Everyone on the island is talking about Ivy Avila, and I am good at listening.
I put on my sunglasses and turn invisible. I become silent and still and the light passes right through me.
Coffee shop. Monday. 10:47 a.m.:
“Isn’t her mom like some kind of crazy stage mom?” Woman 1 says. “Like she totally lives off her daughter?”
“Getting rich off your own kid is as bad as getting rich off of welfare,” says Woman 2.
“I’m pretty sure no one ever got rich off of welfare,” says Woman 3. “And when’s the last time you had a job?”
“I hate you after Pilates,” says Woman 2. “You turn into a liberal snowflake.”
“If I’m a liberal snowflake, then you’re new-money trash,” says Woman 3.
“We’re all new-money trash,” says Woman 1. “How long have either of your families had money? Three generations? Old money is not tech money. It’s from way before that.”
Woman 2 and Woman 3 both roll their eyes.
“And what about the American dream and all that?” says Woman 1.
And then they all laugh.
Island Home & Garden. Tuesday. 2:11 p.m.:
“Here, I have it,” says a boarding school girl I vaguely recognize as she reads from her phone. “This is such bullshit. Her mom totally wrote this. It’s all about her. She was a poor single mom, boo-hoo-hoo, cleaning Seattle high-rises for a living. Then she saw a spark in her daughter and sacrificed everything to bring her to Hollywood at age nine and devote herself to supporting her daughter’s dream.”
“Sacrifice what?” says her friend as she inspects a fake antique watering can. “That woman didn’t have anything to sacrifice. She’s just mooching off her kid.”
“‘After several commercials and small parts,’” the other girl continues, “‘Ivy landed her first big role at age eleven as a recurring character on The Fabulous Fandangos. Then her big break came at age thirteen when she got a starring role in The Cousins, a popular teen drama on A-Corp’s video streaming service. Ivy then launched her music career at age sixteen with her debut album, This Is Me, which went platinum.’ Boring. Where’s the juicy stuff?” The girl types and swipes and reads some more.
“Ooh,” she says. “Apparently there are rumors that she’s had affairs with all these old, like much older, people in Hollywood, men and women. Some problems with drugs and eating disorders, the usual. God, what is it with these Hollywood losers that they can’t handle their drugs?”
Grocery store checkout line. Wednesday. 5:23 p.m.:
“I’d do her,” says a middle-aged guy to another middle-aged guy. “Hell yeah, I’d do her in a second.”
Home. Thursday. 7:09 p.m.:
“Celebrity culture certainly is fascinating,” says Papa, swiping through a feature about Ivy on his phone. “It’s like they live on a different planet. But now she’s trying to live on ours.”
“That poor girl,” says Daddy.
“Meow,” says Gotami.
She is a girl made of rumors and gossip and other people’s desires. They swirl around her until they lose all meaning, until there is just an outline left.
But she is more than that. Ivy Avila is more than just her outline.
Somehow I know this.