scowls at me. I can see his nose hairs too close from this angle. Gross.

His mouth twitches a few times before snarling, “Go find your mother, little girl.”

“I’m here for my sister, and there’s not a chance in the world I’m leaving withouther. If you don’t walk away right now, I’ll start screaming at the top of my lungs.”

He stares at me with pure venom. I don’t care at all. I’m standing my ground. This man will not go into that room with my sister.

Eventually, he turns and walks back toward his office. I let out a huge breath of relief.

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