Famous Read Online Free Page A

Next on was a woman in red high heels with Louis Vuitton beauty case. Then came woman #2 in black pants suit and stylish glasses, talking on a BlackBerry. Then 2 scruffy guys/jeans and sneakers. Carrying leather satchelsstuffed with papers. SCREENWRITERS?
    The last to arrive was RACHEL MCEWEN! That’s right, the STAR!!!! N, UVE seen her! She’s got at least 1 Oscar and nominated a bunch of other times. She sat with personal assistant—chubby woman lugging 2 carry-on bags. Everyone in 1st class tried not 2 stare.
    During the flight the other passengers paid homage to Rachel. If they’d met her before (Actor Man and black pants suit lady), they reminded her of when and where. If they didn’t know her, they introduced themselves and expressed admiration for her work. It was like Queen Rachel giving audience to her subjects!
    WELCOME TO HOLLYWOOD!
    At LAX 2 men in dark suits and sunglasses were waiting for Rachel at the gate. (How did they get through security?) They escorted her and her assistant through the terminal.
    Dozens of heads turned. People asked for autographs. The dark suits stayed close. I think Rachel enjoyed the attention. Outside the terminal a long white limousine waited. The driver heldthe door. Just before Rachel got in, she looked around. . . . Hoping someone would ask for just 1 more autograph?
    She left, and Zach picked me up in a Honda (Where’s MY limo? ;-). He works for Willow. Hello LA—sun, palm trees! Smoggy air that makes your eyes burn. I can’t believe I’m here!
    Movie billboards everywhere. Entire walls of buildings covered by enormous faces of stars. We drove up into the hills, past palms and lush green tropical growth, and stopped outside a tall iron gate. Beyond the gate and vast green lawn was a huge sunlit pink stucco mansion. Zach punched a code and we went through. A very large man with a very big frown was waiting in front of the mansion. I got out of the car, and he said, “ID please.”
    Luckily I had my Herrin ID. Then he pointed at my bag and said, “Any weapons or drugs?”
    Can you believe it? That was my welcome to Willow’s. More later. How did you spend first day of vacation? (See? I’m interested!) Miss you. Like, tons. Hit me back. xoxoxo

JUNE OF TENTH GRADE, NYC

    YOU WILL LOCK THE DOOR TO YOUR ROOM AND TURN ON SOME music. Something soft and emo. A single voice accompanied by a piano or guitar. You will sit on your bed, listening to the melancholy tune, and stare at the FedEx box for a long time. The room, lit only by the small lamp on your night table, will feel dim and shadowy like a burrow, a safe place to hide. And yet you will feel afraid. Afraid to look inside. Afraid to learn what it will tell you about the end of your friend’s life. Afraid that somehow you were partly responsible.
    And yet from the moment Mrs. Tennent told you about the box, you knew you had to see what it contained.As if it might possess the answers to all the questions you wished you could still ask Avy. So after a while, even though you’re still not feeling ready, you will reach down, bend back a flap, and feel an instant of relief that the first thing you see is not a photograph of Avy near the end.
    Instead you will find a memory stick attached to a green and yellow lanyard. Curious, you will plug it into your MacBook and discover that it holds only one file, a video. The thought of playing it will frighten you. Your fingers will tremble and your heart will thump against your sternum. What if this video is something you really don’t want to see?
    But you will play it. A picture will come on the screen—an unrecognizable blur. It’s someone very close to the camera, moving, probably setting up the shot. As the person backs away, you will see that it’s Avy in a room with an unmade bed and posters taped crookedly to the walls. He will sit in a chair, brush his dyed straightened black hair back with his fingertips,