Free After Perfect by Christina McDowell

the Washington Post.
    â€œProusalis,” I said, a little apprehensive.
    â€œOh yeah.” She nodded her head, indicating I had made the right decision. “Christina Grace. It’s innocent and sweet, just like Susan Dey.”
    â€œThanks.” I smiled. We gave each other the once-over, the way actresses do, comparing and despairing without wanting the other to know.
    Moments later, the rest of the Lauries gathered around us in the hotel lobby at Universal Studios, which was where we were staying for Partridge Family boot camp. It was our first day on set. We looked like Susan Dey octuplets: skinny with long hair, each of us carrying big dreams of stardom. We were driven to Tribune Studios in Hollywood and were greeted by Becky, the talent coordinator with big boobs and a southern accent. She stood in front of the enormous soundstage, holding a walkie-talkie and a clipboard. “Welcome to Partridge Family boot camp, ladies.”
    We followed her onto the soundstage, which was broken down into different 1970s-looking set pieces with neon green, orange, and red couches. The air-conditioning was on full blast. Straight ahead against a makeshift wall was the craft services table, filled with Red Vines licorice, veggie platters, donuts, chips, soda, hot tea, and coffee. All of it for free. I walked over, shivering in my chiffon tank top and jean miniskirt, contemplating which donut I should eat, when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around.
    â€œYou look like you’re freezing.” A tall boy wearing a USC sweatshirt stood in front of me holding a wool blanket. “Here,” he said.
    â€œThank you.” I took the blanket, eager to wrap myself up.
    â€œThey always crank up the air at the crack of dawn because the lights make it so hot in here. I’m Josh.” His eyes were the bluest I’d ever seen.
    â€œChristina—”
    â€œGrace,” he said before I could finish. “I know. One of the Lauries. I saw your audition tape.” Then he started teasing me, singing the Partridge Family theme song, “Come On Get Happy,” as if we’d known each other for years.
    I laughed. “Are you one of the Keiths?”
    â€œNo way,” he said. “I’m the guy that gets paid to stare at you all day long.”
    â€œUh . . .”
    â€œThe camera operator—sorry.” He shook his head and blushed. “That sounded creepy.”
    There was a moment between us. I laughed, and he smiled at me. His cheeks were big and round when he smiled, I could see, still separating the boy from the man. And I got that feeling you get when you meet someone and you know they’re going to make their way into the story of your life; it’s just that you don’t know how yet, only in hindsight could you see.
    â€œLauries over here, please!” Becky called out across the soundstage.
    â€œThanks for the blanket,” I said.
    â€œAnytime. See you over there.”
    E mily stood next to me. “Watch out,” she whispered.
    â€œWhat?” I asked.
    â€œThat guy over there.” She nodded toward Josh, who was setting up his camera equipment. “He’s the executive producer’s son. We’re not allowed to fraternize with crew members—if ya know what I mean.”
    I blushed. This girl was on it. How did she know this? I started to like how precocious she was.
    Fraternizing with crew members was hardly the issue when rumors were floating around that David Cassidy was drunk, Danny Bonaduce was high, and Shirley Jones seemed oblivious to what was going on. Susan Dey refused to participate because fame from the show had screwed her up so badly she wanted nothing to do with the remake. Rumor was she suffered from anorexia, refusing to eat anything but carrots at one point and eventually turning her skin orange. I guess every family has its secrets, even the fake ones.
    F or the next few weeks, it was a world of make