Page 45 of Shine For Me
I wait for her to laugh or tell me she’s joking, but she just munches on her California roll and doesn’t say a thing. “June. You’re a movie star. Your entire family works in the film industry.”
“Which is way I avoid most of that stuff.” She licks a drop of soy sauce from her thumb. “My dad and grandfather have been taking me to sets since before I learned how to walk. I have a hard time getting into movies because I can’t turn off the part of my brain that’s analyzing how they were made. Most films just feel really fake to me. I guess that’s why I like reality TV so much.”
I burst out laughing. “Reality TV is the fakest form of entertainment there is. Professional wrestling is more authentic.”
She points a chopstick at me, her eyes narrowed. “It’s calledrealityTV for a reason, Fox.”
“Yeah, to try and dupe mindless consumers.” When her scowl deepens I laugh. “June, I’mina reality show. Don’t you think I would know?”
She shakes her head. “Ransome the Runway is the perfect example of how much truth you can find in these shows.”
I cross my arms, leaning back in the cushions. “This should be good.”
She ignores my tone. “From the second that show introduced Bodhi’s character—”
“He’s not a character,” I cut in. “He’s a weirdo who cries at romantic comedies and sings in the shower.” Bodhi and I have been roommates for several years now but even if we weren’t, it would be impossible not to know everything about the guy. He’s always around, and he talks more than anyone I know.
June waves my objection aside. “Whatever. The point is, as soon as he appeared on the show, I knew he and Everly were going to end up together. Iknewit. And for multiple seasons the entire country watched them fall in love before they even realized it themselves.”
My mouth snaps shut. That’s kind of hard to argue with. As a front row spectator to their friendship, it was more than obvious to me what direction they were headed and it was even more obvious on TV. All those longing glances the camera caught. It was painful, honestly.
“It was the same with Alex and Wyatt,” she says. “Those cameras captured their first kiss before they even told their family.” She winces. “Which was shitty, and invasive, but you can’t argue that it was also very real.”
“Fine," I say. “I guess sometimes reality TV shows can be slightly authentic.Slightly.” She smiles like she just won some contentious debate. “And that’s why you like them? Because they’re slightly authentic?”
She seems to think that over as she dunks a spicy tuna roll in her wasabi sauce. “I don’t know. I guess it’s more like…even when people aren’t being honest, that’s kind of its own form of honesty. Like, if someone is there just to get attention or win the money or whatever, it’s always obvious to the audience. What could be more honest than undeniable ambition?”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“But it’s more than that.” She seems to be warming up to this topic now. “I think these shows let us live vicariously through other people. All of these reality stars are doing things I either can’t do or wouldn’t want to do. Watching it is a way to experience those things.”
She laughs a little. “I might never have a perfect first kiss on the beach like your cousin Alex, but I got to see what that would be like. I’m aterriblesinger, but when I watch singing competitions, it feels like I’m experiencing a little bit of what it would be like to make people happy with my voice. Do you know why I love those dating shows? It’s because every time these women end up forming relationships with each other. They’re supposed to be there to compete, you know? It’s supposed to be all about the guy. But eventually, they create these bonds with the other contestants.” She shakes her head. “That’s something I’ll probably never experience on my own—bonding with a big group of girlfriends. But when I watch it happen, I kind of feel like I’m involved.”
She looks over at me and whatever she sees in my expression has her straightening, her face shifting into a mask of indifference. “Or maybe it’s just a silly obsession,” she says lightly.
“June—”
She points at the remote in my hand. “Are we still flipping or do you want to sign in to a streaming app?”
I don’t want to do either of those things. I want to pull her into my lap and hug her until neither one of us can breathe. I want to know what other life experiences she’s written off. What does she wish for that she assumes she can’t have? Why does she think she’s not worthy of amazing first kisses and friendships, and whatever else she gets from these strangers on TV?
I want to ask her those questions, but she’s staring resolutely at the TV, everything in her body language telling me to drop it. So I do.
“Let’s give this one last try. Maybe we’ll come across an episode ofWho Wants to Be a Billionaire’s Brideor something.”
She snorts. “That’s not even a show.”
“But it sounds like it could be, right? It’s just ridiculous enough to be successful.”
“If this acting thing doesn’t work out, you might just have a career in reality show development.”
I flip through a few channels and then stop when June lets out a little squeak of laughter. “Oh, my God, look at his hair!”
I realize that I’ve landed on one of those pre-teen drama shows family networks put out. But it’s not just any pre-teen drama show—this one stars none other than James Greyson Cain III, June’s twin brother.
“I forgot he did that awful giant hair for a while,” she snorts, fumbling for her phone. She quickly snaps a picture of the screen while her brother’s face is still on it—his hair is pretty big. And pretty bad. “He spent his entire fifteenth year looking like such a tool. I love it.”
“How long was he on this show?” I ask. It wasn’t something I ever watched, but Santana and Lyric were obsessed with it for a while.
