Make My Wish Come True by Rachael Lippincott & Alyson Derrick

Author:Rachael Lippincott & Alyson Derrick [Lippincott, Rachael & Derrick, Alyson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Young Adult
Amazon: B0CV22TN2S
Goodreads: 207294205
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 2024-10-01T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

That night after dinner, I lie on my bed staring at the ceiling, my heart still pounding in my chest.

And not just because I drank an obscene amount of sugar.

“Just do your job, Caroline,” I mutter, finally getting up the courage to pick up my phone, swipe into my text thread with Arden, and tap out today’s question.

I might be a bad actress, but I know for a fact I’m a good journalist.

where do you see yourself in 10 years?

I watch as almost instantly three dots appear. And then stop. Over and over again. I try to picture what I think she’ll say, flashes of Arden in flowing designer dresses at award shows, drinking champagne somewhere chic with a great view, strolling casually along a cobblestone street in a pair of sunglasses.

oscar? emmy? a different city every night? I prompt when the dots disappear again.

Her reply comes in quickly this time.

lol no

Then:

I mean an oscar WOULD be nice, but ever since I left barnwich, she writes, I’ve felt like I’ve been on a speeding train, like I can’t slow down or turn around or get off. I’d hope by 28 I’d be able to feel like I have some control, that my life was more than just a career, than some bullshit image that was constructed for me, you know? I just… I want the simple things. friends, family, somewhere to call home, something constant I can count on when this industry is always trying to kick you out on your ass

I think about our conversation from a couple of nights ago after the basketball game. About normalcy. The part of her that envies the ordinary and the mundane. My phone buzzes again, the screen lighting up.

maybe somebody to come home to

I swallow, my previous image of an older Arden shifting drastically. The same fancy dress, but instead of the glamorous red carpet, she’s come home early, not even changing before curling up on a big leather couch under a cozy blanket, someone’s hand in hers, an Oscar on the mantel.

It shouldn’t surprise me. Four years ago that was word-for-word exactly what I would have thought she’d say. But it does.

It still feels so strange to hear from her about what the past four years have been like instead of just guessing, trying and failing to reconcile the Arden I knew like the back of my hand with the one I read about on magazine pages. It also feels strange to think about what it would’ve been like had I been there in real time to hear about it from her, to experience some small part of it, instead of being left behind. There’s so much I just assumed about her life from the internet, assumed about her and her reasons for not getting in contact, because she wasn’t there to tell me differently.

It’s hard to hold both things in my head, especially when I still feel the hurt of being the girl in the pink jacket she drove away from.

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