Almost Famous, a Talent Novel Read Online Free Page A

you’ll hear at ExtravaBAMSa ... if I get elected social chair.” She winked playfully at the boys.
    Emily watched Ruby in awe. She’d never heard someone debut a song from an upcoming album at school. Apparently, she had a lot to learn about Bel-Air. She surveyed the crowd, hoping she didn’t stand out in her James jeans and red Shadow Stripe racerback tank, all alone.
    Emily had wanted to wear a dress—her only L.A. outings with the Inner Circle had been to VIP parties, where everyone wore designer cocktail dresses—but Mac had insisted the smartest strategy was to dress down. Emily realized Mac was right (as usual). Before her was a sea of sandals and cotton. No one looked like they were trying to be stylish, and yet . . . everyone looked amazing.
    How did anyone stand out?
    These kids looked like they’d been plucked straight from the covers of various clothing catalogues. Everyone had a very specific look. There was the Abercrombie group—girls dressed in colorful tank tops and faded jeans—walking through the archway and onto campus. The Anthropologie girls followed, three friends all wearing super-girly dresses with lace and bows on their behinds. Next Emily noticed two Billabong guys who looked like models playing Hacky Sack on the sprawling grassy lawn. At the end of the lawn she saw a group of guys in American Apparel hoodies, purple skinny jeans, dyed black hair, and red plastic sunglasses. Boys in Iowa didn’t dress like that. A girl in an Urban Outfitters sundress and red polka-dot Toms shoes relaxed on the other side of the fountain, lying on her back reading The Alchemist, holding it with her right hand while her left dangled to the ground .
    Emily blew out her bangs, trying not to stare at any one person for too long. What if the school principal took one look at her and deemed her unfit for BAMS? I’m sorry, Miss, ah, Mungler, but we have a cool-people-only policy. And you’ll notice on page twenty-seven of your handbook, clause F, that we do not accept students who have spent a significant amount of time in the Midwest.
    Emily was standing there when a text came through from Mac.
    DNT 4GET 2 GO 2 RM 201 @ 759.
    Well, at least Mac was looking out for her, Emily thought. She checked her Swatch. It was 7:55 a.m. Four minutes of painful, everyone-wondering-who-is-that-new-girl solo time. She stared at her iPhone again, wondering at what point it would become totally obvious that she was just trying to look busy, when she noticed a Rolls-Royce Phantom with the vanity plate E TACH pulling into the driveway.
    Even though Emily was brand-new, she could figure out whose car it was: Kimmie “the Tawker” Tachman’s father, Elliot Tachman, was known in the trade magazines as E-Tach. He was the most powerful producer in Hollywood, a guaranteed hit maker, and the man everyone wanted to work with. According to Mac, he was also the reason his daughter held high social status instead of just being known as a pink-obsessed musical theater nerd.
    The car door opened and Kimmie bounded out, wearing a pink message tee that said PURRRFECT with Joe’s jeans. She skipped toward Emily like a puppy charging after a ball. A bright, energetic, pink puppy.
    “Hey, girl!” Kimmie put her hands on her hips and faced Emily. She always seemed a little too excited to see people. “My dad wants to say hi to you,” she announced.
    Emily winced. Elliot Tachman was the producer of Deal With It. He had been at her audition—and then rejected her in favor of redheaded super-starlet Anas tasia Caufield. It was extra embarrassing because during the audition, Emily had been forced to improvise, and she’d even kissed Davey Woodward, her star-crush. Her heartbeat quickened just thinking about it. But what could E-Tach possibly want with her now?
    Emily scoured the school grounds for some way to escape this inevitably awkward meeting, and then realized . . . she didn’t know where anything was. Before she could stammer, Maybe