The A-List: Hollywood Royalty #2: Sunset Boulevard

by Zoey Dean

  or you share half your sandwich with a homeless woman. I know you, Lizzie Barnett. I know

  you hide how kind you are under sarcastic comments." He narrowed his eyes in what he hoped

  was a penetrating stare, picturing Kady-as-Lizzie's face. But in the case's mirrored back wall,

  his own bug-eyed reflection stared back at him, like Wall-E with a Jewfro.

  "Hey, bro! Look what I found! A variant cover of Secret Invasion number one! Sue Storm

  looks hot!" Miles waved the floppy comic in the air for Jake to see, breaking Jake's

  concentration.

  Jake sighed and picked up a stuffed animal from a half-off bin. He tried to hold the yellow doll

  like a football. Tommy Archer was a quarterback, and Jake needed the practice.

  Miles shuffled over, adjusting one of the Spock ears he wore to get the store's Trekkie

  discount. "Dude, I hate to be the one to say this, but you look like you're breast-feeding

  Pikachu."

  Of course he did. In his mirror at home, practicing with a real football, Jake's little brother,

  Brendan, had caught on to what he was doing and wasted no time mocking him.

  Jake tossed the yellow plush toy back into its bin. He missed and shook his head dejectedly.

  He'd taken the part the other day before realizing that Tommy Archer was this awesome,

  popular jock. Jake's only experience with popular, awesome jocks was being on the receiving

  end of their popular and awesome torture tactics. Not that anyone on Class Angel could ever

  find that out. Jake had spent a summer bulking up, in a bid to go from dud to stud. In some

  small part of his brain that wasn't anxiety-wracked, he was glad that his newly gained muscles,

  braceless teeth, and improved posture were fooling someone. Amelie, at tutoring, had given

  him constant reassurance that he would do just fine. It didn't really help, though. A guy like

  Tommy Archer wouldn't be so naive as to fall for a megastar like Amelie and think he had a

  chance. Tommy Archer wouldn't have spent half his savings account on trendy, overpriced

  Kitson clothes. And he wouldn't have believed Amelie's invitation to Lewis Buford's

  Hollywood party was a date. At least Jake's new acting worries had helped him put Amelie out

  of his head. Still, she was going to be disappointed when shooting started in two days.

  "Why so serious?" Miles cackled in a vocal hybrid of the Joker and Peter Brady. "You're not

  yourself, dude. Secret Invasion, first issue, variant!" Miles, who had the treasure gingerly

  pinched between his thumb and forefinger, practically shouted. The guys at the counter shot

  him dirty looks. "I'll let you have it, if it'll make you feel better."

  "No, it's okay, dude." Jake sighed. He felt totally weak. Even though he had declared them

  verboten in his effort to be a whole new guy, Jake had amassed a foot-tall stack of fresh comic

  books in just a half hour at the store, and now he ran his fingers back and forth over the stapled

  spines, feeling a mixture of relief and disgust, like a dieter who'd just scarfed a plate of Pink's

  chili cheese fries.

  Miles dropped the comic atop Jake's stack. Miles had been searching for the variant cover all

  summer, even sending Jake updates while he was away at camp. "I'm freaking out. Me, playing

  a jock?" Jake confessed. "My motor skills are pretty much confined to turning comic book

  pages with tweezers, not tossing a football." Jake continued for several more minutes, a streamof-consciousness parade of worries.

  Miles listened intently and, when Jake was done, scratched behind his Spock ears thoughtfully.

  "This isn't so bad. You just need to do a character study. Remember last year, when I was

  chosen for the part of Giles in that reenactment of the Buffy musical?" Jake winced at the

  memory. Last year, it hadn't even occurred to him how dorky it was for his friend to appear in a

  bad fanboy reproduction of the show. "I just went to the Beverly Hills library and studied that

  old English dude who works in the rare-books section. Totally worked."

  Jake chuckled. Mr. Dornan, who was ancient and nothing like Giles, had caught Miles sitting

  in his wingback chair, wearing the tweed blazer he'd left behind when he got up to help a

  library patron, sticking his nose into a box of Mr. Dornan's Earl Grey tea. Miles had been

  banned from the library for six months. Miles nodded proudly, probably reminiscing about his

  big role. That was the thing with Miles: As stereotypically nerdy as he might be, he was okay

  with it. And frankly, that made Jake a little jealous.

  "So, what's your point? I have to stalk someone?"

  Miles removed his glasses and cleaned them with the hem of his shirt, and Jake could tell a

  plan was forming.

  "No, no, no. Jake, it's simple. You find someone to model your character off of. At BHH.

  Hmm, who could you use? Ash Gilmour! He's your neighbor, right?"

  Jake shook his head. Ash would probably be totally patient and obliging if Jake dropped by

  and asked to study him. But in the company of his former best friend, who'd gone from Jake's

  equally geeky best bud to the crown prince of BHH, Jake would feel like a ragged beggar.

  "Tommy's an all-American heartthrob guy. Ash could get any girl he wants, but he's more like

  a rock star. He doesn't even play any sports, just surfs and stuff."

  Miles nodded, making his way to a set of chairs upholstered in a tapestry of classic Superman

  comics. Jake followed, sitting down next to him. Having serious discussions in these very

  chairs was sort of a tradition for him and Miles, but their debates usually sounded more like the

  one going on at the counter, where the cashier and a customer were arguing over whether

  Hermione could take Sarah Connor in a fight.

  "Okay, I got it," Miles said, snapping his fingers. "Lewis Buford. His dad was an athlete, and

  doesn't he play polo or something? Plus, he acts like he owns the school. And he's really

  popular. Like, he even makes Us Weekly."

  Jake sighed. "No way. He's too Hollywood, and a total pretty boy. Tommy's supposed to be

  kind of normal and, like, not some guy who can get a different girl every night. Or maybe he

  could, but he wouldn't. And, he's modest. Lewis wears clothes with his own picture on them.

  He's the male Paris Hilton."

  Miles sighed, leaning back in the chair and putting his feet up on the black table shaped like the

  Batman symbol. "Okay, you're not gonna like this, but he's perfect. Rod Stegerson. He letters

  in everything and went to state last year for basketball. And he's never had a girlfriend."

  Jake almost threw up in his mouth at the thought of shadowing the meathead. "That guy is not

  Joe Normal. Or Tommy Archer. He's a psychopath. And the reason he hasn't had a girlfriend is

  that he terrifies people. He's like a bizarro version of Tommy. Rod is all darkness and fear, and

  Tommy is... good. Like the kind of guy who's even nice to guys like us, just because that's his

  style."

  Jake had been thinking a lot about this--Tommy Archer was the guy he longed to be. It was

  what his summer makeover had been all about. But the thing was, the more Jake tried to be a

  cool guy, the farther he felt from the mark. It was like cool guys had mastered some secret

  philosophy, and Jake had bought the wrong textbook.

  "So couldn't you just study Rod and do the opposite?" Miles asked.

  "What, and get my head shoved in a toilet bowl and 'homo' written on my locker? No. I'm done<
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  for. We go to the most not-normal school in the world. That's why they said they cast me.

  Because I'm so socially retarded from a Beverly Hills perspective that I'm the closest thing

  we've got to a decent, popular jock. If we went to school in the burbs, I might be Captain Cool,

  like Tommy. But if he went to BHH, Tommy Archer as we know him would never survive."

  Miles shrugged. "Well, can you visit a school in the burbs?"

  Jake could feel his first smile in days take over his face. It was so obvious. He could almost see

  the solution spring from his head in a comic book thought bubble. "Miles," he said slowly, "I

  have a better idea."

  Sitting across from Jojo at a cozy sidewalk table, Jake hoped Ingrid's French didn't seem too

  romantic. It was close to his house and school, and his parents came here on their dates, a

  thought that made him even more nervous. If his mom and dad showed up while he was out

  with Jojo, they'd introduce themselves and treat Jojo like she was the first girl Jake had ever

  gone on a date with. Which, okay, she kind of was. But this wasn't a date. This was business.

  The restaurant was on Santa Monica Boulevard, tucked just far enough from the street to make

  you feel like you were in Paris, and not just under Century City's monolithic but architecturally

  insignificant office buildings. Through the brocade curtains, Jake could see several older

  couples dotting the tables inside the low-lit café.

  "This place is nice," Jojo said, as Ingrid, a grand-motherly lady in a floral apron, set down a

  ham-and-cheese crepe in front of her, beaming at them. "Way better than cafeteria food."

  Jake nodded. "Yeah, I haven't been here since my mom's birthday in April." He cut a corner off

  his turkey-and-spinach panini, relieved that Jojo was acting so casual. Jake had stopped by

  Jojo's locker during a break in filming, pretending to be checking it for more graffiti, and

  invited her to lunch off campus. Despite the cryptic invite, she'd accepted. She looked different,

  somehow, more confident. Jake attributed the change to the fact that she was wearing a thighlength off-the-shoulder black sweater with white trim and black buttons down the sleeves, atop

  a pair of white leggings and insanely high red open-toe heels. Missing was the hoodie that

  she'd been hiding beneath earlier in the week. Her hair, which usually spilled over her

  shoulders in a carefree way, was tied back in a sleek bun. Seeing the "new" Jojo, Jake had

  feared she'd blow him off. But not only had she accepted the invite, she'd told him his powder

  blue Corolla was "nice and cozy." Jake almost felt like he was getting away with something.

  Girls so glamorous weren't supposed to be down-to-earth, were they?

  "That's cool that your family has a usual place. I used to go to Sadie's Pizza with my dads all

  the time. Did I tell you I have two dads? And Barbar, of course." Jojo felt like she was

  rambling, which was definitely against Myla's rules. Nerves, she told herself. Maybe her

  makeover would push her into princess territory with the rest of BHH. But Jake had known

  her when she was just Jojo, hopeless new girl-slash-outsider. She didn't want him to think she

  was desperate to fit in. She was just doing what she had to do to survive.

  "No, I don't think so. Where are they?" Jake leaned forward when he asked her, like he really

  cared about the answer, and Jojo wondered again why he'd asked her here. Not that she minded

  having a lunch plan that didn't involve quietly chewing a sandwich in the recesses of the BHH

  library. Jake was welcome company, especially since he looked so cute in his Tommy Archer

  clothes, a tightish navy T-shirt with Reavis Rams emblazoned across the chest.

  "Sabbatical, in Greenland. Thank biological parents for small miracles. I mean, I thought

  growing up in Sacramento was boring. Me, tundra, and a town named Nuuk wouldn't exactly

  qualify for living the dream." And I wouldn't be having lunch outside with a cute guy, she

  thought, visions of the burly, fur-hatted Viking guys she and Willa had imagined muscling

  their way into her head.

  Jake smiled, half-pondering why it had never occurred to him to invite Jojo to lunch before.

  Even though he'd convinced himself that Amelie was grounded and easy to talk to, he was truly

  comfortable around Jojo, not just lying to himself because he had a crush. He almost felt bad,

  knowing he'd invited her here with a goal in mind. And now he had his opening. "So,

  Sacramento. Was it really that different from living here?"

  "Let's put it this way. Every car in the BHH student parking lot probably cost more than my

  dads' house. Except yours. In Sacramento, your car has, like, identical octuplets. Squared. No

  offense to your car." Before she'd ever ridden in it, Jojo had felt comforted by the sight of the

  Corolla, taking it as proof that someone at BHH wasn't completely obsessed with status. When

  Jake had led her to it today, everything clicked--of course Jake was the owner of the only

  normal car at BHH.

  "Yeah, about Sacramento. I wanted to ask you about that guy, the popular one who you said

  would never survive here?" Jake hoped he didn't sound like an idiot. When Miles had

  suggested he visit a school in the suburbs, Jake had remembered what Jojo had said about

  Sacramento's BMOC. If a role model for Tommy Archer existed, it had to be that guy.

  Jojo bit her lip, and a slight flush crept up her face. "Justin Klatch?" She sounded shy

  mentioning his name. Jake wondered if she'd had a thing for him. "Yeah, what about him?"

  "Well, I'm trying to figure out my Class Angel character by basing him on someone real. But

  BHH isn't exactly full of the kind of all-American, popular guys who everybody likes, you

  know? And Justin sounded like he... is that guy?" Jake trailed off, realizing how ridiculous that

  sounded. He wondered if George Clooney ever had to do this.

  "Yeah, he definitely is," Jojo said, shyly toying with an orange slice at the edge of her plate.

  Before Jake had asked about Justin Klatch, she'd briefly wondered if this was a date. But now

  it seemed like he was just doing research for his role. She was surprised to feel a ping of

  disappointment at the realization.

  "What does Justin drive?" Jake asked.

  Jojo noticed that Jake's hazel eyes had little flecks of green in them, like sprinkles on a sugar

  cookie. Her face felt warm, as if Justin himself were the third guest at their table, listening to

  the conversation. "Well, he has this cool blue Toyota Scion. It's the nicest car at our high

  school, and that includes most of the teachers. But his dad sells cars, so he got a deal." Jojo

  hadn't liked Justin for his cool car, though she had on several occasions pictured Justin pulling

  up her driveway in it.

  "He paid for it himself?" Jake looked surprised, probably because kids in Beverly Hills merely

  had to exist to have cars presented to them. Jojo remembered that just because Jake didn't

  exactly fit in didn't mean he wasn't part of this world. Sacramento was probably as foreign to

  him as Beverly Hills was to her.

  "Yeah, he worked in the body shop there over the summer. Not that I knew because I rode past

  on my bike or anything." Jojo smiled sheepishly, picking nervously at the crepe's edge.

  Actually, revealing her former semi-stalking ways wasn't that embarrassing. She'd caught Jake

  studying Fairy Princess websites on the day they met.
Now they were even.

  "You liked him!" Jake wished he could put the exclamation back in his head, where it

  belonged. He didn't want to embarrass Jojo when she was helping him. Still, if a girl like Jojo

  thought Justin was worth spying on, it meant he was Jake's Tommy Archer. This was perfect.

  She shrugged, not seeming annoyed at all. "Maybe, but that's unimportant. You need to know

  why I liked him. Why every girl at JFK liked him."

  "He was probably built, right? Isn't that why girls always like guys?" Jake could almost hear

  the wrong answer buzzer going off in his head. After all, he'd worked all summer to get built,

  and he was still girlfriendless. And clueless.

  Jojo rolled her eyes. "Way more than that. It's a whole lifestyle, the way of the Klatch or

  something. Like, take Lewis Buford. If a girl dropped all her books in front of his locker, he'd

  probably say something like, 'Wow, if you wanted to show me your ass, you could have just

  asked me out' or something. Now, what do you think Justin would do?"

  "Maybe stop to help her pick them up?" Jake said. It was what he would do, or would do for a

  girl like Jojo. Other BHH girls would swim through mud before letting Jake help them over it.

  Jojo nodded. "Yeah, exactly. You do the right thing, but always keeping in mind that you're not

  obligated to. And that's what makes the person feel special: You don't have to be nice to them,

  but you're choosing to be." Jojo was surprised by how good it felt to actually be able to offer

  advice on something. Just as Myla was the expert on getting respect at BHH, she was starting

  to feel like the expert on what it took to be popular in Anytown, USA. And it was nice, too, to

  think about her old school, her old life. It all seemed so far in the past now, like looking in the

  rearview mirror.

  Jake was practically taking notes, so she went on. "When you're doing your part, just think of

  scenes with a girl like it's not that much different than being around a guy. But in your head,

  you're thinking, 'She wants to kiss me.' And you don't let on that you might want to kiss her.

  You're just chill in every situation. And not some guy who's only nice to see if you can hook

  up with someone." Jojo knew from experience. The anniversary of Dropped Books Day, the

  one and only time she'd been truly alone with Justin, was coming up. Justin's sweet assistance