Sunset Boulevard (11 page)

little pleased. Amelie, you need to look proud for bringing them here. Grant, you're seeing this

guy in a new light--he's a lot like Knox. And Kady, you're impressed--you always believed

you were in love with this essay writer--but you don't want Tommy to know that, so you're

pretending you're angry with him. Please, guys, let's nail this. Follow Jake's lead. He's got it."

Jake stared down at the pages of scribbles, trying not to grin like an idiot. He honestly had no

idea what he was doing to warrant all this praise. He'd just been trying to carry out Jojo's

advice--treating Kady like she was the only one in the room. As for his lines, he didn't feel like

he was doing anything special. He had a geek's gift for memorizing, and several years of Torah

recitations at Hebrew School aiding his enunciation. That was all. But as long as he had "it,"

for now he was, as in the words of many an L.A. bumper sticker,
driving it like he stole it
.

Gary clapped his hands twice. "This is it, I can feel it. We'll take it from Kady's line, 'Why do

you do this?' Let's roll."

Kady, Grant, and Amelie clustered in the doorway. Jake took one deep breath and posed with

his pen hovering over the pages of his composition notebook. He furrowed his brow. Like

Jake, Justin Klatch would treat his essays with the importance of a state basketball title.

"And, action!" Gary stage-whispered.

"Why do you do this?" Kady said, taking a few steps into the room so that she was hovering

above Jake. Kady crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, staring down at Jake with a

mixture of surprise and anger. "For shits and giggles? Do you think it's funny to give

nonconformists like me and Knox hope that there's someone at this school who doesn't think

cheerleaders and ballers deserve special treatment?"

Amelie piped up, as Class Angel, but Jake kept staring at Kady's concerned face, partially

because of Jojo's advice but also because he still felt like Amelie could see the remains of his

utter infatuation all over his face. "Remains" was the right word, he thought. His crush on

Amelie no longer hurt in the raw-wound way it had since the party. It was healing fast, but he

had a feeling it would leave a scar. "I told you he was different. I may just be an apprentice

angel, but I can read people."

"Shut up," Kady said through gritted teeth in Amelie's direction. She leaned down so close to

Jake, he breathed in the sugary aroma of her frosting-scented body lotion. "Are you going to

answer me?"

Jake searched her blue eyes, noticing that diamonds of gray circled her pupils. "Isn't it possible

that I just believe in sticking up for the little guy?" He puffed out his chest a little, liking

Tommy Archer more and more. The guy was like a high school superhero. Jake could see why

girls would go for him. He himself was a little in love with him too. "A jock like me wouldn't

have much credibility, so I made up a student. I don't need credit. But I'm guessing you like the

essays?"

Lizzie backed away, throwing up her hands.

Knox piped up. "Like them? Lizzie cuts them all out and saves them! She said, and I quote, 'If I

ever meet X. L. Thursday, I'm going to kiss him on the mouth.'"

Lizzie spun on her heel, embarrassed. Looking at Class Angel, she muttered, "I hate you."

Angel gamely shrugged. "They told me that would be part of the job."

Lizzie dashed out, her Angel at her heels. Knox hung back.

"This is like meeting Captain America and Jack Kerouac rolled into one muscular dude," he

said, holding out a fist toward Jake.

Jake panicked. The fist thing wasn't in the script. He extended a hand and awkwardly clasped

Grant's fist, pumping it up and down in a handshake. Then he realized he was supposed to be

fist-bumping
. What kind of idiot didn't know that?

Jake's face was turning a dark shade of red when Gary yelled cut. "That was hilarious, Jake,

the handshake instead of the fist-bump. Good ad-libbing," he added, coming over to pat Jake

on the back. "We're actually going to finish in time."

"Nice work, bro," Grant said, looking into a mirror on the door. He ran his hands over his hair

to muss it more than it already was. "Can I give you a tip?"

Here it came. Grant Isaacson telling Jake not to be so transparently uncool. Tearing into him

because he didn't know what a fist-bump was.

"Uh, sure," Jake croaked out, shifting uncomfortably under Grant's penetrating stare.

"You've had, what, four Diet Cokes today?" Grant's gold-colored eyes seemed to signal this

was a bad thing.

Jake shrugged. "I'm not sure," he replied. "I don't actually keep count."

"Just be careful," Grant said, the gravity of his tone making clear he wasn't joking around.

"Soda'll make you bloated and pasty. Keep it out of your system, and you'll be fine." Grant

cracked a rare smile, displaying slightly crooked top teeth. "I'm really glad we found you,

man."

"Me too," Jake said, meaning it. How else would he have known the power of the Klatch

without this movie? Or be trading actor tricks with Grant Isaacson, who could get any girl he

wanted? He stood up, handing the composition book to the prop master before heading into the

gymnasium. He couldn't believe that three professional actors had gotten notes to follow
his

lead. He pictured himself as a guest on
Inside the Actors Studio
, telling James Lipton about his

first role. "And, then, James, I thought, 'What Would Justin Klatch Do?'"

He headed toward the craft services table, where Kady was already assembling a plate of salad

and cookies. Amelie was sitting in her chair about ten feet away, as a makeup artist removed

glitter from her cheeks.

Kady grinned as he approached, her lips like a perfect red bow across her heart-shaped face.

She set down her plate and hugged him. "That was spectacular, Jake," she said, her voice

muffled as she spoke into his chest. She was shorter than Amelie, and Jake felt strong and

manly against her tiny frame.

"Thanks," he said, looking down into her eyes. "You were amazing too."

Kady shrugged cutely as she pulled out of the hug, her hoodie falling down to expose one

shoulder. "So, are you ready for tonight?"

Tonight was the big football game scene. Jake, as Tommy, was playing quarterback, and

Lizzie, there to pull a prank on the cheerleaders, was supposed to get caught up in admiring

Tommy on the field, against her better judgment. All of BHH was going to be in the bleachers,

watching him make a perfect pass to win the game. After Saturday, with his ridiculous attempts

to even hold a football, he'd spent several hours at ESPN Zone playing Quarterback Challenge

with Miles as his coach. "Dude, what did you work out for all summer if you're not going to

put it to good use now?" Miles had said. "Throwing a football is all physics and geometry.

Inertia, arch, stuff geeks know way better than jocks." After a physics-driven football lesson,

Jake had emerged from the restaurant with a perfect spiral.

"Sure," Jake said, grinning in a confident but not cocky way. Even though the cameras were

off, he was still using his WWJKD training. "I think it will be fun."

Kady play-shoved him. "Yeah, fun. Even Hunter Sparks was nervous about filming that scene,

and he'd only be in front of a bunch of losers from Central Casting, not his whole high school."

Her eyes danced over Jake's body. "Do you play football? I bet you do."

Jake looked away for one quick moment and saw Amelie looking his way too.
She
knew he

was no athlete. She also knew he was not a ladies' man. And, yeah, Justin Klatch probably

didn't lie, but
he
probably wouldn't have to say he'd never played football. Quarterback

Challenge counted, right?

"I did," Jake said, swigging some water to wash down the lie. "When I was younger."

"Oh, really?" Kady slid along the table, coming closer again. She reached for his bicep and

squeezed. Jake flexed at exactly the right moment. "Wow, yeah, you did. So, why not now?"

Jake flinched, he hoped not in a perceivable way. What now? He imagined the face of Justin

Klatch, who looked like Matt Damon crossed with Thor. Justin was saying, "ACL."

"I had this game and sort of got cocky. I didn't run the play like Coach said, and I was tearing

down the field when all these guys tackled me. I tore my ACL pretty bad and called it quits. I

learned my lesson, though." He nodded solemnly, hoping that sounded convincing.

"Wow." Kady raised an eyebrow, sliding an inch closer. He could feel her warm breath on his

neck. She looked up at him, her lips parted. "You wanna show me your scar?"

Holy. Justin. Klatch.
Kady Parker was
flirting
with him. Big-time. Jake jogged--no, sprinted--his memory, trying to remember where an ACL even
was
. In his head, Justin rolled his eyes:

"Leg, dude."

"Are you trying to get me to take off my pants?" Jake asked, before he even knew what he was

saying.
Where did that come from?
His imaginary Justin nodded encouragingly.

"Maybe," Kady said, her night-colored eyes teasing. "And so what if I am?"

As Jake felt every muscle, bone, and ACL in his body tense up pleasurably, he congratulated

himself.
Totally Klatched it
, he thought to himself.

BLEACHER BUMMERS

"Okay, we need to fill in these empty seats near Grant. Can we please have Talia Montgomery,

Billie Bollman, and Fortune Weathers?" The casting director, a plump blond woman wearing

oversize chunky blue beads, scanned the sidelines along BHH's bleachers. She looked like

Meryl Streep's younger sister.

Myla covered her ears as her friends let out a piercing squeal. She hadn't heard them get that

excited since she'd chartered a jet to take them all shopping in New York for her fifteenth

birthday.

"Omigod, it's happening. I get his right side, next to his dimple," Fortune said bossily,

adjusting the V-neck of her blue J.Crew sweater.

"Fine, I'll take his left. His hair looks better from that angle, anyway," Talia sniped back, her

hair tamed into two low pigtails wrapped in navy ribbons.

"What about me?" Billie said sadly, unzipping her hoodie and straightening her shoulders,

displaying the cleavage afforded by her navy tank top. It was clear to Myla that her friends had

dressed down in an effort to appear "authentic." But they could have gone suburbia casual in

C&C pieces from Fred Segal, instead of mall brands. Movie parts or not, nothing was worth

defiling one's skin with cheapo clothes.

"You can sit next to me," Fortune said, generously patting Billie on the shoulder. "I'll lean back

so you can see the dimple."

Myla rolled her eyes. She couldn't believe the whole school was being forced into servitude for

a dumb teen movie, or that her friends were so excited about it. She knew they'd gone to

Amelie Adams for "fashion" advice, and it annoyed her. Myla would have given them better

wardrobe counseling, but her three besties were all extra grateful because Amelie had

supposedly spoken to the casting director. Like that was such a big deal.

As her friends shoved their way past other students to get close to Grant, Myla scanned the

bleachers, pulling her hands into her cashmere sweater as a chilly breeze swept across the field.

The casting director had directed all the BHH B-listers to fill in the visitors' section across the

field. Olivia Abdabo had been sent to change out of her self-designed blue sequined jumpsuit