Airhead a-1

by Meg Cabot

  I waited in horror for the reporter to show a picture of me — the old me.

  But I should have known they wouldn’t. I was yesterday’s news… if I’d ever even been news at all. Why report about a girl being killed by a falling TV when you could show pictures of Nikki Howard on red carpets with her dress slit up to her belly button?

  ‘Representatives for both Howard and Luna had no comments on the photo. But perhaps Nikki can tell Brandon she just “forgot” that she already had a boyfriend… ’

  Oh my God. I couldn’t believe it. I could barely breathe, I was so upset.

  But the story didn’t even end there.

  ‘Stark Enterprises founder and CEO Robert Stark has issued a statement,’ the reporter went on, ‘expressing get well wishes for Howard — whom many refer to as the Face of Stark —’

  The camera panned towards an older, craggy-faced version of Brandon Stark — his father, dressed casually in an open-collared shirt, who said, ‘We here at Stark Enterprises respectfully request that the press, during this period of recovery for Nikki, afford her the privacy she needs. For the next few weeks at least, Nikki will be spending slightly less time in the limelight. She even told me she’s considering going back to school —’ he grinned as this statement provoked chuckles from the press corps, as if the idea of Nikki Howard attempting to get her high-school degree was the funniest thing in the world — ‘a decision we here at Stark Enterprises are behind one hundred per cent.’

  What? I’d never told Robert Stark any such thing. I’d never even met the guy. And great. My own boss — well, Nikki’s boss anyway — thinks she’s too stupid to make it through high school. Nice. Thanks for the support. He probably thinks that because he’s been reading her emails.

  ‘But highjinks like this,’ the reporter went on to say, flashing the photo of me on the back of Gabriel’s motor scooter on to the screen again, ‘may just get this model student detention!’

  Then a new reporter came on to talk about the current celebrity-divorce scandal.

  I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe one of those schoolgirls had snapped a photo of me and Gabriel… and sold it! Was this what my life was going to be like from now on? Being stalked by paparazzi, my most innocent activities being spread all over the tabloids?

  I was so busy staring at the television screen above my bed in horror, I didn’t even see the person who came into my room a minute later.

  ‘Nikki?’ The eyes looking out at me over the top of the surgeon’s mask were huge… and not just because they were rimmed in black kohl.

  Lulu Collins had snuck on to my floor again. This time she’d added to her ingenious disguise by carrying around a medical clipboard.

  I know. The mind boggles.

  Well, it was late, and most of the staff — including my father, whose turn it was to spend the night at my bedside — were gathered in the lounge, watching some kind of sporting event. I didn’t know which one, because I couldn’t have cared less.

  So it hadn’t been hard for Lulu to slip past the security guards posted at the doors. Especially in her current ensemble.

  ‘Hi, Lulu,’ I said a little glumly.

  ‘You remember me?’ Lulu lowered the mask, her face breaking out into an enormous smile. ‘Oh, Nikki… when they said you had amnesia, I knew they were making it up.’

  ‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘Sorry, Lulu. I really… I mean, I just know you from before. Remember? When you kidnapped me?’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Lulu asked, her tiny shoulders sagging. ‘It’s just… well, I saw the thing on TV and I started thinking, you know, maybe you guys had swapped back. You and that Em girl. Because hopping on to the back of that guy’s scooter? That was such a totally Nikki thing to do. Brandon is soooo mad!’

  I paused. ‘Brandon? Angry? At me?’

  ‘Well, sure,’ Lulu said, coming over to plop herself down at the side of my bed. ‘I mean, I don’t know where Brandon gets off thinking it’s OK for him to dance with whoever he wants all night long, but not OK for you to get a ride on some other guy’s Vespa. That’s a total, like, whadduyacallit.’

  ‘Double standard?’ I offered.

  ‘Yeah, I guess. But anyway. When I saw the picture, I got totally excited. I thought maybe you were back. I mean, that Nikki was back. The real Nikki. Cosabella is missing too, so I thought maybe you’d come home and taken her—’

  ‘Lulu,’ I said, ‘Cosabella’s here.’ I pushed back my sheets to reveal the ball of fluff sleeping at my side. ‘I’m sorry. Back at your place yesterday morning, she was crying, and… well, I just didn’t have the heart to leave her behind.’

  ‘Oh.’ Lulu’s voice sounded small. ‘OK. No, that’s good. Cosy did miss you. I mean, Nikki. I mean… Oh, I don’t know what I mean. So I guess that was you on the back of that guy’s bike? Not… the real Nikki?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘That was me. Listen, Lulu. About the whole spirittransfer thing… ’

  ‘Yeah?’ Lulu sounded congested. Had she been crying?

  I had no time to worry about her tears now. Any minute, my dad or one of the nurses — or worse, Dr Holcombe himself — might come into my room and figure out who I was talking to.

  And somehow I didn’t suspect any of them would be very thrilled. All their talk of fines and jail time — well, Stark Enterprises seemed dead serious about keeping this thing a secret. And I didn’t want Lulu to get into trouble. In spite of what a space case she was, she still seemed really sweet.

  ‘Lulu,’ I said, ‘there was no spirit transfer. It turns out I, um, hit my head. And now I have amnesia. So that’s why I didn’t remember you. Or Brandon.’

  Silence. Lulu stared at me with eyes as wide as a Precious Moment figurine’s. Then she let out a slurpy, ‘No way.’

  ‘Um,’ I said. ‘Yeah. That’s what happened. Everything they’ve been saying on the news. It’s true.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ Lulu said. ‘Or the news. I know that’s what Kelly is going around saying now. But it’s not true.’

  ‘Lulu,’ I said, feeling desperate. I had to make her believe me. I couldn’t risk having my parents pay two million dollars. Or, rather, file for bankruptcy, since they didn’t have two million dollars, ‘it is true. Why don’t you believe me?’

  ‘Because even if she had amnesia,’ Lulu said, ‘Nikki would never do that to her nails.’

  And she reached out and grabbed my hand.

  I looked down, following the direction of her gaze, and saw what she meant. During that meeting with Dr Holcombe and Mr Phillips, I’d bitten off all the carefully manicured tips until they were ragged… just like my old nails had been.

  ‘Nikki would never, ever do something to hurt her body or make herself ugly,’ Lulu went on, sounding almost savage in her conviction that what she was saying was true. ‘So I don’t know who you really are. but you aren’t Nikki. So don’t even try with the amnesia thing. It might work with everyone else. But I was Nikki’s best friend. I know everything about her. And I know she would never, ever do that.’

  I stared at her and the grim set of her tiny little mouth. Lulu didn’t know everything about her alleged ‘best’ friend Nikki. She didn’t, for instance, know that her best friend Nikki had been fooling around behind her back with Lulu’s boyfriend, Justin.

  But over my dead body — literally — was I ever going to let Lulu know about that.

  Still, Lulu deserved the truth — what truth I could tell her without hurting her — if anyone did.

  And so I said, ‘OK, Lulu. You’re right. I’m not really Nikki Howard. The truth is, the doctors here stuck Emerson Watts’s brain into Nikki Howard’s body. And I’m not supposed to tell anyone, or my parents will owe two million dollars — which they don’t have — to Stark Enterprises, who paid for the whole thing, I guess to keep their spokesmodel alive after Nikki suffered a fatal aneurysm that day at the Megastore opening.’

  Lulu blinked back at me. Once. Twice.

  Then sh
e burst out laughing.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ she said. ‘Good one!’

  I blinked back at her.

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘It sounds like a made-for-TV movie or something. But you know, they have this new Nikki Howard beauty and clothing line coming out, and I guess they spent a lot of money on it or something, and they want me to pretend to be her so they can keep on—’

  ‘Right!’ Lulu interrupted. She was practically rolling off the bed, she was laughing so hard. ‘Like if they were really going to do something like that, they’d pick someone as clueless as you are to take her place!’ She reached up to wipe away tears of laughter. ‘Um, no offence or anything. I’m sure you’re nice. But Nikki’s job is really hard. I mean, do you even have any modelling experience?’

  I tried not to laugh. I mean, at the Nikki’s job is really hard part.

  ‘No,’ I said drily. ‘But I think I’m going to be able to handle it.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Lulu said again, laughing even harder. ‘Do you even know what a Manolo tip is?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, thinking back to all those copies of COSMOgirl! Frida left lying around, ‘a Manolo is a type of shoe, right?’

  Lulu made a delighted noise. ‘Oh God,’ she cried. ‘I can’t believe this. This is going to be great! Nikki’s going to laugh her ass off when she hears about this. You know you’re not going to last a minute out there, don’t you?’

  ‘Well,’ I said, slightly stung, ‘that’s why they made up the amnesia story. So if I screw up, we can blame it on that. Why? What is a Manolo tip?’

  But Lulu ignored the question.

  ‘God,’ she said, ‘this is hilarious. I can’t wait to tell Brandon—’

  ‘No,’ I cried, reaching out to grasp her spool-thin wrist. ‘Lulu. You can’t. I told you. It’s a secret. I mean, I’m going to be coming to live with you — in Nikki’s place — and everything. We’re going to be room-mates — or loft-mates or whatever. But seriously. You can’t tell anyone. Or my parents will get into big trouble.’

  She stared at me, suddenly serious.

  ‘OK,’ she said gently. ‘OK, Nik — or whatever your name is. Listen —’ she swung her tiny feet, in four-inch stilettos, above the floor — ‘Do you want me to call Bliss? Because I could totally set up an appointment for you with an emergency-nail-repair technician.’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘That’s OK. Listen, Lulu. When I was at your place — our place — I noticed something about Nikki’s computer.’

  Lulu looked instantly bored. She studied her cuticles. ‘Yeah? What?’

  ‘Someone’s spying on Nikki’s emails,’ I said. ‘Basically anything she types or looks up on it. In real time, from a remote location. Do you have any idea who’d do that?’

  ‘No,’ Lulu said. ‘That’s a brand-new computer. Mr Stark gave it to her. He gave me one too. They’re pink.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I know it’s pink. Mr Stark gave you one too?’

  ‘Uh-huh. They’re the newest models from Stark Enterprises. Or something.’ Lulu blew a bubble, then skilfully popped it. ‘What do you mean, spying on Nikki’s emails?’

  It was at that moment that one of the nurses came in, holding my patient chart.

  ‘Er, hello,’ she said when she saw Lulu perched on the end of my bed. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ came Lulu’s airy reply as she hopped off my bed and glanced busily down at her own (stolen) chart. ‘Just making rounds. You know.’

  The nurse, who was clearly no one’s fool — perhaps recognizing that most nurses wore Crocs, not stilettos — narrowed her eyes. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, ‘but where’s your pass for this floor?’

  ‘Oops, there’s my beeper,’ Lulu said. ‘Gotta go, bye!’ She scooted out of the room while the nurse rushed after her, crying, ‘Wait! You, there!’

  I totally hoped she escaped.

  It was weird. If someone had asked me just a month ago what I thought about Lulu Collins, I’d have replied that I thought she was another shallow celebrity, obsessed with clothes and partying.

  And I still think that about her.

  Except… I think I’m starting to like her.

  So what does that say about me?

  Sixteen

  And the next thing I knew, I was being released.

  I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised… that they were releasing me, I mean. They’d completed every test under the sun that they could conceivably do on me. The strangest part was that, well… I’d passed them all.

  And these were mainly physical tests. Let’s just say that I’ve never performed well in tests of my physical endurance. I’ve never exactly aced PE. I’ve always been the last person chosen for teams in volleyball and basketball. I’ve always made a point to play outfield in softball, so that in the unlikely event a ball ever did come my way, I had plenty of room to get out of the way. I was crafty about coming up with excuses as to why I had to sit out from bowling or swimming or even Rollerblading. I’ve just never liked physical exertion. I prefer reading. Or playing video games.

  So naturally some of the results from my tests astonished even me. I mean, I was required to run on a treadmill for ten minutes straight — and I could actually do it… even after having been in a coma for over a month! In my old body, I wouldn’t have lasted more than a minute, maybe two, at a slow jog. I’d have hyperventilated, or worse.

  Nikki Howard, however, had kept her body in superb condition. It wasn’t actually hard to see why, since fattening foods upset her stomach, and anything processed seemed to taste like chalk on her tongue, forcing me to radically alter my former diet of chips and sweets in favour of healthy stuff I wouldn’t have touched before in a million years, like fish and vegetables. Which my new stomach found comforting and my new tongue found delicious.

  I know. I was kind of depressed about it too.

  The thing was, Nikki could run, swim, even jump rope for up to half an hour at a time before even starting to feel tired.

  What’s more, in her body, it was even pleasurable to do these things. For the first time, I got what they meant when they talked in PE about runner’s high. I felt GOOD after exercising. Finally, I got it… about the whole exercise-being-fun thing.

  Too bad I’d had to get a whole new body before I did so.

  Once I’d passed all the tests Dr Holcombe sent Dr Higgins to do on me, he signed my release papers and said I could go home… but that I would of course need to come in for more tests from time to time, as well as periodic check-ups.

  Even though I’d been unconscious during most of my stay with them, the staff lined up to say goodbye to me on my way out… only I had to leave down the service elevator of course, because once Nikki’s publicist, Kelly — who had arrived to pick me up and take me to my first assignment, a photo op with Robert Stark himself, to show the world that Nikki Howard might have amnesia, but she was fine! Just fine! — had issued her press release about Nikki Howard’s amnesia, the front lobby to the hospital had been jammed with press, eager to get a shot of Nikki leaving the place.

  I shook hands with Dr Holcombe, Dr Higgins and the rest of the doctors and nurses and orderlies who had cared for me. Dr Higgins and a few of the nurses broke protocol and hugged me, accidentally squashing Cosabella a little in the process, then laughing about it.

  I stopped laughing when it came time to hug Mom and Dad goodbye though. Because they were not taking the whole letting-their-baby-goeven-though-they-had-no-choice-in-the-matter thing well. In fact, they had already insisted on issuing me a Stark-brand cellphone, on which I was to check in with them three times a day (and on which they’d be calling me approximately every five minutes, judging from the look on Mom’s face).

  They weren’t the only ones who were worried. I’d never lived away from them — except for a few weeks each summer, when Frida and I had worked as counsellors at sleep-away camp. I was trying to put on a brave face about it, but I was basically terrified — and also the tiniest bit angry. I know
they hadn’t had any choice and all, but really…

  A supermodel? For Stark Enterprises?

  Frida I wasn’t so worried about missing. She and I had already shared a ‘special moment’ alone in my hospital room while I’d been packing my (admittedly few) things to leave.

  ‘God,’ she’d said. ‘I can’t believe you had Nikki Howard’s entire closet to choose from, and what you’ve got on is what you picked. Those Skechers are so pathetic. If you wear them to school, I’m going to die of embarrassment.’

  ‘Frida,’ I’d snapped, particularly stung by her tone, because I was already so worried about everything else. ‘No one knows I’m even related to you any more, OK? So you don’t have to worry. And could you give me a small break? I’m stressed enough as it is, I don’t need you ragging on me about my fashion choices.’

  ‘Oh, please tell me again,’ Frida had mock-begged, ‘about how you don’t know how to handle it because you’re so beautiful now… ’

  ‘What I don’t know how to handle,’ I’d said, through gritted teeth, ‘is the fact that my own sister tried out for cheerleading.’

  ‘I didn’t just try out for cheerleading,’ Frida had bragged. ‘I made the squad.’

  I’d gaped at her. I go into a coma for a month, and my own sister becomes a member of the Walking Dead (only not literally, like me)? Her assimilation was almost complete! She was just one spray-tan away!

  ‘No,’ I’d said, refusing to look at her. ‘You’re just saying that to get a rise out of me. I don’t believe you.’

  ‘Believe it,’ Frida had informed me. ‘Just because you hate our school and have zero school spirit, Em, doesn’t mean I do. And don’t think your showing up there as Nikki Howard is going to intimidate me. Because it’s done. I’m on the squad.’

  ‘Frida.’ I hadn’t known how to explain it to her… especially since Mom had already tried so many times, and evidently failed. ‘Cheerleading is… well, it’s evil.’