Seven

My parents aren’t as disappointed as I’d expected.

“You know we’ve always thought it was very cool that you had this show on the side,” my mother says at breakfast the morning after Bill’s big announcement. “But I think it’s important, and healthy, for you to have something else to do with your summers as well. There is more to life than Pop Quiz.”

My father nods in agreement over the top of his iPad, where he’s busy playing Words with Friends.

“I have lots to do in the summer!” I say. “I have tons of friends on the show, and I’ve been making money too!”

“Yes, you’ve been fortunate enough to be able to save a little chunk of money for college. You’re starting off better than we did, that’s for sure.”

I know this already. My parents are fond of telling me how lucky I’ve had it, being part of an adventure like Pop Quiz. That doesn’t mean I’m ready to just hang up my hat.

“Well, I’m really disappointed,” I say.

“Of course you are,” says my father, putting down the iPad. “We’re disappointed too. But to be honest, your mother and I were always worried that this little bit of fame would go to your head. Fortunately it hasn’t, but we think that now it’s time to start looking into something else.”

“Like what?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” says my mother, shrugging. “You could take up a summer sport. Join some new clubs, or start a band. Get a part-time job at the ice-cream shack down on Tulip Street. I saw a sign that they are hiring.”

“The ice-cream shack?” I repeat. “Are you serious?”

She shrugs. “You don’t have to. I just thought it might be kind of neat for you to do something different.”

“You weren’t starting to get any ideas about acting full time, were you?” Dad asks.

Wow, I think. They really don’t get me. “I don’t know. Diana Parker is going to Los Angeles to audition for roles this summer. Seth March did it too.”

Mom leans forward and puts her chin in her hands, giving me her “serious talk” face. “Aiden,” she says, “those success stories are rare. I know acting on Pop Quiz has been exciting and a lot of fun, and it’s great that you had this unique opportunity.”

“But?” I say, knowing there’s more. There’s always more.

“But,” she goes on, “you’re young, and your life could still go in many different directions. We don’t want you to be disappointed if this plan doesn’t work out. You have to realize that it’s unrealistic at best.”

“I don’t think it’s totally unrealistic,” I say.

“Of course not,” says my father. “You’re a very talented guy. But Pop Quiz is over now, and there’s no point getting too upset about it. Let’s see what new doors open up for you now. Sound good?”

I nod reluctantly, and just like that, we’ve moved away from Pop Quiz. It’s like they’ve already forgotten about the whole thing. I sure haven’t.

After breakfast I bike to Satri’s house. He lives a couple of neighborhoods away, and although we go to different schools, we spend a lot of time hanging out at each other’s houses. It’s funny that we met by playing best friends on a TV show and now we’re best friends in real life. Sometimes when we go to the mall or hang out at the beach, people come up to us and make a big deal out of it. Satri is always happy to pretend to be his character, but I find it a bit awkward.

His mom is on her way out of the house when I arrive.

“Hi, Aiden!” she says as she gets into her car. “Satri told me the sad news. Don’t worry, you guys will be fine. Now you can focus on your real schoolwork for a change instead of the fake homework you did on the show.”

“I guess so,” I say. “That’s not really something I’m super excited about though.”

She smiles and then rolls up the window and pulls away, waving as she disappears down the street.

Satri is sprawled on his couch with his laptop. I flop next to him, and he angles the screen so I can see it too. He’s watching WowKids, an online show made by a bunch of teens around our age. It’s super-low-budget, but they write, shoot and edit it all themselves, then upload it.

“Have you seen this one?” he asks.

“I don’t think so.”

On-screen three kids are standing next to a swimming pool. They’re talking quickly, not really saying anything important. A seagull, obviously a puppet, flies into the shot, and they all get scared and fall into the pool.

I laugh along with Satri. It doesn’t really make much sense, but it’s hilarious all the same. The show ends, and Satri slams his laptop shut and slides it onto the coffee table.

“That’s good humor,” he says.

“What are we going to do, Satri?” I say.

“About what?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Satri, you know what I’m talking about,” I say. He still looks blank. “The show!” I yell.

“Oh yeah,” he says. “I don’t know. There’s not much we can do, is there?”

“Don’t you even care?” I ask.

He shrugs. “Sure I do,” he says. “Pop Quiz is fun, and it’s cool having a paycheck. To tell you the truth, though, I kind of like the idea of getting my summers off from now on.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Not really,” he says. “I mean, I’d stay with the show if it kept going. But now that it’s not, I’m kind of happy that I don’t have to worry about it anymore.”

I slump back into the couch and put my face in my hands.

“Oh come on, man,” he says. “It isn’t that bad. Now you and Anais can get to know each other in real life.”

I groan. “I didn’t even think about that,” I say. “She’ll never hang out with me for real now that there’s no show anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything, and after a few seconds I lift my head. He’s typing something on his cell phone.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He holds up a finger, telling me to wait. After a moment his phone dings and he reads it, then grins.

“Who is it?” I ask.

“It’s Anais,” he says. “She says of course she’ll still hang out with you.”

“What?” I yell. “Why did you ask her that?”

He opens his mouth to answer me, but his phone dings again.

“In fact, she wants to hang out with us now,” he says. “She’s at the mall.”

He gets up from the couch as I stare at him with my mouth hanging open.

“You coming or what?” he asks. “She definitely won’t hang out with you again if you stand her up.”