Amelie. He'd been terrified that the kiss would be bad, or worse, that by kissing him she'd
somehow know exactly how badly he'd crushed on her when they'd first met.
The weird thing was, the kiss had been great. Like every fiber of his being had met its match in
Amelie's being. And he could tell by the way Amelie couldn't quite look at him directly that she
wasn't thrilled to see him ditching their session for another girl. But he couldn't imagine that
she'd felt what he had felt when they kissed. She was a professional--she was probably just
getting wrapped up in the energy of the scene. Plus, Kady was his girlfriend, on-and offcamera. Kissing her meant something way bigger. Right?
"Yeah, definitely," Jake finally said.
"You're welcome to come," Kady said charitably.
Amelie felt even worse. Jake was acting like their kiss was no more of an event than splitting a
craft services cupcake. And Kady was treating her like an unfortunate who needed a little TLC.
"No, thanks, I'm really tired, actually," she said. Really tired of not living in the real world.
Maybe all those years in Fairy Princess's Enchanted Forest had gotten to her. She'd created an
elaborate fantasy version of Hunter as the perfect guy who would one day fall in love with her.
And now she'd believed Jake would fall head over heels after one kiss. A scripted kiss, no
less.
Kady rapped Amelie on the arm. "Maybe someday you'll hang with me," she teased, guiding
Jake out the door to their waiting car. For once, Amelie didn't care about being left alone. She
had all her delusions to keep her company.
BABY'S GOT A BRAND NEW D-BAG
"So, should we do Nobu or Katsuya?" Kady's glimmering blue eyes looked up at Jake
expectantly, waiting for him to make a decision.
"Nobu, definitely," Jake said, having no idea what cuisine was in store for him, but not caring.
He was an actor. Going to dinner with his girlfriend. Who was also a star. Who used the word
we. And who was too cool to be jealous over the fact he'd had to kiss another costar.
His mind did keep wandering over to the kiss with Amelie. But it was only nostalgia--his crush
now seemed far in the past. Anyway, if they'd gotten together, the dynamic would have always
been off. He'd always be the tutor and she the starlet. Now he and Kady were equals.
"That's what I was hoping you'd say," she cooed, standing on her tiptoes to kiss him right
under his lips. Jake liked that they had a "thing"; Kady was tiny compared to him, but her chin
kisses meant she was ready for the real deal. He leaned down and kissed her, still feeling the
delightfully unfamiliar thrill of kissing a girl on school grounds. Jake never had expected to
kiss a girl within a ten-mile radius of BHH, because no girl would want to be seen kissing PG.
Since his paparazzi photo had emerged in the weeklies, though, Jake couldn't help but enjoy the
new sets of female eyes sizing him up with interest.
A blaring car horn yanked Jake and Kady apart as a gleaming black Escalade pulled up next to
them. It was a massive ESV with an evidently high-quality stereo--the Death Star theme was
radiating out to the curb through the tinted glass windows.
The car clicked off, the door opened and Miles jumped out, practically vibrating with
excitement. He stumbled slightly at the curb. With his huge Scott Pilgrim T-shirt and short,
unevenly cut black hair, he looked like a little kid getting off a nausea-inducing amusement park
ride. He tossed Jake a weighty Cadillac key chain.
"Dude, did I get it right or what?" He pointed backward at the car. "I texted you but didn't hear
back, so I just said, 'This is Jake's ride.' I signed the papers ten minutes ago. It's so easy to get a
car when you've got fat cash."
Jake nodded coolly, as embarrassed of Miles as he would be of his mom showing up to bring
him clean underwear.
"This is yours?" Kady strode down the length of the vehicle and in through the passenger door.
She opened the driver's side door and leaned out, her hand petting the dashboard. "Sweet ride.
We should go. Is Miles coming?"
She gestured to Miles, whose smile had faded slightly at Jake's lack of enthusiasm.
"Hey, we've got a date," Jake said, already climbing into the driver's side. "I'm sure Miles has
manager stuff he wants to take care of. He's a busy dude." He shot Miles a look and winked.
Jake shrugged and started the car. He quickly spun the wheel on the iPod from the Star Wars
sound track to a Hot Chip album. He shut the door, pulling away from the curb toward Nobu,
and his new and improved life. If he'd looked back at Miles, he'd have seen his friend
dumbstruck on the curb, stranded at school without a ride.
But Jake was a star now, so he didn't give it another thought.
Friday night, Jake dabbed some eye cream Kady had given him on his lower lids. He was tired
after last night's Nobu date and a Sony promotional party at Citizen Smith. Even in his fatigued
state, he felt like a new man. As he'd rolled up to the club in his Escalade, people had stared.
He'd signed a few autographs and then been whisked to a private table. All summer, he'd
dreamed of being a whole new Jake. And now he'd become that guy, and he was better than the
version of himself he'd imagined.
Tired or not, Jake had to go out tonight. He was heading to the first party he'd been properly
invited to in his whole high school career. Better yet, it was in his honor: All of BHH had been
invited to a Class Angel wrap party at the Transnational lot.
"Jacob, come down for dinner before you go," Gigi hollered up the stairs. "I feel like we
haven't seen you in weeks."
Jake rolled his now-depuffed eyes. It wasn't like he was partying that hard. The other night,
he'd crept in past two after the Wiltern show. His mom had been sitting on the couch in her
pajamas, staring at the door. Her hair was all messy, and she'd breathed a sigh of relief when he
came in. He'd been so annoyed to see her sitting there, waiting to guilt-trip him--guilt was more
her style than grounding. But couldn't she see his life was changing for the better? Instead of
hanging out with Miles in his room, wishing they had something to do, he'd been out for a
change. And with a girl. His girlfriend. Who happened to like nightlife. His mom should be
proud, or at least understanding. Jake took the stairs slowly, estimating he could spend twentytwo minutes with his family before he absolutely had to leave.
His mom had gotten all his favorites from Tuk Tuk Thai--beef pad see ew, spicy basil-fried
rice, and a few curries. He sat down at the table in a huff, not taking anything.
His brother, Brendan, shook his head annoyingly. "Dude, you got your period?"
Jonathan, Jake's rabbi dad, gave Brendan his shut the hell up look. "Bren, you haven't seen
your brother all week. Let's have a little peace." Jake already felt ready to get out of there. The
kitchen felt so small. And he'd wasted sixteen years of his life eating here every night, when
there was a whole world outside his door where you didn't have to tell your old, uncool parents
how your day had been, or eat the same food from the same neighborhood Thai restaurant all
the time.
Brendan shoved a spring roll into his mouth. "Just making conversation." It was the same
response he gave every time Jonathan scolded him for
insulting Jake. Jake rolled his eyes.
Gigi powered down her cell and stuck it in the no-calls-during-dinner bowl. She surveyed its
contents and saw Jake's wasn't there. "Jake, phone in the bowl."
Jake shook his head. "Can't. I might get a call about tonight." Most of all, he wanted to keep his
eye on the clock.
Gigi sighed heavily, sitting down to her plate of chicken lemongrass salad. "Fine, but if you do,
step away from the table."
"I'd rather step away from the table now. I'm still not sure about this blazer," Jake said, petting
the lapels of a Diesel jacket he'd bought with Kady. With her constant energy, Kady would be
even more bored than Jake at the idea of sitting down for a family dinner. Her parents still lived
in Connecticut, and Kady rented a suite at the Chateau Marmont.
Gigi and Jonathan exchanged a what has come over him? look, but let it pass. "You look
handsome." Gigi reached out to ruffle Jake's hair, but he dodged her hand. Brendan laughed
through a huge mouthful of curry.
"Handsome is for old guys," Jake protested. "I want to look hot."
"When you find the bassackwards place that calls you hot, send me a plane ticket," Brendan
said. Gigi slapped his wrist. Jake, who usually shot Brendan dirty looks for his remarks, just
poked at the plate his mom put in front of him. Arguing with your little brother was immature.
He was past that.
"You're just nervous," Gigi said. "It's a big night for you. It's going to be awfully hard when
the real world rears its ugly head again. I bet you've got loads of homework to do over the
weekend." She affectionately tickled his elbow. Jake flinched away from her in irritation.
"Oh my God, Mom," Jake said. "I've been to events before." Since their first official date at the
Polaroid House in Malibu, Jake and Kady had been seen at every new club to open in
Hollywood. Anything older than six months was already over, Kady had told him. Before the
movie, he'd barely realized so many clubs existed.
"Of course you're edgy," Jonathan piped up, patting Jake's shoulder. "Why else would you not
be eating? It probably doesn't help that you've been staying out way past curfew. I know we
gave you some leeway with the movie, but let's shoot for a reasonable hour tonight."
Jake shot a look of scorn around the room. "First, you seriously think I'm going to bloat myself
on Thai takeout before getting my photo taken all night? And second, the party is for me. I can't
leave just as it's getting started."
Gigi shoved her chair back violently from the table, grabbing one of the dumplings that were a
no-no on her chicken-veggie diet. She bit into it, chewed, and swallowed angrily. Spying the
keys to Jake's Escalade on the counter, she picked them up. "Are these the keys to that earthdestroying truck of yours? The one you're going to return first thing tomorrow?"
"It's called an Escalade," Jake said. "Don't insult it. And it's staying."
Gigi flipped the keys around on her finger. "You know what, Jacob? We have a word for
people like you in this business." She leveled him with one of her scary stares, but Jake felt
impenetrable. "Douche. Bag."
"Go, Mom," Brendan said, lifting a spring roll victoriously. "She just called you a douche bag,
Jake!!"
"That's two words, Mom," Jake said, ignoring Brendan. He stood up, towering over his mom.
He reached for his keys, which were looped around Gigi's index finger. "What can you do?
Ground me? I have my own earth-destroying truck. Oh, wait, it's a Cadillac."
Gigi opened the oven, which made a creaking sound from lack of use. She tossed the Escalade
keys inside and then slammed the stove shut. She leaned against it. "Not tonight, you don't. Go
to your room."
Jake glared at her, his whole body trembling at the idea of missing the wrap party. "Fine," he
said, storming up the stairs. There was no way he'd accept his punishment. He shouldn't have
to suffer because his parents didn't understand his new life. For two people who claimed they
wanted him to be happy, they sure weren't acting like it.
By the time he'd reached the top step, a plan had come to him. He still had his Corolla. It was
no Escalade, but it would do.
He walked into his room, locked the door, and shoved a long box of comics against it. He
could use his student ID to jimmy the lock when he got home, or he could always crash at
Miles's. He arranged his pillows in a Jake-like shape under his comforter and eyed the
window. He had no trees to aid his escape, and he didn't have time to tie a bunch of bedsheets
together. It was only a twelve-foot drop, though. And if he climbed out and held on to the
windowsill backward, it would only be a six-foot jump. Easy. He'd learned a lot from his Class
Angel athletic and stunt work.
He opened the window, his jacket shoved into a pillowcase so it wouldn't get ruined. Pocketing
the Corolla keys and clutching the pillowcase between his teeth, he backed out the window,
gripping the sill, and extended his body down. He glanced at the ground and let go.
He landed perfectly on the balls of his feet. He crept around the house in the direction opposite
the kitchen window, to his car, thankfully parked along the curb down the street--something
he'd done to make room for the Escalade, which he now looked at wistfully. If only he could
have pulled up in that car.
He slid into the Corolla's driver's seat, started it, and pulled away. So he had to drive the
Corolla. He'd committed his first real act of teenage rebellion. And even a hand-me-down
Toyota started to look hot when it had a driver like him.
GIRLS GONE AWRY
"Is that him, there? No, it's just Ed Westwick," Amelie said disappointedly.
The party was almost two hours in, and so far, Grant was a no-show. Looping a strand of red
hair nervously around her finger, Amelie scanned the crowd gathered under the cast and crew
tent, an open-air canopy with a ceiling of white mesh fabric and lined with golden twinkle
lights. Not that she cared what Grant did, but Amelie could feel her already-tenuous grip on her
BHH friends slipping. Talia's eyes darted back and forth like those on one of those cat clocks
with the swinging tail. Billie tapped her gold Moschino crisscross sandal against the pavement.
And Fortune made no effort at covertness as she checked the time on her BlackBerry Curve.
Grant had never shown up at last night's soup kitchen event, even though he'd been listed as a
potential guest on the press materials. The girls had not been pleased at four hours of
community service--dressed in skimpy white angel gear, no less--without Grant there as a
reward, and seemed to think it was all Amelie's fault.
Tonight, they'd come to the Class Angel wrap party with her, probably figuring that Grant
would have to show up here and have to hang with the Class Angel people at least a little while.
So far, they'd figured wrong.
Amelie searched the crowd in vain for Grant. "Isn't that Parker Pinelli, talking to Ed?"
The girls' eyes collectively shifted to follow Amelie's gaze. Parker, a recent BHH grad who'd
gone on to land a bunch of big Hollywood roles, was a cross between James Franco and James
Dean. He looked handsome tonight in a pair of jeans and a black blazer--classic L.A. male
style. Talia smiled sympathetically, as if Amelie was a sad loser for thinking Parker co
uld
possibly substitute for Grant. "So Amelie, you're not coming to BHH?" Clearly apathetic about
the answer, Talia plucked the maraschino cherry from her Seventh Heaven cocktail--Bombay
Sapphire, grapefruit juice, and a sprig of mint--and popped it in her mouth.
"No, it doesn't sound like it," Amelie said sadly, toying with the ribbon trim along the neckline
of her sleek, short black organza shift dress. "I'll probably be doing more Fairy Princess
episodes, and I heard there might be a Class Angel sequel."
"At BHH?"
"With Grant?"
Billie and Fortune's necks seemed to lengthen with their excited questions.
"I don't know." Amelie shrugged, feeling more and more alone even as the tent grew more
crowded. She'd known that her BHH friends' interest had been about Grant at first, but she'd
really thought they'd started to like her. She'd hoped to stay friends after she returned to life as a
sheltered, tutored teen star. But between last night's soup kitchen fiasco and this party, the
chances of that were fading as fast as Tom Cruise's chance for an Oscar.
Amelie glanced around the tent again, praying for a Grant sighting. Instead, she saw Kady and
Jake holding hands, getting their picture taken beneath a giant halo made of gold foil-wrapped
Godiva chocolates. She quickly looked away, wishing she could be anywhere but here.
"What do you say we ditch this party? Maybe order takeout at my house?" Amelie asked
hopefully. A big girly sleepover was exactly what she needed right now. "I got a screener of
the new Keira Knightly movie."
"Oh, that sounds fun," Fortune said distractedly. She was staring off at something outside the
tent, and Amelie followed her gaze. Myla Everhart, in a sleek green dress, pranced into a tent
offering Spa 415 treatments and mani-pedis. Talia and Billie turned to look too. They eyed
Barbar's daughter hopefully--like she was the cupcake they could have if they cleared their
plates of brussels sprouts.
And Amelie was the brussels sprouts.
"The three of us just really need to go talk to Myla about something, and then we'll be right
back. 'Kay?"
Amelie didn't bother responding, and didn't even have time to. The girls zipped from the tent,
making a beeline for Myla.
Even Amelie's trusty delusions couldn't trick her into believing they'd be back.