#famous(33)

“It wasn’t so bad, what he said about me, was it?” It must have been why he’d told me to watch, to make sure I knew he thought I was good at writing. It was sweet, if a little anticlimactic. It made me even happier I hadn’t told Mo about the texts. I’d already built the whole thing up too much in my own mind, imagining ridiculous scenarios where Laura enlisted me to take her “perfect selfie,” or Kyle declared his love for me on air. It would have been so much worse to see the inevitable pity in Mo’s eyes when nothing happened.

“Mm-hmm.”

“I mean, it was embarrassing, but at least he was being nice, right?”

“Right.”

The doorbell rang. Mo’s head whipped back so fast I thought she might break her neck. She looked like she was trying to x-ray the ceiling, which was a little intense even for Mo. Finally, for the first time since the show started, she looked straight at me.

“Are you going to get that?” Her jaw looked tight.

“Jonathan can. Or my dad, if it breaks through his office door to his brain.”

“You should.”

“Why?” I frowned at her. “Kyle might be on again.” Yes, I was that pathetic.

“Your dad’s working, right? You should get the door.”

“Who cares? It’s probably evangelists trying to un-Jew my family or something.”

“RACH-el.” Monique fixed me with her green eyes. “Get the door. Trust me.”

“All right.”

Jesus, what in the actual hell was going on?

I could hear Monique trailing behind me as I padded up the basement stairs, but I didn’t turn to look at her. She might hiss, and besides, now I was nervous. If I tried to look backward while walking upward, I’d probably get vertigo and fall and bleed out slowly while Monique tried to drag my body to answer the door.

“I don’t know why you’re coming, Mo,” I called back. “Whoever it is doesn’t need your input, I promise.”

She didn’t say anything.

Glancing at Mo, who’d stopped near the door to the basement, I walked the last few steps to the front door and pulled it open, ready to tell the visitor that my parents weren’t home, and no, I didn’t have any allowance to give to their cause.

But it wasn’t a solicitor or a church or a secret murderer dressed as a utility-company employee.

It was Kyle, in a tuxedo, holding what looked like a massive bouquet of old french fries.

And there was a cameraman over his shoulder.





chapter twenty-two


KYLE

FRIDAY, 4:40 P.M.

Rachel stared at me for a second, then frowned.

Then she slammed the door in my face.

Ouch. I turned to Eddie. He leaned his head out from behind the camera, then shrugged, grinning slightly.

Thanks, dude. Big help.

I could hear muffled conversation behind the door, then nothing. Had she gone away?

I was about to knock when Rachel opened the door again, but only partway, like she wanted the option to retreat. This was not what was supposed to happen. We’d practiced and practiced, but not for this. Fry grease tickled my nose. It felt like someone was squeezing my lungs. It was hard to get a deep breath.

“Hi,” I said in my most upbeat voice. It came out squeaky. Awesome. Monday on national TV: Kyle Bonham, reliving puberty. My heart thumped harder. Jeez, this was going to be a disaster.

“Hi,” she said cautiously. Her face looked extra pale. “You’re . . . here.”

“I am.”

“Why are you here?”

“Well, uh, I had been thinking about—”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in California?”

“Oh. I flew back this morning. Early. They tape that stuff a day in advance.”

“Oh. Duh.” Rachel rolled her eyes. “Sorry, sometimes I can’t help being a massive idiot.” She looked at the camera again and gulped.

I laughed. Somehow, the fact that Rachel seemed totally unprepared for this made it easier to talk to her. I could be the smooth one. Or slightly smoother. Emma would have been playing to the camera the second she realized it was there. Though she would have probably been pissed that I hadn’t given her a chance to fix her makeup.

Things to not think about: Emma.

“No, it’s cool. I’m the one carrying a bouquet of fries.”

“Is that what that is? Bet that makes all the ladies swoon.”

“It’s Romance 101. Box of chocolate-covered sliders and a bouquet of cold fries melts any girl’s heart.”

“Or her arteries.”

“Those too.”

I heard a cough behind me. I turned; Mary was leaning out from behind Eddie, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Right. I was actually supposed to do something while I was here. I’d kind of forgotten.

I cleared my throat.

“Anyway, you probably guessed I didn’t just show up to get our Creative Writing assignment.”

Rachel’s eyes widened so far I could see the whites all the way around. I’d never really noticed, but the brown of her eyes was shot through with little glints of gold, like some kind of buried treasure. And her eyelashes were so long, longer than I’d expected; I wondered if they tickled her face when she blinked. Like giving herself butterfly kisses.