Ryan's POV
I hurled my wrench across the garage when Joan's face showed on the TV again.
"Dammit!" The wrench clanged against the wall and fell behind a pile of old tires. I was supposed to be fixing Mrs. Peterson's car, but I couldn't focus with Joan's voice filling the garage every five minutes.
She was everywhere today. Every news outlet, every talk show, every radio station. "Joan Robert's meteoric rise continues!" "The superstar everyone loves!" "Living her best life!"
But I knew better.
I wiped grease off my hands and walked closer to the small TV on my desk. Joan was sitting across from some fancy reporter on the Morning Show, smiling that perfect smile she wore in all her interviews.
"So Joan, you seem to have it all," the host was saying. "Platinum albums, sold-out shows, millions of fans. What's next for you?"
"I'm just grateful for everything," Joan replied. "My fans mean the world to me, and I never take any of this for granted."
The words sounded right, but something was wrong with her voice. It was too careful, too planned. Like she was reading from a script instead of speaking from her heart.
But what really scared me were her eyes.
Joan's eyes had always been her tell. When we were kids, I could look at her eyes and know exactly what she was thinking. Happy, sad, excited, scared - it was all right there.
Right now, her eyes looked tired. And scared.
"You look like you're living the dream," the reporter continued. "Any advice for young artists trying to follow in your footsteps?"
"Work hard, stay true to yourself, and never give up," Joan said immediately.
Stay true to yourself. The irony made my chest hurt. The Joan I knew had always been honest to a fault. She couldn't lie to save her life. But the person on TV seemed like she was lying about everything, even to herself.
The interview finished and switched to a commercial. I turned off the TV and tried to focus on the broken engine in front of me, but I couldn't stop thinking about what I had seen.
Joan was in trouble. I could feel it in my bones.
My phone sat on the workbench, teasing me. I had Joan's old number saved in my contacts, but it probably didn't work anymore. Famous people changed their numbers all the time to avoid crazy fans.
Even if it did work, what would I say? "Hey Joan, I saw you on TV and you looked sad?" She would think I was just another crazed fan from her past.
But I couldn't shake the feeling that she needed help.
I picked up my phone three times and put it back down three times. The fourth time, I actually started calling her number before chickening out and hanging up.
"You're being ridiculous, Ryan," I told myself. "She's a superstar. She doesn't need you anymore."
But then I remembered something from high school. Joan had been sick with the flu for a week, and everyone thought she was fine because she kept saying she was okay. But I noticed she wasn't eating lunch and kept falling asleep in class. I brought her soup every day until she finally admitted she had been too weak to make food for herself.
Joan never asked for help, even when she badly needed it.
My phone rang, making me jump. Unknown number.
"Hello?"
"Is this Ryan Knight?" The voice was deep and masked, like someone was using a voice changer.
"Who wants to know?"
"Someone who knows you care about Joan Robert. Someone who knows you've been watching her interviews and worrying about her."
My blood went cold. "How do you know that?"
"I know a lot of things, Ryan. I know you two were best friends in high school. I know she broke your heart when she left town. I know you still love her."
I looked around my garage anxiously. Was someone watching me right now?
"What do you want?" I managed to ask.
"I want to give you some helpful advice. Stay away from Joan. Don't call her, don't text her, don't try to help her. Bad things happen to people who get too close to Joan Robert."
"Are you threatening me?"
"I'm trying to save your life. Joan's world is about to come crashing down, and anyone standing next to her is going to get crushed too."
The line went dead.
I stared at my phone with shaking hands. Someone knew about my feelings for Joan. Someone had been watching me, maybe for weeks or months. And they were telling me to stay away from her.
Which meant she really was in danger.
I tried to call the number back, but it went straight to a disconnected message. Whoever had called me was using a mobile phone.
My mind was running. Should I call the police? But what would I tell them? Someone called me and told me to stay away from a famous person? They would think I was the crazy stalker.
Should I ignore the warning and try to call Joan anyway? But what if this person was serious about bad things happening to people who got close to her?
I was still standing there trying to decide what to do when my phone buzzed with a text message from the same unknown number.
"Don't believe me? Check the news in exactly one hour. See what happens to people who trust Joan Robert. Then ask yourself if you really want to be her friend."
One hour. I looked at the clock on the wall. 2:17 PM. At 3:17, something was going to happen that would prove this person's point.
Something bad.
I tried to go back to work, but I couldn't focus on anything except that clock. The minutes crawled by like hours. 2:30. 2:45. 3:00.
At 3:15, I turned the TV back on and flipped through news stations.
At exactly 3:17, my phone started buzzing with messages.
Text after text from friends and family: "Ryan, are you seeing this?" "Is this the Joan you know?" "Oh my God, Ryan, look at the news!"
I turned up the TV volume and felt my world fall apart.
"Breaking news," the reporter said. "A shocking video has emerged showing beloved pop star Joan Robert allegedly bullying a young aspiring singer. The video, which appears to be from a recent industry event, shows Robert making cruel comments to 19-year-old Tiana Reed..."
The video started playing. Joan was standing next to a young girl with dark hair, and she was saying terrible things. Mean, cruel things that made the girl start crying.
But something was wrong with the video. Joan's lips didn't quite match the words. The audio sounded strange, like it had been taped separately.
This wasn't real. Someone had faked this.
My phone rang again. Same mystery number.
"Did you watch the news, Ryan?"
"That video is fake," I said instantly.
"Maybe. But do you think anyone else will figure that out? Look at social media. Look at what people are saying about your lovely Joan now."
I opened my notebook and checked Twitter. #JoanRobertIsABully was popular. People were sharing the video and calling Joan terrible names. Her friends were turning against her in real time.
"Someone made this video to hurt her," I said.
"Smart boy. But here's the thing - this is just the beginning. Much worse things are coming for Joan Robert. And anyone who tries to help her will become a target too."
"I don't care. Joan needs someone in her corner right now."
"Then you're dumber than I thought. But don't say I didn't warn you."
The line went dead again.
I looked back at the TV, where they were now playing Joan's old conversations and analyzing every word for signs of her "true personality." Her perfect life was being destroyed in real time by a lie.
But someone had arranged this. Someone powerful enough to make fake videos and get them on national news within hours.
Joan was under attack by forces she probably didn't even understand.
And if I tried to help her, I would be next.
But as I watched her face on the screen - the same face I had loved since I was five years old - I knew I didn't have a choice.
Joan was in trouble, and I was the only one who thought she was innocent.
Even if it ruined me too, I had to try to save her.
The question was: how do you fight an enemy you can't see?