Free Sequins, Secrets, and Silver Linings by Sophia Bennett

V&A.
    “At least I can still go out,” she says, joining me. “The others can’t even get past their front doors without security and an evacuation plan.”
    I try and pity Hollywood’s Sexiest Couple Alive and the New Teenage God of Hotness, but it’s not working.
    “So. Tell,” I command.
    “OK.” She takes a deep breath. “We’ve been nominated for the National Movie Awards.” She sits back expectantly, waiting for my awestruck reaction.
    “What are the National Movie Awards?”
    She droops a little, then takes a dramatically long sip of her smoothie before answering. “You know. They’re voted for by the public. People vote for their favorites. They were on TV last year. Didn’t you see them?”
    I rack my brains, but I can’t remember. She looks distinctly disappointed. Then it hits me.
    “Does this mean you’re going to be on TV?”
    She nods. “In September.”
    “Wow! Are you nominated? For Best Kid or something?”
    Jenny scoffs. “Of course not. But Joe is. And our leading lady. And the film itself—for Best Action/Adventure.”
    She grins. Even though she was miserable making the film, she’s still very proud of it for everyone else’s sake and thinks of them all a bit like family. Weird, crazy family, but family nevertheless.
    “So are they all coming over to London?” I ask.
    She shakes her head. “No. They’re all on location, filming. Except for Joe.”
    She stops and goes strawberry. I say nothing, but give her a quizzical stare. She goes more strawberry—actually approaching raspberry by now—and tries to drink her smoothie, forgetting she’s already drunk most of it, and is reduced to loud gurgling noises through the straw.
    I maintain my quizzical stare. Eventually she looks at me defensively.
    “What? You mean Joe? What about Joe?”
    “Exactly. What about him? He seemed to be avoiding you in London. You turn a funny color whenever his name is mentioned. Including by you.”
    “I don’t!” she protests, going totally fruits of the forest. “And he wasn’t avoiding me. You know those premieres. Everyone’s busy.”
    “Then why did you care so much?”
    “I didn’t care! I don’t care! I was too busy thinking about my stupid legs.”
    She’s a pretty good actress, when not in front of a film camera. But she’s not good enough for me. I maintain my quizzical look. It’s getting a bit painful now and I think I’m developing some fairly unattractive frown lines. Plus, it’s hard to drink a smoothie through a straw while looking quizzical, and I get a dribble of it down my chin, which ruins the effect somewhat. However, my persistence pays off.
    “OK,” she says quietly, putting her glass aside. “He kissed me.”
    This, I wasn’t expecting.
    “He WHAT?”
    I wipe smoothie off various bits of me.
    “Don’t make it sound so impossible. Anyway, it really was nothing. It was nearly the last day of filming. I was rubbish and I knew it. I was just chatting to him about how rubbish I was and he was saying I was fabulous and what a wonderful talent I had and all that stuff actors say all the time and he could tell I wasn’t listening to a word. And then he stopped. He leaned over toward me and kissed my face. Just like that.”
    “Kissed it where?”
    “On the set. Behind the cameras.”
    “No, dummy. Where on your face ?”
    She looks wistful. “On my lips, then my cheek, then my eyelids, then my lips again.”
    “OH. MY. GOD.”
    “And then he looked at me. And I don’t normally notice boys, particularly.”
    “Me, neither,” I agree. “I know I’m supposed to be obsessed, but I always find myself criticizing their fashion sense. And they can only talk about sports. Except Harry. Or make jokes about boobs. Boobs are SO not funny.”
    “Exactly. Joe’s different. It doesn’t really matter what he talks about. He’s got that star thing. It’s not just on camera. They’re all like that. If they’re in a room, you just want to be near them. If