Original Work: You'll Always Find Your Way Back Home, Chapter 5, Part 2

thefinalgirl (62)in #writing • 8 years ago

Chapter 5, Part 2

Of course there were questions; again, the crowd exploded in requesting my attention, yelling out my sister’s name. Schapelle pointed to a portly man with the beginnings of a goatee, which I always associated with pictures of the Devil. Not exactly good mental imagery. “Emilia, are you under the influence right now?” There was a chorus of people agreeing with the question, laughing at the man’s audacity. I must have looked confused, because he chuckled himself. “You just seem a little out of it right now.” More laughter.

For a moment, I wasn’t sure what to say. This was going down hill fast; Emilia would be doing a better job at this right now, even if she was hung-over or still under the influence. I was sure that Emilia was watching right now, joining in with the laughter of the reporters.

I gave him a smile that I hoped looked more self-assured than I currently felt. “This is just me without my morning coffee.” Again, I hoped I was projecting confidence. “You try coming to one of these things without caffeine.” The journalist nodded and smiled, again chuckling to himself. But I could tell that my answer was better than one that he had been expecting, which, if knowing Emilia, would have been one with a little more expletives and less smiling.

Another journalist was quick to step into the silence of the other. “Emilia!” I looked in his direction. “What’s with the haircut?”

I reached up a hand to touch my new, drastically shorter locks. Thanks for touching a sore spot Woodward. “You don’t like it?” I questioned, fluffing the ends. “I just thought it was time for a change. At least I didn’t go GI Jane.” A few more chuckles.

“Were you under the influence when you did that?” Shouted another reporter.

Under the influence of something, I wanted to retort, under the influence of hatred for my newly discovered twin sister. But that would take a lot of explaining. Instead I just shrugged. “Everyone makes impulse decisions.”

The first, pudgy reporter I had spoken to chimed in again. “Was it an impulse decision to trash Michaela Foxx’s car?” Everyone seemed very intent on hearing this answer. I knew that Emilia would have started spouting off some very unkind words about Michaela as soon as the actress’s name had left the reporter’s lips and I was sure that that was what everyone was looking forward to. The on-going fight between Emilia and Michaela was surely keeping a lot of them in business. But I also knew that Linda and Schapelle were waiting for nothing but kind and pleasant words to leave my mouth.

I couldn’t imagine bad-mouthing another girl, especially not when my words would be repeated and played back for her to hear over and over again. High school had definitely instructed me in the art of knowing when to keep my mouth shut and to avoid starting up any altercation because teenage girls never let anything die. Bad mouthing Michaela Foxx on live television definitely didn’t seem like a very good idea.

“That…was a mistake.” I said, hoping that I was saying the right things. “I let my emotions get the better of me, I shouldn’t have ruined her purse or her car and I still feel really badly about it.” Everyone was staring at me in thinly veiled expressions of surprise, holding up their recorders to make sure to capture every word. “Michaela is a very nice girl,” doubtful, “and I think she’s actually really talented. I’d like to start off on a better foot with her, sort of re-do everything, maybe we could even become friends.”

The reporter who had asked the question snorted. “How much did they pay you to spin that crap?” He questioned, arching an eyebrow. “Mommy gonna take your car away?”

Maybe if Linda had, Emilia wouldn’t have put herself in some of the situations she found herself in. Though I was sure she had plenty of people who would gladly drive her there.

“No, no I just…it’s time for some changes. I’ve let myself get out of hand and I have a responsibility to my fans to set a good example.” I wasn’t even having to force the words to come out of my mouth, they were just jumping out on their own. Being nice wasn’t so hard Emilia.

The reporters had plenty more questions after that, but Schapelle stepped forward. “On that note, I think it’s time to bring this press conference to an end.” She informed them abruptly, though the journalists kept shouting out questions as though she hadn’t spoken at all. “Thanks for your questions everyone, thanks for coming out. See you next time.”

Schapelle hooked her arm through mine and steered me back toward the lobby of the hotel. A few reporters and photographers jogged to follow after us, but Linda and security managed to rein them in.

Again, we returned to the conference room and minutes later, Linda joined us. I looked from Schapelle to Linda. “That was it? That lasted like ten minutes.” I was confused and annoyed that I had gotten all worked up for nothing.

Schapelle shrugged. “We just wanted to get the word out, make them want more. And I wanted to end it on a high note, while things were going well. I didn’t want anyone to throw out a question you couldn’t handle.” She explained. Within seconds her Blackberry was out of her pocket and she was checking her itinerary and e-mails. “I’m sure people won’t know what to think at first, we’ve just got to show them this new Emilia means business.”

Linda beamed at me. “Scout, I think that went wonderfully.” She pulled me into a quick, tight and not exactly parental hug. “Exactly what I was hoping for.”

I returned the smile. “I’m just glad I didn’t throw up.” I confessed.

Schapelle put her Blackberry in her pocket. “Well, Linda’s right, you did do very well, Scout.” She gave me a smile. “I think this thing might just work after all. I figure we can save the rest of the shopping for tomorrow if you want to have the afternoon to yourself, see the town, relax.” She suggested.

Though shopping did sound like a great way to spend my afternoon, I could use the downtime to call Jordan and Zach and everyone back home and to try and stop my head from spinning with the strange events of the past few days. There was no turning back now, I had actually done what Linda had wanted, I’d successfully impersonated my sister and hopefully started things moving in the right direction. “Sounds good to me.”

With everything out of the way, we emerged from the conference room once again. There were still a few photographers gathered outside the door who instantly started snapping my picture. I knew from reading the headlines that Emilia would have lashed out at them if she wasn’t in the mood and had broken many millions of dollars worth of equipment. I just held my hand in front of my eyes to block out the flashes, giving them a polite and uncertain smile.

Schapelle tried to push them back to a respectful distance, taking up Emilia’s role for the time being. I wasn’t sure I could ever get used to this; if reporters and photographers were going to be following me all the time, I might never want to leave the house.

As I headed for the door, eager to get away from the cameras, I felt a small hand reach out and touch my own, causing me to turn and look around in confusion. I saw the little girl I had noticed earlier standing shyly beside me, looking anxious now that she didn’t have her mother to hide behind. I smiled at her and she thrust a piece of hotel stationary in my direction, looking up hopefully. “Can I have your autograph?” She questioned meekly.

I smiled, but looked uncertainly over at Schapelle and Linda. I had never given someone an autograph before and I had definitely never given someone else’s autograph before. But I knew that refusing to give the autograph, for whatever reason, would only reinforce the Emilia as Hollywood’s Leading Bitch concept. But they both gave faint nods, encouraging me just to run with the idea.

I took the paper from the girl, squatting down in front of her. “What’s your name, sweetie?” I figured a personalized autograph would be all the better. She told me, in just as shy a voice as she’d used before and I quickly wrote: “To Mackenzie –Thanks for listening, hope to see you at a show. Love Emilia.” I scribbled my sister’s name quickly and illegibly, hoping that people would get the idea but not look too closely.
Quickly, the little girl grabbed the paper back, looked down at it and beamed up at me. “Mom!” She shouted, turning and running down the hallway toward the elevators. “Mom! Guess what!” Her voice faded and disappeared as she got farther away.

I stood up, smiling to myself; I was sure I had given the little girl a story to share with her first grade class for the next couple of weeks. When I turned to face Linda and Schapelle, I was surprised to see that they were wearing identical, satisfied smiles. I was surprised they weren’t giving each other high-fives. The photographers were snapping pictures and I was sure they had been throughout the entire exchange. I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Are we leaving?” I was sure I sounded more like Emilia with that question.