I So Don't Do Famous (5 page)

“Is it Nick?” My heart speeds up. “What'd he say? Is he with Josh? How's Josh?”

“He's not with Josh.” Junie looks at the floor.

And that look speaks volumes. “But he
was
with Josh?”

“How do you do that?” Junie stares at me. “It's like you get inside my head.”

“I don't know exactly. I think partly it's from hanging out with you for years and partly from learning to be an observant detective.” I fish in my purse for gum, slide out a piece, then toss the package at Junie. “So, what were Josh and Nick up to?”

“Josh phoned Nick.” She hands the gum back to me, without taking a piece.

“Because he's überdepressed about breaking up with me and needed a friend to talk to?” I clasp a hand to my heart. “I almost feel a little sorry for him. It's no fun going through a breakup.”

Junie sits unmoving like the stone statue of the saguaro cactus in the courtyard at school.

“Oh, I get it.” I unwrap the gum and pop it in my mouth. “He feels even worse now that we're out here in California on the trip he gave up.”

Junie closes her eyes.

“What? What is it?”

“Josh called Nick because the high-school water polo coach needed someone to videotape a few scrimmages,” she says softly.

I slump down in my chaise longue, deflated like a day-old balloon. Josh isn't überdepressed. He probably hasn't wasted one fraction of one second missing me. I'd slide farther down the chair, but that would land me on the tile floor.

“Josh hasn't figured out yet what he's lost.” Beside me, Junie slumps in sympathy. “But he will, Sherry. I just know it.”

We sit in silence. I'm letting the waves of sadness wash over me, remembering my mother's words about how this will pass and I'll feel okay again.

Trapped in my own little world, at first I don't
notice the two teen girls skipping around the lounge until one of them laughs loudly. They're checking out all the little sitting areas.

When they arrive at us, they stop. Both girls have chin-length brown hair, knit tank tops and short skirts. The kind of short skirt that's against our school's dress code. One of the girls has a ring through her nose and the cutest silver bracelet with a dog charm. The other has an eyebrow bar and lavender eye shadow. They're wearing flip-flops with
HOLLYWOOD HIGH SCHOOL
stamped across the strap.

They glance at Junie, smile vacantly, then turn to me.

Eyebrow Bar Girl says, “Sherlock Baldwin?”

“Uh, yes.” I scoot to a sitting position. These people do not look even remotely familiar.

Nose Ring Girl squeals. “I can't believe it's actually you.” She punches Eyebrow Bar Girl in the arm. “It's her. We found her. Yay us!”

Junie's forehead is creased with a thick line of confusion. These girls don't look familiar to her either.

“I'm sorry,” I say. “Do I know you guys?”

Nose Ring Girl's eyes sparkle. “I'm Lorraine. I'm super happy to meet you.”

“I'm Stef,” Eyebrow Bar Girl says.

“How do you know Sherry?” Junie asks.

“Sherry? So cute!” Lorraine's eyes sparkle. “Does everyone call you Sherry? Not Sherlock?”

“I only get Sherlock during roll call on the first day of school,” I say. “And when my parents are mad at me.”

“Same for me with ‘Stefanie.' ” Stef nods.

“Why were you looking for Sherry?” Junie asks. She's more suspicious of people, where I'm more open and friendly.

“To say congratulations,” Stef says.

“We love your essay about true love. Love it. Adore it. Dig it.” Lorraine tugs on the hem of her skirt.

I don't mention there isn't enough material for that skirt to stay decent for any length of time. “Thank you.” I feel kind of floaty and rock-starrish.

“I read the whole thing.” Lorraine beams. “And that's saying a lot because I don't read. Except for Dear Elle's column.”

“With your essay, it's like you're talking straight to my heart.” Stef taps her chest. “Direct, honest, real. You so know your stuff.”

“Wow. Thanks.” I check my feet to make sure they're still firmly on the ground. “I had to rewrite it a couple of times.”

“And your photo?” Lorraine sighs. “Adorable. Great makeup.”

“Thank you,” I say again. “I did it myself.” Who knew I'd have fans!

“Sherry's essay wasn't on the
Hollywood Girl
website the last time I looked,” Junie says. “I wonder when they went live with it.”

“Don't have a clue.” Lorraine glances at Junie. “Sometime before lunch today. Because that's when we read it.”

“Guess what else was on the site, Sherry?” Stef says.

“The scoop on Dear Elle's diamond?” I feel my eyes go round like pizzas.

“A purse with a diamond clasp!” Lorraine says. “First time she's brought it out in public.”

“It'll be beyond beautiful,” I say.

Lorraine hitches her purse up on her shoulder, then mimes opening it as if it had a huge diamond clasp. The dog charm on her bracelet dances and glints with her movements.

“That bracelet is way cool,” I say. “Is it your dog?”

“Oh no, I don't have a dog.” Lorraine turns her wrist this way and that. “This is my absolute favorite piece of jewelry.”

“Where'd you buy it?” I ask. “I wonder if they have any with a fish charm.”

“They don't,” Stef says.

“Did you get it near here?” I ask. “I could always check.”

“She didn't,” Stef says.

“Online?” I ask.

“No,” Stef says.

What's the deal with the bracelet? Maybe Stef bought it as a gift for Lorraine. And maybe she got it for really cheap, and she doesn't want Lorraine to know.

Pasted on Junie's face is the look she gets when a math equation isn't working out right. “Let me get this straight. You guys only came here looking for Sherry?” She lifts her shoulders. “What made you think she'd be here?”

“Well, we knew from the magazine's website that the awards are at the Roosevelt tonight,” Stef says. “So we guessed she'd stay in this hotel.”

“And she looked super friendly in her photo,” Lorraine says. “And we're down this way on Hollywood Boulevard a lot. So we took a chance and stopped by to say, ‘Hey, job well done!' ”

Junie's frowning, not really buying it.

It makes perfect sense to me.

“I just wish we could see you get your award.” Lorraine sighs. Then she immediately claps a hand over her mouth.

Stef rolls her eyes. “Sorry, Sherry. Sometimes Lorraine opens her mouth, and we don't know what'll fly out.” She glares at Lorraine.

Why shouldn't they come to the awards? They're my first fans. I bet Dad brought the envelope with the tickets.
Hollywood Girl
sent enough for my
family and one for Junie. So Lorraine and Stef could use The Ruler's and Sam's.

“As it turns out, I have two extra tickets,” I say.

“Uh, Sherry—” Junie starts to say.

I cut her off with a wave. I know the tickets are for friends and family. But if I lived here, I'd be great friends with these girls.

Lorraine and Stef gaze at me with big grateful eyes. “I could tell from your photo that you were generous,” Lorraine says.

“More like crazy,” Junie mumbles under her breath.

I only arrived in L.A. a few hours ago, and I'm already making friends and getting famous.

I
love a hotel room. It's like a mini life inside your real life. Makes me feel like I'm living in a snow globe.

Our room is very swank, with a soft beige couch, a modern silver floor lamp that resembles a tall science-fictiony plant, a totally tiled bathroom, photos of famous movie stars on the bedroom wall and a great view of Hollywood Boulevard, specifically Grauman's Chinese Theatre.

It's truly excellent that my dad's in his own room. His snoring is, in a word, scary. Plus, sharing a deluxe hotel room with my best friend means having a fancy slumber party every night.

We're getting dressed for the awards ceremony.
Junie's quieter than usual. Probably, she's still annoyed about Lorraine and Stef. Junie doesn't make friends as easily as I do. But, like I pointed out to her, she shouldn't be bugged about the free tickets. It took me two and a half seconds to hop the elevator up to our room, snag the tickets, then deliver them to Lorraine and Stef, who were sharing a soda in the hotel café. Plus, the tickets were trash if they didn't get used.

“But you don't know them,” Junie says. “And this is a closed event with strict security.”

“They're exactly like us.” I pull my dress over my head. “Only fifteen and with tighter, shorter clothes and metal on their faces.”

Despite Junie's moodiness, I'm still a complimentary friend and mention the loveliness of her turquoise + white paisley skirt and matching shirt. “Those colors really accentuate the different shades of red in your hair.”

Junie stretches her lips taut like a monkey and brushes on wet shiny gloss. “Thank you.” She smacks her lips together. “Your dress looks great, Sherry. The purple is really pretty.” She drops the gloss in a tiny black purse. For touch-ups throughout the evening. “I hope this is a magical evening for you.”

“Thank you.” I give her a hug. My dress is actually violet, but I doubt Junie is currently open to correction.

I sprinkle mauve glitter in my hair, then twirl in front of the full-length mirror. My dress flares out with style and panache. Eat your heart out, Josh Morton.

From the hall, we knock on my dad's door. “Hurry up,” I say. “It's time to go downstairs to meet our
Hollywood Girl
rep.”

He emerges, dressed in tan. The Ruler's a big fan of the beige family and has redone my dad's wardrobe in the noncolor.

By the front desk, there's a tall and slim girl with long, flat, satiny blond hair and fake lashes that brush her pink cheeks. Her smile is megawatt. “Hi! Sherry Baldwin, right? I'm Madison Brown from
Hollywood Girl.
”

She lightly grasps my shoulders and air-kisses either side of my head.

When I think of L.A., this is exactly how I imagine it. Streetfuls of beautiful people air-kissing.

“You look even more adorable in real life, Sherry.” Madison leans toward Junie and air-kisses her. “So, you're the lucky best friend. Junie Carter, right?”

“Yes.” Junie grins. “Is it okay if I take pictures? I'm the editor for our online school paper.”

“Absolutely it's okay!” Madison says. “We're down with publicity at
Hollywood Girl.
”

Madison gives my dad the air-kissing treatment too. He stands stiff and awkward, like he's one of the
Queen of England's soldier-guards, who, according to the Travel Channel, aren't allowed to talk or smile or show any expression. Even if you tell them a joke.

“You've got the tickets?” Madison asks my dad. “The policy this evening is ‘no ticket, no entrance, no exception.' ”

Junie shoots me a look, which I ignore.

Dad pats his suit pocket. “All in order.”

Madison claps. “Yay. We're set.”

Once she's herded us together mother-hen style, Madison ushers us to the ballroom. Along the way, she gives us the scoop on this evening's program. Like what's on the menu and how long the ceremony will run. She makes it sound fun, fun, fun. I'm particularly thrilled to hear that there will be an extravagant dessert bar.

“Dear Elle's really psyched about meeting you, Sherry.” Madison beams at me. “She was blown away by the depth of your understanding of love.”

“Yeah, well,” I say. I'm really starting to feel like a fraud. I've had one boyfriend. The relationship didn't even last half a year. I'm no expert on true love. I'm more of an expert on short relationships that end with heartache and awkwardness.

“Sherry has always been emotionally mature for her age,” my dad says. Then he jumps into a lame-o story of how I used to dress up my brother and push him around in my toy stroller.

Junie chimes in. “Sherry's really popular at school. She gets along with all the different cliques.”

Thank you, Dad and Junie, for trying to make me look interesting and unique in front of Madison. But it's embarrassing.

The Blossom Ballroom has three tall medieval-style wooden doors. Only the middle door is open. A short, plump, spectacled man in a tux stands guard with an outstretched hand and a stern expression that says, “Either fork over a ticket, or go home.”

“I'm Madison Brown, a
Hollywood Girl
staffer.” Madison glances at his name badge while handing him hers. “Nice to meet you, Garrett.”

“Uh-huh.” Garrett rubs her badge between his thumb and forefinger, then locates her name on his clipboard. He's certainly not the friendliest man in the state.