Chapter 7

Annie surveyed the television studio and marveled at how much her life had changed in a week. She had gone from one of the true low spots to a sense of total control and happiness in just seven days. It occurred to her she might write a book, telling people just as miserable as she had been how to change things around. All it took was a job, a new boyfriend, understanding parents, and lots of luck. She laughed at herself, and decided a simple fan letter to the author of Make Your Anger Work for You would suffice.

“Hi, Annie,” Stacy Livingston said, walking over to her. “I’m glad you could join us today.”

“It worked out for the best,” Annie assured her.

“I’m glad it did for somebody,” Stacy replied. “The head of the nurses’ union turned out to be loud-mouthed, obnoxious, and rude, with absolutely nothing new to say about the strike, which ended the next day anyway. What a waste of our time and yours.”

Annie was pleased to hear it, but she merely smiled sympathetically. “It’s hard to control these things,” she declared. “I know the Charlie Dare show had to get a guest real fast last night because of a mixup in arrangements.”

“Were you on Charlie’s show?” Stacy asked.

“No,” Annie said. “I have a job with a public relations firm that handles the man Charlie Dare got as a replacement. That’s all.”

“That’s new, isn’t it,” Stacy said. “The job, I mean.”

“Since last week,” Annie said. “I needed something to fill out my days.”

“I used to be young like that,” Stacy declared. “Eight, ten years ago, I had energy too. Now I work, and I run, and I wonder where the day goes. No, sometimes I read the newspaper too, and then I wonder where the day goes.”

“I guess I have that to look forward to,” Annie said. “I have eight years to prepare?”

“If you’re lucky,” Stacy replied. “As far as what you have to look forward to this morning, we’ve changed the format. We’re putting you on with another guest, Dick Weatherbee. Dick is quarterback on one of the local high school teams, and he’s being recruited by all the major colleges. We thought it would be an interesting contrast. You’ll go on first, and then Dick, but you’ll stay on while Dick’s being interviewed. And feel free to talk up. Don’t interrupt Dick if he actually has something to say, but we have cut down on your interview time so feel free to talk during his. Do you follow me?”

“I think so,” Annie replied. “I can be conversational, but not rude.”

“That’s it exactly,” Stacy said. “Dan will be asking you questions about the sort of things you did for Image. We want the audience to get a feel for the kind of girl Image picked out of the thousands who apply. So smile a lot, answer honestly, and charm the pants off of Boston. Think you can do that?”

“I’d better be able to,” Annie replied. Her stomach was churning, and she would have thrown up on the spot, except that the image of Torey flashed through her mind. And Torey would never let a simple little television interview faze her.

“All right, then,” Stacy said. “You’ll be on following this commercial break. Just relax and let Dan do the work. He’s a fabulous interviewer.”

Annie gave Stacy one final smile, and told herself that she could always bring up gum disease and AIDS if nothing else came up for discussion. She wished Murray were there to help her though, or Chris, or Robin and Ashley and Torey. Actually, she realized with a start, she wished anybody at all were there to help. She knew just how Dr. Weinstock had felt.

She tried to remember what he’d said about deep breathing, but she didn’t think he’d said very much at all, except to breathe deeply. She was beginning to feel a little more relaxed from the deep breathing when she realized Dan Patterson was introducing her, somebody gave her a little push on stage, and she walked out, trying to control her nerves. She spotted the cameras and noticed how hot things were under the lights.

“Welcome, Annie,” Dan said, as she managed to find the seat next to his. “And congratulations on your Image internship.”

“Thank you, Dan,” Annie said, trying hard not to squint.

“You were with Image for two months,” Dan said. “Did they work you hard?”

“As a matter of fact they did,” Annie replied. She decided to make eye contact with Dan and trust the camera operators to follow her around. “Most of what I did at the office was gofer jobs, just being generally useful. But they also let me try my hand at the actual editing of articles.”

“Do you mean that when teenagers buy an issue of Image, they might be reading articles you edited yourself?” Dan asked.

“One article at least,” Annie said. “It’s a tradition at Image that one article be written by an intern, and edited by another one. This year, Torey Jones, the writing intern, interviewed Jennifer Fitzhugh, the star of Highwater, and I edited that article.”

“That must have been very exciting for you,” Dan said.

“Actually it turned out to be exciting for Torey,” Annie declared.

“How so?” Dan asked, smiling at her.

“Jennifer Fitzhugh was so shocked that Torey’s family didn’t own a TV set that she gave them both a twenty five-inch color TV and a satellite dish!”

“This Torey must be quite a person,” Dan said.

Annie smiled. “We roomed together this summer, and she is someone very special. She’ll be the cover girl on the February issue of Image. That’s the intern issue.”

“Did anybody give you anything special?” Dan asked. “Did you return from New York with a satellite dish of your own?”

“Just memories,” Annie replied. “And professional experience as an editor.”

“That must come in handy,” Dan said.

“As a matter of fact, it was exactly the opposite,” Annie declared. She didn’t even care about who might be listening. “Now I’m supposed to be a professional editor, and I’m no longer able to work on my school newspaper!”

“Really?” Dan asked. “That seems a little shortsighted of them. I would assume you’d be an asset to your paper, having had all that experience.”

Annie’s mind raced to what Make Your Anger Work for You had said about revenge. Something about how you shouldn’t cheapen yourself with it, no matter how pleasurable it might be. “When I first found out that I couldn’t work on the paper, I was irritated,” she admitted, choosing her words carefully. “But now I can understand their point of view. If nothing else, it allows other, equally competent people a chance that I’ve already had.”

“That’s a very generous attitude,” Dan declared.

Annie smiled. It felt good being generous on television. Now she wished everyone she knew was watching—and feeling sufficiently guilty.

“Let’s get back to Image,” Dan said. “When you weren’t running around carrying cups of coffee, what did you do?”

“It was a dream summer, really. Image planned lots for us to do. They got us tickets for Broadway shows, and baseball games, and boat trips around Manhattan. We went to a screening of the new Dan Keller movie …”

“Time Tomorrow,” Dan said. “What did you think of it?”

Annie laughed. “It’s hard to say,” she replied. “The four of us ended up walking out on the movie and sitting on the ladies’ room floor instead.”

“That doesn’t sound like a glowing review,” Dan declared.

“It wasn’t the movie’s fault,” Annie said. “Although I must admit what I did see of it was pretty dull.”

“That’s what I’ve been hearing,” Dan replied. “So Image arranged a full summer of activities for you girls. Were you carefully supervised?”

“Endlessly,” Annie declared. “We had very strict curfews, which we lived in terror of breaking. Of course they had to be careful with us. The oldest of us was just seventeen, and we were living in a hotel without our parents around.”

“The Plaza Hotel?” Dan asked. “Someplace glamorous like that?”

“The Abigail Adams Hotel for Women,” Annie said. “Someplace safe and respectable and all female like that.”

Dan laughed. “Did they manage to keep four pretty young girls from dating?” he asked.

“We didn’t date each other, if that’s what you mean,” Annie said, risking a joke. The risk paid off, as Dan laughed. “We did date boys we met that summer, though. I dated a rock musician named Harvey Horrible. He’s lead singer with the band Infanticide.”

“He sounds charming,” Dan declared.

“He was nicer than he sounds,” Annie replied, smiling at the memory. “He’s a premed student at NYU.”

“Great,” Dan said. “Someday I’ll have my appendix removed by kindly Dr. Horrible. It’s a comforting thought.”

Annie didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t try.

“Annie, why do you think you were picked for an internship?” Dan asked, obviously deciding that Harvey Horrible wasn’t a great topic. “Did they ever discuss the actual reasons?”

“I think they wanted a mix,” Annie said. “I’m from the Boston area, so I guess I was their urban sophisticate.” She laughed. “And to be perfectly honest they didn’t quite know what I looked like when they selected me.”

“That sounds intriguing,” Dan said. “We’ll find out more about who they thought you were when we come back from this commercial break.”

Annie breathed a sigh of relief. “You’re doing very well,” Dan whispered to her as the commercial rolled on the monitors. “Harvey Horrible was a nice touch.”

“He certainly was,” Annie whispered back, and was rewarded by a shocked laugh from Dan. This was fun, she decided. No wonder Dr. Weinstock enjoyed it so.

“We’re back with Annie Powell, a local girl who enjoyed the honor of being one of four summer interns picked from seven thousand applicants for Image magazine,” Dan declared after he’d been cued. “Annie, you were about to tell us who Image magazine thought you were, when they accepted you for their program.”

“They thought I was someone who weighed fifteen pounds less!” Annie replied. “Image asked us to submit photographs, and as it happens, I’d had mine taken when I was at my absolute thinnest weight. I hate to admit this on TV. They thought I was svelte and gorgeous. Only between the time I had the picture taken and the start of summer, I’d regained all that weight, and maybe even put on a couple of extra pounds. They were not pleased.”

“What did they do about it?” Dan asked. “Weight gain, you should know, is one of my personal nightmares.”

“They made me lose the weight,” Annie replied. “As fast as was safe to do it. They put me on one of the diets they were testing, and took all sorts of before and after pictures of me. I lost fifteen pounds, and got svelte and gorgeous again, in time for my makeover.”

“That’s great,” Dan said.

“That’s easy for you to say,” Annie declared. “You didn’t spend the summer in the food capital of the universe, watching everybody else eat while you had to limit yourself to celery and diet soda.” She felt a twinge of disloyalty to Image and then realized that no one from the magazine would be watching a Boston show.

“True enough,” Dan said. “Let’s talk about the makeover. I suppose we all have fantasies about somebody taking us in hand and turning us into something better-looking. Was it gratifying actually having that happen?”

“It was stressful,” Annie replied. “The makeover was the most important day of the summer for us. When they’d finished with us, they took the photographs for the intern issue, and we knew one of those pictures would be used for the cover. Naturally we all wanted to be on the cover.”

“That’s understandable,” Dan declared. “Were you very disappointed when your roommate was picked for the cover instead of you?”

“Torey was the most beautiful girl,” Annie said. “Not that I’m beautiful. But Torey really is. And she’s a very special person, so she deserved the honor.”

“I can tell you’re a very special person too,” Dan said. “Now Annie, stay with us, while I introduce our next guest. Today we are celebrating a couple of local high school students who are outstanding young people. Dick Weatherbee is quarterback for the Southerland Jets at Southerland High. He’s the most highly touted high school player this area has seen in years, and colleges from all over the States have been recruiting him. Dick, come on out.”

Annie wondered if she was supposed to get up to greet him, but then decided she didn’t have to. Instead she smiled up at Dick as he took the seat on Dan’s opposite side.

Annie’s school had a dreadful football team, and Annie had never paid much attention to it. But Dick Weatherbee looked like Doug Flutie, which was how she thought all quarterbacks ought to look, so she smiled at him. He didn’t smile back, but she wasn’t offended.

“I played a little football myself,” Dan declared. “Tight end in college.”

“Uh,” Dick said.

“You have a great arm, Dick,” Dan declared. “What’s the longest pass you ever threw?”

“Fifty-five yards,” Dick replied.

“That’s impressive,” Dan said. “Were there any scouts in the stands that day?”

“I dunno,” Dick replied.

Annie tried not to grin. Dick Weatherbee might look like Doug Flutie, but he sure didn’t know how to give interviews like Doug Flutie. Dan wasn’t going to get anywhere with this jock.

“It must be flattering to be recruited by so many different colleges,” Dan declared. “Tell us, Dick, have you made up your mind about where you’ll be going?”

“Not yet,” Dick said.

“Are there any leading contenders?” Dan asked.

“Can’t say,” Dick replied. “My coach won’t let me.”

“That’s interesting,” Dan said. “Why won’t your coach let you?”

“I dunno,” Dick said.

“How does recruiting work?” Annie asked. Somebody had better be conversational around there. “Do they give you things, Dick, like cars?”

“No,” Dick said. “They’re not allowed to.”

“So what do they do?” Annie asked. “Being recruited sounds so wonderful.”

“They just write letters and stuff,” Dick said. “And they invite you down to the campuses, so you can see what the football program looks like. You get to talk with the coaches, and the other guys on the team.”

“Do they make a big fuss over you?” Annie continued. “I love it when people make a big fuss over me.”

“Big enough,” Dick declared. “Dinner at the coach’s house, or even at a restaurant. And they talk to your parents a lot, about all the advantages their school has to offer. They make it sound like their school is the best, so that’s the one I’ll choose.”

“That’s great,” Annie said. “Nobody’s recruiting me like that.”

“You’re a girl,” Dick said. “Girls don’t get recruited like guys do.”

“Not all guys get recruited either,” Annie said. “Just quarterbacks, I guess.”

Dick smiled modestly. “Quarterbacks get it the most,” he said. “A great quarterback can make a championship team. A lousy quarterback and you’re nowhere.”

“We’ll be nowhere too unless we break for this commercial,” Dan declared, and sure enough, a commercial appeared magically on the monitor. “You’re doing fine, Dick,” he whispered. “Just tell us a little bit more about what your future looks like, and we’ll all be happy.”

“Okay,” Dick said.

They sat together quietly until the signal was given. “I’m talking with Dick Weatherbee, star quarterback for the Southerland Jets, and with Annie Powell, summer intern at Image magazine. Dick, are there any disadvantages with your stardom at Southerland?”

“I don’t get it,” Dick said.

“Do the teachers treat you differently because of who you are?” Dick asked.

Dick stared at him.

“That’s not a fair question, Dan, if you don’t mind my saying so,” Annie said. “What’s Dick supposed to say? Yes, they do? He has to go back and live with them.”

“Maybe they don’t treat him differently,” Dan said.

“All right,” Dick declared. “They don’t treat me differently.”

For the first time, Annie found that she liked Dick. She smiled to show him so, and he smiled back.

“Do you have any idols?” Dan asked Dick. “Any football stars you’d most like to emulate?”

“What’s emulate?” Dick asked.

“Be like,” Annie told him.

“Oh, sure,” Dick said.

“Who?” Dan asked.

“I like Doug Flutie,” Dick replied.

“You look a little like him,” Dan declared. “Is that why he’s your idol?”

“He isn’t my idol,” Dick said. “I’d just like to earn money like he does.”

“So would I,” Annie said.

“So would we all,” Dan said with a sigh. “We’ve been talking today with two outstanding local teenagers, Annie Powell and Dick Weatherbee. I’d like to thank both of you for appearing with us today.”

“Thank you, Dan,” Annie said.

“Thanks, Dan,” Dick said, and a commercial appeared on the monitor.

Dan shook both their hands and thanked them again. Annie got off the stage and went to get her jacket and books. She still had a full school day ahead of her.

“Annie, you were terrific,” Stacy told her, as Annie started to leave.

“Oh, thanks,” Annie said.

“You were a livesaver up there,” Stacy continued. “I know that look Dan gets in his eyes when an interview is turning sour. If you hadn’t gotten Dick to open up, Dan would probably be slitting his throat right now.”

“It was fun,” Annie said. “Dick seems like a nice guy.”

“Dick seems like a dolt,” Stacy said. “You were the one who brought out the nice guy in him.”

“I enjoyed it,” Annie said.

“We owe you two,” Stacy said. “One for being such a good sport about the postponement, and two for saving Dan’s life up there. Let me know if there’s any way I can repay you.”

“Sure,” Annie said, shaking Stacy’s hand. “And thanks for having me on.”

“It was our pleasure,” Stacy said. “Keep in touch. It’ll be interesting to see what you do with your life.”

“I’ll send you my autobiography,” Annie promised, and began walking out again. She felt so wonderful she would have liked to try flying. The interview had gone perfectly, and she’d be able to go back to school feeling like a heroine, all noble and brilliant.