Internet Famous Read online

Sarah tossed the magazine beside the chair, pocketing her phone. “Oh, I’ve been there for a while,” she said. “Just lurking in the background.”

  Madi giggled. “Well, I’m glad you finally spoke up.”

  “Me, too.”

  *   *   *

  It was after dinner and Madi was in her bedroom when she heard her father’s footsteps come down the hall. He popped his head in the door. “Sarah and I are going to watch a movie tonight. You want to join us?”

  “No thanks.”

  “Everything all right? You disappeared right after dinner.”

  Madi sighed and set her phone down. She’d finished replying to everyone’s comments on her post, but now that it was done, she felt emptier than ever. “It’s nothing, Dad. Just tired.”

  “Tired, huh?”

  “Mm-hmm.” She put her arm over her eyes, wondering at the weight in her chest. One username had been conspicuously absent from today’s postings: @laurentabelard. She hadn’t meant to search for him, but hadn’t been able to stop herself.

  Her father’s footsteps crossed the floor. “Madi, are you sure you’re okay?”

  Her throat ached as she answered: “No. No, I’m not.”

  She felt rather than saw him sit on the bed next to her. “What’s wrong? I thought catching this guy would be a relief. The whole trolling thing is over.”

  Madi made a choking sound. “That’s not what this is about.”

  “It’s not?”

  Madi swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat wouldn’t go away. She dropped her hands to her sides, staring up at the ceiling until her father touched her arm.

  “Talk to me, Madi.”

  “I—I thought it was Laurent.”

  “What?”

  “Wh-when I figured out it was a MadLibber, I thought for a while it might be Laurent. When I told him, he was so upset he cut me out of his life. I—I—”

  “Is this why you guys haven’t been hanging out lately?”

  “Yes.” She sat up and wiped her eyes. “I—I tried to explain, but he was hurt, and now I’ve wrecked everything.”

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “But it is! He’s never going to talk to me again.”

  “So go to him and explain.”

  Madi stared at him. “But Laurent’s in New York.”

  Charles took off his glasses and cleaned them with the corner of his shirt. “So’s your aunt.”

  “But I can’t just take off.”

  “Why not?”

  “What if Laurent doesn’t want to see me?”

  Her father perched his glasses back on his nose and smiled. “Then you’ll have to convince him otherwise.”

  *   *   *

  It was almost nine thirty by the time Madi navigated the subway and found her way to the apartment Laurent had shown her when she’d visited New York. The sky was a cloudless black dotted with faint stars, and the streetlights cast halos of green where they rose into the foliage. Traffic hummed in the distance. It was a picture-perfect New York night, and if Madi weren’t so terrified of what she was doing, she’d almost find it exciting to be back in the city.

  She walked up the steps of the building to the foyer, fighting the urge to throw up. What would she say to Laurent? How could she make him understand? On the top step, she scanned through the numbers until she found Laurent’s: 305. Woozy with nerves, Madi pressed the button.

  No one answered.

  She pressed it again. Still nothing. Madi shifted foot to foot, embarrassed. Maybe the buzzer was broken. She pushed it again, waiting for the count of ten.

  Nothing.

  “Oh, for God’s sake!” she snapped. “He’s not even home.”

  She pulled her phone out of her pocket, meaning to tell her aunt Lisa that she’d be showing up early. A message from her father waited for her on-screen.

  Tell Laurent I said hello.

  “Kinda hard when he’s not even here,” she muttered.

  She headed down the steps and peered up at the apartment, a looming brick building from the turn of the century, dotted with a gridwork of yellow squares. Madi’s gaze caught on the third floor. The lights were on.

  Excited, she pulled up her texts from Laurent, spinning back through weeks of flirting all the way to the night they’d been texting and her mother had interrupted.

  i’ll be terribly careful with strange women hanging out under the fire escape. but if it was YOU under my window, i’d invite you up.

  “The fire escape!”

  Madi headed around the side of the building to the nearby alley. Her hands tightened into fists as she scanned the shadows. New York didn’t seem nearly as nice from this perspective, definitely more Gangs of New York and less When Harry Met Sally. Her eyes rose to the third floor. Sure enough, there was a narrow window facing the fire escape. It glowed brightly, a tall figure passing in front of the glass every once in a while.

  “Laurent.”

  Madi walked to the bottom of the fire escape. It hung well above her head, and even the thought of trying to climb it made her legs turn to water.

  “Why does it have to be so high up?” she moaned. “I hate heights!”

  But when she looked up again, Laurent paused near the window, his face in profile. It was definitely him. Seeing him redoubled her resolve. She climbed atop the nearby garbage bin, balancing on the lid.

  “Heaven help me, I’m going to die in a Dumpster!” She stretched farther, farther, almost there, fingers reaching.… “Sweet baby Jesus, get me through this!” She leaned out toward the bottom rung of the ladder.

  “Damnit!” There was absolutely no way she could reach.

  Resigned, Madi climbed down from the Dumpster and headed back to the foyer. She buzzed again and again. Still no answer.

  “May I help you?”

  Madi yelped in surprise. She turned to discover an elderly woman waiting behind her.

  “Sorry,” Madi said. “I’m a friend of Laurent’s. I need to talk to him. But he won’t answer the door.”

  The woman leaned closer. “You sure he’s home?”

  “He’s definitely home,” Madi said. “I saw him through the window, but he’s got his headphones on. He can’t hear the buzzer.”

  “Oh dear. That’s too bad.”

  Madi’s eyebrows rose. “Wait! Could you walk up to his apartment and ask him to come down? He’s in three-oh-five.”

  “I don’t know, dear. My arthritis makes stairs difficult. Laurent helps me with my groceries sometimes, you know.”

  Groceries! With that, Madi realized she had a name. “You’re Mrs. Marcioni, aren’t you? Laurent told me about you.”

  She grinned. “He did?”

  “Yes, he did. And I’m so sorry to ask you to help, but it’s so important that I talk to Laurent.” Her voice wavered. “Please,” she begged. “If you could just get Laurent for me, Mrs. Marcioni, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “But if he can’t hear the buzzer, he won’t hear me knocking.”

  Madi groaned. She hadn’t considered that. “I just really need to talk to him. I even tried the alley.”

  “The alley?”

  “I was going to climb up the fire escape, but I’m too short.” Madi hung her head, close to tears. “This is stupid. It’s not going to work. I should just leave.”

  The old woman patted Madi’s hand. “Hush, now. Come with me.” She unlocked the door and waved Madi inside. “Any friend of Laurent’s is a friend of mine,” she said, then dropped her voice. “Just don’t tell anyone in the building that I let you through the door.”

  “Thank you.”

  The two of them walked slowly up to the first floor, where Mrs. Marcioni’s apartment was located.

  “Go up to the third floor and knock,” Mrs. Marcioni said. “I’ll wait here a minute, in case he doesn’t hear you.”

  Minutes later, Madi was back on the first floor, sweaty and frustrated. “He didn’t hear me.”

  Mrs. Marc
ioni nodded at the window at the end of the hall. “There’s the fire escape”—her eyes twinkled—“if you were serious about that.”

  “I—I was,” Madi said. “I am.”

  “Good,” Mrs. Marcioni said, grinning. “Then you’d better get going.”

  The window opened easily, and Madi stepped out onto the fire escape. Her stomach dropped as she made the mistake of looking down. She spent half a minute hyperventilating. This had been a terrible idea.

  “Don’t. Look. Down.”

  She climbed the first ladder.

  The next.

  By the time she made it to the third floor, she was shaking from exertion, her fingers claws where they wrapped the rusting bars. She scrambled onto the metal-gridded balcony, pressing herself as close to the building as possible. She couldn’t look down. If she did, she’d die.

  “L-L-Laurent,” Madi said through chattering teeth.

  She could see him on the other side of the glass. He sat on his bed, headphones on, a book of Ansel Adams’s black-and-white photography open on his lap.

  Madi unclenched one hand and lifted it to the window, knocking. “L-Laurent!” she called again.

  He turned the page.

  Madi slid over so that her entire body was pressed up against the glass. The wind tugged at her hair, her fear escalating into pure terror. There was no way she was going to be able to climb down. If Laurent didn’t let her in, she’d have to stay here on the balcony forever. She’d grow old here. Die here. Her body decomposing on the grill. Mrs. Marcioni would never know what had happened!

  Madi banged hard on the glass. “LAURENT!” she shrieked.

  He looked up. Their eyes locked.

  For several long seconds he didn’t move. Madi pressed her face until her whole cheek and nose were squished against the glass. “Please!” she begged. “I’m scared of heights, Laurent! Let me IN!”

  That seemed to release him from his trance. He jumped up from the bed, sprinted to the window, and pulled it open so fast he banged Madi’s chin on the bottom frame as the window rose.

  “Madi!” he gasped, dragging her bodily inside. “What are—How are—Comment es-tu arrivé ici?”

  She wrapped her arms around him, terrified of how far up she’d climbed. “I’m sorry for just showing up, but I had to see you again,” she said. “I was wrong about you, Laurent. I’m so sorry! The troll was making me crazy, and I didn’t know what to believe.”

  “I … I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you’re here.”

  “I had to talk to you.”

  His shock passing, Laurent’s expression cooled. “Please, Madi,” he said, removing himself from her grip. “You need to let me go.”

  Embarrassed, she stepped back. “I’m sorry, I just needed to talk to you.”

  He crossed his arms. “So talk.”

  “I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  Laurent didn’t reply. Madi could feel everything coming apart at the seams. Her stunt on the fire escape hadn’t fixed a thing.

  “Look, I know you’re leaving in a couple weeks,” she said, voice breaking. “And I know nothing’s ever going to be the same. But I can’t let you go back to France thinking that you hate me. I just can’t.”

  Laurent’s expression grew pained. “Madi, I don’t know what you think is going to happen with us, but—”

  “I’m so sorry for what I said. What I thought. And I understand if you never want anything to do with me. I deserve that!”

  “You do.”

  “But I’m hoping that we can at least say good-bye as friends.” She offered her hand. “Please? Just friends. Nothing else.”

  Laurent took her icy fingers in his.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “And I understand why you’re angry at me, but please … please don’t hate me.”

  He closed his eyes, but didn’t let go of her hand. The next words seemed to hurt him. “I don’t hate you. I don’t think I could hate you.”

  “Can we be friends again? Please?”

  “Friends?”

  Madi’s fingers tightened. “Yes, friends. Nothing else. Just friends, so that when you go—” Her voice broke. “When you go back to France I can still be your friend.”

  Laurent’s thumb ran over the back of her knuckles. He nodded to the window. “That was a very dramatic entrance for a friend.”

  “I—I thought so.”

  “You had it planned out?”

  “Not really. I tried ringing the buzzer first. Then knocking on the door.” Madi swallowed hard. His fingers were still wrapped around hers, and her brain wouldn’t translate that properly. “The whole up-the-fire-escape thing was kind of a last-ditch effort.”

  “I had headphones on.”

  “I know,” she said with a nervous laugh. “That’s why I climbed up.”

  “It was very Lloyd Dobler of you.” The corner of Laurent’s mouth twitched. “So what would you have done if I hadn’t let you in, hmmm?”

  “I guess I would’ve waited outside until…”

  “Until I felt sorry and let you in?”

  Madi cringed. “Yeah. Something like that.” For a moment neither of them spoke. Madi could feel something balanced between them, and somehow she knew it had to do with the spots where their palms touched. He’d taken her hand and hadn’t let go. That mattered.

  “Laurent, I…” Both of them started talking at once.

  “You go ahead,” he said quietly. “I’ll listen.”

  “I’m so sorry, Laurent. I hope you can forgive me for ever doubting—”

  All her thoughts disappeared as Laurent pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The weeks of longing surged as Madi slid her arms around his neck, standing on tiptoe to reach his mouth. Where their other kisses had started out hesitantly, this one burned with passion from the second their lips met. Minutes passed, and it was only the sound of a door opening—somewhere in the distant apartment—that broke them apart, panting.

  Laurent stepped back, though he didn’t let go of Madi’s hand. “Was it okay that I kissed you?”

  She blinked, resurfacing. She was in Laurent’s bedroom. Oh right, I ran off to New York to win him back like in some cheesy movie.

  “Better than okay,” she said. “It was perfect.… You’re perfect.”

  She caught Laurent’s eyes and he smiled. “Quand je t’ai vu pour la première fois,” he murmured, his lips a breath away from hers, “c’était le coup de foudre.”

  This time she didn’t laugh at his words. Breathless, her hands slid up his chest, resting there. “What does that mean, Laurent? Tell me what you just said.”

  He reached out, cupping her face between his palms. “It means yes, I forgive you. How could I not? I’m in love with you, minette. Je t’adore.”

  And like that, everything in Madi Nakama’s life changed once again.

  21

  “You look good wearing my future.”

  (Some Kind of Wonderful, 1987)

  When Laurent thought of that summer, the last two weeks of June seemed brighter than all those that followed. He’d spent half of it crashing in the Nakamas’ spare bedroom, his host family growing so concerned that Madi begged her father to call and intervene. Charles Nakama’s assurances put them at ease, but the days rushed by faster than either he or Madi wanted.

  With his student visa ending, Laurent needed to leave for France. The College d’Arts in Paris had been his dream for years, but now he fought its arrival. He couldn’t stay in the States. But his heart couldn’t move on. Not with Madi standing on the other side of the glass at the airport. A year apart felt like a lifetime. And Laurent had no assurance Madi would feel the same come next summer, when he hoped to visit.

  He lifted his phone and took one final photograph, then sent it to her.

  *   *   *

  Summer flew past, Laurent’s days filled with preparations for college, his sleepless nights with memories of Madi. Their Snapsed dat
es took place every few days. Occasionally, he could tell where Madi was from the images she sent him.

  Other times, it was someplace new. The thought of Madi making her way through life without him at her side left Laurent smiling through heartache. She had started her real life. With the inclusion of her new vlog section, MadLibs’s popularity had skyrocketed yet again, success followed by success.

  Laurent and Madi shared long conversations via text, but their schedules were thrown off enough that the talks felt stilted, their answers too many hours apart. He occasionally woke up to discover rambling late-night e-mails.

  NEW Message, [email protected]: 2:39 a.m. EST

  Priority: Normal

  Subject: Missing You

  Laurent,

  Had another awful night. Miss you so much. I can’t sleep these days. You’re too far away, and I’m too awake. (Maybe it’s time I cut out the caffeine.) I stayed up late watching reruns and trying to do another video for MadLibs, but nothing would click. Deleted all my footage and will start over today. (I need my favorite cameraman behind the lens.) So lonely the last few days. So sad.

  Can’t go on like this. Don’t want you to worry, though. I’ll get through. I will.

  Love you.

  —Madi

  He sent his replies any moment he was able, but they often went unanswered.

  just got your e-mail, madi! so sorry i missed it. just leaving school now.

  are you okay? do you have time to talk? i’m on the metro, but we could text.

  you online yet? i’m home now

  write me. call me. anything.

  Laurent knew it would get worse as school began. He was right. Hours passed without replies. Phone calls disappeared entirely. Across an ocean, Madi was falling into bed at the same time Laurent was heading to class. He knew it was only a matter of time before the hours stretched to days and weeks, and their relationship would end through forgetfulness, not anger.

  With this in his mind, Laurent sprawled on his bed, a book of photography techniques open before him. Rule of thirds … neutral space … perspective lines … He’d already reread the same page twice, but the concepts weren’t making their way to his brain. Madi hadn’t answered the last two texts he’d sent her, and though Laurent knew she was likely just busy—MadLibs was booming—he couldn’t help wondering if the inevitable “end” he’d been waiting for had happened while he was sitting in his Introduction to Photography class.