A Midsummer Night's Scream Read Online Free PDF Page A

said, this was my dream.
    History lesson: I’ve had the acting bug since I was nine or ten. I’ve taken acting lessons and dance lessons and speech lessons, and I’ve been in every play production at school.
    You’d think I’d get a little support from Mom and Dad since they’re in the business. But they had a million reasons why I shouldn’t be an actor. Maybe they were good reasons. I didn’t care and I didn’t listen.
    I’ve begged and begged for a chance to audition. It took all these years, but I finally wore them down. They let me try out for Mayhem Manor, and I got the role of Darlene. Now I guess I have something to prove to them. Sure, it’s only a low-budget horror film, but I’m going to rock the part.
    Delia has the actress bug, too. Only a little different. She’s had a bunch of modeling jobs. But she says her ambition is to be a tabloid star. I think that was a joke. She has a twisted sense of humor.
    It’s kind of a strange friendship. I think a lot of it is based on Delia rolling her eyes and laughing at me. She is very sarcastic, and I guess I’m the bubbly type. Or maybe it’s that I get enthusiastic and she likes to stand aside and make comments.
    We’re more different than alike. I always say I’m Urban Outfitters and she’s Juicy Couture. I don’t even like to shop. If you want to know, Old Navy is fine for me.
    I’m not exactly what you’d call drab or cute-challenged—but as I said, Delia is a total knockout. You can ask anyone to name the hottest girl at Beverly Hills Academy, and they’d have to be a total freak not to pick Delia.
    She has short, perfect black hair with violet streaks on her bangs, huge black eyes, and beautiful red heart-shaped lips. And when the two of us go walking on Rodeo Drive, the tourists all stare at her and try to figure out which movie star she is.
    Seriously. Last week a woman parked her Bentley in front of Armani and came hustling up to Delia. She stuck a piece of paper in front of her and asked for her autograph. And when Delia said, “I’m just a high school student,” the woman laughed and pushed the paper in her face until she signed.
    Delia and I passed the low, white stucco building with the green double doors. The commissary. A roar of voices poured out the open windows along with the smell of burgers and eggs on the fry grill.
    “Why do you say there are ghosts here? I don’t see any ghosts,” Delia said, looking at me over the rims of her Ray-Bans. “I see the dog from that comedy they’re shooting. Remember? We wandered onto the set by mistake?”
    Ace, the black-and-white mutt, stood beside the commissary steps. Of course, he had a crowd around him. The dog gets crowds wherever he goes, and you can tell he loves it. He must be the most spoiled dog in Hollywood, which is saying a lot, right?
    Four men wearing long red monk robes with hoods, all talking at once, pushed past us as if they didn’t see us and hurried into the commissary.
    “I didn’t mean ghost ghosts,” I told Delia. “I meant the ghosts of all the stars who made films here. You know. Back in the day.”
    The studio was huge in the ’30s and ’40s. But it was pretty much abandoned, like a ghost town, after those three teenage actors were killed in 1960. My parents and Jake’s parents took it over a few years after I was born. They named it WoodCast Studios. Get it? Combining our names—Woodlawn and Castellano.
    “Can’t you feel them?” I said. “All those beautiful people who worked here? I have such a magical feeling. How can you walk around a movie studio and not believe in magic?”
    I knew I was risking another roll of her eyes, but I didn’t care. “I mean, come on, Dee. Aren’t we lucky working in a movie studio? The whole point of this place is to make magic happen.”
    “I thought the point was to find the costume department,” Delia said.
    “Hah.” I gave her a shove and nearly knocked her off her stiletto heels.
    I suddenly remembered