sixteen-year-old best known for playing a girl who rode pink, winged ponies, and now she
was telling a group of male bigwigs how to do their jobs? She was playing dangerously close
to the edge with her first teen role. What if she not only lost Jake but also gambled away her
career?
Gary stared at her, almost like he knew why she was bringing this up. He offered her a
sympathetic, fatherly smile.
Devin finally spoke again, not looking at her. "Sanj, I don't know what to do with these kids."
Amelie felt like she'd just been caught shoplifting. After years of being voted Most
Professional and Most Likely to Succeed, she was about to be fired for the first time. She'd be
blacklisted and turn up twenty years from now as a celebrity judge on some reality show about
glamorous toddlers. Maybe she'd get to go to high school in the meantime. But if her mother
heard about this, it would definitely be military school.
"Is this a good idea?" Devin said. He was looking at Sanjay. Amelie knew Devin's type. When
he'd started in the business, he'd probably been an "idea man" like Sanjay, but now that he was
in his forties, he'd convinced himself he needed the insights of a young up-and-comer.
Sanjay rubbed the back of his neck coolly. He was enjoying this dramatic pause. His eyes
traveled from Gary to Devin to Amelie, drawing out the suspense, like one of them was about
to be awarded a top secret prize on a high-stakes game show.
"Personally, I think it's a fantastic idea," he finally said. "It could up our buzz with the twelveto-eighteen demo. It's so unexpected and so meta. We should just try it. If it doesn't work, we
cut it, and it's still a great bonus feature for the DVD. Great idea, Amelie."
Devin nodded, like this had been obvious to him the whole time. "Exactly," he said. "I'll have
the writers do a few more pages, and we'll messenger them over in a couple days. Okay,
Gary?"
Gary raised both eyebrows, a look indecipherable to Amelie. He could easily break this idea by
citing budget overruns, scheduling problems, or even saying that Jake and Kady's grand finale
kiss was perfect and shouldn't be messed with. Amelie caught his eye and knew she looked
desperate. "Of course, it won't take long to shoot," he said.
Amelie grinned. It would take just long enough.
SHOCKER ROOM
Jake stared at himself in the mirror above the locker room sinks. Of course the first break in
filming he'd had in a while came just in time for him to go to gym class. It was a cliché for a
geek to hate gym, but technically he didn't hate gym--he hated the people in gym. Rod
Stegerson in particular.
But, in Justin Klatch fashion, Jake had decided to change right out in the open. Justin wouldn't
be worried about noogies or swirlies or whatever torture method Rod had picked up in the
latest edition of Psychopath Weekly.
Jake headed toward the lockers, sitting on a bench that stretched across the dank locker room.
He pried his feet out of the vintage Sambas Kady had talked him into buying and was shoving
on his cross-training Nikes when a shadow fell over the bench. Jake looked up to see Rod
Stegerson, surrounded by his football goons, arms folded over their BHH gym shirts. Why
had he come to gym? It was totally unnecessary. Miles had cleared all Jake's absences with his
teachers. And yet, Jake, who'd won the Perfect Attendance award for two years running, still
harbored enough vestiges of geekdom that he insisted on making whatever classes he could.
He'd really have to work on breaking this habit when he got his next movie.
"Hey, Rod," Jake said as casually as he could. Maybe he could convince Rod to not give him a
black eye or anything else that would mess up what was left to shoot of Class Angel.
"Jake, my man." Rod slapped Jake's shoulder with his heavy palm.
"What's up?" Jake said skeptically. Had Rod learned some new tactic? Act friendly but carry a
big stick of pain?
"So, we've always been bros, right?"
Yeah, sure, Jake thought, if by bros you mean I felt a real bond every time every time you sent
my head into my locker door. "Yeah, we're cool," he said, standing up to grab his shirt out of
his locker. If he moved quickly enough, he could keep Rod's abuse to the verbal variety, at least
until they got out on the gym floor. "We're"--he paused as he contemplated the word--"bros."
"Cool. Bros," Rod said monosyllabically, his jock army nodding emphatically behind him.
"And I thought it was time to show you some respect. You landed Kady Parker, bro. It's only
fair I congratulate you."
Jake looked over Rod's shoulder, catching his own surprised face in the mirror.
"So, how'd you do it, dude?" Rod's main sidekick, Dave Brandt, asked, cocking his square
head. His neck was the width of Miles's torso.
"Kady?" Jake said, willing his voice not to squeak. Should he tell them that he had no idea, that
he'd seemingly become Kady Parker's boyfriend through sheer dumb luck? That he'd spent
nights pondering that same question?
What would Justin Klatch do?
He was a nice guy, but this was a locker room. And even Jake knew locker rooms were where
guys made themselves sound like bigger studs than they were, even if he'd never had the
opportunity. Imaginary Justin smiled cockily in Jake's head.
"She was all over me from day one," Jake began, liking the way it sounded. "Like, bam! I tried
to keep it professional, but she kept getting me alone."
Rod bobbed his head knowingly, like this sort of thing to him happened all the time. "And then
you just had to go with it, right?"
Jake grinned. If anyone had told him he'd be talking girls with Rod Stegerson a month ago,
he'd have asked what alternate universe they were living in. But alternate universes were for
dorks.
Jake pictured Kady's pixielike face in his mind. Okay, so she hadn't exactly backed him in a
corner and had her way with him, but she'd come close. "Well, I am a guy."
Rod clapped him again on the back. "No way, dude, you're the man!"
Rod's friends erupted in a chorus of "hell, yeahs," just as Jake's phone beeped, signaling an
incoming message.
Miles. He'd taken the day off school to hunt down the perfect Escalade. Wait till these jocks
saw Jake pull up to school in a gleaming black badass-mobile. Jake clicked to the photo
messages and pulled up four different pictures of fully loaded trucks in black, gunmetal, white,
and navy. There's gotta be a winner here, read Miles's message.
Rod peered down at the phone. "Is that your ride?"
"One of them," Jake said, surveying the vehicles. "Which do you think?"
Rod shook his head solemnly. "If you're gonna go Caddy, do it right. Get the ESV. It's bigger,
and the way you pull chicks, you'll want something that can fit all of them."
This sounded about right. He quickly pounded out a message to Miles. "Dude, show me the
ESV."
"Sweet," hollered Dave, high-fiving Jake. Jake high-fived back, then collected similar hand
slaps from Rod and the rest of the guys. It occurred to him that this was the first time Rod had
laid a hand on him in a nonviolent way.
It paid to be the man.
FIERY REDHEADS
Myla wove around the cafeteria's blond wood tables, past the organic-dessert vending machine.
Class Angel was starting t
o wrap its work at the school, and the cafeteria was finally reopened.
Myla was relieved to have it back. She loved the maintenance of the social order here: nerds in
the corners, Myla in the middle, everyone else fanned out around her. Besides, cafeteria time
meant catching up on gossip, something she and her girlfriends hadn't done in weeks. While
they'd been busy picnicking outside Grant's trailer with Amelie, or whatever the hell they'd
been doing, Myla had made off-campus lunch plans, but now it was time to reclaim her
territory.
Talia, Fortune, and Billie had texted her during history to say they had a surprise for her. She
was hoping that one of them had heard gossip about Ash kissing another girl. As bad as it
sounded, even in her head, Myla couldn't help but hope that Ash was taking her suggestion
seriously. She just needed some proof that he was willing to do anything to move forward. She
certainly was.
Myla grabbed a fro-yo parfait and a chicken avocado wrap from the Healthy Options window,
then carried her tray to the center table, a five-seater that was the most exclusive in the whole
room. For most of high school, she Talia, Billie, and Fortune had sat there every day, with one
empty chair reserved for Ash's drop-bys. Today Jojo had gone off campus for lunch with
Tucker, so it would be just the four of them, just like old times.
She moved past a table overflowing with band kids and saw Billie, Talia, and Fortune at their
table, with a redhead who had to be Amelie Adams. Maybe she hadn't been here in a few
weeks, but who would have the audacity to sit there without her express permission? BHH's
administration might have gone lax on some policies with the movie's arrival, but Myla hadn't.
As she got closer, Myla gaped in surprise. Her friends were all wearing filmy white dresses of
indeterminate designer origin. And Amelie Adams was sitting in her seat.
She counted to ten, staring at the swirl of pomegranate curving up her parfait cup. This is not
real. This is not real. This is not real. When she looked again, Amelie would be gone. And her
friends would not be dressed like members of a whorish cult.
But when she looked, the whore-or was still there.
Myla swished to the table, her baby blue Fendi stiletto sandals pounding out a dangerous
rhythm. She ignored Amelie, looking from friend to friend. "What's up with the outfits?" she
asked point-blank, mustering her best sour face.
"It's for Amelie," Talia said, tugging a fallen strap back up her tanned shoulder. "Like a tribute
thing. It was this or angel wings." She giggled, and so did Fortune and Billie. Amelie laughed
nervously, as if humbled--maybe even a little embarrassed--by the gesture.
Myla rolled her eyes. "Oh, how sweet of you," she said sarcastically. She was still standing
above the table, not really wanting to sit down until Amelie was gone, and noticed that people
were starting to stare. A gaggle of cheerleaders whispered to each other, and a table packed
with jocks looked over, their curiosity piqued by the strange scene: Myla Everhart giving up
her lunch chair to Amelie Adams, interloper. Even the band nerds collectively shifted their gaze
in her direction, not wanting to miss history being made. One of them was probably composing
an original orchestral piece inspired by the event.
Myla wasn't about to get in a catfight with her former besties. That kind of low-rent behavior
was fine for the Lohans and Hiltons of the world, but she was real Hollywood royalty.
Subterfuge and mind games worked so much better. She slid into the empty seat. Even out of
the corner of her eye, she could see that Amelie had one of those preternaturally perfect faces
that looked gorgeous from any angle. Her Caribbean blue eyes were clear and innocent, like
she hadn't just taken over another girl's lunch table, not to mention her social status and her
friends.
Myla smiled sweetly at Amelie. "So, Amelie, which of the girls do you think has the best shot
with Grant?" she asked. Really, she was asking, You know why they're hanging with you,
right? From Amelie's taken aback expression, Myla knew she'd understood her meaning
perfectly.
Talia shot an apologetic smile at Amelie, as if to say, Sorry Myla's being such a bitch.
Billie glared at Myla. "Why would you ask something like that?" she snapped. "Don't listen to
her, Am. She's just PMS-y."
Amelie said nothing. She simply returned Myla's sweet smile, as calm and unflappable as an
angel.
Myla tucked into her parfait, barely tasting the fresh-cut strawberries. She begrudgingly
awarded a point to the princess.
Jojo was trying her best to see what other girls saw in Tucker. They were sitting shoulder to
shoulder in one of Jacopo's red booths, sharing a pizza called the Don. The pie was cut into
squares, the crust thin and crispy, the sauce an ideal blend of tangy and sweet, and the cheese
warm and bubbly, just like at Sadie's, back home. It was perfect.
Tucker, on the other hand, was not. At least not for Jojo. Every time Jojo managed to turn the
conversation to something new, Tucker brought it right back to his favorite subject: surfing. He
knew more about Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton than their own mothers did.
"So, who do you have for English?" she asked, watching as Tucker served himself another
four squares of pizza. The second their order had arrived, he'd claimed all four triangle-shaped
corner pieces for himself. Jojo and Willa had a pact to always share those pieces, two and two.
"Uh," Tucker said through a mouthful of cheese. "Hot chick? Youngish? Miss Butterworth?"
"You mean Mrs. Ballman?" Jojo looked at Tucker skeptically. Could he really be so oblivious
that he didn't even learn teachers' names? Or worse, did he confuse all of their names with
mass-produced food brands? Mrs. Ballman, a thirtyish Megan Fox look-alike, was a favorite
among the male students. Tucker tossed his arm lazily across the back of the booth, his
fingertips tracing her shoulder blade. Smiling through gritted teeth, Jojo did her best to stay
still. His grabby hands only served to remind her that they were hanging out again tonight. Last
night's date had consisted of "movie night," except she'd only seen ten minutes of Lords of
Dogtown as she fought to keep Tucker's hand from traveling up her shirt. Tucker was growing
more irritating by the second, and she didn't think they'd be the new super couple much longer.
"Yeah," Tucker said, grinning appreciatively. "Who do you have?"
"Mr. Dietz," she said, wishing she could be in her honors English class right now. Mostly to
get away from Tucker. "Have you guys read Catcher in the Rye yet?" Every guy Jojo had ever
known had loved, or at least claimed to love, Catcher in the Rye. From Justin Klatch, whom
she'd seen reading a dog-eared copy on her summer stalking missions, to--she bet--Jake. She
didn't care if Tucker liked the book or not. She just thought she would scream if she had to
listen to him describe again the yearlong process behind the hand-carved surfboard he'd
ordered from an Australian surf company.
"Uh, I'm not really into baseball," Tucker said, slurping his Diet Coke noisily. "It's so slow and
boring."
Look who's talking, Jojo thought meanly. Out of ideas,
she reached for the last slice of pizza,
greedily biting into it. Giving her taste buds a little joy was the least she could do, since every
other part of her was suffering.
"Dude, you took the last slice," Tucker said flirtily, pulling her to him for a kiss. "You owe me
next time." Jojo clamped her lips tightly as she kissed him back. She really did need to speak to
Myla about breakup protocol.
She was starting to craft a lie about needing to meet Myla before lunch ended when her cell
buzzed with an incoming text. Willa's face popped up on the screen. Jojo scooted away from
Tucker so she could check the message in private.
Family function, yeah right. Thanks for missing the invitational. Beneath the text was a
forwarded TMZ article, accompanied by a photo of Jojo on the beach at Malibu, laughing with
Myla and the rest of the girls. Barbar's Daughters Spotted at Malibu Bash, read the headline.
Jojo tasted the acidic tomato sauce rise back up her throat, picturing Willa as she realized Jojo
had lied to her.
She clicked away from the text message, not looking Tucker in the eye. "'Sup?" he asked, in his
annoyingly casual way.
"I just want to go back now," Jojo said flatly. Back to school, or to her old way of life, she
wasn't sure.
Fifteen minutes later, Jojo marched into the cafeteria with Tucker, holding hands. Jojo kept her
grip limp.
Myla was sitting at her usual table, with Talia, Billie, and Fortune, who'd all dressed like slutty
angels. Jojo rolled her eyes when she saw why: Amelie Adams was sitting in Myla's seat.
Jojo led Tucker to the table. Every table turned to watch as they made their way past.
After the only awkward lunch period of her teenage life, Myla was relieved to see Jojo and
Tucker walk through the cafeteria's double doors. Her friends really seemed to like Amelie.
Maybe at first they'd just viewed her as an instrument to get closer to Grant, but their affection
actually seemed genuine. None of them had even asked Myla what was going on with Ash.
She really wanted to spill about telling him to kiss Crazy Daisy, to see if they thought she'd
gone completely nuts. But apparently, none of her friends cared what was happening in her life
anymore.
"Myla, did you hear me?" Talia, oblivious to Jojo's approach, cut into her thoughts. Myla