A Novel Idea by Aimee Friedman Read Free Book Online Page A

off.”
     
    Audre gasped and looked at me. “Nors, you didn’t even consult me! And I’m the vice president.”
     
    “Uh, Aud, you made that up, remember?” I replied, rolling my eyes.
     
    “Over?” Francesca cried, looking alarmed. What did she care?
     
    James looked up from the Onion , biting his lower lip in this incredibly sexy way. “Are you serious?” he asked me anxiously, and I felt my stomach twist. What did he care?
     
    Nell shrugged, propping The Fellowship of the Ring up against his coffee mug. “Fine by me,” he declared.
     
    Scott returned to the table then, wearing an apologetic smile. “Student Council crisis,” he explained, snapping his phone shut. “What did I miss?” He looked around at everyone’s miserable faces, and his grin slowly deflated.
     
    “Dude, Norah ended the book group,” Griffin told him, also, weirdly, looking miserable. Then, glancing at me, Griffin’s face brightened. “Though, hey, maybe you’ll change your mind when you hear my awesome news.”
     
    “What is it?” I asked Griffin numbly, guessing that he’d won some surfing contest.
     
    “I just met Philippa Askance.” Griffin grinned. “You know, the writer?”
     
    I nodded, my pulse racing. Philippa Askance had been here ? James and I had just talked about her at Art House! She’s this an incredible writer—she’s only nineteen, and her gritty novel in verse, Bitter Ironies , was a huge hit. But she’s mainly cool because she’s a mystery. Besides the author photo on the back of the book—bleached-blond hair in a spiky do, combat boots, a skirt held together by safety pins, and a delicate face hidden in the shadows—no one had ever seen her . She never gave readings or interviews and, according to a teen blog I’d read, Philippa was now working on her top-secret second novel and never left her house. So Griffins news was superexciting. Even Audre, Francesca, and the others perked up; Philippa’s that big of a celebrity.
     
    “What did she say?” James asked, his blue eyes sparkling. I felt a flash of jealousy, kind of like I’d had at Art House when James had said Philippa was cute.
     
    “Nothing, of course.” Griffin shook his head. “She was browsing at the shelves and had these giant shades on, but I recognized her from her author photo, and was like, ‘Dude, I’m a fan. Come give a reading at the Book Nook!’ But then she bolted like I’d, I don’t know, asked her to sleep with me or something.”
     
    Probably 90 percent of the book group blushed when he said that.
     
    “So here was my idea,” Griffin went on, leaning against the back of Francesca’s chair. “Why don’t you guys try to get Philippa Askance to read at the Book Nook? She doesn’t care about me , but maybe if it came from, like, a high school book group, she’d think that was really cool, and a good cause and all.”
     
    I sat up straighter, forgetting my unhappiness. Griffin was a genius! I would have chewed off my left arm to meet Philippa, and now here was my chance. How stupid would it be to cancel the book group when we could actually organize something this exciting?
     
    To my shock, everyone else, except for Neil, seemed to be having the exact same reaction. They were all nodding and telling Griffin what a great idea this was. I didn’t get it—I assumed all the others had wanted the group to just roll over and die.
     
    But somehow we were back on track.
     
    James, adorably energized, suggested we set up a separate meeting to map out a Philippa plan of attack: We knew she lived in Park Slope, so some of us could hunt around the neighborhood for her, while the others tried to get in touch with her agent or editor. We agreed to schedule our next Philippa gathering for next Saturday.
     
    Then, because the group’s vibe was suddenly so mellow and almost, well, friendly , I decided not to ruin it by shooting down Francesca’s earlier suggestions.
     
    “Let’s read The Devil Wears Prada