Chapter 46
WORLD’S WORST FRIEND? ME
The Access-A-Ride driver, of course, is late picking me up.
“Sorry, kid. It was bingo night at the senior center.”
I ask him to drop me off at the boardwalk. But it’s nearly ten PM by the time we reach Long Beach.
So I ask him to drop me off at Gilda’s house.
I text her to let her know I’m coming.
When we pull into the driveway, all my friends are waiting for me on the front lawn.
Pierce speaks first. “As we told you, Jamie, we had to return the rented equipment by eight o’clock.”
“That was, like, a couple hours ago,” adds Gaynor.
“It was like a couple hours ago because it was a couple hours ago!” says Gilda.
I can tell she’s steamed.
“Look, you guys, I’m sorry. It was a bad day.”
Gilda gives me a look. It’s not a nice one. “Welcome to the club.”
“Despite your absence,” says Vincent optimistically, “I think we came up with some pretty nifty material. See, I played you, Jamie, only we didn’t do it in a wheelchair.”
“I was the bully,” says Gaynor. “I wasn’t really mean, because I’m too chill.”
“So I had to run the camera,” says Pierce. “I used my other hand to hold the lights.”
“Because I had to be in the scene,” says Gilda. “Remember? It was a movie about directing a movie. Or have you completely forgotten your own lousy idea for an even lousier short film?”
“I am so, so sorry,” I say.
You know that second-worst night of my life I told you about? Forget it. We have a new champion. This night.
“What can I do to make it up to you?” I ask. “Can I talk to the film-contest people and ask for an extension?”
“Look, Jamie,” says Gaynor, “we totally get it. Your sitcom dealio is the most important thing in the universe. But other people have universes with super-important dealios in them, too.”
“Well,” says Vincent, “I, for one, think the final film will be terrific!”
“No, Vincent,” says Gilda, sounding dejected. “I scrolled through the takes. It’s bad. Plus, the judges only let me jump to the finals because I promised them that my ‘good friend,’ the big-shot TV star Jamie Grimm, would be the star of my short. Ask me how well that worked out.”
No one says a word.
“Good night, you guys,” says Gilda, sounding exhausted. “I need to go to bed.”
She slumps her shoulders and sort of trudges up the walkway to her front door. Gaynor heads right, Pierce heads left.
“Well,” says Vincent, “guess I better make like a banana and split.”
Even he walks away.
I want to run after them. To promise I’ll make it up to them. To tell Gilda that I haven’t ruined her chance for a scholarship to her dream school.
But I can’t do anything.
I can’t run, I can’t walk, I can’t even play myself in a sitcom about my own life.
Yep. This is definitely the second-worst night of my life.