Sunset Boulevard (17 page)

was trying to stretch himself out of the shot. "He was so dorky! But he's still cute."

Myla's head swiveled in Jojo's direction. "Did you say cute?"

Jojo didn't take her eyes off the picture. "Yeah, in a hopeless kind of way. He's much cuter

now. Like he blossomed from geek to chic."

Myla stood up, yanking the yearbook from under Jojo's nose, closing the heavy hardcover with

a snap. Eyeing Jojo with the glare of a pet owner whose puppy had just peed on the floor, she

said, "No. No. And triple no. You cannot have a crush on Jacob Porter-Goldsmith."

Jojo felt a blush run up her neck at being called out for her crush. She'd been wanting to ask

him how WWJKD was going, but hadn't bumped into him since their lunch date. But when

she, like the rest of the school, saw him throw his amazing pass, it was clear the lessons had

worked. He looked cuter than ever as a quarterback. "I think he likes to be called Jake now,"

she said, tossing a strand of her loosely curled hair over one shoulder.

"Jake, Jacob, I don't care if his new name is James Dean," Myla said, a little more gently. "He's

an NFW boy."

"A what?" Jojo stood up, so she was at eye level with Myla.

"A No Fucking Way boy." Myla spelled it out. "Going out with him would cement you as

BarfBarf for the rest of your life."

So what?
was Jojo's first thought, and it came as as much of a surprise to her as seeing Jake as

a reedy nerd. But she stopped herself from saying it aloud. After her dreadful first few weeks,

she didn't have a ton of faith in her own choices--and besides, maybe her sister knew what she

needed more than she did. Myla's advice had worked so far. Jojo turned and shuffled to her

vanity, a hand-carved table stained silver with different-size drawers and a moon-shaped oval

mirror, which Barkley had made for her. Sitting down and flipping her hairbrush in her hands,

she looked back at Myla's reflection. "He's in a movie, though. You saw him make that pass,"

she pointed out.

Myla came up beside Jojo, putting a light hand on her shoulder. She perched on the edge of the

vanity and offered Jojo a sympathetic look. "I know it sounds parental of me, but it's for your

own good. What we're working on here is so much bigger than you realize. I'm not showing

you how to survive BHH. I'm teaching you how to
thrive
. Do you understand why Jake's not

part of that?"

Emotions swirled in Jojo's chest. She didn't get why Myla was talking to her like a child. Then

again, she didn't understand why
she
was resisting what seemed like sincere, sisterly advice.

But most of all, the idea of being
somebody
at BHH pulled at her. Not so much for the

popularity, but to be closer to Myla. What good was it having a sister who ruled the school if

you were always hiding out in the library? "Not really," she said, hoping she didn't sound as

petulant as she felt.

"Once a geek, always a geek," Myla dictated, like she was telling Jojo two plus two was four.

"He might be appealing now, but he's PG. And when the movie's done, he'll go right back to

being PG. Mathlete, dork, hopeless. Maybe even worse than that, if the movie bombs. I'll help

you find an acceptable boy. You'll forget Jake. I mean, Jacob."

Jojo was about to argue further when the doorbell chimed Beethoven's "Ode to Joy."

"Myla, Jojo, we have company," Lailah trilled up the stairs. They could hear her Manolos

tapping across the wood floor as she asked Lucy to set another place for dinner.

"I hope they didn't invite DeNiro over again," Myla sighed. "He just chews and stares. Worst

dinner guest ever. Follow my lead, I'll introduce you."

She and Jojo headed down the winding staircase, Myla first. Just as she reached the curve from

which the dining room was visible, Myla almost missed the four final steps in her shock,

excitement, and delight.

Because standing there was her just-turned-eighteen ex-boyfriend, Ash.

A few hours and one dinner later, Lailah leaned back in her high-backed chair as Lucy reached

in to clear her empty dinner plate. "Oh, Ash, we're so happy to see you. And on your

birthday." She cocked her perfectly shaped face to one side, a wave of dark hair tumbling in

front of her violet eyes, as she studied Ash like he was a long-lost prodigal son returned home.

Ash grinned, feeling a little bad that he'd barely touched his polenta-crusted chicken and eaten

only half of the beef Wellington prepared just for him. He was beyond stuffed after two meals.

But while his stomach felt heavy, Ash felt lighter everywhere else. The Everharts' just felt like

home. He sat at his usual spot, next to Myla's head-of-the-table dinner chair, with Jojo on the

other side. He'd been worried that Jojo would be less than thrilled at his arrival, after he'd

rejected her at Lewis' party. But he'd been pleasantly surprised when she said simply, "Hi,

Ash," and given him a hello hug.

"And now, cake!" Barkley said, patting his "belly," if a ten-pack could be called that, over his

blue button-down Armani shirt. Barkley loved cake the way other men his age loved classic

cars or golf clubs. He
admired
cake, just reveling in its pleasures until he finally had to take

that first bite. He looked around the table--at what Ash and Myla used to privately joke was the

miniature U.N., with all its international children--for cake reactions. Mahalo, going on nine,

gave Ash a double-thumbs-up and Ash chuckled, amazed at how long his hair was getting.

Bobby, who'd sprouted from a chubby kindergartener to skinny first grader this year, hadn't

removed his knit Spider-Man skullcap all during dinner. Now he threw the hat in the air and

cheered, "Cake!" The toddlers--Nelson, Indigo, and Ajani--all clapped to no particular beat at

all, chanting "Birf-day! Birf-day!"

Lucy emerged again from the kitchen, carrying a three-layer German chocolate cake with

nineteen long, skinny candles lit on top of it. Setting it down in front of Ash, she said,

"Eighteen, with one for good luck."

The family sang its rendition of "Happy Birthday," most everyone a little off-key. Lailah,

who'd just taken a role in the movie version of
Spring Awakening
, demonstrated her perfect

pitch. As he blew out his candles, Ash thought his happiness at this moment was more than

good luck.

It was about being right where he belonged.

Twenty minutes later, Myla was still unsure that the feet inside her cuffed Jeffrey Campbell

booties were hers. Her whole body felt like a fizzy champagne vapor, little sparkly clouds that

surrounded her physical being.
He'd actually shown up
. For someone used to getting her own

way, Myla should have been more blasé about having Ash over. But she was surprised by

how much she enjoyed getting something she wanted that she hadn't thought possible.

She tried now to climb the stairs calmly, Ash behind her, Jojo behind him. Myla wanted Jojo

around, at least for a while, to serve as witness to her and Ash finally getting back together.

They reached her room, and Ash sank easily into his usual spot on her purple velvet couch. All

of them were silent--Myla from a rare case of nerves; Ash from nerves, maybe, or just cake,

chicken, and beef overload; Jojo probably from feeling like a third wheel.

Myla looked for something to do, hoping to get Ash to stay awhile. She glanced at Jojo,

making a desperate
say something!
face. Jojo gave her best Myla-patented mocking half-smile,

then said, "So Ash, Myla was just telling me which boys at BHH are good enough to date."

Myla smiled, relieved. Maybe Jojo
was
learning something. The subject of dating was exactly

where Myla wanted Ash to be. She plopped down next to Ash on the sofa, making sure to

maintain perfect posture, to hide the bloat of the cake she'd wolfed down anxiously. "Yeah,

help us find a boy for Jojo."

Ash, who'd had his eyes half-closed in post-feast repose, opened one. "A challenge or a

gimme?" he asked, using Myla's terms for unattainable versus attainable boys.

Myla examined Jojo. She was too pretty for a gimme, but too sweet for a challenge.

"Who's a little bit of both?" Myla said. Jojo made a
what the hell?
face.

"Simple," Ash said, yawning. "Tucker. Guy keeps talking about you." He pointed at Jojo. "His

crushes usually fade fast. Something you did lengthened his attention span."

Myla considered this, folding her arms in satisfaction. Tucker was the very definition of man

meat: a pretty boy, not a ton going on upstairs, and thus not likely to play games. Granted, he

might not be a long-haul boy, since he could be a little slutty, but Jojo just needed a decentlooking guy to get her mind off losers like PG. And who knew? Maybe sweet Jojo would be

just the girl to tame Mr. Prowl himself. "I would have slapped you if you said Geoff, but

Tucker is good. Perfect. Give her the stats. Sit down, Jojo."

Jojo was so full, she'd slouched down in the pink chair. Catching herself going into slob mode

in front of Myla, she straightened into a dignified position. Fred and Bradley would be glad to

know she'd finally started to control her posture. Who'd known that all it would take was one

glamorous, judgmental stepsister?

"Stats? On Tucker?"

Jojo felt flattered. Tucker was cute, and she'd seen other girls watch him covetously. She didn't

know what he had going on in the brains or sense-of-humor department, but Jojo felt proud

that Myla thought she could land such a wanted guy at BHH. Maybe it wasn't noble of her, but

now that Myla had said it aloud, she wanted desperately to
thrive
, not just survive. She looked

around Myla's room. Pictures of Myla and her girlfriends poked from every nook and cranny.

Her iPhone, tossed carelessly on the bed, beeped constantly with incoming texts. And Ash

Gilmour, one of the cutest guys Jojo had ever met, was leaning back on the couch like he lived

here. Jojo wanted it all. Not just the closet and dresser bursting with desirable things but the

mementos of the ultimate life. And Myla obviously knew how to get it. Besides, if Jojo

succeeded, she'd someday rise to a level of power high enough that she could date any guy she

wanted... even Jake. "Yeah, like what does he like to do? What books does he read?"

Ash laughed robustly. "Skip the books. Tucker likes surfing, surfing, and more surfing. Toss

in a little music appreciation. Keep it simple. Between that and the fact that you're a cute girl,

you're done."

"O-kay," Jojo said. That wasn't the best start, but she was still on board for the plan. "So what

do I do?"

Myla snapped her fingers like a choreographer. "You have homework. Go to your room and

pick an outfit a surf-loving, music-loving, cute girl-crazy guy would like. Modern. So nothing

Victorian, Gatsbian, or even sexy librarian."

"You got it," Jojo said, secretly thinking that "sexy librarian" sounded exactly like something

Jake might appreciate.

It had been nearly a half hour, and Jojo hadn't returned. Myla appreciated her sister for sensing

that she wanted to be alone with Ash. Jojo was too smart to not have already thrown together a

miniskirt, tank top, hoodie and embellished flip-flops--Tucker bait.

Now they were talking like old times. Not quite old times, since as a couple, their conversations

often led to them making out. But close enough. They were on Myla's couch, only a few inches