738 Days: A Novel by Stacey Kade

daughter of an engineer and a former preschool teacher is not going to understand what that means.
    “Too much grass in a cow’s diet has really nasty digestive consequences. Usually, uh, explosive consequences. And if you happen to be bent down nearby, mucking out the barn…” I shrug, feeling my face grow hot. Why, exactly, did I bring up diarrhea in this conversation?
    Amanda twists in her seat to face me, her eyes bright with amusement in the dashboard lights and her mouth open in disbelief. “Seriously?”
    I raise my eyebrows. “You think I’d make that up?”
    She shudders. “I hope not. Did it get on you?”
    “No way to really avoid that. The ears were the worst, though. So many places for it to get to.”
    “That is disgusting!” She’s laughing, but she sounds delighted, more impressed than grossed out, as if she’s ranked my answer against the others she’s gotten for that question and I’ve come out ahead. “What were you doing that close to the business end of a cow?”
    “Occupational hazard. It’s the family business.” It was, anyway.
    She tips her head to one side, and I’m bracing myself for a series of questions along that line.
    But Amanda Grace is a natural interviewer, maybe from being on the receiving end of so many questions for so many years. Or maybe she’s just more perceptive than most.
    After a quick glance at me, she pushes on to the next question instead. “Scariest moment in your life.”
    The prepared response is easy, right there on the tip of my tongue. The second audition for Starlight . It wasn’t just the casting director, but a whole room full of studio executives and producers. My mouth had felt like it was coated in moss, and I thought I might literally choke.
    I’ve told the story so many times it barely feels real anymore. But it is.
    So that would be an honest answer. To a degree. And it would be the “official” answer.
    But I’ve already strayed from official. My press sheet says very little about my family and absolutely nothing about cow diarrhea, both deliberate choices for entirely different reasons, obviously.
    And the dark interior of the car is lulling, creating a false sense of security and encouraging confidences that I am probably better off keeping to myself.
    “When I woke up in the hospital with three broken ribs, a fractured wrist, and no memory of what happened.” I keep my gaze fixed on the road ahead. We’re on the freeway now, and the rhythmic flash of the white center lines is soothing.
    That’s not quite the whole truth, but it’s as close as I’m willing to get, right now. Which is still closer than I’ve ever come with anyone else.
    “Bar fight,” Amanda says.
    I blink. “Yeah, that’s the official … how did you know?”
    “I was out by then,” she says easily, as if talking about her release from prison, which, I suppose in a way, she is. “Someone must have told me. One of the therapists, maybe. They read it online or saw it on TV.” She glances over at me. “After the interview when I talked about the poster, everyone went out of their way to share the latest Chase Henry rumors. I’m a warehouse of gossip about you.”
    I wince. “Really?”
    “Yep.” She hesitates, sliding a speculative glance in my direction. “Did you really have a … I don’t know what to call it when there are four people involved. A foursome? With some Cirque du Soleil performers?”
    “No,” I say with a groan. Did someone really say that?”
    “What about losing one of your cars in a bet?” she asks.
    “That is true,” I admit. I still miss that Audi. It was the first vehicle I bought with my own money. And to lose it playing High-Low with Eric? Stupid.
    “What about you buying all the presents for the charity trees at, like, six Starbucks?”
    “Yeah.” I shift uncomfortably. Elise suggested that I pick one location and buy all the gifts, but once I got started, I didn’t want to stop. It felt so good to focus on