#famous(30)

“Perfect. Let me tell you what we came up with—and I have to say, I think this could be a huge hit with our fans—then you can tell me if you’re on board, okay?”

For some reason, even though the producer and Laura were both smiling, my heart started racing. What did they want? If Mom came up with it, that meant I should say yes, right? She kept saying I had to make more opportunities out of this, turn this into an application Princeton couldn’t turn down.

Somehow that made me even more nervous.

“Okay,” I said, trying to return the producer’s smile. “What were you thinking?”





chapter nineteen


RACHEL

FRIDAY, 7:08 A.M.

A car horn honked from the driveway. Even from the upstairs bathroom it sounded annoyed. Beep! Be-be-be-beeeeep!

“Jesus Christ, Mo, I’m coming,” I muttered to my reflection. It was taking me longer than expected to get my eyeliner right, maybe because I almost never wore eyeliner. Still, over the last couple of days it had somehow started to feel more necessary, like another line of defense. Yesterday hadn’t been so hard. Maybe I was just too tired after this week to manage even the most basic of motor skills on a Friday morning.

Finally, I sighed, smeared my finger through the black—it was morning-after chic, right?—and ran down the stairs.

“Bye, Mom,” I yelled on my way out the door. I didn’t wait for a response. I hadn’t really wanted to talk to her lately; I was mildly afraid that if I got too near her for too long, she’d somehow smell it on me, the truth of what had happened with the picture. My parents hadn’t said anything about it since Tuesday’s dinner, and it’s not like they’d suddenly joined Flit. Still, sometimes my mom was creepy good at knowing when something was going on.

I was almost out the front door when I heard her running through the hallway.

“Rachel, can I talk to you for a second?”

So close.

“Yeah, what’s up?” I kept a hand on the open door.

“What’s your plan after school?” she said. She seemed stiff. Like when she had been angry with me earlier and wasn’t quite over it yet. But we hadn’t fought.

“I was gonna come home with Mo and watch some TV. Ashlee is having a slumber party tonight, so Mo didn’t want to be home. Why? Is it okay if she’s over?”

“No, no, I just wanted to make sure you’d be here. I have my flower arranging class at the adult education center, so I’m gonna need you to help your father with dinner. You know how hopeless he is.”

Mom was looking at some point just to the left of my head, trying—and failing miserably—to be casual and unconcerned. Jesus, she must have been terrible at lying to her parents.

“All right, so I’ll be here. I’m gonna go,” I said, taking a step through the door.

“Isn’t a boy from your school going to be on the Laura Show today?”

Crapberries. I thought my parents didn’t watch local news.

“Yeah. Kyle Bonham.”

“And that’s the boy whose picture—”

“Yeah, Mom.” I stared at the toes of my Chuck Taylors. No wonder she’d been acting so weird. She knew.

“Will you and Monique watch it?”

I looked up, ready to tell her to stop judging and leave me the hell alone, YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND ME, like some teen in an eighties movie, but she was . . . smiling. She was trying to hide it, but Mom was definitely smiling. She couldn’t have known everything; she was too calm. This had to be her “I’m a mom who’s involved and knows what’s happening!” bit.

I tried to seem just standoffish enough that it would cover my relief. I didn’t want her getting suspicious, after all.

“Yeah, probably. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Okaaaay.” I frowned at her, but she just kept that idiotic half grin on her face. “I’m going now.”

“All right, have a good day at school, sweetie.” She looked like she was trying not to burst out laughing. Jesus, she needed something of her own so she wouldn’t have to get so much vicarious satisfaction out of my crushes—my pointless crushes. “And remember, straight home after so you can help with dinner.”

“K,” I said, shaking my head as I ran out the door.

I slid into the front seat of Monique’s SUV. She whipped out of the driveway almost before I’d managed to get the door closed.

“You’re early,” I said. We were leaving at least fifteen minutes before I would have, and I always made it to school way before the warning bell.

“What do you mean? This is when you have a chance to talk to teachers.”

Oh, Mo. As though anyone else wanted to talk to teachers.

I kept my mouth shut. It was nice of her to drive—it was the easiest way to ensure we were both in the same room the second the show started; I needed her there with me, otherwise I might totally freak out and turn the stupid thing off. Plus, it allowed her to bypass the bevy of catty thirteen-year-olds that Ashlee hung out with, and her mother’s inevitable requests for help keeping them happy. And I wouldn’t have to face school alone today. Win-win-win.

Full disclosure—a tiny little part of me wished he would mention me on the show. I’d already seen the most vile things trolls could possibly say about me; it couldn’t get any worse than it already had, right? And it would mean his messages had meant something other than pity for the loser.