Emancipated
Authors: Reyes,M. G.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOFâNOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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Advance Reader's e-proof
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This is an advance reader's e-proof made from digital files of the uncorrected proofs. Readers are reminded that changes may be made prior to publication, including to the type, design, layout, or content, that are not reflected in this e-proof, and that this e-pub may not reflect the final edition. Any material to be quoted or excerpted in a review should be checked against the final published edition. Dates, prices, and manufacturing details are subject to change or cancellation without notice.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOFâNOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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UNCORRECTED E-PROOFâNOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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For Hoku
,
with fond memories of a wonderful drive through Malibu Canyon and lunch at the beach cantina
âall in the name of research, of course!
7120.
(
A
) A
MINOR MAY PETITION THE SUPERIOR COURT OF THE COUNTY IN WHICH THE MINOR RESIDES OR IS TEMPORARILY DOMICILED FOR A DECLARATION OF EMANCIPATION.
(
B
) T
HE PETITION SHALL SET FORTH WITH SPECIFICITY ALL OF THE FOLLOWING FACTS:
(1)
   Â
T
HE MINOR IS AT LEAST
14
YEARS OF AGE
.
(2)
   Â
T
HE MINOR WILLINGLY LIVES SEPARATE AND APART FROM THE MINOR'S PARENTS OR GUARDIAN WITH THE CONSENT OR ACQUIESCENCE OF THE MINOR'S PARENTS OR GUARDIAN.
(3)
   Â
T
HE MINOR IS MANAGING HIS OR HER OWN FINANCIAL AFFAIRS.
Grace: San Antonio, Saturday, November 1
Paolo: Malibu Lawn Tennis Club, Wednesday, November 5
Ariana Calls Charlie: Wednesday, November 5
John-Michael: Carlsbad, Monday, December 1
Candace: Culver Studios, Friday, December 5
Paolo: Van Buren High School, Monday, December 15
Ariana Calls Charlie: Saturday, December 20
Grace: Venice Beach, Sunday, December 21
Lucy: Venice Beach, Saturday, January 3
Paolo: Balcony, Sunday, January 4
Maya: Third Floor, Sunday, January 4
Charlie Calls Ariana: Sunday, January 4
Paolo: Venice Beach, Friday, February 27
John-Michael: Venice Beach House, Friday, February 27
Grace: Balcony, Friday, February 27
John-Michael: Third Floor, Saturday, February 28
Paolo: Second Floor, Saturday, February 28
Maya: Kitchen, Saturday, February 28
Ariana: Calls Charlie Saturday, February 28
Paolo: Balcony, Sunday, March 1
Lucy: Our Lady Of Mercy Catholic High School For Girls, Tuesday, March 10
Ariana: Calls Lucy Saturday, March 21
John-Michael: Kitchen, Sunday, March 22
Paolo: Balcony, Monday, March 30
Maya: Our Lady Of Mercy Catholic High School For Girls, Tuesday, March 31
John-Michael: Carlsbad, Sunday, April 5
Grace: Culver Studios, Tuesday, April 7
Paolo: Venice Beach, Saturday, April 11
Lucy: Venice Beach, Friday, April 17
Lucy: Second Floor, Monday, April 20
Ariana: Calls Lucy Tuesday, April 21
Grace: Kitchen, Tuesday, April 21
Lucy: Third Floor, Tuesday, April 21
Maya: Second Floor, Tuesday, April 21
Lucy: Our Lady Of Mercy Catholic High School For Girls, Thursday, April 23
Paolo: Venice Beach, Friday, April 24
Paolo: Clarion Inn Hotel, Friday, April 24
Maya: Kitchen, Saturday, April 25
Ariana: Calls the West Coast Tuesday, May 19
Grace: Kitchen, Wednesday, May 20
John-Michael: Van Buren High School, Thursday, May 21
Candace: Third Floor, Thursday, May 21
Grace: Balcony, Thursday, May 21
John-Michael: Venice Beach, Friday, May 22
Lucy: First Floor, Friday, May 22
Candace: First Floor, Friday, May 22
Grace: Kitchen, Friday, May 22
Lucy: Third Floor, Friday, May 22
Maya: Venice Beach, Saturday, May 23
Lucy: Kitchen, Saturday, May 23
Paolo: Hearst Academy, Saturday, May 23
Grace: Hearst Academy, Saturday, May 23
John-Michael: Venice Beach, Sunday, May 24
Grace: Highway 5, Sunday, May 24
John-Michael: Balcony, Memorial Day, Evening
Grace: Pacific Coast Highway, Memorial Day, Afternoon
Maya: Balcony, Memorial Day, Afternoon
Ariana: Calls the West Coast Memorial Day, Evening
UNCORRECTED E-PROOFâNOT FOR SALE
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SAN ANTONIO, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 1
It happened like this: Candace needed to leave home and Grace found the solution.
The two stepsisters had taken as much as they could of Grace's mother's behaviorâthe screaming fights, the threats to get a divorce. Since her seventeenth birthday, Candace had been sharing confidences with Grace, anxious that she herself might be the cause of their parents' unhappiness.
The girls lay on the lawn, long fair hair trailing in the grass, bare legs tan against the bright green. Grace peered through her fingers at her stepsister. At sixteen, she was the younger of the two, but often she felt like the older one. Candace had spent so much of her life in various forms of coaching: voice, drama, dance, horseback riding, fencing; she'd had a lot less time to read, think, listen, and reflect.
Or maybe Grace was simply more mature because of something that had happened much earlier in her life?
“It's probably not you, Candace. But isn't that totally classic?” Grace rolled over onto her side. “It's the first place therapists go when they counsel kids from âbroken homes.'”
“Oh. Right,” Candace muttered. “I'm a cliché?”
“You are, but how is that relevant?”
Grace grinned as Candace kicked at her shins with bare feet.
The problem was Grace suspected deep down that her stepsister's fears were real. That she was the cause, 100 percent. Without a single moment of bad behavior, Candace had managed to put their folks' marriage on the line. The girls could both hear the argument raging inside the house.
Grace's mother said, “I won't stand by to see our daughter throw her career away just because you won't move.”
“Tina, sweetheart, what am I going to do in Los Angeles?” Candace's father asked.
“Fine, stay here then. But let me take Candy to Hollywood.”
Grace heard Candace's father pause, try to get past the nickname again, and fail. “Don't call her that.”
“Candace, fine,” said Tina, straining audibly to keep her voice under control. “I've already lined up her first TV audition. It's in a month. She needs to be living there, goddamnit. That's what all the experts say.
Move to LA
.”
“Look, Tina, youâ
we
âhave four other kids to worry about.”
Grace knew that the “we” was euphemistic. All four were, biologically speaking, her mom's kids and not his. Tina's obsession with the sole child he'd brought to their blended family was something that none of them could openly address. But now Tina wanted to leave him, Grace and her three younger brothers in San Antonio and head for the madness of a Hollywood dream.
Grace watched the frustration grow in Candace's face. Her eyes strayed to Candace's long legs stretched in front of her from under denim shorts, lithe and slender. She watched as Candace turned her head slightly, reaching over her right shoulder, just enough to get a quick look into the house. Their parents had moved from the living room, with its French windows, and into the kitchen. The girls couldn't hear them clearly now.
Grace concentrated on the sensation of hundreds of blunt prickles under her thighs, the coarse blades that she'd mown that afternoon. When Candace finally glanced up at her once more, there was a rueful grin on her face. Grace smiled back. The fights were becoming a bore for everyone in the house. A repetitive, predictable bore.
Candace scowled. “Man, it's like Tina thinks that if she keeps whining he'll eventually crack.”
“She's doing it for you,” Grace reminded her carefully.
“You know I love your mom, Grace. But we both know she's not just âdoing it for me.' You saw how she was about the jeans commercial. Me, thisâit's all part of Tina's vicarious Hollywood life.”
Grace nodded. “I saw.” It was a strange thing about stage moms. Their motives seemed so altruistic, but they rarely escaped the scrutiny of intense examination.
Grace hesitated. “There's another way.”
“I know,” Candace said. “I already said I'm cool with waiting until after high school.”
“That's not what I meant.” Gently, Grace added, “And we both know you can't. This is your time, Candace. Now.”
They were silent for a moment. It was the inescapable truth at the heart of the family's dilemma. Candace was a fruit on the cusp of ripening. Her hair was long and fell as straight as honey being poured, golden brown with hints of strawberry. Her skin was, without any recourse to a strenuous routine of diet and cleansing, clear and smooth with a peachy tone. Her eyes were light brown, her lips full and soft; a perfect shade of raspberry. She had a way of moving that looked like a ballet dancer unfolding from a tight
hold.
It even surprised Candace herself. Grace had seen it on occasionânoticed the way Candace would catch sight of herself in the mirror and pause. Not admiringly, but as if startled by a stranger. Sometimes Grace wondered who was sharing her room. It wasn't the lanky girl she'd spent the past few years with, years over which they'd forged their firm, sisterly bond. Candace had become someone else, a young woman of understated sensuality and grace. If she slouched a little, curled her lip just a tad, a smoldering teenager returned her gaze. Total transformation. As though all it took was a small shift inside her brain, a subtle tweak of an attitude, and she could be whatever anyone wanted to see.
Of all the people on the planet to receive the undeserved gift of the face and body of a chameleon-goddess, it had to be the first person Grace saw when she woke up every day.
It wasn't fair, but there it was.
“Stay in San Antonio,” Grace said, “and your best years are going to waste away.”
“I'd be getting an education.”
“I hear they even have schools in LA. These days.”
“It's about time.”
Grace smirked. “Yeah, those airheads. No fair they all get to make a living from being pretty, like, forever.”
“Whiny brats,” Candace retorted.
“Get yourselves to school already, 90210.”
The two girls laughed. Candace gazed into her stepsister's eyes for a second. “I can't leave. And you of all people should know why.”
“I know, you'd die without me,” Grace returned, deadpan. “But what if I could come, too?”