Dr. Dad by Judith Arnold Page B

had a personal chef back in Hollywood,” Meredith said.
    â€œExactly.” In truth, Lindsey didn’t know if Susannah had had a personal chef, but she’d made the same assumption as Meredith. Meredith was a bit smarter than Amanda, but Amanda was okay, too. Now that Cathy was living in Atlanta, Lindsey understood how important it was to stay close to her other friends. It was hard, since they didn’t live next door to her, and neither of them was in her class, but at least they could spend time together during lunch.
    â€œIs she really thin?” Amanda asked. She was really thin herself. She was always picking at her lunch, peeling the crusts from her bread and then crumbling hersandwich and throwing it out. Lindsey knew about eating disorders, and she sometimes worried about Amanda. If Amanda hadn’t been her friend, Lindsey might have discussed her concerns with her father and gotten his input, being that he was a doctor and all. But they were friends, and Lindsey would never betray a friend.
    â€œSusannah is beautiful,” Lindsey said, then added.
    â€œReally thin isn’t beautiful,” because she thought Amanda needed to hear that. “And she eats like a regular person. She ate spaghetti at our house.”
    â€œShe was at your house?” Amanda squealed.
    â€œLast Friday. She came for dinner.”
    Meredith gave her a gentle poke in the arm. “Why didn’t you tell us?”
    Lindsey hadn’t told them because she’d acted like a jerk that night, and she didn’t want to have to admit to her friends she’d stomped out of the room when Susannah implied that being a TV star was a drag. “Well, she’s our next-door neighbor,” Lindsey explained, giving a blasé shrug. “It’s not like such a major thing if she comes over for dinner.”
    Meredith sank back in her chair and sighed. “I can’t believe this. Nothing ever happens in Arlington. I can’t believe we’ve got someone this famous living here—right next door to you.”
    â€œShe’s really just like a normal person when you meet her,” Lindsey said, hearing the smugness in her voice.
    â€œI know your dad doesn’t like you making plans after school, but do you think maybe we could just come over and look at the house?” Meredith asked.
    â€œIt’s Cathy Robinson’s house,” Lindsey said. “Youknow what Cathy’s house looks like. You were there when Cathy lived there.”
    â€œCathy doesn’t live there now. It’s not her house anymore,” Meredith argued.
    â€œAnd besides, maybe Susannah Dawson would stand in front of the window and we’d catch a glimpse of her,” Amanda chimed in.
    â€œOr,” Meredith added hopefully, “she might even come outside, and we’d see her in person.”
    â€œShe might even talk to us.”
    â€œI think we should form a fan club,” Lindsey declared. She wanted to stay on top of the situation, and if she was the one who organized the club, she could be in charge. “Not a big national fan club, but our own secret club. The Susannah Dawson Admirers Club.”
    â€œThat’s a great idea,” Meredith said.
    â€œBut it’s got to be kind of a secret,” Lindsey emphasized, “because I don’t think Susannah likes being idolized. You know what I mean?”
    â€œSecret clubs are more fun,” Amanda said.
    â€œSo it’ll be just us three, unless we decide to invite someone else in—but we all have to agree to any other members,” Lindsey said. The club was her idea, so it was up to her to establish the rules.
    â€œAnd we’ll have to have meetings,” Meredith added, then bit down on a carrot stick from her lunch.
    â€œWe should have the meetings at your house, Lindsey. You’re the one who lives next door to her.”
    Lindsey considered the risks. Not only was she supposed to go straight