Vanishing Acts (9 page)

“You okay?” I asked.

“No. I mean, yes, I'm fine. And I'm sorry.” Seth blinked and readjusted his baseball cap, sort of straightening it—not because it needed to be straightened, but because he needed something to do. “You're right. It's just—I don't know. Sorry to bug you . . .” He backed away—or tried to, that is, but instead he walked straight into someone's giant red baby stroller.

“Watch it!” yelled the baby's dad. “You're jostling my Guthrie.”

Heads swiveled as every parent in the entire restaurant turned to look at Seth.

“Sorry!” Seth said, raising his hands up in surrender.

“
SSSHHH!
” Guthrie's dad raised his finger to his lips. “Keep it down, pretty boy!”

Seth seemed taken aback, even more startled than before.

I kept waiting for someone to recognize him and ask for an autograph. But no one did. Then I realized why:
Seth is huge with kids my age, but most grown-ups wouldn't recognize him. Tonight's crowd was too old and too young at the same time. The Pizza Den is a huge after-school hangout, but I guess everything shifts at night—this crowd was pretty much all grownups and babies, with the exception of me and Finn and company.

And one superstar whose appearance still confused me in a major way.

Seth tried to make for the door but stopped short, balancing on his heels to avoid bumping into the triplets in high chairs blocking his path. He seemed afraid to get too close, not that I could blame him, considering he was trapped in the Park Slope web. The guy needed serious help.

“Here, sit down.” I tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell.”

He hesitated. “You sure?”

“Positive.”

He sat down, relieved. “Thanks. Oh, I'm Seth Ryan, by the way. You're Maggie, right?”

“Yes, Maggie Brooklyn,” I replied.

“Brooklyn? You mean like where we are right now?” asked Seth.

“Yes, exactly that,” I replied.

Seth scratched his neck. “Why did your parents name you after a state?”

“Um, Brooklyn isn't a state. It's a borough of New York City,” I said, correcting him.

“A what?” asked Seth.

“New York City,” I repeated.

“Oh, right. Of course.” Seth held out his hand. “Nice to meet you, Maggie Borough. I'm sorry about what happened this afternoon. I told Vigor he went a little overboard, but everything happened so fast, I didn't know what to do. And he was only trying to protect me.”

Seth's handshake was firm—all business, like we were signing a deal. It was a funny contrast to his appearance. What I'd first mistaken for a necklace was actually the tag on Seth's T-shirt. He wore it inside out and backward. He also had on sweatpants with one leg tucked into his sock.

“Um, nice to meet you, too?” I don't know why my voice got so high at the end of my sentence, like I had doubt when I did not. It was nice to meet him. No question.

Except for all my questions about why
he
wanted to meet
me
.

I waited, and he smiled his movie-star smile. Warm, inviting, and totally sincere. Also, mesmerizing—despite the goofy wardrobe.

I got lost in that smile for a minute. “So can I?” he asked.

“Can you what?”

“Talk to you.”

“Yes, of course,” I said. “I mean, sure, if you want to. My friends will be back in a minute, but you could totally join us.” I looked toward the line. Finn and Milo were still pretty far back. Now Lucy had joined them, and she and Finn were pelting each other with red plastic straws. No one looked my way. Not even after I waved to try to get their attention.

“I know you're busy, so I'll only stay for a minute,” he said, taking a deep breath. “But the reason I noticed you on set the other day is because I saw the way you talked to Jones.”

I cringed and buried my head in my hands. “I'm so sorry about that. I didn't mean to mess up your movie or anything. I really wanted to be an extra. It's just—I had to go, and he didn't get that.”

“I know—I heard the whole thing,” he said, leaning a bit closer. “And I'm wondering—how did you do it?”

“How did I do what?”

“You know—stand up to him. How come you weren't intimidated? Most people are scared of Jones.”

“I can kind of see why, since he's got that whole screaming-his-head-off thing mastered, but it's just something I had to do. I didn't even think about it.”

Seth shook his head, seemingly amazed. “I could never have done that.”

“Wait—you're kidding, right?”

“No way.”

“But you're Seth Ryan.”

“Exactly. I'm Seth Ryan, and I always do what I'm supposed to do. Fiona tells me it's the secret to my success, and I shouldn't overthink things because my brain will hurt and it'll cause stress and worry lines, and I can't afford worry lines. They'll show up on camera—especially with all this new high-definition technology.”

“Who's Fiona?” I asked, figuring it was his new girlfriend.

“Fiona is my manager. She kind of discovered me, and she totally knows what's best for me. And what's best is knowing one thing: never question your director. He or she is boss.” Seth nodded once, agreeing with his own point. He sounded like a robot—totally programmed.

“I see,” I said slowly, even though I didn't. Not when Jones Reynaldo, Seth's current boss, acted like a spoiled toddler—and even worse than the tap-dancing toddler from just a few minutes ago.

He squinted at me. “So what was so important that you had to leave?”

“My dogs,” I replied. “Well, not
my
dogs exactly. They're my clients; I'm a dog walker.”

“A what?” asked Seth.

“I walk a bunch of dogs. It's my after-school job.”

Seth gave me a blank look, like he'd never heard of a dog walker, so I explained further. “Basically, I pick them up after school, get them outside so they can have fresh air and exercise and relieve themselves, and take them home again. Some of them like to play fetch, too.”

“That sounds like the coolest job in the world,” Seth marveled.

“Are you making fun of me?” I asked, just to be sure.

“No way. I'm serious. I think that's awesome. I love dogs. I've always wanted one.”

I stared at him for a few moments, still not completely convinced this wasn't an elaborate prank. Like, maybe there was a hidden camera somewhere. It just seemed too weird that this megastar would be hanging out with me at the Pizza Den.

“So why don't you get one?” I asked. “It's not like they're so expensive. You can buy ten dogs, or maybe ten thousand. Isn't it true that you have seven cars? One for each day of the week?”

“To be honest, I don't know,” said Seth. “My manager handles all that stuff. I can't even drive. I have a lot of investments, I guess. I know there's a loft in SoHo. I was there once, but it seemed kind of empty.” Suddenly his face lit up. “Oh, but I saw pictures of it in
Teen People
last month and it looked awesome, so I guess someone furnished it.”

“You mean you're not staying there?”

Seth looked at me like I was crazy. “We are in Brooklyn. You know that, right, Maggie?”

I laughed. “Hello? Brooklyn is my middle name—literally. So I'm pretty positive that Brooklyn is close to Manhattan. Like I said before, it's still considered New York City.”

“Oh.” Seth paused and frowned. “I thought you were kidding about that.”

“Nope. There are five boroughs in this city.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Manhattan, Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx, and Staten Island.”

He leaned back and grinned. “Now you're just messing with me.”

Was he serious? He seemed to be, but how was that even possible?

“You know that Manhattan is just over the bridge? And SoHo is probably less than five miles away,” I said.

Seth's smile faded, which told me he hadn't been joking—and now I'd embarrassed him. He coughed. “Well, geography was never my best subject. Not that I'm in school anymore. I have my own tutor and I always get straight As. In fact, I just finished the ninth grade—two whole years early.”

“Really?” I asked, more than a little surprised.
Because it seemed like basic geography was something Seth's tutor should've covered before giving him any sort of degree. But what did I know? I mean, besides the five boroughs of the city. Okay, I knew a lot, but I'm sure Seth did, too. He had to be smart, because acting is hard.

I know, because my mom signed Finn and me up for drama camp one summer when we were nine. Memorizing lines was difficult enough, but more challenging than that was getting to know characters inside and out and then communicating that to the audience through a performance. It took brains and hard work and discipline and talent and guts. Seth had all that. I could just tell.

Still, the geography thing was weird.

“Fiona probably has us staying out here because it's safer,” Seth reasoned. “More convenient, too. Our hotel is just a few blocks away, although I'm not supposed to tell anyone that. Anyway, about the dog: she says I can't have one because it would get in the way of my work. And I'm always traveling and my hours are crazy, so it's not like I even have time to take care of one. I mean, I guess I could hire a dog walker, but that doesn't make sense because I'm always shooting in different locations. Like, we're only here in Brooklyn for a few more days and then we're heading to Toronto, which is cool because I love Europe.”

“Um, Toronto is in Canada,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Seth. “I know.”

“Which is technically North America. You can even drive there from here.”

Seth blinked. “Are you sure? Because everyone told me it was European.”

“I'm positive,” I said.

“Are you some kind of genius?” asked Seth.

“I'm just a regular kid,” I promised. “Anyway, you must take breaks. Go home sometime.”

“Home?” Seth tilted his head, confused.

I had to smile. “You must come from somewhere . . .”

“Oh, yeah.” He took off his baseball cap for a second and pushed his bangs away from his forehead. “I was born in Buffalo. It's upstate.”

“Is that where your family is?” I asked.

“It's just me and my dad. I mean, it
was
just me and my dad, but not anymore.”

“I'm so sorry!” I said.

“Oh, he's not dead,” said Seth. “He's just not around. It's kind of complicated.”

Seth seemed like he didn't want to talk about his dad, so I didn't push it, although I was curious. “It must be hard, being so far away from him.”

Seth didn't answer me directly. In fact, he seemed kind of uncomfortable, so I decided to change the
subject. I told Seth about how I couldn't have a dog, either. “It's because my brother is allergic. Which is annoying, but if I had my own dog I probably never would've started walking other people's dogs. So actually I'm lucky.”

“I'm jealous,” said Seth.

I laughed, figuring he was kidding. “Being a dog walker is hardly something to envy. Anyone could do it.”

Seth shook his head. “I don't think so. I wish I had a cool job like yours.”

“Um, you're a movie star. Like, world famous. Tons of people would kill to do that,” I reminded him.

“Yeah, that's the problem,” said Seth. He picked up the pepper and spilled some out on the table, then traced one finger through the grains. “Fiona says I shouldn't trust anyone, and she's right. But I don't know. . . . Sometimes it's kind of lonely.” Suddenly he looked up at me. “Do you ever wish you could just, like, walk away from your life?”

I was taken aback. Kind of a profound question for a Thursday night. “Um, what do you mean?”

“I don't know—do you ever wish things had turned out differently?”

“Well, sure,” I replied. “All the time. But it's not like my life is over. Things change constantly.”

Seth sighed. “Maybe for you; but for me it's always the same. Yeah, there are different movies in different
cities, but it's always the same story.” He sounded so resigned, so dreary; this real Seth Ryan was so different from the cool, easy-going star I thought I knew. I had a million questions for him, but before I could figure out what to ask first, a tiny woman with big blond hair stormed into the Pizza Den and headed straight for our table.

She sat down next to Seth and asked, “Where have you been? Do you know how worried I was?”

Seth didn't answer, but he seemed to shrink three whole inches, right before my eyes.

“You can't pull stunts like this!” she said, then whipped her head around to face me. “And you can't hound him like this. Seth is very nice to his fans, but even he has his limits. If you want an autograph, you'll have to write to the studio. Or come to his book signing next month. He'll be at the Barnes and Noble in Union Square.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I'm Fiona Stern,” she replied. “Seth's manager.”

“Wait, I'm writing a book?” asked Seth.

Fiona ruffled his hair. “No, sweetie, you already did.”

“I did?” asked Seth, thoroughly confused. “Because I think I'd remember.”

Fiona raised her finger to her lips and shushed him. “Just stop talking and keep smiling,” she said, turning to me. “My point is that Seth doesn't have time for such nonsense, and he can't afford to damage his hands.”

“I never asked for an autograph,” I argued. “I was just sitting here, and he—”

“And Seth Ryan is a minor. I don't know what you think you're doing or what you want, but I won't have it.”

“I'm a minor, too,” I said. “Younger than Seth, even.”