Almost Famous, a Talent Novel by Zoey Dean

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    Mac clenched her teeth: “I’m Ruby’s assistant.”
    Coco and Becks laughed. Mac working as anyone’s assistant, let alone Ruby’s, was not something that could happen in her lifetime—it was as likely as Jessica Simpson winning an Oscar.
    “Wait, Mac!” Coco warned, her tone suddenly serious: “She’s Barry Goldman’s daughter. Are you insane?” Ruby’s father was notorious for being one of the most cold-blooded bosses in town.
    “He fired some kid on Pacific Coast Highway and made him walk home carrying a flat-screen TV. For twenty miles,” Becks said, shaking her head in horror.
    “He threw a stapler at his assistant,” Coco added in a fierce whisper. “That assistant now has a staple permanently embedded in his eyebrow.”
    Emily looked frozen in horror.
    “You guys, please!” Mac begged, smoothing her dress. “It’s only for nine days, until ExtravaBAMSa blows over. And I’m not working for Barry. I’m working for Ruby . Remember: We insulted the entire school. They think we’re all conceited snobs,” Mac said, the closest she’d come to pleading. “So now we humble ourselves and show respect.”
    “I don’t see what that does except embarrass us.” Becks shrugged.
    “Girls, if we meet her demands, Ruby is going to tell everyone that the video was just a big joke. And if we don’t , then she is never going to let BAMS forget about this. And besides, it’s only for, like, nine days.”
    And that was nine days too many.
    “Mac Little-A, I love you, but no.” Coco looked down at her D&G watch. “I gotta go. I still have to dance today.” She had signed up for private classes at the Edge Studio since quitting the team. It wasn’t quite the same as being the elected captain of the Bam-Bams, but it was a start.
    “Yeah, and I just gotta go,” Becks muttered, not even bothering to say why. Emily looked back and forth between Mac and the other girls. Then she mouthed, “Sorry,” to Coco and Becks and stood by Mac, who was staring at Coco and Becks in disbelief.
    Coco grabbed Becks’s hand and they stepped over a flower bed and back onto the dirt. When they had reached the end of the garden, almost back into the working cell-phone zone, they spotted the wannabe goth twins, Jaden and Slate Shean, sitting on the white picket fence blocking their exit. They were wearing black skinny jeans and black pseudo-vintage Ramones T-shirts. The brothers Shean were frail, pale, and generally annoying to girls. They thought they were so out there because they wore all black (even though they shopped at Urban Outfitters) and had weird bowl hair-cuts. Really they were just Pete Wentz, minus the music talent and famous wife.
    “Hey, Becks!” said Jaden. “Want some Pinkberry?” He pantomimed licking frozen yogurt. His tongue looked freakishly long.
    “We got extra!” yelled Slate. Or was it Jaden? Coco could never tell them apart. She squeezed Becks’s arm and accidentally stepped on an overripe Japanese eggplant. It squirted something gross on her Tory Burch ballet flat.
    “Coco, maybe you can fertilize it!” the other twin yelled. They high-fived like it was the greatest thing ever in their not-really-alterna-lives. Then, spotting Emily, they made cat paws with their pale hands.
    “Go apply eyeliner!” Emily screamed from behind them, shocking both Becks and Coco.
    If the Shean twins were mocking her, then Coco had hit rock bottom ages ago and was now somewhere near China. Mac was right: She really didn’t have any other options—she had to make this situation better soon.
    Coco grabbed Becks’s hand and stormed back to Mac. “I can’t take this anymore. I’m in!”
    “I guess I am too,” Becks said glumly, tying the strings on her sweatshirt.
    “Ditto,” Emily said shyly.
    “Nice!” Mac smiled. “Trust me—this will be a cake-walk!” She sounded confident, but Coco knew her friend’s turquoise eyes were hiding anxiety.
    Coco imagined fetching water for her friends