Almost Famous, a Talent Novel

by Zoey Dean

  “Ruby completely thinks I’m her BFF,” Mac said proudly, retying the string on her pastel pink Chloé halter dress, which she’d borrowed from Coco because of Ruby’s no-dupes rule. “She told me everything she plans to do for ExtravaBAMSa—it’s like she’s giving me the handbook on how to sabotage her. Only nine more hours till we get our lives back,” Mac said excitedly.

  “And the Bam-Bams have their new costumes,” Coco said, dabbing La Prairie sunscreen around her eyes. “I can’t wait until tonight.” She grinned wickedly.

  Becks smiled at Coco, who was not usually so scheming or so adventurous. It was funny to see how Pax Rubana was bringing out new sides of her friends. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her baby blue sweatshirt—her muscles couldn’t get cold while she waited to surf.

  “And Spazmo’s a green light,” Emily said proudly, showing off her newly dyed crimson hair, à la Spazmo. “I am officially all over this role. Me and Freakberry are like this.” She crossed her fingers.

  Across the beach, Becks spotted Ruby and the Rubybots all wearing the same Gucci sunglasses—the ones Mac had worn up until they’d copied her. They looked like Guccibots. They were all staring curiously at the Inner Circle, as if waiting to see what they would do next. Even as social pariahs, the I.C. were still the ones to watch.

  Becks barely recognized her backyard. The normally serene beach had been completely transformed for Surffest: Bleachers had been built just for the day; royal blue tents had been set up by sponsors Roxy and Gatorade; and there was a giant tower by the bleachers, so a camera crew could televise the event. Kelly Slater, the world champion surfer (and an old buddy of Clutch’s) was piling strawberries and grapes onto a black plastic plate in the VIP breakfast tent, which had been catered by Marmalade Cafe. He chucked a grape at Laird Hamilton, another world-famous surfer.

  Surffest looked like a VIP party for X Games, which Becks had been to several times with her father. Besides Kelly Slater and Laird Hamilton, Trent Munro and Shaun White were there. Kate Hudson and Goldie Hawn had brought their beach chairs.

  In front of the packed bleachers, Becks spied Austin and Mac’s brother, Jenner, tossing a football on the sand with some other guys from Bel-Air Prep. Even the alterna-kids had decided to show up—they were sitting in the back row, holding books and pretending to read.

  Becks glanced back to the ocean, where the waves were a mess of choppy whitewash. Just then the voice of Vivian Kelley, BAMS’s athletic director, boomed over the speaker system. “Attention, BAMS community! Welcome to our annual Surffest, where all the money from your admission ticket goes to Save Darfur!”

  That was Becks’s cue to make her way toward the water, since she was up first. The day was kind of like a surfing competition, in that there were heats, and everyone got to surf one wave. But unlike most surf competitions, which were only open to surf team members, Surffest was open to the whole school and anyone who wanted to give it a shot (hence: Ellie). To give the day a competitive edge, there were trophies for joke awards. In earlier years, Becks had won Most Unusual Wipeout (for a failed jump off her longboard) and Most Creative (for a handstand on her longboard).

  Vivian continued with her intro speech. “Today we are going to begin with our very own star surfer, Evangelina Becks, and then we’ll wrap it up with a surf exhibit by our newbies. As a reminder, the price of your ticket will be donated to Save Darfur, but anything you want to give beyond that will be happily accepted. First off, ladies and gentlemen, I give you Evangelina Becks!”

  Becks smiled when she heard her name called. Normally she got jittery in a good way when it was time to surf in front of crowds, but her confidence was so high from having surfed the Pipeline in Hawaii this summer that Malibu seemed fun and easy by comparison.

  She waved to the crowd and darted into the water, holding her board under her right arm. As she glided into the ocean on her board, she dug her arms into the water after a swell. The water was surprisingly choppy, even by non-Malibu standards, Becks realized, when she rode her first few waves to shore. It was the kind of surf she loved—big and pounding, and it made her surfing look extra impressive, because she could fly down the line gracefully and quickly. The crowd roared with applause when Becks turned her board and then did a cross-step as she walked across it.

  When she finished, even though her ears were filled with salt water, Becks could hear everyone cheering for her. She made her way to shore (discreetly wedgie-checking herself before she got too close to the spectators) and then took a bow. A huge grin spread across her face when she spotted Mac, Coco, and Emily jumping up and down, waving homemade BECKS signs like she was a rock star. But then, remembering why her surfing had been so impressive, she freaked: Those waves were rough! The beginners were up next, and Ellie couldn’t be in that water. She rushed over to the tarp where the newer surfers were waiting.

  “Ellie, I need to tell you something!” Becks said in a rush.

  “Becks! What’s up?” Ellie stuck up her tiny hand for a high five. She was wearing the same black Roxy bikini that had become her surfing uniform, and her long blond hair was in a French braid down her back. Becks imagined Ellie trying Toes on the Nose, and all Becks could see was Ellie’s teeny self getting knocked by her board. She winced. No matter how jealous Becks might have been, she didn’t want Ellie to get hurt.

  Becks grabbed Ellie’s hand instead of high-fiving, to show this was serious. “Listen, you know that move I showed you? Please promise me you won’t try it. The waves are just too big today.”

  “Little Miss Worry Pants, I’ll be fine.” Ellie patted her straw blond braid and smiled. Then she grabbed her board, turned, and took long strides toward the water. Becks chased after her, feeling very much like Austin’s dog, Boone, desperate for some attention. Soon they were close to the water, out of earshot of the crowd.

  “No, seriously, Ellie, the waves are too big,” Becks called after her. “It was a really calm day when we practiced.” By then they were both standing ankle-deep in the Pacific Ocean. To anyone else, it looked like a coach talking to her athlete.

  “So I wipe out?” Ellie giggled. “It’ll be impressive that I even tried. No one expects me to be as good as you . . . yet,” Ellie said. She shot a coy glance over at Austin, who was still tossing a football with Jenner. Ellie’s gaze returned to Becks. “Is this about him?” Ellie cocked her eyebrow in Austin’s direction.

  “No, Ellie, I swear this isn’t about Austin,” Becks said desperately.

  Vivian Kelley’s voice boomed over the speaker system. “All right, next up, our new surfers will have five minutes to tear up a wave for your enjoyment. So please put your hands together for our novices!”

  Becks and Ellie shared a shimmering glare. “You don’t have to be jealous, okay?” Ellie said as she ran into the water with the other four surfers.

  “But that’s not it—” Becks cried out, but it was useless. Ellie was paddling into the waves, and the warning was drowned out by the surf.

  Becks looked down at her G-Shock watch. Five minutes couldn’t be over fast enough. A lot could happen in that time. She watched as Ellie paddled out and let a few swells pass her by. Then, when a big wave started to sweep toward the shore, Ellie ducked in. Becks winced, knowing it was too big. Ellie paddled her arms and put her foot out to stand on the board.

  Becks anxiously squeezed her fingers inside her sweatshirt. She watched as Ellie stood up on her board. Ellie’s balance was shaky, but she was up there for several seconds, long enough for Becks to see a huge smile on her face. A tiny part of Becks lit up, knowing that she had taught Ellie how to do that. The crowd roared for Ellie. Kelly Slater let out a whoop. Austin cupped his hands around his mouth and screamed, “GO, ELLIE!”

  And then, Becks’s life went into blurry slow motion, as if she’d tumbled underwater. Ellie took baby steps over to the edge of the board. She raised her arms out to wave to the crowd, a proud smile spreading across her face. She took a tiny step toward the nose of the
board. Then, as quickly as she’d stood, Ellie’s board plunged down and kicked high up into the air. Ellie plummeted headfirst into the water. The waves rolled forward, and Ellie’s board zoomed to the sand. But there was no sign of Ellie.

  Becks gasped.

  For seconds, all Becks saw was more surf churning to shore. A group of people ran to the waves to watch out for Ellie. She was totally MIA. Becks ran to the front of the beach, waiting for Ellie’s head to resurface.

  Austin charged into the water, Baywatch style, reaching his arms to the sides, checking for her body. Becks’s mind was thrashing with scenarios: Ellie was unconscious or cut up by the fins of her board. Or both. Or worse . . .

  Finally, Austin pulled a listless body from the surf. He carried Ellie fireman style over his shoulder back to the shore and set her down carefully, as though she were a porcelain doll. Becks charged over to them, fearing the worst. She looked down at Ellie, who was sputtering water. Austin wiped her face while he held her head.

  “What just happened?” Ellie said dazedly. Becks breathed a sigh of relief.

  Austin looked into her eyes. “Ellie, were you trying Toes on the Nose? Why did you ever think you could do that? It’s way too advanced.”

  Ellie looked over at Becks, a swell of understanding washing over her face. She smiled knowingly. Finally, she looked right at Austin. “Becks taught me.”

  Austin’s blue-gray eyes flashed with disappointment. “Becks taught you that?”

  Becks’s heart sank. She wished she could bury herself underground like a sand crab. Her face flushed bright red, but she couldn’t think of how to explain herself in a way that would make sense.

  “I wanted to impress you,” Ellie said simply, looking right into Austin’s eyes.

  “You don’t need to do that to impress me,” Austin said tenderly. He squeezed Ellie’s hand and stared at Becks with his blue-gray eyes. His look was one of disgust and surprise.

  “I guess you just never know what people are thinking,” Austin said gently to Ellie, his gaze still locked on Becks. In the thirteen years Becks had known Austin Holloway, she’d never seen him look at her like that.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  COCO

  Saturday September 19

  6:45 PM Time to make Bam-Bams history!

  Five minutes before the Bam-Bams were slated to perform, Coco hid backstage in the wings, arrang ing the water bottles in alphabetical order, pretending to still be in water boy mode. Inside, she was tingling with excitement at the sounds coming from the auditorium. The sold-out crowd was buzzing. Coco imagined future Bam-Bams discussing the night: . . . And then Coco Kingsley took the stage, overthrew the evil empire, and restored glory to our team.

  The Bam-Bams had arranged for a smoke machine to blow a giant puff of smoke, covering the entire stage, which dovetailed perfectly with Coco’s plan. It was supposed to go like this:1. House lights dim.

  2. Girls charge the stage in their first position.

  3. Smoke covers the stage (Coco sneaks into this lineup).

  4. Chords start.

  5. Lights pop on.

  6. Dance begins.

  7. Haylie realizes she’s wearing old costume and doing the wrong dance.

  8. Haylie looks like a total fool and leaves the stage.

  9. Coco dances flawlessly, steals the show, impressing Mom, Dad, and BAMS.

  Easy.

  The smoke machine, which had been Haylie’s one good idea, was a total gift. All she had to do was run out in the first second of smoke and she’d be totally undis- coverable. From her hours of watching dress rehearsals, Coco knew exactly how to time it. The girls would do the new dance, and Coco would be their leader. Haylie would look left out and stupid.

  Coco peered into the crowd, looking down upon the sea of faces. She quickly spotted her mother, in the third row from the center, wearing a yellow 3.1 Phillip Lim minidress. Even in a sea of people, Cardammon popped. Next to her, Charles Kingsley was wearing a navy suit with an ascot. Coco beamed, proud that her father had taken the time to dress up for this event. Clearly it meant a lot to him. In the front row, she saw Mac and Becks sitting together, looking as excited for her as she felt. She knew Emily was somewhere backstage, preparing for her Spazmo performance and sending Coco good vibes.

  The Bam-Bams came together for a team hug, wearing their starchy A-line dresses that made them look like umbrellas, bathing caps hiding their hair. Coco’s shiny dark mane was pulled back, held tight with six bobby pins and hair spray. Her skin was shimmered with extra powder—enough to make her look natural to a crowd of hundreds of people. She unzipped her water boy jacket and untied the cord to her pants, making sure she could fling them off. Underneath was her shiny leotard, designed to glimmer like raindrops. She hoped the Bam-Bams had figured out how to snap off their umbrella dresses. That was the one thing she’d forgotten to have them practice during their secret dance sessions. Coco eyed the green room to find a way to secretly check with Lucia or Maribel, but they were still caught up in the group hug, with Haylie at the center.

  But just then Vivian Kelley’s voice blared in surround sound. She was speaking in an announcer-y voice, like she was Ryan Seacrest. “Lay-dies and gentlemen, tonight we bring you the most celebrated dance team in Los Angeles, the Bam-Bams!”

  The girls broke apart from their hug, patting each other on the back, and then rushed to the wings. Maribel stood right next to Coco.

  “You ready?” Coco whispered.

  Maribel’s eyes stayed focused on the stage. She said something under her breath that Coco couldn’t understand.

  Vivian continued her speech: “The Bam-Bams have performed in five countries and thirteen states, two Super Bowls, and at the White House.” The crowd roared. Someone yelled out, “ROCK IT, MARIBEL! GO, LUCIA!” The lights dimmed to a blue glow. “You know them, you love them. . . .”

  “GOOOOO, GIRLS!” Haylie hiss-whispered to the group.

  “Please put your hands together for Bel-Air Middle School’s dance team, the one and only Bam-Bams!”

  The girls ran onstage to take their positions, heads down, hands clasped, index fingers pointing to the ceiling. As the smoke hissed, billowing over the stage, Coco flung off her tracksuit and leapt out from backstage. Hidden in the smoke clouds, she quietly assumed her place in front of the Bam-Bams, fingers clasped and pointing at the ceiling.

  The opening beats of “Umbrella” started, and the lights popped on. The Bam-Bams were off! Coco landed her double pirouette perfectly. Then, just as she’d done by the tree, she nailed her first eight-count, feeling alive with each step. She leaned down into her right leg and leapt up, going for a barrel turn.

  And then it happened.

  Thud.

  She crash-landed.

  Did someone put a pole onstage?

  Coco looked up and realized . . . that “pole” was Haylie Fowler. Their eyes locked for a millisecond, before Haylie went right back to dancing the old routine, which was exactly what all the other girls were dancing. Lucia did the exact same spiral as Maribel, who did the exact same spiral as Taylor. They were all wearing their very coordinated umbrella outfits. Coco looked like a total outcast, sitting gracelessly on her bum in a mismatched outfit while the girls danced around her. She felt like a piece of left-on-the-street Ikea furniture.

  Between spins, Haylie leaned in and whispered to Coco, “Next time you double-cross me, don’t tell a group of girls who like shopping at the Grove.”

  So Haylie had found out and turned the tables on Coco at the last minute. Coco couldn’t believe that she was the one sitting shamefully in front of a full auditorium, suffering the fate she’d so carefully planned for Haylie. Coco looked into the packed audience. She slid backward like a crab toward the wings, sweeping away the dust and the remnants of her dignity.

  As she slowly pushed her way offstage, Coco got an excruciating final look at her friends. Mac’s jaw was wide open, and Becks was wincing as though someone was giving her Ind
ian burns. As Coco scanned the faces of strangers around them, she saw what she’d known she’d see: Everyone was looking at her like she was a total freak. She had never felt so ugly or embarrassed.

  And then, just when Coco thought it was not humanly possible to feel worse, she spotted Cardammon and her father. The horror on their super-tanned faces said it all. Coco had gone from fairy tale to cautionary tale in exactly two eight-counts.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  emily

  Saturday September 19

  8 PM My L.A. acting debut (yay!) in Judgers & Haters. WWPFD: What Would Pinkberry Freak Do? Channel her to the max

  8:30 PM Mission: Meet Hank Myler!

  Emily stood in the green room at 7:57 p.m., play ing with her long strands of hair while her legs trembled underneath her. She had raced here seconds after seeing Coco’s failed coup, and it had only made her more nervous that maybe the plan wouldn’t work as Mac had promised.

  Emily had spent the past week shadowing the Pinkberry girl, whose real name was Suzie Dooley. She’d learned how to dye her hair that horrific color (cranberry juice or Kool-Aid), where to buy vests (Crossroads or Goodwill, never spend more than five dollars), and why the Battlestar Galactica pins all over the vests (they were conversation starters!).

  She was seconds away from her Los Angeles acting debut, even if it was Judgers & Haters.

  Emily had started to walk with her shoulders more scrunched, like someone had just asked her a question about photosynthesis or something else she just couldn’t answer off the top of her head. Just holding her body that way made Emily feel like a more nervous person, as if an asteroid was going to crash to earth any second. She’d even started reading National Geographic before going to bed, just because Suzie said it was part of her nightly routine.

  On the bright side: Emily knew that her acting was getting better, because everyone at BAMS thought she really was Spazmo. The downside, of course, was that everyone at BAMS thought she really was Spazmo.