THE USED-TO-BE IT GIRL
AMY KAYE

"So, Rhiannon," Juliet Babarino cooed, half at me and half at the live-camera hookup on my back patio. "What a day you're having, huh?"

"Happy birthday to me," I shrugged, waving my hand at the brand-new, custom-painted, candy-apple red convertible Volkswagen bug that was my sixteenth birthday present from myself. It was parked in the driveway behind me. Obnoxious, I know, but that's what they wanted, and I'm used to doing what's expected.

"In case you've been hiding under a rock these past few years, I'm sure you know today's guest," Juliet said to the camera. "Rhiannon Melissa Taylor is the star of Wing and a Prayer, the most highly-rated Friday-night kid's show, like, ever." She gave that laugh, the one designed to pierce the listener's spinal cord, and turned to me. "Where'dja get that name of yours, anyway? Or, I mean, where'd your parents get it."

"Oh, Juliet, I'm sure I've told you this before," I mock-complained. I didn't even need to glance at Lindsay, the guardian that the studio hired to take care of me.

"C'mon, tell us one more time," she mock-cajoled. This was all part of the game.

"Well, my parents couldn't agree on what to name me." I warmed up to the story I'd told so many times, it was practically a macro in the hard-drive of my brain. "My mom's favorite song was "Rhiannon," by Fleetwood Mac. But my dad liked a song called "Sweet Melissa," by the Allman Brothers."

"Who are these bands?" Juliet shrieked, pretending to tear her blonde, highlighted, straightened hair out of her evidently empty head. "The Allman Brothers? Is that some kinda boy-band I never heard of?"

"More like a man-band," I said. "It was some hippie-looking guys from the seventies. One of them was married to Cher for four whole months."

"Well, who knew," she said.

"So my dad called this local radio station in New York, where I was born…"

"…The Big Apple, huh?"

Sure, Juliet, I thought. The Big Apple. Doesn't she know nobody calls it that? But I held my tongue. I'm a team player, and I didn't want to upset the studio by sounding like a rude little brat. I continued my story instead.

"…and he says to the DJ look, my wife just had a baby and we can't decide what song to name her after. And the DJ said, let the listeners decide."

"No way!"

"Way, my friend," I insisted. "So for the rest of the afternoon, the hard-rocking residents of the greatest city in the world decided my fate. Or my name, at least."

"And there you have it. Rhiannon won."

"And Melissa came in second. Which is just as well, because the song is about a guy who dies, and that's just morbid."

Juliet cracked up again, and I felt a twinge in my spine at the sound. But I glanced off camera, and tried to catch Lindsay's eye. This was going well, I thought. But she just looked worried and upset. She'd been looking worried and upset a lot, lately, now that I thought about it. But live TV is not the place to get caught up in this kind of question. I turned my attention back to Juliet.

Just in time, in fact. Her face did that quick-shift thing, and she suddenly went from a wide, friendly grin to an intense gaze, her head tilted as if one ear had suddenly become fifteen pounds heavier.

"So, Rhiannon," she said in a new, serious tone. "How do you feel about the rumors?"

"Rumors?" I answered, careful to keep my face from showing my nervousness. We hadn't rehearsed this part. "I don't listen to rumors."

"Well, usually we don't either, but it seems like we just got confirmation from a source inside the studio…"

"Oh, I love this. I wonder what I'm doing this time? Let me guess: I'm dating the middle Hanson brother? False. I'd like to date the middle Hanson brother? True, true…"

"No, it's nothing that fun," Juliet intoned solemnly. "They say the studio's looking to replace you."

"Replace me?" I snorted, trying to see Lindsay from the corner of my eye. She'd vanished from her spot next to the camera. "With what, a real fairy?

"With a younger star," she said.

I felt like someone had just poured a bucket of fire into my face. I crossed my legs, hoping the sudden movement would draw attention away from my shaking hands.

"That's the silliest thing I've ever heard," I said. "I'm the center of the show. I've grown up in this role."

"From what people are saying, I guess that's the problem," she said. "You've grown up, but they want the show to stay young."

"But I'm only sixteen!" I waved my hand. "Oh, I'm not even going to address this. It's so silly! I'm just about to re-up my contract!"

"But you haven't," Juliet pointed out. How did she know that? "In fact, a new contract has already been signed, with Mitzi McFarlane."

"Mitzi McFarlane?" I gave an easy laugh, the kind that's supposed to say I know what's going on in my life. "You mean the one from the New-New-Mickey Mouse Club? I know her from tennis lessons–I really doubt I'd be replaced with her, even if the producers of my show were planning to do such a thing." I felt like I was desperately running my mouth, doing the kind of damage-control the public-relations department at the studio only rolled out for shows like When Pageant Contestants Attack. I couldn't wait to finish this interview, get my agent Wanda on the phone, and find out why the studio allowed this to happen to me.

"I don't know, our source seemed pretty sure."

"Well, who are you going to believe — some anonymous source, or the star of the show?" I shrugged. "Besides, Mitzi's like ten years old. They might as well hire Apple Paltrow, and add an official diaper-changer to the staff."

"Isn't that's the same age you were when you left New York with your mom, and moved here to star in the show? Two years later, she went back to New York, and you've been like a member of the Wolf Network family ever since. You gave up a lot for them. How do you feel about this move?"

"Oh, Juliet! What move? This is nonsense!" I laughed again. She didn't join me — just looked at me like I was the Angelina character in Girl, Interrupted. "I'm surprised you're talking about this so much. Trust me. It's total bull. I'm not going anywhere, and the show isn't making any big changes. I'm telling you. Trust me!"

Instead of responding, Juliet cut her eyes away from me, not quite looking at the camera, but certainly not meeting my gaze. It was infuriating. I'd done a dozen interviews with her. I always made time when they asked me to be a guest. And now, she was hitting me with this? What was worse, she was acting like she really knew something. Like she'd been sent here with information. Like someone high up had given her some kind of secret tip…

"Wait just a moment. I'm getting a message here —" She paused and put a manicured finger on the little Star Trek monitor in her ear. "We were hoping for a live hookup, but we weren't sure it would happen. It looks like we're live with someone who can give us the final word on this. Please stay tuned, we have breaking news from the Wolf network… Hello?"

One of the monitors flickered, and I could see Wim Peterson, the head of the network, sharing the screen with me.

"What's going on?" I squeaked. Lindsay was gone. Nobody would look at me. "What's happening?"

"Vim Peterson, can we corroborate this story?" Juliet asked. "Our source says Rhiannon Melissa Taylor's been replaced with Mitzi McFarlane. Is it true?"

Vim cleared his throat. He looked about a thousand billion years old, with his wattled throat and his Mr. Burns hairline. "This isn't how we would have preferred to deliver the information," he said. "But yes, it's true. We felt A Wing and a Prayer had gotten away from its original purpose, which was to be a youth-driven family show. We feel a younger star will bring us back to our audience."

I stared at the split-screen monitor, my mouth hanging open.

How could they do this to me?

How could they tell me this way?

If I wasn't the star of Wing and a Prayer… then who was I?