I So Don't Do Famous Read Online Free Page A

where she’s smoothing my forehead.
    I would give anything for a hug. Or even a few minutes of Real Time, where I can actually see her and be with her.
    â€œWhen did it happen?” she asks gently.
    I choke out the story. Then I add, “I’m not walking around like a zombie or whatever. I have chunks of time when I’m pretty much fine and not even thinking about the breakup. But then, sometimes I havepain with every heartbeat. With every breath. With every song on the radio. My emotions are totally whacked out.”
    â€œSounds normal. The sadness comes and goes in waves,” my mom says. “But I’m sorry you’re having to go through it.”
    Caw. Caw.
A cactus wren flaps in and wraps his yellow feet around the branch directly above us. The cactus wren—our state bird and my grandfather. Grandpa died of a heart attack a few years ago. He opted to take on the shape of a wren and the position of mascot for the Academy of Spirits. He’s tough to understand, but has a solid sense of direction and really comes through when we’re hot on the trail of a clue.
    â€œHi, Grandpa.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.
    â€œSherry and Josh broke up,” my mom tells him.
    He clucks sympathetically.
    â€œHow’s Grandma?” I ask.
    â€œGood,” he croaks. “Still recovering.”
    â€œWhat’s happened to Grandma?” my mom asks, concerned.
    â€œHip surgery,” Grandpa says.
    â€œGrandpa’s hanging out with her a bunch,” I say. “Still hoping she’ll make the connection that he’s no ordinary wren.”
    Grandpa shakes his little balding head to indicatethat no, Grandma hasn’t figured out his true identity. My grandmother is all New Agey, with herbs and crystals and auras, but she can’t see Grandpa for who he really is.
    â€œI didn’t realize she was having surgery.” My mother sighs. “Some days life moves too quickly, and I feel that I’m missing out. Especially right now while I’m working for the foreign Academy.” Our branch jiggles. I bet my mom is sitting in her favorite position, one leg crossed over the other, her foot swinging back and forth. “Sherry, can you stay busy? With Junie? And try to keep your mind off Josh? Wallowing is not healthy.”
    I smack my forehead. I think this breakup is affecting my memory. “I have huge news. Huge California news!” I spill.
    â€œI am so proud of you!” my mom says, all enthusiastic.
    Grandpa’s beak opens, and out pours a long string of Russian-sounding syllables.
    I shrug. From the way his dark birdy eyes are flashing, I’m sure he said something enthusiastic too.
    â€œGrandpa believes that he and your grandmother helped you win because they’re an excellent example of true love,” Mom translates. “Obviously, true love is in your genes.”
    Nice to know, because at the moment it feels more like failed love is in my genes. I grimace inside.
    Grandpa flutters above me. He briefly places a tattered wing across his tiny feathered chest. “Back to Grandma.”
    I wave as he becomes a dark speck against the white moon.
    I turn to the space next to me. “Mom, guess where I’ll be staying? Three clues.” I extend a finger. “The year is 1929.” I hold up a second finger. “The address is 7000 Hollywood Boulevard.” I waggle a third finger. “The event is the Academy Awards.”
    â€œThe Roosevelt Hotel!” My mother gasps. “What if your awards dinner is held in the Blossom Ballroom? My baby getting an award in the same room where the first Oscar was given out!” The branch shakes more. Her leg must be bouncing a mile a minute. “I
have
to be there.”
    â€œI want you to be there.” And now that I’ve said it aloud, I realize just how much I do want my mom to come to Hollywood. Some of my best memories are of watching the