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shouts, “Play!”
    Spring catches him in a bear hug. “Okay, Treester.” Then she says to me, “Maybe this is not a good time for an interview after all.”
    “Rain check,” I say. Because I do want to talk to her again. But not as Bo Blaketon. Just as me. As for how I’m going to manage that, I’ve no clue.
    And then Lug returns. He eyes our sundae dishes. “Nice meeting you,” he says to Spring. “But we have to get back to work now. Bo is a busy man.” He turns and walks away, beckoning me to come along.
    “We’ll walk with you,” Spring says, grabbing Tree’s hand. “If that’s okay. We have some time to kill until my dad picks us up.”
    “Of course,” I say. We clear our table and follow Lug.
    “Are you off to rehearsal or something?” Spring asks. “Or are you still signing up extras?”
    “Laurence wants a few more names,” I say. “In case some kids change their minds. Or can’t make the times. Always better to have a wait list. You know, people we can call on short notice if somebody doesn’t show up.”
    What am I talking about? I’ve no idea how extras are hired. I’m just digging myself in deeper.
    “Oh, I’m getting so excited about this!” Spring says. “I’m going to do a super project. And honestly, the idea of being on TV is so awesome. Before my accident, I did a lot of theater. I went to drama camp in the summer, and I had some roles in VanCityKids Productions.”
    “Cool,” I say. “You’d be good onstage.”
    She guides Tree out of the way of an elderly man with a walker. “Thanks. But I haven’t had a part since then.” With her free hand she arranges her hair over her scar. “I don’t like to think it’s because of how I look, but it’s hard not to.”
    “That’s so not fair!” I say. Right. And it’s also not fair that I pretended to sign her up as an extra.
    “Life’s not fair,” she says. “I’ve learned that lesson well.” She stops to let Tree look in the window of a toy store. “I should be taking notes,” she says. “The price of toys, where they’re made, whether they encourage creative play or are just Hollywood merchandise.”
    Tree wants everything in the window. He wants to go into the store. “Sorry, no deal,” Spring says, pulling him away. “You’ve got lots of nice toys at home, Treeling.” He bursts into tears.
    As we walk on, she says over Tree’s sobbing, “I know everything is overpriced and probably made by child labor. But I get how much he wants the stuff he sees.” She holds out her free arm to show off her patched sweater. “See, I made this from old sweaters, and I totally believe in recycling and all, but sometimes I want something brand new and in style. Like everybody else has.”
    “I get that.” Being in this mall has made me want all kinds of stuff I don’t need. That Globe Bantam Cruiser, the latest games, the most expensive brands of clothes and shoes. “Commercialism sucks.”
    “Yeah, it does. But it creates jobs, so it’s not all bad. And now that I’m going to make good money being an extra, I can buy myself some trendy clothes. My parents can’t object if I pay for them myself. How much do you think I’ll make?”
    “Hard to say.” Impossible to tell her she’s not going to make any money. She looks so thrilled, I just can’t. “Enough for some new clothes for sure.”
    “I won’t spend it all on clothes though. I’ll donate some to charity too.”
    I’m such a horrible person, leading her on. But I say, “That’s so nice of you.”
    Tree has stopped crying. He sees the play area ahead and tugs hard on Spring’s hand. “I better let him loose for a bit,” Spring says. “Catch up with you later?”
    “We’ll be at that girly store,” I call as she chases after Tree.
    I like this girl. I really, really like her. I have to tell her I’m not Bo Blaketon.
    But how?

Chapter Ten
    I head down the mall, looking for Lug. He’s waiting for me outside RadRide. “Glad you got