problems, but after bitching to Willa about Myla for her first week here, she knew Willa didn't
have the highest opinion of her stepsister. Besides, saying she needed to support Myla at a big
BHH beach party didn't sound like such a dire situation.
"Oh no! You can't get out of it?" Willa asked, sounding downcast.
"I really can't, Will," Jojo replied, wishing Willa didn't have to make her feel guilty about it.
"Don't worry, there'll be other invitationals." As she said it, Jojo realized that Sacramento could
wait for her. But a party in Malibu, that Myla actually wanted her to attend? That wouldn't
happen every day. Who knew--next week, she could be back on the shit list with the rest of
Myla's clique.
"Yeah, next year," Willa mumbled. Jojo bristled with irritation. She'd been away from
Sacramento for less than a month. Were they really that desperate without her?
"Look, I have to go," Jojo said, not wanting to keep Myla waiting. "We'll make plans for some
other time."
Jojo hung up as Willa mumbled her passive-aggressive agreement. She had a wax appointment
to get to, and she knew that after that, Willa's needy guilt-tripping would no longer be the most
painful part of her day.
ICING ON THE KAKE
Amelie sat outside BHH, on a bench near the front doors, waiting for her mom to pick her up
after a long day of shooting. It was almost ten o'clock, and the grounds were dark and silent. A
cool October wind blew beneath Amelie's hair, the crisp air sending a shiver down her spine. A
lone light shone down overhead, casting a soft glow on the pavement.
Amelie was tired. Shooting had been long, and mostly painful. They were well into their
second week of filming. The end of it, really. It was Thursday, and things were getting hurried
so they could wrap next Friday. But that wasn't causing the strain. Amelie had dealt with tight
shoots, and the rippling tension that came with them, many times before. Fairy Princess was
always hectic, whether they were waiting on product-placement notes from a last-minute
sponsor or altering one of the unicorn's horns because standards and practices deemed the first
one "too phallic." But on Fairy Princess, she never had to watch two of her costars sneak
kisses between takes.
Almost overnight, Jake and Kady had gone from flirty costars to "Kake," a tabloid-sanctioned
new Hollywood couple. Their on-set PDA would have been annoying for any costar. But since
her crush on Jake had dawned on Amelie as if the sun itself had smacked her across the face,
every smile he shot in Kady's direction was agony.
"Hey, Amelie." Jake's voice shook Amelie out of her daze, and she turned to see him
approaching. He was alone, thankfully.
"Hi, Jake." She smiled at Jake's now-familiar face. How had she not noticed how cute he was
before, back when he was just her tutor? The green flecks in his hazel eyes were apparent even
in the low light, and his smile moved easily over his face. Several errant curls poked cutely out
from under his Class Angel baseball cap. "I thought you'd have left by now."
Jake shrugged, sitting down next to her. "Waiting on Kady," he said, like they'd been going out
forever.
"Oh, that's nice," Amelie lied. "Are you giving her a ride home?" She remembered riding in
Jake's Corolla on the way to Lewis's party. If only she hadn't been so obsessed with Hunter at
the time, maybe she would be the one heading home with Jake tonight. Not that she'd have kept
him waiting, like some chauffeur.
"I think she called us a car," Jake said, smirking as if he couldn't believe his luck. He peered
down at his cell phone, clutched in his hand. "But my assistant, I mean friend, Miles, is
supposed to be tracking down an Escalade for me. I can't wait."
"That's cool," Amelie said, even though she found it impossible to picture Jake plowing down
the freeway in one of those obnoxious trucks. His Corolla wasn't exactly cool, but there had to
be a car more suited to Jake. Something attractive but unassuming. Like him.
"We're going to some place called the Kress. Have you ever been?" Jake asked earnestly. He
was probably the only person on earth who hadn't seen her first and only nightclub experience
detailed on TMZ.
Amelie shook her head. "No. That's a club, right?" She felt like the kid still stuck on a tricycle
as her friends zipped away on two-wheelers.
Jake chuckled nervously, zipping his hoodie against the quickening wind. "You'd know better
than me," he said. "Up till now, the coolest place I've been is the masquerade at Comic Con.
But don't tell Kady that."
Amelie nodded, liking knowing something Kady didn't. Then again, maybe she shouldn't be
happy he was telling her secrets he thought were too dorky to share with his girlfriend. He
doesn't care about impressing me, Amelie thought sadly.
Jake blushed. "I can't believe I just told you that," he said, shaking his head. "This is almost as
bad as when you thought I was stalking you." The color in his face grew deeper as he
recollected the tutoring session where he'd blurted out all of Amelie's favorite things.
"I won't tell," she said, giving Jake the best smile she could manage.
Jake studied her for a second, his hazel eyes locking on her aquamarine ones. "Is everything
okay?" He patted her arm a little awkwardly. The gesture sent her heart springing from her
chest, and she fought the urge to nestle her head on Jake's shoulder.
If she'd been some other version of herself, she might tell him the truth: That she hated that he'd
hooked up with Kady. That she thought Kady was all wrong for him, and that she was all
right. That she regretted not seeing him, from the start, for who he really was--the funny, smart,
kind guy she never knew she needed--because she was so caught up in her childlike Hunter
fantasies.
She knew she'd never say those things, though. Because she never told anyone what she was
really feeling. With Jake, though, she felt comfortable enough to reveal the other thing that was
on her mind.
"It's all this," she said, spreading her arms wide as if she could hold up BHH. "Shooting here
has shown me... I don't know. What I'm missing out on, I guess." During what was supposed
to have been her lunch break today, Talia, Billie, and Fortune had invited her to go off-campus
for mani-pedis. It had been an especially tempting offer, since she'd wanted to get away from
Kake all day, and, purse on shoulder, she'd been ready to go. But then Gary had needed
another take of the scene where Class Angel sat in on a high school English class, just to see
how real people lived. Yet another terrible example of art imitating life.
Jake pulled off his baseball cap, massaging his flattened curls back into place. He looked across
the lawn, watching headlights dance over the shadows as cars passed on Moreno.
"You think I'm crazy, don't you?" she said, embarrassed.
Turning to look at her, his eyes dark serious, Jake shook his head. "No, I get it," he said. A
smile crossed his face. "I guess I've spent so much time dreaming of the day I'll get out of this
place that I never thought about what I'd do if I didn't have it. Don't get me wrong, being in the
movie has been fun and all, but I don't think I'd want to look back and not have had the
experience of going to high school. It's on
e of those things you need, but for reasons beyond
what they tell you in the brochure."
"Do you really mean that?" Amelie asked. Hunter had literally laughed at her when she'd said
she wanted to go to a real school. And here Jake was, reading her mind.
Jake nodded. "Yeah," he said, sounding like he'd surprised even himself with his answer.
"Really. As much as BHH has beaten me up over the years, and I mean beaten up literally..."
He laughed, the sound emanating from deep inside him. As it filled the air between them,
Amelie found herself laughing too, her eyes closed and her body soaking up the warm feeling
of being really, truly understood.
"Hey, guys. I hope you weren't talking about me." Kady threw herself down on the bench,
halfway on Jake's lap. She grinned hello at Amelie, then leaned back into Jake and cooed,
"Sorry I kept you waiting." She planted a huge kiss on his mouth. Amelie's heart dove, lodging
itself firmly in the pit of her stomach.
Just as Kady ran her Russian Navy nails through Jake's curls, Amelie saw her mom's Jaguar
pull up in front of the school.
Amelie jumped from the bench. "Have fun tonight, guys," she said, speed-walking down the
main path to her mom's idling car before Kake even had the chance to say goodbye.
As they started to drive, Amelie could see that her mom was tired. Helen's short, alwaysperfect red bob was mussed in some places, flyaway hairs gleaming every time they passed
beneath one of the light posts lining the 405 freeway. With every lane change, she sipped from
her venti espresso. The fact she was having caffeine after 4 p.m. was a dead giveaway.
"Did you have a good day, Am?" she asked, touching beneath her eyes, as if the dark circles
might sprout into something grotesque.
Amelie nodded, looking out the window at cars whizzing by. For a week now, she'd been
itching to hear what her mom would think of sending her to BHH. She hadn't had an opening,
though. Some nights, it was hard to get Helen to go from momager to just Mom.
"I have to say, I'm having the worst time getting the Kidz Network people to schedule your
Christmas special so you can still do the voice-over for that Pixar short. It's like they're jealous
of you working with other companies."
Amelie leaned back in her leather seat, watching as the Getty Center came up ahead of them.
She realized there would never be a perfect moment for her to say, "Hey, Mom, I want to go to
high school." But after her conversation with Jake, she felt invigorated. She had to just do it.
"Maybe I don't have to do both," Amelie offered, testing the water. "I mean, Pixar is due for a
bomb. And maybe there's something else I could be doing."
Helen's eyes flicked sideways, one perfectly arched eyebrow raised with interest. "Did you
hear about something on set today? Are they still talking about a sequel? Because I don't know
if you should do another teen movie right away."
"Not exactly," she said, a little hurt that her mom's mind always jumped to business. "Shooting
at BHH made me realize something."
"Oh, really? And what's that?" Helen caught Amelie's eye in the rearview mirror.
"That I think that I should go to high school. To BHH."
Helen was silent for a moment, her eyes focused on the road. Her face was unreadable as she
said, "And why do you want to go to high school?"
Because I could have friends, and live a normal life. And maybe even have a boyfriend, if Jake
and Kady ever break up, Amelie thought. "I just think it's important," she answered, trying to
paraphrase Jake's words. "I don't want to look back one day and not have had that experience."
Helen shook her head, her fingers kneading the skin beneath her eye. "So what you're telling
me is that, all over the world, other girls want to be like you, but you want to be like them?"
Amelie knew the question was rhetorical, and there was no point in answering, but she nodded
anyway. "Yeah," she said, a note of pleading in her voice. "Even for a little while, just to see
how it goes."
Helen reached for her coffee and gulped down a long sip, as if the cup contained a rebelliousdaughter elixir. "Honey, I wish it was so simple," she said, patting Amelie's knee. "But you
live in a different world, and you're doing great in that world. You should be proud of what
you have. Do you understand?"
Amelie felt so crestfallen that she was almost drinking her tears as she held them back. She
rolled down her window. The air, now turned cold, coursed over her face in angry waves, like
the whole world had officially turned against her.
Ahead of them, a driver flicked the still-orange tip of a cigarette out his window. As the butt hit
the asphalt, hundreds of glowing embers exploded against the black and then died out.
To Amelie, it looked like the detritus of her now-extinguished hope.
WHY DON'T YOU WINE ABOUT IT?
"I'm here to pick up Daisy Morton," Ash said to the bored-looking receptionist at the front
desk of the Beverly Hills Police Department. With its white pillars, columns, and floors so
shiny your shoes squeaked, it looked like the White House's West Coast cousin.
Gordon had called in the middle of Ash and Tucker's band practice--really an excuse to eat and
talk about girls--and told him he needed him, Daisy had been arrested and to pick her up at the
BHPD. Ash thought jail was the perfect place for his charge, but said nothing to Gordon, who
The woman pressed a button and directed Ash inside. In a small, glass-windowed room Daisy
was pacing back and forth like a caged beast, soaked head to toe in something red. Holy shit-was that dried blood? Had she finally snapped and killed someone?
A grim-faced officer with a head too long for his squat body stepped into the corridor. "You
responsible for this one?" He gestured to Daisy, who was giving him the finger though the
glass.
"I guess," Ash said.
"Bail's been posted already, by Gordon Gilmour." The officer held out a clipboard. "Sign here
and here, and I'll let you take her home."
"What did she do?" Ash asked, afraid to hear the answer. "Is that... blood?"
"Charles Shaw, from Trader Joe's," the cop said, suppressing a laugh. Seeing Ash's puzzled
face, he clarified. "It's two-dollar wine, son. People call it Two-Buck Chuck. She was in line,
had no ID, and when they wouldn't let her buy it without proof of age, she started smashing
bottles into a case of frozen shrimp. No injuries, fortunately, but the store is pressing charges."
Ash sighed, glad her crime wasn't serious but still dreading alone time with Crazy Daisy. The
cop nodded, saying, "I'm gonna get a few more guys. I'm not going in there alone."
Great, Ash thought, watching as Daisy pressed her face against the glass like a blowfish.
Four cops emerged from a back room and somberly entered the holding cell.
"Well, if it isn't the fuckety fucks of Fuckville," Daisy screeched. "You need four of you big,
strapping babies for little ol' me? You touch me in one wrong place, and I'll go all Catholic
Church sex scandal on your out-of-shape asses."
Ash couldn't help chuckling at the horrified faces of four of Beverly Hills' finest. They gingerly
took each of Daisy's arms, two to a side, and she dragged her feet along the tile floor, the cops
practically lifting her
off the ground.
Seeing Ash, she sprang back onto her feet, shook off the cops, and bounced over to him, like a
girl chasing a butterfly. Her rainbow tutu fluttered with each skipping step. "Hi, you," she said,
planting a wet kiss on his cheek. "Let's get the fuck out of this shithole. Toodles, wussyboys!"
They left the police station behind them, and Ash drove. But Daisy refused to get out of the car
when he pulled up to the W. "No, the photogs know I'm staying here and they got enough for
one night. See? I'm on TMZ already."
She reached over, taking Ash's iPhone from his pocket and pulling up the site. Crazy Daisy
Two-Buck Chucked, read the headline. Accompanying it was camera phone video of her
wailing like a banshee as she smashed individual bottles into a freezer drawer.
Ash glanced sideways at his passenger. She looked as bad as ever. Mascara dripped down
from her eyes in points, her hair a multicolored snarl, like something two Muppets would leave
behind after a battle to the death. Her T-shirt--which featured a gnome in the grass and read Sod
Off! --was so wine-soaked he could feel the fumes making their way up his nostrils. Where
could he take her? He didn't want to go back to Tucker's--Tucker's dad, the famous singer Dell
Pearl, had outfitted the garage so it was too professional, with its state-of-the-art recording
equipment and pristine lounge area. It was kind of embarrassing, actually, and for some reason
he couldn't tolerate the idea of Daisy seeing how sleek, how not rock 'n' roll their practice space
was. Besides, he wasn't confident she wouldn't destroy anything there. Unfortunately, he also
couldn't imagine another hotel letting Daisy check in. "Fine, we'll go to my house." He
resignedly pulled a U-turn and headed toward his neighborhood.
Daisy closed her eyes, leaning deeply into the bucket seat. "Sounds perfect."
Looking at her almost peaceful face, Ash wondered if he was like the lead in a horror movie-just naive enough to invite the killer inside.
Daisy was... cooperating. So far, she'd agreed to take a shower and change into some of
Tessa's old clothing. She'd even unhooked a menu for a new deli from the front door and
deposited it neatly on the kitchen counter. She was upstairs showering now, as Ash waited
fearfully downstairs. Would Daisy come out high and in full psycho mode again? He debated