Page 71 of Death is My BFF

Marcy nudged me in the rib with her elbow and we both laughed.

“Dude, you are such a diva today. David is a celebrity, what did you expect? Nobody would ever find out about you two?”

“I sure didn’t expectthis. I’m a blender, Marcy. I blend. I never stand out. Blending is my forte, damn it. It’s why my incognito outfit is on point.”

“You do realize you have your last name on the back of your sweatshirt, right?”

“What?” Panicked, I gripped the back of my sweatshirt and practically broke my neck to get a peek. Sure enough, in gigantic black lettering was the last nameWilliams. I was wearing my old soccer sweatshirt from middle school. “Oh, come on!” I flattened my back against the lockers as a group of students passed by. “Marcy, what am I going to do? His fans are going to eat me alive!”

“Ah, it’ll blow over. I’ll find you a remote island where you can start a new life.”

“And befriend a volleyball named Wilson?”

“Exactly. Faith, babe, you know I’m the last person who should be telling you this, but you’re totally overreacting. It’s only an article.

I haven’t heard a single student talk about it.”

As if the universe was plotting against me, Nicole Hawkins, the most popular girl at school, and her two clones approached us, pointing at a magazine with my face plastered on the cover. Marcy and I tracked them with our eyes as they walked by.

“She looks kind of familiar,” one of the girls was saying. “Her hair is so long and silky. I wonder what deep conditioner she uses.”

“I bet those are extensions,” hissed Nicole Hawkins. “I hope she gets run over by a tractor. What a dumb bitch!”

Marcy snatched a hair dryer from her locker. “Fake a fever at the nurse and go home early?” she offered.

“Yup,” I said, grabbing the hair dryer.

About an hour later, I peeled out of the senior parking lot and headed home. The article and the ignored calls weren’t the worst issues I had with David Star. I needed to know what had happened in his office, and whether he was involved in all of this. It was the only way I’d get any sleep tonight.

The nurse had to get a hold of my mom to send me home, but since Dad had a long commute home and Mom had an important presentation scheduled at her office, I’d insisted they should both stay at work and let me go to the doctor by myself. Mom put money on my debit card to get medicine and whatever else I needed at the pharmacy. Now I had an excuse for coming home a little late for dinner and money to head into the city again.

Wow, I was getting good at this “rotten daughter who constantly lies to her parents” stuff.

There were two options here. Either I could let life beat me down and toss me whichever way it wanted, or I could grab it by its reins and take control of my fate. I chose the latter.

Sliding out my beat-up phone, I texted David.

We need to talk. Today.

Armed with one pathetic canister of pepper spray in the pocket of my hoodie, I entered the D&S Tower. Assaulted by the unexpected shrill shrieks of enthusiastic fangirls in the overcrowded lobby, I stood at the entrance in an introvert stupor before refocusing on my purpose.

Holy cow.

Good thing at home I’d swapped my previous hoodie for a Nike sweatshirt without my name on it. I drew the hood over my head and shoved through the obstacle course of flailing arms and girls snapping pictures, until I knew exactly what the commotion was about. An interview David had participated in that morning replayed on a massive drop-down flat-screen. I caught a snippet of it earlier before school but paused to rewatch it now.

“Good morning, I’m Stacy O’Casey, and you’re watchingNYC

A-S-A-P,” announced the blond woman on the screen. “I’m here with megastar celebrity and heartthrob David Star. David, we’ve all heard the big news from your father, Devin. Can you tell us a little about the launch of your new art program?”

David leaned down to the microphone and locked onto the camera, brown eyes striking under the various studio lights pointed at him. “The goal of the program is to give underprivileged children of New York City an outlet and a safe space to be creative. We believe art is an imperative tool for kids to express themselves and cope with any negative emotions or mental health concerns they may be facing.

My team has been working tirelessly on this project to build the perfect team of dedicated artists and therapists to guide the children.

We consider this the first step to securing the future of all of New York’s children and improving the communities of our great city for generations. This project has been a very rewarding process, to say the least. I’m confident those who attend our premiere tomorrow evening, at the D&S Tower Halloween ball, will feel just as passionate about our cause as we do. All proceeds are going to deteriorating areas of New York that need your help the most.”

“How wonderful! You must be so proud of your accomplishments, young man.” She laid her hand on the swell of his bicep. She squeezed it a little too.Real subtle, I thought bitterly. “Modeling, acting, philanthropy, and all your responsibilities at the D&S Tower.

How the heck do you find the energy?”

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