Imposter Read Online Free

doesn’t seem to occur to him what that means—how he’s lost the ability to trust good news.
    For once, I’m happy to let him do it. I know what he’ll find.
    He scrolls down the page. “It’s true.
Whirlwind. Preproduc—
Whoa!” He leans back suddenly. “You’re not seriously replacing Kris Ellis.”
    â€œSomeone has to.”
    He and Dad exchange glances. Even Dad has heard of Kris Ellis.
    â€œCome on,” I groan. “I’m going to be in a freaking movie. It’s—” I’m about to say
a hundred thousand dollars,
but stop myself. “It’s two months.” I turn to Dad. “The director’s going to call you. Wants you to be okay with everything.”
    Dad leans against the counter. He looks tired and confused. I think he has a million questions, but doesn’t know where to begin.
    â€œMom would’ve liked it,” I say.
    We mull the words over together. After my first play in elementary school, Mom started taking Gant and me to Sunday afternoon children’s shows. Then matinees, as we got older: Arthur Miller, Tennessee Williams, and a bunch of other playwrights whose work I didn’t really understand. Summers were for Shakespeare in the Park, which I liked more because we always took a picnic. Dad used to stay behind, though; theater wasn’t part of his world.
    From the way Dad’s looking right through me, I get the feeling he’s thinking of Mom now. How she booked my first paid acting gigs. Of course she’d be happy for me.
    Dad’s cell phone rings, startling us.
    â€œThat’s probably Ryder,” I say. “I gave him your number.”
    He tugs at his shirt collar and leaves.
    Gant pushes his chair back. Paces around the room and finallysettles, leaning against the door frame. Arms folded, he looks like one of those moody, rebellious guys from 1950s movies. James Dean, or someone like that.
    â€œThis is really sudden,” he says.
    â€œHas to be. Filming starts soon.”
    â€œSure, but . . .” He glances at the laptop, and his frown shifts to a grin. “Are you seriously starring with Sabrina Layton?”
    â€œNo. She dropped out too, same as Kris Ellis.”
    â€œBummer. Probably not worth taking the role, then.”
    Dad’s pacing along the hallway, his uneven footsteps loud on the laminate floor. He’s hardly speaking.
    Gant returns to the table. “I’m going to miss you,” he says.
    â€œIt’s less than an hour away.”
    â€œYeah, but . . . you’re probably taking the laptop too, right?”
    I roll my eyes. “Nice, Gant. Real nice.”
    â€œWell, Dad’s computer is even older and crappier than yours, and I can’t run my photo editing software. Actually, it’s kind of selfish of you to take this role.”
    I pretend to punch him on the arm.
    â€œY-yes,” says Dad, breaking his silence. “Hmm-hmm.”
    I wait for the questions to commence—
How long is the shooting schedule? How many hours of tutoring per day? Will Seth be home for Christmas?
—but Dad hangs up.
    I join him in the hallway. “Y-you can d-d-do it,” he says.
    Even with the contract signed, I was bracing for an inquisition. Instead Dad is smiling. We hug, and he laughs, and in this instant, our whole world seems to shift.
    Two-thirds of it, anyway. I wait for the remaining third.
    Gant is two years younger than me, but has the jaded attitude of an older brother. Perhaps that’s why things don’t feel completely right until he joins us—almost like he’s the one giving me permission to go.

5
    MY ROOM AT THE BEVERLY WILSHIRE Hotel is spectacular. Gant opens the patio doors and stands on the balcony. Dad runs a hand across the designer jackets and pants and shirts in my closet. When I emailed Ryder my sizes, I figured it was for movie costumes, not a new wardrobe.
    Dad removes a dark