#famous(48)

(To Emma): Jessie was acting psycho. All I did was call her on it.



(To Emma): And I told you the producers set up the HC thing



(From Emma): Right. And you didn’t even call me before you said yes. You just asked someone else and expected me to be fine.



(To Emma): What do you want me to do? Tell Rachel I messed up, I don’t really want her to come?



(From Emma): Do whatever you want. Anything I say obviously won’t make a difference.



I sighed. Apparently Emma had just gotten more pissed off overnight.

(To Emma): Rachel is just a friend. You know that. But if you’re gonna be like this, there’s nothing else to say.



(From Emma): You’re right, there’s not. Have fun with your pity date.



That was low. Emma was the one who told me about Rachel having a rough time of it in the first place, even before Ollie. For her to get all catty now was just . . . disappointing. It was bad enough she hung out with Jessie, she didn’t have to be her.

I didn’t respond.

But now I felt jacked up, sorta like I got before a game. Nervous energy: pumping through my whole body with nowhere to go.

When I felt this way, video games just annoyed me. I needed someone to talk to. Or better yet, hang out with.

Emma was clearly pissed, and honestly, I was pissed at her too. That was weird. I’m not sure I’d ever let myself be pissed at Emma before. Either way, we probably shouldn’t see each other in person today.

Ollie barely ever responded to texts, and I had a feeling if we met up he’d want to talk about what happened at the party. Ollie: loved acting like he was my other “big brother.” Usually it was fine, if he didn’t get patronizing. He’d only hinted so far, but I had the sense he didn’t like Rachel. No, that wasn’t it. But he didn’t seem to approve of me asking her to homecoming, or her showing up at the party. Those trains: already left the station. I didn’t really need Ollie getting judgy now that it was too late. I just wanted to do something fun.

I opened Flit and tapped out a quick message:

I’ve got the day off and no plans. What should I do for fun, fliends? #weekend

Within seconds it was getting luvs, reflits, responses. Awesome.

A girl whose photo was all duck face and sunglasses got to it first.

@ChichiGigi14: You could visit me?

Boring. But I should have expected that. I luvved the flit and looked at the next response.

@SurfSeaBree: If you came to SoCal we could sunbathe together.

Whoa. The picture she attached made it pretty clear that she didn’t have much of a dress code in mind. Or any dress code. That one I didn’t luv. Girls who send pictures like that to randos probably go full stalker with any encouragement at all.

@SouthernBella499: follow me pleez I’ll PF you an AWESOME saturday plan

Jeez, they were all the same. Either girls wanted me to follow them or they just spouted some variation of “You should do me with your day off.” But, like, not in a pervy way. Well, sometimes in a pervy way.

I don’t know why, but I’d expected something . . . interesting. Or at least one person I’d want to respond to. Reading through them was actually making me antsier. I paced my bedroom, scrolling through the stream of flits, reading them slowly, then eventually skipping through dozens at a time and picking at random.

All the same.

I was about to whip my phone at my bed out of frustration when it pinged in the way that meant I had a text.

Probably Emma getting one last dig. It would be more real than my “fans,” though.

(From Rachel): Just sayin: Mary should come with a warning label. “May cause massive anxiety and an inability to get a word in edgewise. Use with caution, or better yet, tranquilizers.”



I could feel myself grinning. Rachel’s texts: definitely not boring.

I thought for a second before texting back. Rachel was always so funny, I had to up my game with her.

(To Rachel): You must have had more to drink last night than I realized. A hangover is the only explanation for Mary-ing this early on a Saturday



(From Rachel): I’m probably drinking right now and I don’t even know it. Makes more sense than the call I just got.



Without really thinking I responded:

(To Rachel): Wanna meet up? If I stay here too long my dad will make me talk to him. Oof.



It took a minute for Rachel to answer. I stared at the phone in my hand, my nervous energy rising. She’d say something, right?

(From Rachel): I would’ve thought the famous TV star would be booked solid.



I exhaled. For a second, I thought I’d somehow messed up.

(To Rachel): I bumped some appointments



(From Rachel): Well I SUPPOSE I can squeeze you in. But only because I need you if I’m gonna reach the Laura big leagues.



(To Rachel): It’s true: I’ve got you by the balls. Pick you up in 20?



(From Rachel): Sure—fair warning, though, that is nowhere near enough time to tame my hair. It may bite.



I still felt nervous walking out the door, but it was different. Like, good nervous.





chapter thirty-three


RACHEL

SATURDAY, 11:11 A.M.