Text Wars - Whitney Dineen Page 0,1
when I’m sixteen.” She looks up at me hopefully and asks, “Can you keep me employed for that long? Please say yes, because if you don’t, I will probably accidentally hack into the government’s computer system and rename all of the senators or something.”
I sit down next to her and reply, “I’m pretty sure my Live for Your Star Sign app will keep us both busy for at least that long.” In addition to Dress for Your Star Sign, Eat for Your Star Sign, Work for Your Star Sign, and Decorate for Your Star Sign, we’re in the process of adding a Date for Your Star Sign feature. I tell Charley excitedly, “We’ve had over a hundred local test subjects sign up for our trial dating feature, can you believe it?”
“Of course I can!” she says enthusiastically — I love this girl’s raw excitement about life. “When will we know if it works?”
“As soon as you upload everyone’s info, we’ll set the algorithm loose and see what happens.”
Looking around at my silvery grey walls with sharp pops of colorful artwork, Charley replies, “I’ll do it today. I hope you’re going to fill out a questionnaire too. God knows you have no social life.”
“I am. I figure it would be irresponsible of me not to participate.”
“Plus, you’ll finally get to go on some dates.” My young friend always tries to push me into the dating world, which, frankly, has not been on my radar at all. When you’re busy launching the most comprehensive lifestyle app to ever hit the market, other aspects of your life suffer. My social life, for instance, is practically non-existent.
Charley pulls at a handful of micro-braids that frame her gorgeous brown face. “I think your letter of recommendation is what got me into Yale. You were such a superstar when you were there.”
“My endorsement only got you so far, my friend. I’m pretty sure your near-perfect SAT and ACT scores are the basis of your admission. Yale is big on prodigies.” Before I can comment further, my phone rings. Not recognizing the number, I pick it up and say, “May your stars be in alignment today. This is Serafina.” I know, that’s a little out there, but trust me, this stuff works.
“Um, hi,” comes the hesitant voice on the line. “My name is Waltraut Hemper. I’m a producer at Wake Up America! here in New York.”
First of all, Waltraut? I know it’s a German name, but in my esteemed opinion, it’s an unfortunate one as it brings to mind one of those singing stuffed fish that people used to hang on their walls. “Hi, Waltraut. What can I do for you?”
I put her on speaker phone so Charley can hear what’s being said.
“We’re looking to do a ‘Shoot for the Stars’ episode here at Wake Up America! We came across your app and thought it might be fun if you came on and hosted a segment on dressing for your star sign.”
Hal and Lacey have been a staple in my morning since I was in college. It’s all I can do not to scream my excitement. A segment on Wake Up America! will launch my app into the stratosphere! I sit-dance in my spot while I say, “That sounds doable. When would you like me to be a guest?”
“One week from today. Will that give you enough time to get your models and their wardrobes ready?”
Charley is typing away on her laptop and turns the screen toward me to show an animated gif of a cheerleading squad jumping up and down. Then she hops off the sofa and imitates the movements herself.
“That should be fine,” I tell the producer. “How many looks do you want for each sign?”
“We’ll only have time for one, but we’d like you to cover everything from casual to formal depending on who will wear it best. We’ll give you a budget to pay for the models. Most stores will either give you the clothes or let you borrow them if you mention their name during the segment.”
My body starts to vibrate in anticipation of my first-ever national television appearance. I feel all floaty, like my essence is lifting out of my form and hovering somewhere above myself. Before it can float to Brooklyn, I say, “Sounds terrific. If you send me all the details, I’ll make sure to give you the best fashion segment you’ve ever had.” I don’t know how, but I manage to keep my composure and not sound like