Sunset Boulevard by Zoey Dean Read Free Book Online

prayed it wasn't a goofy message from Willa that Rod
    would see, or a picture of her dads on their sabbatical, arms around each other. If Rod knew the
    girl he was wrongly calling a lesbian had a set of adoptive gay fathers, he'd have ammunition to
    last the school year.
    To Jojo's surprise, it was from Myla. Don't let that asshole talk to you like that, it read.
    "Hey, Rod," Myla cooed sweetly. "I was wondering something."
    Rod turned, looking Myla up and down as he bit his lip. She was a picture of cool composure,
    looking model-perfect in her red and gray Phillip Lim cadet jacket over a short violet Marc
    Jacobs pleat dress. "Don't worry, I still think you're hot even if your sis is nasty."
    Myla sighed heavily, every eye in the classroom turning to her with interest. "No, I thought
    you should tell Jojo about last year's game with Malibu. You know, the one where you got so
    nervous, you wet yourself at halftime."
    Rod's red face grew almost purple as he turned to his buddies in shock. "Dudes, you promised
    you'd never tell anyone," he yelped, his voice almost a whimper. He tore from the class as it
    broke out in peals of laughter.
    Jojo beamed. Someone had ammunition, and it wasn't Rod.
    After class, Jojo waited for Myla in the hall, leaning casually against the cool cinder-block wall.
    Her hood was down and she felt free, and a little less like she had to hide.
    Myla was the last student to file out, thanks to the crowd that gathered around her desk,
    wanting to know all about Rod's nervous bladder.
    Jojo hugged Myla hard, hoping the gesture wouldn't annoy her. "That was amazing. Thank
    you, thank you, thank you."
    Hitching her silver Balenciaga tote over her shoulder, Myla shrugged. "No big deal. He
    deserves it. Hey, want to go to tea?"
    Jojo squinted at her, puzzled. "What about seventh and eighth?"
    "You have to stop hiding in the library already. Those classes are canceled today--they
    announced it at lunch. They're doing a montage of Kady Parker's character thinking she's going
    nuts seeing her angel everywhere. They need a bunch of classrooms and the hall. Too much
    disruption, I guess."
    Jojo raised her eyebrows. So far, Class Angel didn't seem like enough of a disruption. She'd
    been hoping the movie's arrival would take some of the interest off her, but so far kids at BHH
    seemed more annoyed than awed that the movie was being filmed at their school. Grant
    Isaacson was the only real distraction. His trailer was next to the tennis courts, and girls who'd
    been excused from PE all year had actually shown up today, preening as they waited for turns
    with the auto-serve machine. But they'd never be so déclassé as to actually ask for his
    autograph. Willa, Jojo's best friend back home, had texted her asking for it, but even if she was
    locked in a room with Grant--with a stack of his headshots, and a million working pens--she
    would never risk additional scorn by doing something so not BHH.
    Jojo grinned. "Sounds good. But is this, like, going to be okay with Billie and Talia and
    everyone?" It wasn't that she was scared of them, but she was just getting comfortable with
    Myla and didn't know how the whole pack-leader thing worked.
    Myla scoffed. "They're going to stay here, and hang around to see if Grant Isaacson will, who
    knows, make them his official groupies or something."
    "Really?" Jojo said, rolling her eyes. "How lame."
    Lame was right. Myla was beyond annoyed with her girlfriends. They'd practically shrieked
    when Grant strolled by their table in the cafeteria today. The very last thing she wanted to do,
    besides ever see Lewis Buford's face again, was watch her friends burst into preteen giggles at
    some one-hit wonder who just got his Screen Actors Guild card.
    If she hadn't been on the outs with Ash, Myla might have put up with it, maybe even played
    along. But as it was, her friends seemed to care a lot more about how Grant's copper hair hung
    over his topaz eyes than about how Myla needed them.