by Hayes Grier
A few minutes later, the screen still blank, she jumped up to put on her comfiest sweats. She always worked better when she felt relaxed.
She sat back down, cracking her knuckles to get the blood flowing.
Wait, she thought. Now I’m too relaxed. I need to wake up! She hurried downstairs to get an apple for dessert. She’d read somewhere that apples have as much caffeine as a cup of coffee. She didn’t believe it, but it was true she always felt better after eating one.
Just in case it wasn’t enough, she grabbed a carob bar, too. She would have preferred chocolate, but she had to take what she could get.
Now, this is better, she thought, back at the desk. She took a bite of the apple. “All set!” she said out loud.
Violet held her fingers poised over the keyboard. “All set!” she said again. Only she wasn’t set. She didn’t have a thought in her head, other than she really wanted a chocolate bar.
She spun around in her seat, finished the apple, and then polished off the cold pizza. When she turned back to the screen, it was blank. Surprise, surprise. She laughed at herself for half-hoping that, without any help from her, sentences would miraculously appear.
Just write anything to get started, Violet told herself. She typed in anything. Then she deleted it. She had to get to work, for real. She’d start with her main character from the first script—a sixteen-year-old girl named Melanie who’d just moved to a new town. She typed in a description: Interior, Melanie’s kitchen. She is putting a frozen pizza into the microwave.
Boring, Violet thought. And it certainly doesn’t have heart. Snickering, she added spicy meatball with garlic and onion to the pizza. “There,” she said. “Now at least it will have heartburn!”
Sighing, Violet deleted each and every word. Then she noticed her fingernails. The polish had chipped off and they looked ragged. Immediately, she got a nail file and polish remover and went to work. Ten minutes passed, and finally, she was satisfied. Now, back to the script.
Violet turned to her laptop. She cracked her knuckles once again, ready to work. Hmmm. Maybe she should check her phone first and see if there were any texts. She wouldn’t want to be distracted once she got in the groove. She swiped the screen.
Nothing.
She swiped it a few more times just to be sure texts hadn’t come in right after she looked.
Still nothing.
Okay, back to work. For a few minutes, Violet stared at the screen, unmoving. The character Melanie was just plain boring. She needed inspiration. Maybe watching TV would help, give her some ideas for a new character or setting. She flopped on the bed, grabbed the remote, and started surfing through the channels.
First there was a reality show about the inner lives of cats … then reruns of old sitcoms … then news … news … news … Wait! Violet went back to the last channel. It was a broadcast of Hollywood This Week, taped that morning and featuring none other than her own Hayes Grier.
Hayes was talking about Hawk and his character’s girlfriend, Devon, with a sweet, serious expression, like their fate was the most important thing in the world.
Oh, he really was adorable. Violet was sure every girl watching imagined herself in Devon’s shoes, racing through the woods hand in hand with Hawk/Hayes, running from the bad guys; not sure if her hammering heart was from exertion or from being so close to Hawk/Hayes.
Violet herself would face any sort of danger to be that girl. Then she had a sudden thought: Wouldn’t it be amazing to write her own story about Hayes Grier and his love life? Something different, like a novel, so it wouldn’t get in the way of her screenplay. A setting popped into her head. She could so see Hayes right there …
Without any hesitation, Violet flicked on the laptop and began to type.
The sun was rising, and Hayes Grier took in deep lungfuls of air. Now this is living, he thought.
Hayes was hiking, alone, in LA’s Griffith Park. He wanted some time away from his crazy Hollywood life. He loved every bit of the Hollywood scene—the insane schedules, his buddies, and the fun. But every once in a while he needed to be on his own to settle his head.
Of course, his loyal pup, Zan, was there, too. So Hayes wasn’t really alone!
Hayes loved the calm and quiet of the shaded trail. He didn’t pass one person. But just in case, he wore a baseball cap and shades. Hopefully, no one would recognize him. Hayes loved his fans, but sometimes it was good to get away from it all.
Suddenly, the silence was shattered. A girl was crying. Hayes hated to think of anyone in distress. So he followed the cries. “We have to help,” he told Zan. Soon they arrived at the edge of the LA River.
Violet paused. Did the LA River even go through Griffith Park? Violet had been there plenty of times, hiking with Mia and her uncle, but they’d always gone straight up, climbing tough trails to the top of Beacon or Glendale Peak where all of LA spread before them, looking otherworldly in the smog. Did she have to be accurate in fan fiction? Probably not, she decided. She would just let her heart dictate what she wrote. Heart, that’s what counted.
The water churned noisily, and Hayes spied a figure crouched by the river’s edge. The figure stood. It was a girl about his own age, with long, curly red-brown hair …
Violet twirled a lock of her own curly hair.
… and big, glistening tears in her eyes. She really was in distress! Hayes rushed over, his hair flopping into his bright blue eyes. Of course he wanted to help. That was just the special kind of guy he was.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, Zan at his heels. “Can I help?”
“Yes! Yes!” the girl answered. “My dog is trapped in the riverbed. I don’t know what to do!”
She stretched out one arm. “I can’t reach him.”
Hayes looked out over the water and saw a dog’s head popping up and down. He loved dogs—big ones, little ones, and all sizes in between. He couldn’t bear to see one in trouble. “I see him!” he told her. “I can swim and get him.
“You stay here,” he told Zan. “With—I don’t even know your name.”
“Rose.”
“With Rose.”
In a flash, he whipped off his cap and shades. He stripped off his T-shirt and dived in. He took long, sure strokes. “What’s his name?” he called back to the girl.
“Fred!” she shouted.
He reached the dog and, treading water, cradled him against his chest. “Hi, Fred.” The dog licked his face happily. “We’re going back to shore.”
With one arm, Hayes held the dog across his chest in a lifeguard carry and paddled back to shore.
“You saved Fred!” Rose jumped up and down. “How can I ever thank you?”
Hayes bowed. “Helping people is what I do,” he told her, only half-joking. “And when I have the chance to help a cute girl and save a dog at the same time? It makes it even more satisfying.”
Rose looked at him. “You seem awfully familiar,” she said. “Do I know you from somewhere?”
Hayes grinned and …
Violet’s fingers flew over the keys. She’d been having such a hard time writing before, but now the fanfic flowed. She had a million ideas, each one better than the last, and the story just kept going and going.
Finally, Violet paused for a sip of water. She leaned back for a moment, taking a deep breath. How much had she written? She looked at the bottom of the screen for the count. Twenty-five pages! That was really unbelievable.
Violet typed a few more words, polishing the good-night kiss description. Then she yawned loudly.
Suddenly, she realized how tired she felt. The writing had been like a shot of caffeine with a chocolate bar chaser. If she hadn’t stopped typing, she could have gone on forever; she’d never have noticed. But she did stop, and the crazy day had caught up to her. Still, more than anything, Violet wanted to keep going, keep writing.
She’d close her eyes for a minute, she decided. She’d take a little catnap, then get back to Hayes and the fanfic. She wouldn’t even close her laptop. S
miling, she fell into bed, still in her clothes, and fell into a deep sleep.
* * *
“Knock, knock.” Mia, just back from the beach, slowly opened Violet’s bedroom door and peeked inside.
Violet snored gently, curled up like a kitten in bed. Careful not to wake her cousin, Mia pulled up the blanket and tucked it under Violet’s chin. “There you go,” she said softly. “Sweet dreams, Violet.”
Mia backed away, accidentally nudging the laptop still open on the desk. The screen lit up.
“Oops!” Mia whispered. She went to close the top, but the words Hayes Grier made her stop. Were these notes for Violet’s job? Maybe Mia could get an inside scoop right now. Maybe Violet hadn’t told her everything!
Half-ashamed, half-excited, Mia read on.
“The sun was rising, and Hayes Grier took in big lungfuls of air,” she read.
Violet hadn’t been at the lot before sunrise today. This couldn’t be real. It had to be made-up, a fan fiction–type story.
She shouldn’t read it; Mia knew that. But Hayes Grier! Come on! Violet would understand. She’d surely do the same if their roles were reversed. They shared everything anyway. And assuming it was fan fiction, wasn’t that what it was all about? Sharing?
Quietly, Mia sat down, scrolling through the pages, devouring every word.
Half an hour later, she was done. But Mia didn’t want the story to end. She read the pages all over again. They were good; really good. The story deserved to have an audience—not just one sixteen-year-old girl, reading it alone in the middle of the night. She had to make it happen.
Mia googled fan-fiction sites. There were dozens, but she had to find just the right one. She read through description after description—mentally crossing off those that featured book or film characters. She clicked on sites, read entries on some, and then settled on one called Celeb Fan Tales.
Now she had to come up with a “handle,” an alias for Violet so she could remain anonymous. Mia thought the whole world should know Violet Reeves wrote this piece. But just in case Violet wasn’t thrilled with the idea, it seemed the best way to go.
HollywoodWriter310, she typed, then posted the story. There, she thought. It was clever to use the Venice area code in the handle, she thought. No one would ever have to know it was Violet.
CHAPTER FIVE
VIOLET’S PHONE ALARM sounded with a loud beep. She reached over sleepily and tried to turn it off, finally succeeding on the third attempt. Luckily, Violet had set the alarm riding home from work the day before. Oversleeping two mornings in a row would not be a good idea!
She closed her eyes again, trying to remember her dream. It was the kind of dream you want to continue. There was something about a dog and a river and Hayes Grier …
Violet smiled. It wasn’t a dream; it was her story. She should really read it over. She’d typed so quickly, she’d probably made some typos. And she could probably strengthen the narrative; fiddle around with the wording. Not that it mattered! She giggled a bit. Nobody would ever see it. Still, she liked her writing to be as perfect as possible.
Violet flung off the blanket and stared at her legs. She was still wearing sweats? She ran her tongue over her teeth. They felt a little fuzzy, as if they were wearing mittens. She hadn’t brushed them! It all came rushing back. The caffeine kick of writing. The sudden exhaustion. The thought that she’d just rest for a few minutes. Ha!
Violet rolled out of bed, eager to get into the shower.
But first, she had to go over the Hayes Grier story. She tapped her laptop, expecting the piece to materialize on-screen. Instead, she was looking at a website called Celeb Fan Tales. She scrolled down a bit and saw the title: “Hayes Grier Saves the Day!” What? Was that her story? It couldn’t be. She wouldn’t use that title; it sounded too much like a newspaper headline. She kept reading, and her stomach dropped, as if she were riding a crazy-fast roller coaster. It was her story. But how did it get on that site? There was only one answer.
“Mia!” she shouted. “Get in here right now!”
One second later, as if she were waiting outside the door, Mia waltzed in, calmly tying the belt on her kimono. “Yes?” she said sweetly.
“Did you read my Hayes story? And post it here?” Violet turned her laptop so Mia could see the screen.
“Oh, Violet!” Mia pulled her cousin onto the bed and held both her hands. “Don’t be mad at me. Please!”
“Of course I’m mad!” Violet retorted. “How could you do something like this? I’m not sure I’d even let you read this, let alone send it out to the whole wide world!”
“I know,” Mia said. “But I did read it. And I loved it! And I couldn’t let it just sit there, doing nothing. I mean, these pages have so much heart—that’s what you want in your writing. Right? I knew it would grab everyone’s attention. Look!”
She stepped over to the desk, tapped a few keys on the computer, and swung the screen toward Violet. “See how many people read it already?”
Violet stood, going over to glance at the number. She blinked. Then she looked at it again: 228,622! More than two hundred thousand people! Five times the population of her hometown! She couldn’t help but smile.
“See?” said Mia. “I did good, right?”
“Maybe,” Violet admitted.
“Come on, definitely! You have a following, Violet! You, Violet Reeves, from Mills Landing, New York, have fans! And you deserve each and every one.”
Violet flushed. Did she really?
“Now, shouldn’t you say thank you?”
“Don’t push it, Mia.” Violet reached over and hugged her cousin tight. “Thanks, but you have to promise to never publish anything again without my permission.”
Mia made an X over her chest. “Cross my heart. And to make it up to you right now? I think I’ll whip up the specialty of the house, Eggs Venice, a work of art if I do say so myself—two poached eggs in a scooped-out avocado, on a bed of quinoa.” She eyed the pizza plate. “I think you need some proper nourishment.”
Mia left the room with a final hug, and Violet fell back on her pillow, grinning widely. When she really thought about it, being published on a fan-fiction site was kind of perfect. It made her feel successful, and writing, she knew, was all about confidence. Anonymous fame, she told herself. What could be better?
Her phone dinged with a text. It must be her mom, Violet figured. She’d barely spoken to her about the first day of work, and she probably wanted more information. Without looking, Violet started to tap on the contact details to make a FaceTime call but stopped short. The text wasn’t from her mom. It was from Hayes. Now that would have been embarrassing! Not only would she have called him up, he’d have been able to see her rat’s nest of hair and pizza crust teeth!
Hey, Violet read. Just saying I’m sorry again. My crew is great. But sometimes when they’re all together, they don’t think about anything else but making each other laugh. After she read it through—ten times!—Hayes sent a Snapchat, just to her. It was a picture of Hayes and Zan relaxing on the trailer couch, but their faces were swapped. Violet giggled wildly. Hayes was cute even when he had paws! And he was thinking of her, trying to get her to laugh. She sent back a laughing emoji, because really it was hilarious. And how nice of him to apologize—again!
“I can’t even believe it,” Violet said to his picture. “You’re a supersweet guy.”
Suddenly Violet sat up straight, her heart beating fast in panic. Hayes didn’t want that hospital visit to be public news. For someone so out there on social media, he wanted certain parts of his life kept private. He wanted his actions to be real. And now she’d made up a whole parallel life for him. Her Hayes Grier fanfic was out there for everyone and anyone to see. What would he think about that?
Violet caught her breath.
He was a celebrity, an actor, a social media star. Not a writer. Hayes wouldn’t understand about writer’s block, how she couldn’t come up with anything to write until she focused
on him. How could she explain that once she started, she couldn’t stop?
And after all that, she’d have to tell him she didn’t post the story. Her cousin did. It all sounded like an out-and-out lie.
He’d hate the story. Hate her excuse. Worse, he’d hate her. And maybe just as bad, she’d lose her job and her chance at the recommendation letter for the Academy.
Violet had to keep it all secret. She had to keep the fan fiction from Hayes—no matter what!
PART TWO
Girl Likes Boy
CHAPTER SIX
“HEY, HAYES. SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.” TJ walked briskly into his World Famous office, pulled out a chair, and faced Hayes across the desk.
“Not a problem,” said Hayes. He knew TJ was pulled in a thousand directions every day. The director was responsible for everything on set, and Hayes respected TJ’s work ethic. He thought the guy was a little over the top, a little too out for himself, but maybe you had to be that way to be in charge of a huge cast and crew. So more power to him.
“What’s up?”
TJ shuffled some papers, made a note on a pad, and then swiveled in his chair, still not looking directly at Hayes. “There’s been another change.”
“Just as long as I don’t have to weep uncontrollably all through the movie, it’s all good,” Hayes joked.
TJ smiled distractedly. “No, nothing like that. In fact, it’s something that will actually make your life easier.”
“Sounds good.” Hayes waited expectantly.
“I’m pulling you from the motorcycle stunt.”
“What? You’re cutting the scene where Hawk rides around speeding cars on the LA freeway, dodging the bad guys?”
“Why would we cut that?” TJ barked out a laugh. “That’s the best chase scene we have. It’s pivotal.”
“So what gives?”
“I’m having a professional stuntman do the scene. It’s too dangerous. We need you to survive filming. Don’t forget, you have to promote the movie after it wraps.”
Hayes eyed him. TJ was talking in a jokey, guy-to-guy way, but Hayes knew he was dead serious. Hayes was serious, too, though—serious about doing his own stunts, and serious about riding that motorcycle. It would be a total blast, and he grew up riding motorbikes, so he knew what he was doing.
