Star Power (22 page)

Emily stared at Mac and Davey. Her heart was beat ing so hard she felt like she couldn't breathe. Her mind scrolled through the events of the past few weeks. Suddenly it was all as obvious as the ending of a Disney movie. The tuna sandwich Mac had made “especially” for her before the kiss scene, the lectures about staying away from Davey, the Disneyland Invasion. . . . Of course! No wonder Mac was so desperate to “help” Emily. All that time,
Mac had been trying to steal Davey!

“I can explain!” Mac cried, looking desperate. But as far as Emily was concerned, there was no explanation necessary.

Emily pointed her finger at Mac. Between gasps of air, she did her best to yell. “I NEVER—SHOULD HAVE—TRUSTED YOU!” She wiped her sweaty face with her forearm.

The party was insta-quiet. The DJ lowered the music, people stopped dancing, and conversations came to a halt. All eyes were on Emily, who was too angry to realize she was giving one of the most thrilling, and most
real
performances of her life.

“Em, no, you don't understand—” Mac reached out her arms like she was going for a hug.

“TRAITOR!” Emily roared. She was so enraged that she didn't notice Coco's arm around her shoulders. Or that Davey was staring at her as though she'd flown in on a broomstick.

“I should go get some water.” Davey gestured with his plastic glass and scampered away.

Then, realizing Davey was leaving
her
, Emily couldn't stand one more second of rejection. “I'M SICK OF ALL OF YOU!” she screamed. She jerked away from Coco's arms and burst through the crowd of BAMS kids, desperate to get as far away as possible.

“Watch where you're going!” a guy called as she accidentally bumped into him, spilling his purple drink all over his button-down. But she kept running and stomped back into the house and up to her bedroom, or rather, the stupid Gift Closet. She slammed the door so hard that the brass owl fell off the wall.

Emily plopped herself on the bed and tried to be calm. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. Then, like her mind had hit rewind and then play, she suddenly saw what a lunatic she had been, screaming at Mac and Davey in front of hundreds of people. Humiliation and hurt mixed together in one blend of Terrible.

Emily reached for her computer on the glass night-stand, hoping to iChat Paige. She felt extra desperate, since she'd just alienated all her California friends. She glanced at her screen, but her BFF wasn't online. Where were friends when you needed them? Angrily, she slammed the computer shut and flung herself back onto the white Duxiana comforter, her cinnamon hair sprawling over the pillow.

She stared at the ceiling fan, which, like her mind, was spinning in fast circles. All of a sudden, her thoughts turned to Mac's words on her first day of shooting: “You're not in Hollywood unless you're stabbing someone in the back or you're getting stabbed in the back.”

So this was the real Hollywood. Emily Skylar had finally arrived.

becks

B
ecks and the Dixie Gals were lounging on a dark blue Becker blanket under the shade of the Dixie tent in Manhattan Beach. The tent was stocked with Crummy Brothers butterscotch oatmeal cookies and teriyaki mini rice cakes, and there was a rack of brand-new boards for them to try. Across the sand, Olympian Kerri Walsh was practicing her volleyball serve.

Becks felt a tiny pang of guilt for ditching Mac's party the night before, but she brushed away the thought as she dug her toes into the sand. Instead of going to the party, she'd had a great time with the Dixie Gals. They'd gotten ice cream sundaes on the pier and talked to the local surfer boys. Or, more accurately, Becks had watched while Tully, Darby, and Lei talked to the local surfer boys. Usually the boys talked to Lei first, because she was the friendliest, and then they got the courage to say something to Tully. And then, when they'd had enough, Darby usually announced something ridiculous, like that they all had to go to the bathroom
rightthatsecond
. And then they'd all move to another spot on the pier and start over with new boys.

Afterward, the girls spent the night at Tully's house and watched surfing documentaries. Becks still couldn't believe she'd found friends whose idea of a good night was watching four hours of real Pipeline footage.

Today they were passing time until Chad arrived to deliver their new custom-made Dixie surfboards, which were designed to fit the girls' exact heights and weights. The plan was to get the boards, do an early surf together, and then chow down on pancakes at Uncle Bill's Pancake House. Becks sighed happily: It was the perfect day.

Tully was flipping through the latest issue of
Surfer
and making fun of boys they knew from international surf festivals. Becks didn't personally know anyone they were talking about—she had yet to go to a surf festival as a pro—but she was happy to be quiet and listen.

Becks studied the tool in question. He had a shark tooth at the end of a leather rope around his neck. (Not cool.) But he was golden tan and his brown hair was sun-streaked (cool), no doubt from spending so much time in the ocean. He reminded Becks of Austin, who was hot. (Very cool.)

“I think he's kind of cute?” Becks said shyly. By now she wasn't afraid to express her opinions to the older girls, but she was always diplomatic.

“You think he's cute, huh?” Tully smiled mysteriously.

“Little Sis approves of Rio Vann!” Lei squealed with excitement and clapped her hands.

Tully rolled her eyes and quickly flipped to another page in the magazine.

“Rio looooves Tully sooooo much!” Darby said, smothering blue sunscreen all over her freckled nose.

“Tully hates every boy who likes her,” Lei explained, as though Tully wasn't right there. “As you saw last night!”

“Rio's lame!” Tully cried defensively, but the way she said it, Becks didn't think she meant it.

“Hey dudettes,” Chad Hutchins sauntered over, waving a stack of photos. “Who wants to see next season's campaign?”

“Me!” all the girls but Becks screamed in unison. Chad dangled the pictures high above their reach, while Tully swatted at his arm like it was a fruit tree.

“Let us see!” Darby commanded, holding his arm.

Becks stayed put on the blanket, deferring to the older girls. She just hoped she didn't look like an idiot. She winced, remembering all her silly poses. Had she really thrown a tomato at Chad? Had she really done those ridiculous dance moves?

“Okay, fine,” Chad said, handing the stack to Tully. “I'll go grab your boards from the van. They're pretty sweet.” He turned and headed back to the parking lot.

Tully grabbed the pictures, and, like a greedy squirrel with an acorn, darted back to the blanket and kneeled over them. The other girls huddled around her, clamoring for a peek. Tully began flipping through the photos like they were cards in a deck. “Nope. Nope. Nope again,” she said. With every
nope
she slammed the picture facedown on the blanket. “Nope, nope, nope, nope.”

“Chill out,” Darby said, gingerly picking up a photo. Peering over her shoulder, Becks could see that it was a picture of the four girls, with Becks in the center. Becks was pretty sure it had been taken after the first tomato had hit her. She was surprised at how not-bad she looked. She was smiling confidently, leaning against her board. To her great surprise, she quite possibly looked . . . cute.

“Let me see,” Lei whined, reaching for the photo from Darby.

Finally, Tully had gone through the entire stack. She sat up straight, her hands on her knees. “There is nothing to see,” she announced. She shot an angry glare at Becks. “She's hogging every single shot.” Darby and Lei stared at Becks like she had just slashed their surfboards.

Feeling their angry eyes rip through her, Becks gulped. “I'm sure there are some good ones of us all?” she asked hopefully.

Darby thrust the stack at her, and Becks looked at the first one. It was
technically
of all the Dixie Gals, but Becks was in the center and the other girls were blurry, like they were part of the background instead of star surfers. Slowly, Becks flipped it over. The next one was just Becks, with her hands horizontal, doing the “Walk Like an Egyptian” dance. The next was just Becks, standing ankle-deep in the water. And on it went like that.

“It's like Tiana all over again,” Tully muttered.

Becks felt a knot in her stomach. Suddenly, what had happened to the fourth Dixie Gal was no longer a mystery. “It's just one campaign,” she said dismissively. It was true—it
was
just one campaign—the Dixie Gals were already in so many, and there would be at least four more in the next year.

Tully raised her eyebrows. “If it's
just
a campaign—”

“—then why do you bother?” Lei finished.

“No, I didn't mean it like
that
,” Becks stammered.

“Do you believe she just said that?” Tully's face was stone cold.

“Is she insulting what we do?” Darby looked at Lei, who was scowling.

“We take this very seriously. This is our life,” Lei snapped, in the meanest tone Becks had ever heard her use.

“I'm sorry!” Becks cried, but she wasn't quite sure why she was apologizing. What was wrong with being good at something? Becks felt her cheeks get hotter as she desperately tried to save herself. “N-n-no, what I meant was that there will be lots of other campaigns. You'll have lots of chances.”

“Oh, look!” Darby snorted. “Now she feels sorry for us!”

“You know what?” Tully said abruptly. “I'm tired of talking about it.” She smiled warmly. “Let's call it a day.” Lei and Darby exchanged a knowing look.

“Oh, sure,” Becks said, relieved this discussion was over. She hoped everyone was just tired from the sun. “Let's go.”

“Ummm . . .” Tully looked at Becks like she smelled. “There's not really room in the car.”

Becks's heart dropped. She knew the Mini Cooper hadn't magically shrunk overnight. Apparently there was room for her as long as she wasn't more successful than they were. “Oh, sure I can just call. . . .” Call who?
Erin?
Becks wasn't even sure if she remembered her cell number. Or if Erin could pick her up. But she would have said anything to end that awkward confrontation. “I'll be fine,” Becks lied.

“Really wasn't worried about that,” Tully snapped. The Dixie Gals fake-smiled, and they all started walking to the car.

“Okay, maybe next time?” Becks said meekly to their backs, even though she was pretty sure that next time would never happen.