Sequins, Secrets, and Silver Linings Read Online Free Page A

evil.
    “I’m going to call it ‘The Three Bitches.’ See?”
    Edie nods wisely, then sees my dumb expression. “He means like the three witches. Macbeth . Get it?”
    I sigh. It wouldn’t surprise me to know she’s read all the works of Shakespeare in between the Jane Austens.
    “You can have these, by the way,” she adds, thrusting her bag of nylon things at me. “They’re more your style than mine.”
    By which she means they’re more weird than wonderful, which is probably true. I can’t wait to get them home, though, to find out for sure.

Chapter 5
    I t’s late afternoon, and Edie and I are standing in Leicester Square, praying that the unsummery dark gray clouds that have suddenly appeared don’t actually spill their contents onto us until all the people in silk and stilettos have been safely shooed off the red carpet and into the cinema.
    Leicester Square is THE place to go for movie premieres. It’s got three cinemas and enough places to buy ice cream and hamburgers to keep you going for a year. Normally it’s full of pigeons and tourists, but today it’s full of red ropes, red carpets, people with walkie-talkies, photographers, and us. It’s very buzzy and everyone seems to have their iPhones out, hoping to get a picture of a celebrity.
    Most of the Kid Code stars have arrived and are milling around, posing for photographers and TV cameras. Other famous people and their children keep popping up, too, posing quickly and disappearing into the dark ofthe cinema. They know it would be pointless to try and upstage Hollywood’s Sexiest Couple Alive, who are happily chatting to people near the ropes and pausing for TV interviews. So is Joe Yule. Briefly, I get a flash from those laser-green eyes. I actually go fluttery. Whatever he’s got, they should bottle it. I suppose that’s sort of what they’re doing.
    Edie might as well be in chess club. She’s immune to HSCA and even, it appears, to Joe Drool.
    “I suspected she was being bullied at school,” she says, “but now it’s obvious. No wonder she hates it so much. This is her fourth school already, you know.”
    I can’t believe I’m standing in the heart of London’s West End, within camera-phone distance of THE TWO MOST FAMOUS PEOPLE IN THE WORLD, and Edie is talking about school bullies. Only Edie.
    “What d’you think of my outfit, by the way?” I ask.
    She looks at me appraisingly. “Bizarre, obviously. But not bad. It suits you.”
    “It’s Crow’s stuff.”
    “No!”
    It turns out that the strange nylon things were skirts. They look like nothing at all when they’re folded up, but as soon as you put them on they puff and billow into beautiful shapes. Each one is different. I’ve tried onall six of them, and tonight I’ve gone for the violet one with points shaped like inverted tulip petals. I’m also wearing the knitted thing I bought, which looked like a lump in the bag but morphed into the warmest, lightest sweater. It’s like wearing a cobweb crossed with a puffer jacket. Perfect for this cloudy weather. And it’s somehow managed to give me hips, which (like cheekbones) I absolutely don’t possess in real life.
    More famous people troop across the red carpet. Edie spots a junior cabinet minister. I spot two Black Eyed Peas. Then, finally, yet another car with darkened windows pulls up and a familiar pair of knees emerges from the back door.
    “Here she is!” I squeal. Even Edie has the decency to squeal, too.
    Gradually, the knees give way to a glimpse of Spanx and the bottom of the cherry tomato. Cameras flash. Holding firmly to the hem of her dress, Jenny inches nervously along the rest of the seat and maneuvers herself out of the car. I can see why finishing schools have classes in this sort of thing.
    She stands beside the car, waiting, while a fat old man in a dinner jacket squeezes out beside her. We scream to grab her attention, but everyone else is screaming, too, so she doesn’t hear us. Her hair has