Page 81 of Fight For Me

“They’re trying to make them look like spoiled rich kids,” Will grumbles next to me, and I don’t argue with him.

About halfway through the episode, my name is mentioned for the first time, and my entire body goes tense. There’s some footage of me moving boxes into the condo along with a voice over from Fox explaining that I’m his and Everly’s cousin and mentioning my injury. The picture then shifts over to grainy footage from one of my solo concerts.

“Did they fucking take that from YouTube?” Will asks. I don’t answer, but worry is solidifying in my gut. I can understand them wanting to introduce me—I’m sure I’m in quite a bit of background footage and it would be weird to not tell the audience who I am. But something about them using that concert footage has me on edge.

After the final commercial break, the last segment opens with Everly alone in front of a white screen. “This is called a talking head,” I hear Santana whispering loudly to Lyric. “Reality shows use them all the time.”

“Tell me about your love life,” an off-screen producer asks. Everly’s eyes grow wide and sincere. “I would totally love to fall in love,” she says eagerly.

“Does that mean you haven’t met the right guy yet?”

Everly giggles. “Let’s just say I’ve gone through a whole lot of frogs and I’m hoping the prince shows up soon.”

While she talks, the footage cuts away from the interview and goes to a montage of Everly and Bodhi together. They’re shopping arm and arm. Laughing over lunch. Sitting on the couch together, her feet dangled over his legs.

“And what about your friend Bodhi?” the interviewer asks while the footage of them continues.

“Bodhi is thebest.”

“They didn’t ask me about him during that interview!” Everly hisses, looking shocked. “That was a totally different day!” She waves a hand at the screen. “And they’re making it look like we were alone during all that. Rose and Leo were there when we went shopping and everyone was watching that movie with us!”

“Oh my god,” Bodhi moans to Leo. “Her dad is going to murder me, isn’t he?”

“Sorry, buddy,” Leo says, not sounding at all sorry as he pats his best friend’s shoulder. “You’re the one who thought it would be cool to be on TV.”

Fox is asked the same question and he gives the camera a smug grin. “No one special yet but I’m sure as hell having fun looking.” Predictably there’s more footage of him chatting up girls in various bars. His sisters boo, Rose tossing a coaster in his direction.

My stomach dips when they ask the same question of Alex. She merely laughs in her talking head. “I’m way too busy for that. This fashion line is the only relationship I have time for.”

I’m about to exhale a relieved breath when the footage cuts away from her talking head. And there I am, front and center in the shot. CeCe and some of the other kids whoop and holler at me, but I have a feeling this isn’t going to be something to laugh at.

The next shot is me and Alex sitting at the dining room table. She’s in her PJs and I’m bare chested. Shit. On screen I talk about my frustration with PT and show her my knitting. She comes over to sit next to me—too close—and shows me what I’m doing wrong. I’m suddenly extremely grateful that the only cameras running at night are the stationary ones from the ceiling. You can see what we’re doing, but they’re not close enough to get a clear view of our expressions. I’m pretty sure my face would have given it all away.

My relief doesn’t last long. On the screen, Alex is telling me about her insomnia. She’s talking about being home schooled and my mom helping her and even from the long shot I can see and hear the vulnerability that seeps from her. I hear myself tell her that I don’t like thinking about her having a rough time, that I’ll keep her company whenever she wants, and now I’m starting to notice people in the restaurant darting glances in my direction.

This is way more than background.

And then it gets much worse. We’re sitting on the floor in the kitchen and I immediately know it’s the night we rescued George, but the way they’ve edited the footage makes it look like it’s just the two of us. I watch myself tell her about my cat and the costume and my grandma and I’m suddenly so pissed I could easily punch a hole in the wall.

Had I really been that stupid to talk about that shit on camera? I realize, looking back, that it was all too easy to forget about those stationary cameras. It’s not like they were right in our face. My stomach sinks even farther as I wonder what else they might have caught.

I know Alex is looking at me—most of the family is looking at me—but I refuse to make eye contact with anyone. I’m pissed. Pissed at Scott and pissed at myself—because if Bodhi thought he was screwed from the way they showed him and Everly in a romantic light? He’s got nothing on me. The way that was edited—the immediate shift from her answer about dating to the two of us spending time alone, late at night, confiding in each other—makes it pretty clear what angle they’re going for.

I’m going to kill Scott.

I barely register the ending of the show or the closing credits. The whole family gives the trio a standing ovation and I’m out of my chair before the screen goes black, eyes scanning the space for the asshole producer. There’re too many damn people shuffling around, trying to talk to the trio—why the hell is our family so big? Before I can even lay eyes on him, my dad and Uncle Reed step in front of me. They both look pissed.

Fuck.

“I’ll call the lawyer as soon as we get home,” Dad says in a low voice. “He needs to watch this and then review the contract. You weren’t supposed to be featured so prominently.”

“Good,” I grumble, not wanting to meet either of their eyes. I’m sure someone is about to ask me what the hell I was doing with Alex in those shots.

“Fucking TV producers,” Reed snarls. “Always editing shit to stir up trouble.”

I finally force myself to look at them. It takes me a fearful moment to realize that their anger isn’t directed towards me. “Don’t worry, kid,” my dad says. “Levi isn’t going to come after you with a baseball bat or anything. We know how these assholes operate.”

I can’t even let myself feel relieved at being off the hook because God only knows what footage Scott has of me. I finally catch sight of him on the other side of the room. He’s several yards away from the crowd around the trio, overseeing a crew member loading up the equipment and barking instructions at Monica. I mumble some excuse to my dad and take off, careful to stay on the outside of the family group.