Sunset Boulevard Part 3

Miles shuffled over, adjusting one of the Spock ears he wore to get the store's Trekkie discount. "Dude, I hate to be the one to say this, but you look like you're breast-feeding Pikachu."

Of course he did. In his mirror at home, practicing with a real football, Jake's little brother, Brendan, had caught on to what he was doing and wasted no time mocking him.

Jake tossed the yellow plush toy back into its bin. He missed and shook his head dejectedly. He'd taken the part the other day before realizing that Tommy Archer was this awesome, popular jock. Jake's only experience with popular, awesome jocks was being on the receiving end of their popular and awesome torture tactics. Not that anyone on Cla.s.s Angel could ever find that out. Jake had spent a summer bulking up, in a bid to go from dud to stud. In some small part of his brain that wasn't anxiety-wracked, he was glad that his newly gained muscles, braceless teeth, and improved posture were fooling someone. Amelie, at tutoring, had given him constant rea.s.surance that he would do just fine. It didn't really help, though. A guy like Tommy Archer wouldn't be so naive as to fall for a megastar like Amelie and think he had a chance. Tommy Archer wouldn't have spent half his savings account on trendy, overpriced Kitson clothes. And he wouldn't have believed Amelie's invitation to Lewis Buford's Hollywood party was a date. At least Jake's new acting worries had helped him put Amelie out of his head. Still, she was going to be disappointed when shooting started in two days.

"Why so serious?" Miles cackled in a vocal hybrid of the Joker and Peter Brady. "You're not yourself, dude. Secret Invasion, first issue, variant!" Miles, who had the treasure gingerly pinched between his thumb and forefinger, practically shouted. The guys at the counter shot him dirty looks. "I'll let you have it, if it'll make you feel better."

"No, it's okay, dude." Jake sighed. He felt totally weak. Even though he had declared them verboten in his effort to be a whole new guy, Jake had ama.s.sed a foot-tall stack of fresh comic books in just a half hour at the store, and now he ran his fingers back and forth over the stapled spines, feeling a mixture of relief and disgust, like a dieter who'd just scarfed a plate of Pink's chili cheese fries.

Miles dropped the comic atop Jake's stack. Miles had been searching for the variant cover all summer, even sending Jake updates while he was away at camp. "I'm freaking out. Me, playing a jock?" Jake confessed. "My motor skills are pretty much confined to turning comic book pages with tweezers, not tossing a football." Jake continued for several more minutes, a stream-of-consciousness parade of worries.

Miles listened intently and, when Jake was done, scratched behind his Spock ears thoughtfully. "This isn't so bad. You just need to do a character study. Remember last year, when I was chosen for the part of Giles in that reenactment of the Buffy musical?" Jake winced at the memory. Last year, it hadn't even occurred to him how dorky it was for his friend to appear in a bad fanboy reproduction of the show. "I just went to the Beverly Hills library and studied that old English dude who works in the rare-books section. Totally worked."

Jake chuckled. Mr. Dornan, who was ancient and nothing like Giles, had caught Miles sitting in his wingback chair, wearing the tweed blazer he'd left behind when he got up to help a library patron, sticking his nose into a box of Mr. Dornan's Earl Grey tea. Miles had been banned from the library for six months. Miles nodded proudly, probably reminiscing about his big role. That was the thing with Miles: As stereotypically nerdy as he might be, he was okay with it. And frankly, that made Jake a little jealous.

"So, what's your point? I have to stalk someone?"

Miles removed his gla.s.ses and cleaned them with the hem of his s.h.i.+rt, and Jake could tell a plan was forming.

"No, no, no. Jake, it's simple. You find someone to model your character off of. At BHH. Hmm, who could you use? Ash Gilmour! He's your neighbor, right?"

Jake shook his head. Ash would probably be totally patient and obliging if Jake dropped by and asked to study him. But in the company of his former best friend, who'd gone from Jake's equally geeky best bud to the crown prince of BHH, Jake would feel like a ragged beggar. "Tommy's an all-American heartthrob guy. Ash could get any girl he wants, but he's more like a rock star. He doesn't even play any sports, just surfs and stuff."

Miles nodded, making his way to a set of chairs upholstered in a tapestry of cla.s.sic Superman comics. Jake followed, sitting down next to him. Having serious discussions in these very chairs was sort of a tradition for him and Miles, but their debates usually sounded more like the one going on at the counter, where the cas.h.i.+er and a customer were arguing over whether Hermione could take Sarah Connor in a fight.

"Okay, I got it," Miles said, snapping his fingers. "Lewis Buford. His dad was an athlete, and doesn't he play polo or something? Plus, he acts like he owns the school. And he's really popular. Like, he even makes Us Weekly."

Jake sighed. "No way. He's too Hollywood, and a total pretty boy. Tommy's supposed to be kind of normal and, like, not some guy who can get a different girl every night. Or maybe he could, but he wouldn't. And, he's modest. Lewis wears clothes with his own picture on them. He's the male Paris Hilton."

Miles sighed, leaning back in the chair and putting his feet up on the black table shaped like the Batman symbol. "Okay, you're not gonna like this, but he's perfect. Rod Stegerson. He letters in everything and went to state last year for basketball. And he's never had a girlfriend."

Jake almost threw up in his mouth at the thought of shadowing the meathead. "That guy is not Joe Normal. Or Tommy Archer. He's a psychopath. And the reason he hasn't had a girlfriend is that he terrifies people. He's like a bizarro version of Tommy. Rod is all darkness and fear, and Tommy is... good. Like the kind of guy who's even nice to guys like us, just because that's his style."

Jake had been thinking a lot about this-Tommy Archer was the guy he longed to be. It was what his summer makeover had been all about. But the thing was, the more Jake tried to be a cool guy, the farther he felt from the mark. It was like cool guys had mastered some secret philosophy, and Jake had bought the wrong textbook.

"So couldn't you just study Rod and do the opposite?" Miles asked.

"What, and get my head shoved in a toilet bowl and 'h.o.m.o' written on my locker? No. I'm done for. We go to the most not-normal school in the world. That's why they said they cast me. Because I'm so socially r.e.t.a.r.ded from a Beverly Hills perspective that I'm the closest thing we've got to a decent, popular jock. If we went to school in the burbs, I might be Captain Cool, like Tommy. But if he went to BHH, Tommy Archer as we know him would never survive."

Miles shrugged. "Well, can you visit a school in the burbs?"

Jake could feel his first smile in days take over his face. It was so obvious. He could almost see the solution spring from his head in a comic book thought bubble. "Miles," he said slowly, "I have a better idea."

Sitting across from Jojo at a cozy sidewalk table, Jake hoped Ingrid's French didn't seem too romantic. It was close to his house and school, and his parents came here on their dates, a thought that made him even more nervous. If his mom and dad showed up while he was out with Jojo, they'd introduce themselves and treat Jojo like she was the first girl Jake had ever gone on a date with. Which, okay, she kind of was. But this wasn't a date. This was business.

The restaurant was on Santa Monica Boulevard, tucked just far enough from the street to make you feel like you were in Paris, and not just under Century City's monolithic but architecturally insignificant office buildings. Through the brocade curtains, Jake could see several older couples dotting the tables inside the low-lit cafe.

"This place is nice," Jojo said, as Ingrid, a grand-motherly lady in a floral ap.r.o.n, set down a ham-and-cheese crepe in front of her, beaming at them. "Way better than cafeteria food."

Jake nodded. "Yeah, I haven't been here since my mom's birthday in April." He cut a corner off his turkey-and-spinach panini, relieved that Jojo was acting so casual. Jake had stopped by Jojo's locker during a break in filming, pretending to be checking it for more graffiti, and invited her to lunch off campus. Despite the cryptic invite, she'd accepted. She looked different, somehow, more confident. Jake attributed the change to the fact that she was wearing a thigh-length off-the-shoulder black sweater with white trim and black b.u.t.tons down the sleeves, atop a pair of white leggings and insanely high red open-toe heels. Missing was the hoodie that she'd been hiding beneath earlier in the week. Her hair, which usually spilled over her shoulders in a carefree way, was tied back in a sleek bun. Seeing the "new" Jojo, Jake had feared she'd blow him off. But not only had she accepted the invite, she'd told him his powder blue Corolla was "nice and cozy." Jake almost felt like he was getting away with something. Girls so glamorous weren't supposed to be down-to-earth, were they?

"That's cool that your family has a usual place. I used to go to Sadie's Pizza with my dads all the time. Did I tell you I have two dads? And Barbar, of course." Jojo felt like she was rambling, which was definitely against Myla's rules. Nerves, she told herself. Maybe her makeover would push her into princess territory with the rest of BHH. But Jake had known her when she was just Jojo, hopeless new girlslash-outsider. She didn't want him to think she was desperate to fit in. She was just doing what she had to do to survive.

"No, I don't think so. Where are they?" Jake leaned forward when he asked her, like he really cared about the answer, and Jojo wondered again why he'd asked her here. Not that she minded having a lunch plan that didn't involve quietly chewing a sandwich in the recesses of the BHH library. Jake was welcome company, especially since he looked so cute in his Tommy Archer clothes, a tightish navy T-s.h.i.+rt with Reavis Rams emblazoned across the chest.

"Sabbatical, in Greenland. Thank biological parents for small miracles. I mean, I thought growing up in Sacramento was boring. Me, tundra, and a town named Nuuk wouldn't exactly qualify for living the dream." And I wouldn't be having lunch outside with a cute guy, she thought, visions of the burly, fur-hatted Viking guys she and Willa had imagined muscling their way into her head.

Jake smiled, half-pondering why it had never occurred to him to invite Jojo to lunch before. Even though he'd convinced himself that Amelie was grounded and easy to talk to, he was truly comfortable around Jojo, not just lying to himself because he had a crush. He almost felt bad, knowing he'd invited her here with a goal in mind. And now he had his opening. "So, Sacramento. Was it really that different from living here?"

"Let's put it this way. Every car in the BHH student parking lot probably cost more than my dads' house. Except yours. In Sacramento, your car has, like, identical octuplets. Squared. No offense to your car." Before she'd ever ridden in it, Jojo had felt comforted by the sight of the Corolla, taking it as proof that someone at BHH wasn't completely obsessed with status. When Jake had led her to it today, everything clicked-of course Jake was the owner of the only normal car at BHH.

"Yeah, about Sacramento. I wanted to ask you about that guy, the popular one who you said would never survive here?" Jake hoped he didn't sound like an idiot. When Miles had suggested he visit a school in the suburbs, Jake had remembered what Jojo had said about Sacramento's BMOC. If a role model for Tommy Archer existed, it had to be that guy.

Jojo bit her lip, and a slight flush crept up her face. "Justin Klatch?" She sounded shy mentioning his name. Jake wondered if she'd had a thing for him. "Yeah, what about him?"

"Well, I'm trying to figure out my Cla.s.s Angel character by basing him on someone real. But BHH isn't exactly full of the kind of all-American, popular guys who everybody likes, you know? And Justin sounded like he... is that guy?" Jake trailed off, realizing how ridiculous that sounded. He wondered if George Clooney ever had to do this.

"Yeah, he definitely is," Jojo said, shyly toying with an orange slice at the edge of her plate. Before Jake had asked about Justin Klatch, she'd briefly wondered if this was a date. But now it seemed like he was just doing research for his role. She was surprised to feel a ping of disappointment at the realization.

"What does Justin drive?" Jake asked.

Jojo noticed that Jake's hazel eyes had little flecks of green in them, like sprinkles on a sugar cookie. Her face felt warm, as if Justin himself were the third guest at their table, listening to the conversation. "Well, he has this cool blue Toyota Scion. It's the nicest car at our high school, and that includes most of the teachers. But his dad sells cars, so he got a deal." Jojo hadn't liked Justin for his cool car, though she had on several occasions pictured Justin pulling up her driveway in it.

"He paid for it himself?" Jake looked surprised, probably because kids in Beverly Hills merely had to exist to have cars presented to them. Jojo remembered that just because Jake didn't exactly fit in didn't mean he wasn't part of this world. Sacramento was probably as foreign to him as Beverly Hills was to her.

"Yeah, he worked in the body shop there over the summer. Not that I knew because I rode past on my bike or anything." Jojo smiled sheepishly, picking nervously at the crepe's edge. Actually, revealing her former semi-stalking ways wasn't that embarra.s.sing. She'd caught Jake studying Fairy Princess websites on the day they met. Now they were even.

"You liked him!" Jake wished he could put the exclamation back in his head, where it belonged. He didn't want to embarra.s.s Jojo when she was helping him. Still, if a girl like Jojo thought Justin was worth spying on, it meant he was Jake's Tommy Archer. This was perfect.

She shrugged, not seeming annoyed at all. "Maybe, but that's unimportant. You need to know why I liked him. Why every girl at JFK liked him."

"He was probably built, right? Isn't that why girls always like guys?" Jake could almost hear the wrong answer buzzer going off in his head. After all, he'd worked all summer to get built, and he was still girlfriendless. And clueless.

Jojo rolled her eyes. "Way more than that. It's a whole lifestyle, the way of the Klatch or something. Like, take Lewis Buford. If a girl dropped all her books in front of his locker, he'd probably say something like, 'Wow, if you wanted to show me your a.s.s, you could have just asked me out' or something. Now, what do you think Justin would do?"

"Maybe stop to help her pick them up?" Jake said. It was what he would do, or would do for a girl like Jojo. Other BHH girls would swim through mud before letting Jake help them over it.

Jojo nodded. "Yeah, exactly. You do the right thing, but always keeping in mind that you're not obligated to. And that's what makes the person feel special: You don't have to be nice to them, but you're choosing to be." Jojo was surprised by how good it felt to actually be able to offer advice on something. Just as Myla was the expert on getting respect at BHH, she was starting to feel like the expert on what it took to be popular in Anytown, USA. And it was nice, too, to think about her old school, her old life. It all seemed so far in the past now, like looking in the rearview mirror.

Jake was practically taking notes, so she went on. "When you're doing your part, just think of scenes with a girl like it's not that much different than being around a guy. But in your head, you're thinking, 'She wants to kiss me.' And you don't let on that you might want to kiss her. You're just chill in every situation. And not some guy who's only nice to see if you can hook up with someone." Jojo knew from experience. The anniversary of Dropped Books Day, the one and only time she'd been truly alone with Justin, was coming up. Justin's sweet a.s.sistance as he corralled her spilled papers and books had launched her crush on him. But she'd never had the guts to really flirt with him. "And when he talks to you, he smiles and never breaks eye contact, like you're a puzzle he's trying to figure out. He has these great blue eyes, and longish blond hair that sort of hangs over his forehead. I don't think he uses any product."

Jake self-consciously ran a hand through his own hair, coated in pomade in an attempt to tame it. "How would he treat a geek like me?"

"That's the best part. Justin is, like, captain of the soccer team, captain of the baseball team, has a great car and is totally ripped. But it would never cross his mind to rip on a geek. The thing with Justin Klatch is, it's like he doesn't see categories. That's not true for every cool kid at JFK. There are plenty of cliques, too, just at JFK, they're formed based on common interests, not your parents' net worth. But Justin treats everyone like they're the same. Well, not the same, but equal."

"Is he some kind of saint? If I weren't Jewish, I'd say he's the new Jesus." The corner of Jake's mouth turned up in a grin.

"WWJKD?" Jojo caught Jake's eye across the table and they both cracked up.

Jake was beaming, and Jojo felt really good, like for once there was a use for her here. Jake glanced at his cell. "Hey, I have to get back." He left money for the check and stretched out a hand to help Jojo from her seat. When she was standing, Jake's hand moved to the middle of her back. He looked down into her eyes, a floppy curl freeing itself and falling in front of his eyes. "I really appreciate this, Jojo."

As his hand fell away, the sound of her name on Jake's lips echoed in her ears. She still felt a warm tingle where he had touched her, and suddenly she barely knew how to form words. Even though they'd just been talking about Justin Klatch for the past half hour, the memories of her former crush were fading fast.

JUST ONE OF THE GIRLS.

"So what do you do for fun, Jake?" Kady asked, leaning back in her bean bag chair so that her short, raven-colored hair fanned out around her little doll face. As she stretched, her amethyst belly b.u.t.ton ring peeked out from beneath her tight aqua tank top. Light from the curvy white lamp in the corner glinted off the jewel.

Amelie suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Could Kady be more obvious?

"Uh, you know, the usual," Jake said from his spot on the blue couch, beneath the trailer's high, vent-style window. He picked up his sandwich, a chicken Caesar wrap from La Vincenza, and set it back down on the blond wood coffee table. He'd yet to take a bite, Amelie noticed, because he'd only had eyes for Kady since they began their lunch break a half hour ago. It was Thursday, the day of their big football game scene, and they'd only shot a few short takes, but it was enough for Amelie to see she was going to be odd co-star out. "Hang out, hit the beach, that kind of thing. What about you?" Jake hadn't been much of a beach guy two weeks ago, Amelie thought, when the two of them traded sci-fi and fantasy book recommendations during her math tutoring session.

"You know, the usual," Kady replied playfully. "A little clubbing, a little dancing. I'm up for anything, as long as I like who I'm with." Picturing Jake at a club with Kady, Amelie squirmed in the flimsy plastic chair, her knees b.u.mping the folding dinette table. Earlier she'd heard the crew making bets on how long it would be before Kady and Jake were an item. Probably by week's end-Kady worked fast. And though he hadn't gotten Kady's hints to ask her out, Jake was flirting back. And pretty much ignoring Amelie. Last week, she'd thought they were becoming fast friends. Now she was more useless than a third wheel.

"I'm the same way," Jake said, leaning toward Kady. "It's all about who you're with." He brushed back a wayward curl with his hand, seeming like a totally different guy than the one who'd taken her to Lewis Buford's party last weekend. Thinking about that night made Amelie think of Hunter, and she wondered what he was doing now. Certainly not sitting in a corner, watching other people flirt and feeling sorry for himself.

As Kady launched into the positives of MyHouse, a new Hollywood club, Amelie charted the trajectory of her week. Hadn't she been ecstatic about shooting at BHH? Feeling like she could be part of semi-normal teenage life? Her sheltered existence was her own fault. She was at a high school and still sitting in a trailer.

She stood up. "I'm going to eat outside," she said, stretching her legs. She picked up her script and her turkey pesto croissant. Jake nodded blankly, but Kady beamed gratefully, a thank-you to Amelie for giving her alone time with Jake.

Amelie swung open the trailer door and hopped onto the metal steps. She was still wearing her costume, an ivory Milly s.h.i.+ft dress and gold sequined Miu Miu sandals. Students turned to look at her for a swift second before going back to what they'd been doing. It was lunchtime at BHH, and since Cla.s.s Angel was using a lot of the cafeteria, people were eating on the lawn. The plush green gra.s.s was a sea of cashmere blankets, a sizable number of them cl.u.s.tered around the door to Grant's trailer. Girls had kicked off their designer shoes and sunned their bare legs, looking up to see if they could manage a glimpse of their crush. Farther away, guys leaned back on the gra.s.s, casting sideways glances at the girls camped out for Grant. Laughter and chatter echoed against the looming front of the high school, before bouncing into the cloudless blue sky.

Where other kids her age fantasized about her life, to Amelie, this was the fantasy. Normalcy. And she'd always be standing on the steps, like she was now, watching instead of taking part.

Amelie was about to trek to her trailer when the two blond girls and the pageboyed brunette who'd been tailing Grant stopped outside her door, the brunette holding a cashmere throw.

One of the blondes spoke first, extending her slender arm to shake Amelie's hand. "Amelie Adams? I'm Fortune Weathers," she said, tossing a b.u.t.tery lock of hair over her shoulder. "This is Billie Bollman and Talia Montgomery." She gestured to the other horsey blonde and the brunette, who gave tiny finger waves.

"Um, hi," Amelie said. She recognized them as friends of Myla Everhart, the daughter of Barbar, who even an outsider like Amelie could see ruled the school. She was glad to not be wearing Cla.s.s Angel's crazy-person halo. She already felt like enough of a conversationally challenged freak, not even able to eke out a decent h.e.l.lo.

"We've been wanting to properly introduce ourselves," Talia said, checking her off-the-shoulder Rebecca Beeson sweater for invisible lint.

"We've been so rude not to try to meet you sooner," Billie sang, dramatically punctuating her comment with a light slap of her forehead. "You must think we're awful."

Amelie suppressed a smile. They'd been so ardently tailing Grant, she was surprised they didn't leave strands of drool behind. "Not at all," she finally said. "It's nice to meet some real students."

"So," Fortune cut in, all business, "let's sit in the shade, because, h.e.l.lo, skin cancer!" She said this despite the fact that her tan was clearly 100 percent natural. She pointed to a patch of shade directly beneath Grant's trailer.

"Oh, are you... inviting me to sit with you?" Amelie said, feeling even lamer than she already did. What surprised her was how badly she wanted to sit with them. She was too smart to believe Myla Everhart's friends would be genuinely interested in her; befriending a sheltered child star didn't seem like their kind of thing. Still, it was better than sitting alone in her trailer.

"Of course we are," Billie said, waving at Amelie to follow them. Talia carried the blanket to the area beneath Grant's trailer window. She spread it out, straightening the edges in an OCD way, keeping her eyes on the window.

"I wanted to tell you, I L-O-V-E-D what they did with your hair for that scene in the cafeteria," Talia said, pulling one of Amelie's red curls. "The bun with the wispy pieces around your face? You should do that all the time. It softens your eyes. So romantic."

"Thanks," Amelie said, looking for something of Talia's to compliment. "I really like your necklace," she said awkwardly. As a star since practically birth, Amelie was great at working rooms of adults, from top-tier executives to agents and directors, but she'd never really had girlfriends her own age. Unless you counted girls like Kady, who'd probably never notice Amelie if they hadn't been thrown together on a movie.

Talia's hand shot up to her diamond-coated star pendant. "You can totally borrow it."

Billie rolled her eyes, fluffing her three-tier Rag & Bone striped miniskirt. "Talia, look at her." She gestured to Amelie's dress. "Does she look like she needs your accessories?"

There was a slight edge to Billie's voice. The three of them were all competing to be the best a.s.s-kiss, with Grant as a living, breathing door prize.

"We're planning outfits for the big football game scene," Fortune said, looking to Amelie like she was sitting on a throne. "We thought it would be really cool to actually be in the shot."

A few of the girls on a blanket not far away twittered amongst themselves. Amelie distinctly heard the words, "Why didn't we think of that?"

The football game scene taking place that evening would involve the entire BHH student body. In it, Kady's character, Lizzie, and her friend Knox, played by Grant, attended the school's big homecoming game, just to play a nasty pyramid-toppling prank on the cheerleaders who'd framed Kady for stealing the school's trophy.

"I just don't know what to wear to a Midwestern high school football game," Fortune said. Amelie surveyed Fortune's perfectly curated bohemian prep schooler outfit-dark green fringy scarf emerging from a neatly pressed cream blazer over a navy tartan skirt and funky black motorcycle boots. It was like she'd already cast herself as a rich girl with a wild side.

"Yeah, maybe you could tell us what you're wearing," Billie said, looking like a punk-rock Alice in Wonderland, with her platform Mary Janes and artfully askew black bow headband.

"Well, I guarantee it will include that halo." Amelie sighed. "Have you seen that thing?"

"How could you not? It's awful," Talia said. Catching the mean-girl tinge to her voice, she backpedaled. "But, you would look cute in anything."

Amelie laughed. "You don't have to lie. It should come with a b.u.t.ter churn."

Billie giggled. "You're funny! Isn't she funny?" She looked at the other girls, as amazed as if her pet Chihuahua had started reciting Shakespeare.

Amelie felt a wave of affection for her new, not-really friends. It was liberating to have a conversation that wasn't about how to shoot act three, or her contract obligations for an in-store appearance. Okay, so maybe these girls wanted something. But if she were to be honest with herself, so did she.

"So, guys, I have a minor suggestion for tonight," she said. Why not help them out? Wasn't talking about what to wear to get a boy something regular girls did all the time?

"You want seats by Grant, right?"

The trio sang halfhearted protests. "Noooo," they insisted. "It's not that at all."

"Come on, I know he's hot," Amelie said, even though Grant-with his unwashed indie rock hair and penchant for secondhand-store tweed-was not even close to Hunter on the hotness scale.

"He's okay," Talia said, her eyes scanning his window above them again.

"Okay, fine, if you want to be in the movie, do this: Dress down. Something that an average girl would wear on a date. Like nice jeans, a cute V-neck sweater. You could do your hair in a ponytail, or just down. Lose the satin headbands. They're too Upper East Side. And it's supposed to be October in Ohio, so maybe a jacket, a light one?"

Talia clapped her hands, excitedly looking from Fortune to Billie. "OmiG.o.d, that sounds so perfect! Amelie, you're a lifesaver!"

They all cl.u.s.tered closer to her, folding her into an awkward kneeling group hug. As they split up, Billie kept a hand on Amelie's arm. "Amelie, do you think we're totally lame to be going after Grant this way?"

As Billie, followed by Talia and Fortune, turned their wide eyes on her, Amelie felt like the girl everyone knew could be counted on for good advice. She shook her head. "Not at all," she whispered conspiratorially, grinning at a group of guys who pa.s.sed by, looking appreciatively at the four of them. "You never know what could happen, or if you'll get another chance." She was thinking of herself and Hunter, wondering if she could have done more.

"Someone's speaking from experience," Fortune said, linking arms with her. "Have you seen any cute guys here, or do you already have a thing for someone?"

Amelie could feel a blush rise in her cheeks as she thought of Hunter. "I've liked the same guy forever, but I don't think it's ever going to work out. I don't know if it's our timing, or if it's just me." She lowered her head shyly. Kady knew about her crush, but Amelie had never confessed her doubts aloud to anyone.

Talia scoffed, pulling her in the direction of the front doors. "Yeah, like it could be you. He'd have to be nuts. Or gay." Her mahogany eyes twinkled under the sun. "BHH has some semi-decent boys. Maybe it's destiny that you're here."

"Yeah, you never know. If you got a boyfriend here, maybe you could enroll. You would so be the most popular girl here," Fortune said. "You're, like, so smart and so nice."

"You should go here," Billie said, nodding, as if that settled the issue. She stood and took one last, longing look at Grant's window as she shouldered her Gucci tote. "Oh, and by the way, we're hitting the Bev Center Sat.u.r.day. You should come."