"Hi, Ash," Myla said, trying to control her shaky voice. She examined Daisy, expecting to find a trail of dry drool layered over caked-on makeup. She was a collage of odd: strands of hair dyed green and hot pink, shiny bright blue eye makeup, and a bizarre ruffled T-shirt dress worn over knee-high athletic socks and sequined Chuck Taylors. But Myla could tell she was pretty beneath the makeup, with silvery eyes and surprisingly clear skin. She glowed, even as she let go of Ash's hand and smiled faintly at Myla.

Ash seemed to glow, too. His s.h.a.ggy hair was in its optimal default mode, a fringe of amber falling over his left eye. Right now, Myla was the center of attention, a position she'd never occupied as unwillingly as she did tonight.

"Can we talk?" Ash said, his voice more sympathetic than apologetic. Myla already knew what was coming. The void in her stomach was the same emptiness she'd felt when she was seven and Lailah had convinced her to give one of the poor kids in India her favorite American Girl doll, Izzy. She'd done it, hoping to feel good, but instead had felt Izzy's absence for months afterward. And now she'd given Ash away too. She'd hoped to put them on even ground, only to find that the ground had been ripped out from under her.

"You don't have to explain," Myla said, quietly at first, steeling herself to fight back the tears. All along, in some faint and ignored part of her, she'd known this was coming from the second she'd told him to kiss someone else. But she'd listened to the other part, the part that told her that having a plan was better than letting life keep you waiting. This was Ash's fault. If he had just believed her that the Lewis night was meaningless, she would have never had to make this idiotic bargain with him. And he'd been the one to tell her how disgusting Daisy was. With the world watching as hers fell apart, Myla summoned a memory.

"I thought you stood for something," she said, remembering what he'd told her on his birthday. She smirked into Ash's face, watching his eyes widen in panic as he recalled what came next. "Didn't you say you liked musicians who were about integrity?" She ticked off the words on her fingers, gleefully noticing Daisy's confused look. "Quality? Actual musical skills? So you cleaned her up, but is she talented enough for you? Or are you just like everyone else, captivated by a train wreck?"

She paused for a second. Everyone was silent. The perfect time for the knockout blow. "What else was it you said? You were stuck with her against your will? But look who's holding hands with a train wreck. Go ahead and ride that train all you want."

She took her eyes off Ash, raising an eyebrow at Daisy. She knew it was cruel. Daisy hadn't technically done anything wrong. But she wasn't going to let another girl take away her favorite thing without a fight.

Daisy's smile melted, her gray eyes narrowing-but not at Myla. She stared at Ash like he was a stranger. And then she backed away from him.

Daisy stormed off, using the same beaten path as Jojo. Ash bit his lip, looking at Myla coldly. The way he'd looked when he saw her kissing Lewis had been bad, but this look... this look had unforgivable written all over it.

"If you think that just because she won't have me, you can, you're wrong," Ash said, as he moved in the direction Daisy had gone. "Maybe when we were going out, you could manage my life for me. But we're over, and if anyone's gonna screw my s.h.i.t up, it's going to be me."

With that, he walked off too.

Myla tallied herself as 0-for-2 in the last words category. And 0-for-1,000,000 in the chance that she'd ever be happy again.

PLAY IT AGAIN, ASH.

Jake trudged toward his car, feeling more tired than he had in days. Maybe it had been the movie, or having a girlfriend, or being the star of his own life for once that had made him impervious to fatigue. But now, with the movie over and Kady gone-really gone-he felt every ounce of energy draining out of him.

Maybe he just needed to eat some carbohydrates, though. Because, weirdly enough, he wasn't brokenhearted about Kady dumping him. If anything, he felt kind of like a normal guy for once-he'd actually been with a girl, and it hadn't worked out. It was like a badge of honor. He'd high-fived with football players, sneaked out of his house, and gotten dumped, all in the s.p.a.ce of a day.

He arrived at the visitors' parking lot, seeing his Corolla crammed into a spot between two monster Escalades. Sitting on the curb near the valet turnaround was Ash Gilmour, his head in his hands, his hair tufted into spikes of frustration.

It was oddly quiet, the party noises m.u.f.fled by the high hedges that surrounded the parking lot.

"Hey, dude," Jake said, looking down on his next-door neighbor. Ash looked like he'd lost his dog, his best friend, and a bet. Maybe he had.

Ash looked up at him, his face registering surprise. "Jake, hey, you're leaving early."

Jake chuckled. "Yeah, well, I have one weekend to catch up on two weeks of homework."

"Oh, the movie," Ash said, grateful to talk about anything but the fact that Daisy had run out on him. He'd followed her to the parking lot, but she was gone. He needed to go home and think. Hearing Myla say the awful things he'd said had made him feel like a s.h.i.tty, judgmental p.r.i.c.k. And it had cost him the girl he liked, one who made getting over Myla seem like a distinct possibility.

"Yeah, the movie," Jake said. "The teachers don't care if I'm Jake or Tommy Archer. Deadlines are deadlines. So, do you want a ride home? I'm going that way."

"Cool," Ash said, heaving himself off the curb. He walked toward one of the Escalades.

"Um, no, the Corolla is me," Jake said sheepishly, wondering if Ash would decide to just wait instead of going home in his powder blue Dorkmobile.

Ash grinned. "Keeping it real, Goldsmith," he said. "Nice."

Sinking into the pa.s.senger seat, Ash toyed with the tape deck as Jake pulled away from the lot. As they drove through the Transnational gates, Ash ran his hands over the tape deck controls. "Retro. Kinda cool. I sort of think iPods are killing alb.u.ms. Well, I didn't think it. I read it in Rolling Stone. But still. Is it cool if I turn it on?"

"Yeah, sure," Jake said, praying he didn't have some lame Duran Duran ca.s.sette in there.

Ash punched play, and after a few seconds of silence the sound of Queen's "You're My Best Friend" poured out.

Even though the song was about a girlfriend, or one of Freddie Mercury's boyfriends, Ash smirked at the memory of him and Jacob singing along to the song together as kids.

"Remember how we thought this was, like, a best-friend song? And not a love song?" Ash said, staring at the looming semitruck rumbling up the freeway entrance in the next lane.

Jake laughed, merging into traffic. "Remember how when we hung out, we didn't like girls? I'm thinking that we should bring that back."

Ash sighed, his eyes on the hills misted with clouds far on the horizon. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"I know that was rhetorical, but I'll tell you anyway," Jake said, sighing. "Kady dumped me to go film a new movie overseas. I have no skills. I guess just because you play big man on campus doesn't mean you are one." He wondered if school would really be any different on Monday, or if he'd go back to being lame Jacob PG again. Or worse, lame Jacob PG who got dumped by Kady Parker.

"Hey, supposedly I'm some kind of big man on campus. Which actually sounds like a totally douche bag thing to be. And it didn't help me. The girl I liked just found out the a.s.shole remark I made about her before I got to know her. And she ran off."

"Wow, we sound like an episode of Dr. Phil, huh?" Jake said.

"Next on Dr. Phil: 'How to Be a Douche Bag,' with Ash Gilmour and Jake Porter-Goldsmith," Ash said in an announcer's voice.

Jake laughed. "No, but seriously, that sucks, dude," he said, trying not to look up as he drove beneath a billboard for Kady's next horror movie, The Unwanted. "If it makes you feel any better, Kady's going to Prague. She better be in that movie, or I'm going to think she dumped me in the most elaborate way possible."

Ash smirked, opening the glove box to check for other tapes. "She wouldn't make that up. At least you can tell yourself she left because she had to, not because she thinks you're a total piece of s.h.i.t." And because your ex is a complete psycho who wants your life without her to be absolute misery, Ash thought.

Jake squinted sideways at Ash. "A total piece of s.h.i.t? Three-quarters, maybe, but not total." He worried for a split second that Ash would think the joke was lame. But Ash laughed.

"What's more than three-quarters?"

"Seven-eighths," Jake said automatically.

"Then I'm that," Ash said. "I said that I had to hang out with her against my will. Which was a little true, at first. But then I started to like her." Ash swallowed as he imagined what Daisy was doing now. He'd wanted so badly to protect her, and then he'd been the one to hurt her the worst, after all her ex-boyfriend drama with that punk musician. He just couldn't seem to get girls right these days.

"You can't not have first impressions," Jake said, pressing the brake as they got caught behind another snarl of traffic. He smiled at the memory of Kady calling him perfect. Not perfect enough to visit her in Prague, apparently. "I totally freaked Kady out. She says she's going to Prague, and I'm practically booking a honeymoon suite in some old castle. Who does that?" Jake quickly told Ash his unlikely story-that he'd crushed on Amelie, gotten in the movie, and wound up with Kady after getting lessons from Jojo. For some reason, he didn't feel weird telling Ash everything, even the Justin Klatch mantra.

"Well, you gotta try. And there's another girl out there," Ash said, laughing bitterly. He'd found his other girl, and look how that had turned out. "Just don't screw it up."

Jake moved the car through an opening in the sea of brake lights, winding down the exit to their street.

He pulled to a stop on the curb between their houses. Ash hopped out, while Jake remained in the driver's seat. A few steps onto his lawn, Ash stopped and turned back. "Hey, want to come inside, play some PS3?" He grinned. "The graphics are way better than that s.h.i.t we used to play on Nintendo 64."

Jake chuckled. "Oh yeah? Was it the graphics' fault that I beat your a.s.s at Mortal Kombat?"

Ash shook his head, laughing. "No, that was 'cause you're a total freak."

Jake tinkered with the keys hanging from the ignition. A friend would be nice right now. But he had a friend, one he had completely screwed over. One who had hunted high and low for the perfect car that now sat lonely in the driveway. One who had begged Jake to take him to the next big party, who never had a moment of disbelief or jealousy when Jake scored a date with Kady, one who'd pretty much do anything for him out of friendship, not because he wanted anything in return.

As Queen wound down the song with "You, you're my best friend," Jake knew what he had to do. As tired as he was, it was time to pay Miles a visit. To make an apology. And to grab a huge bag of In-N-Out burger with fries as both a peace offering and, thank G.o.d, the first starch to enter his system in days.

"You know, it sounds good, dude," Jake said. "But I have somewhere to be tonight. And I think you do too."

Ash nodded. "Yeah, I should probably do the whole find-her-and-tell-her-how-I-feel thing, huh?" he said, heading to his Camaro instead of his front door. "But anytime."

As Jake headed in the direction of Miles's house, he decided that "anytime" would be sometime soon.

PENCILS, BOOKS, AND DIRTY LOOKS.

The day after the party, Amelie lugged her heavy Big Brown Bags through the corridors of the Beverly Center. After she wrapped filming a movie or a season of Fairy Princess, she and her mom always went on a shopping spree.

They pa.s.sed a trio of girls about her age, all wearing nearly identical skinny jeans, high-top Vans, and tank tops-skater girl chic. Amelie eyed them jealously, watching their bright yellow Forever21 bags swing back and forth on their wrists. They'd probably just had more normal teenage fun in the fitting rooms than she'd had in her whole life.

"Are you getting too old to shop with your mom?" Helen said, shoving her Aveda receipt into her plaid Burberry tote. "Maybe you'd rather have called your girlfriends from Beverly Hills High, or Kady?"

Amelie grinned wanly. She didn't feel too old to shop with her mom at all, though she did sometimes wish she had a few girlfriends to call for these trips. Not only had Talia, Fortune, and Billie swarmed Myla the second they'd realized Grant wasn't coming, they'd left Amelie talking to the dullest adult in the room, the school princ.i.p.al, Dr. Nachez. They hadn't looked her way again all night.

Her other potential shopping buddy, Kady, was headed to Prague. But, Amelie had decided, she was a friend. Last night, Kady had pulled her aside just as Amelie was making her way out and told her that she'd broken up with Jake.

"I can't do the long-distance romance thing, Amelie," she'd said. "It's just not me. And Prague has an amazing club scene, tons of natives and backpackers just partying till dawn. If I'd hooked up with someone else while dating Jake, I would never forgive myself."

Amelie's face had borne a mixture of pleasure and surprise. Pleasure that he was free. Surprise that she'd be stupid enough to let Jake go. "Are you sure you want to do that?" she'd asked Kady.

"OMG. Do you like him?" Kady had slapped her forehead like she should have seen it coming. "I should have guessed. I'm usually good at those things. I saw your bliss face when you kissed him. That's the kind of face a girl only gets when she's getting a Balinese ma.s.sage at the Four Seasons or is kissing a guy she's gaga for. But I guess I thought it was just acting. Still, you should have seen how dazed he was after that kiss."

The words had cheered Amelie exponentially. But what would she do? Call him? And she fretted about all the changes his recent fame had wrought. Would he ever like her if he became the Next Big Thing? What chance did they have for a normal relationship?

Instead of answering her mom, Amelie grabbed Helen's wrist and steered her into the Ben Sherman store. A song from the new Shout Out Louds' alb.u.m was blaring, as salespeople milled around modeling the label's punk rockmeetsprep school aesthetic. It was all very Kady, and Amelie wanted a reminder of her friend after she left. She wanted to be as brave and as open as Kady. A little less wild, though "wild" was probably not in Amelie's makeup, but more willing to do things because she wanted to, and not because it was what someone else expected of her.

Amelie began scanning the racks of sweaters, jumpers, skirts, and dresses, picking out a gray miniskirt with angled zippers along the sides and a funky blouse with white cuffs and a tuxedo ruffle down the center. She could wear black eyeliner in the smudgy way Kady had taught her, and get blunt bangs cut. Bangs were the mark of courageous girls, Amelie had decided after her days of studying BHH's student body.

Helen came up at Amelie's side, a blazer draped over her arm. It was navy, very prep school style, with a Union Jack crest embroidered on the left pocket.

"Try this on," Helen said, holding out the hanger, blowing a wisp of hair out of her mascaraed lashes.

Amelie studied the coat. "I have so many jackets, though."

"Just try it. For me." Helen took the coat off the hanger and handed it to Amelie. Her mom's hazel eyes watched expectantly as Amelie slid out of her cardigan and threw the jacket on over her dress. It was cute, with a nipped-in waist, and double vents so it rested perfectly over her hips. Amelie turned side to side in the mirror, appeasing her mom.

"That looks great on you, love," called out a salesguy whose hair had been plastered with so much product his scalp might crack.

Helen nodded approvingly. "I think it would be perfect for your first day of school."

"What do you mean?" Was this a joke?

Helen took a step closer and put a hand on each of her daughter's shoulders. "I think I was too quick to turn you down," she said. "It was selfish of me. I got a call this morning, from Dr. Nachez."

Dr. Nachos, Amelie thought, suppressing a giggle.

"I guess he spoke to you last night and was really impressed," Helen said, beaming. "He said you're very levelheaded for a girl who's been in this business for so long, and said you expressed a real interest in academics."

She had? Amelie remembered listening politely-a skill acquired through tons of eternal chat sessions with the middle-aged at parties-as Dr. Nachez talked about test scores, student-to-teacher ratio, and the benefits of an education that covered the arts and sciences. Amelie barely remembered it now, but she'd probably rattled off some of the facts and viewpoints she'd learned at many an education fund-raiser.

"He said BHH could use a role model like you," Helen continued. "And promised me he'd do his best to help you maintain your career. You'd probably work a little less, or maybe just do Fairy Princess. Kidz Network said you could shoot full episodes on weekends."

Amelie couldn't believe all the details were already worked out. Apparently, Helen was a better momager, and mom, than she'd ever realized. "So you're going to let me go to school?" Amelie said, filled with pleasant jitters. She'd have real textbooks, not just tutoring worksheets. And an English cla.s.s where she could answer questions about her favorite literature. She wondered if they'd read Jane Eyre yet. She'd have a locker. She pictured Jake leaning against it, waiting for her between cla.s.ses.

Helen nodded. "I enrolled you this morning. You're now a BHH Knight. You even get a sweatshirt, because I made a booster club donation."

Amelie couldn't believe it. She was going to BHH. She was going to be normal. As normal as a girl could be at a school like Beverly Hills High, anyway. She stared at her face in the mirror. No bangs. She wanted to look studious. Maybe she'd trade contacts for gla.s.ses, the dark-framed kind that made her look smarter.

She squealed and spun around, grabbing her mom in a hug. "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

Helen squeezed her tight. "You're welcome," she said. "But remember, this isn't something to take lightly. This is about education. Dr. Nachez said you seemed more levelheaded than the rest of the student body. So I don't want to hear that you're putting off homework to chase boys."

Amelie knew she wouldn't be chasing boys. Boys plural, anyway.

For her, there was only the one.

EX-DIVAS' SWAN SONGS Jake stuffed the last of his textbooks into his straining backpack, each heavy addition bringing him more back down to earth.

It was amazing what a weekend could do. He was grounded, for his tantrum and for sneaking out. His Escalade had been returned and the lease canceled. The bulk of his Cla.s.s Angel money had been placed in his college fund. He was single. But at least he and Miles were friends again, though he could tell Miles was still a little hurt. As soon as his grounding was up, Jake was going to take him comic shopping and buy him a little peace offering.

He was definitely out of the movie business. After Jake's little episode last week, his mom had put out an all-points bulletin to every agent she knew, telling them and their colleagues that Jacob Porter-Goldsmith was not allowed to have representation or any further film offers. He had been offered a one-episode gig on Bromance, as a clueless underling that Brody Jenner would take under his girl-groping wing, but his mom had picked up the phone and given MTV a stern talking-to. It had to be the first time in film history that a young star turned down a role because his mommy wouldn't let him take it.

It was fine with him, in a way. Plowing through a few weeks' worth of physics and math homework made him conscious of how much he actually missed school. And his English teacher was starting his "science fiction as literature" series, starting with Kurt Vonnegut's Cat's Cradle, followed by Philip K. d.i.c.k stories-they'd be comparing the original text to the film versions, and it didn't really get any better than that. If he'd gotten anything out of his stardom, it was that he now felt fairly comfortable with his geekdom. And that, he thought, was what Justin Klatch would do.

As if to prove things were really back to normal, the words Now You're Really PG! were scrawled in red on his locker. Someone had gone the extra mile and cut a pair of angel wings and a halo from construction paper and glued them to the door. A note poked through the vents. From your friends at pep club! Congrats on the movie! Okay, so it was embarra.s.sing, but they'd come in peace for a change. That was the only perk of fame he'd like to keep.

As she headed to her Spanish cla.s.s, Jojo realized things were quiet at BHH today. And not lazy, rainy Monday quiet. She was sure her cla.s.smates were talking about her. Or would be, as soon as Myla crafted a rumor to explain how Jojo had gone from Myla's closest confidante to the female equivalent of a No f.u.c.king Way boy.

The weekend had been a lonely one for Jojo, since Willa still wasn't taking her calls-after tons of begging, Jojo had tried Myla's tactic. But apparently, an I'm sorry arrangement of designer baked goods and specialty candies from Dylan's Candy Bar in New York did not make up for lying to your best friend either. Jojo had spent the weekend pretending she had a ton of homework. She'd had her first two-hour-long conversation with her dads, Fred and Bradley, in days-they'd gotten a Mac with a webcam. Both of them had horrible colds, and their noses were like Rudolph's on her screen. She'd gone to Sat.u.r.day and Sunday night dinners with her parents and the kids, while Myla had gone out with her girlfriends.

The two days away from Myla had been good for her, though. She'd spent her first few weeks in L.A. desperately trying to make Myla like her and her second two weeks trying desperately to be like Myla. And she just wasn't that girl. She wasn't sure who she was, exactly, but she had a feeling the real Jojo resided somewhere between the soccer-playing, goofing-around-with-Willa version and the focus-on-my-fabulosity model.

She lugged her backpack, overloaded with books in true PM (pre-Myla) fashion, past cla.s.smates who seemed unsure whether to say hi, mock her, or hide from her. She turned down the hallway toward her Spanish cla.s.s, and saw Jake Porter-Goldsmith struggling to cram another book in his backpack. Speaking of No f.u.c.king Way boys...

Her heart sped up a little too fast for her liking. After all, this guy had been dating Kady Parker and shooting love scenes with Amelie Adams for the last few weeks. But it couldn't hurt to say hi.

"Don't you have someone to carry those for you?" she joked, sidling up to Jake's locker just as he shut the door. She broke out in the half-smile she couldn't seem to give up. She felt like it had been her smile all along. There'd been some positives from the Myla makeover.

"Hey, Jojo," Jake said, blushing as Jojo looked at the girlish graffiti. "What's going on?"

Jojo shrugged, focusing her violet eyes intently on his hazel ones. She noticed a green, heart-shaped fleck on his left iris. "You tell me, Mr. Movie Star."

Jake laughed, looking sheepish. "Those days are past me already. I didn't even get to fade away. I did a supernova." He looked nervously down at his Chuck Taylors. "Um, that means exploded." And it was kind of my fault, Jake thought, still not believing that a week ago, he'd been wearing sungla.s.ses indoors and letting himself be referred to as Kake. He must have subconsciously wanted to live out his superstar days in one heavily compacted burst, just so he could go back to normal.

Jojo ran her hand up and down her backpack strap, the nylon making a faint scratching noise. "I know. I had a field trip to the Griffith Observatory last week. When you were busy with the whole leading-man thing."

"Yeah, some leading man," Jake said, pushing one of his unruly curls from his face. "But in case I never said it, thanks. Your Justin Klatch advice really worked."