Read Online Theodora Twist by Melissa Senate - Free Book Online

act, you’re going to be in for a rude awakening about how you conduct yourself.”
    “Mom, I remember the kids in Oak City. Yeah, there were Goody Two-shoes—like my host-sister-to-be, Emily Fine—and there were kids who smoked pot and got drunk all the time. And there was everything in between. There are all kinds of sixteen-year-olds.”
    “It’ll be good for you to be back in that house. I think it’ll give you some closure,” she says, giving me her “you think you know it all but you don’t” look.
    I glance at her. She’s counting slowly to ten, which is what she does when she gets “overwhelmed” and needs “a moment.” She gets emotional whenever she mentions (or skirts around) my father.
    I wish I could talk to my mom about my dad. She’s the only person I want to talk to about him because she’s the only person left alive on the planet who loved him too.
    I tried the talking thing. When my dad died, a guidance counselor at school hooked me up with Emily Fine because her father had died too. But after a month, I couldn’t handle being within two feet of her, even though I actually sort of liked her. She was so earnest. So eager. It bugged me.
    I just wish life could go back to before he died. Where is Superman—with his amazing powers to turn back time—when you need him? I once said that during an interview, and the reporter asked me if I’d really give up everything—the fame, the money, the career—if it meant having my dad again, and of course I said yes. Ashley beamed at me after the interview. But for once, my words weren’t scripted.
    My cell rings—Ashley’s number. ”We Are Family” is my current ringtone. Ashley’s idea.
    When I click on and explain my dilemma, she, unlike my mother, gets it right away. “Okay,” she says, “stop packing. Start shopping —at the Grove. I’ll approve everything in your suitcase, so don’t bother packing anything that cost more than fifty bucks.”
    The only thing I own that cost less than fifty is the four-dollar leather bracelet I bought that’s now retailing for twenty-five.
    “And put away the Vuitton luggage,” she says, as if she is staring right into my window. “I’ll have a Samsonite bag dropped off tomorrow.”
    “One suitcase?” I mutter, but she’s already clicked off.
    Sighing, I put on a white Juicy polo I got in a swag bag last month, pull my hair back in a ponytail, and call Donovan, my driver. Good thing he knows how to get to the Grove, because I sure don’t.
    When you shop in sunglasses on Rodeo Drive or Melrose Avenue, no one looks twice at you. It’s assumed (a) you’ve got money, or (b) you’re a celebrity. Either way, you’re given space. At the Grove, this upscale outdoor shopping mall in L.A., it’s a little different. There are lots of tourists. Lots of locals. And some celebrities shop here too—at least, that’s what I’ve read in the gossip rags. Lots of people are wearing sunglasses, which makes sense— this is an outdoor mall, after all. But most people take them off when they go inside a store.
    Not me.
    I’m inside the Gap, a store I haven’t been in since I was twelve, following around a girl who looks to be about fifteen or sixteen. She’s got a little flair. Low-slung jeans. Cute Skechers. A studded tank top. I grab what she grabs.
    She turns around and sticks a finger in my face. “Jesus Christ, stop following me!” she snaps. “I’m not stealing anything, okay? Do you want to see my wad of cash?”
    “Whoa,” I say. “Chill out. I’m not security.” I take off my sunglasses and her eyes widen.
    “Omigod.” Her mouth opens again, but nothing comes out. She’s just staring at me.
    “I’m researching a role,” I explain quietly. “I need to buy clothes that a regular teen would buy.” And since a regular teen wouldn’t have her own clothing line (mine is in development), I can forget about wearing any of the T Squared prototypes in my closet.
    She beams. “I’m so