Acting Friends Read Online Free PDF

than you are, River,’
    Grace said softly. ‘You have a really nice figure.’
    I stared at her. Did Grace mean that?
    ‘Look!’ Emmi pulled me towards her then spun 38
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    me round so we were both standing in front of her full-length mirror.
    I peered at my reflection. I was wearing jeans and – it was true – a rather shapeless sweatshirt.
    ‘Take that off,’ Emmi ordered.
    I hesitated, then reluctantly peeled the top over my head. I stood, feeling self-conscious in my blue bra.
    ‘See?’ Emmi put her hands on her hips. ‘You’ve got proper boobs. Grace and I are still pimples on an ironing board.’
    Grace giggled. ‘It’s true, River. You shouldn’t be embarrassed about how you look.’
    I ran my hands down my sides and over my
    tummy. To my eyes, I looked pudgy. Was that really not what Emmi and Grace saw?
    ‘See?’ Emmi said again. ‘You’ve got curves.’
    I gulped. ‘Okay, I’ll try your top.’
    Emmi handed me the little green vest and I slipped it over my head. I tugged it down over my jeans and gazed at myself in the mirror. It was certainly a more fitted top than I was used to wearing – and I’d never usually even consider something green – but it was more slimming than I’d expected. My tummy didn’t bulge as much as I thought it would, and the colour looked great against my skin.

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    ‘I’ll need something over the top of this for on the way,’ I said, thinking that I’d still feel a bit less self-conscious in a jumper.
    ‘Jeez, you sound like my mum.’ Emmi rolled her eyes, but she handed me a cardigan in a slightly darker green. ‘This goes well with it.’
    I slipped it on. The shape and the colour looked great.
    ‘You look lovely,’ Grace said admiringly.
    ‘Really pretty,’ Emmi enthused. ‘Frankie Clarke’s bound to notice you in that.’
    ‘Thanks, Emmi.’ I smiled. With the cardigan I felt much less self-conscious. And maybe, just maybe, Emmi and Grace were right . . . maybe I did look okay . . . and maybe Frankie Clarke would think so too.
    Emmi’s sister Louise, a taller, more glamorous version of Emmi herself, was really kind. She chatted to me and Grace all the way into town, telling us both how nice we looked. I was starting to feel almost comfortable in the green top – though I still hadn’t plucked up enough courage to take the cardigan off yet.
    We got off the tube at Leicester Square and, a couple of minutes later, we reached the party venue.
    It was on the ground floor of a tall concrete building.
    Nothing to look at on the outside, but the inside 40
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    room was filled with banks of screens and people in smart clothes, and waiters with trays of colourful cocktails. Music drifted out towards us, along with the sound of clinking glasses and excited chatter. I could barely breathe with anticipation.
    ‘Now remember,’ Louise said, stopping just outside the door. ‘Behave yourselves. Soft drinks only, obviousl y . And be ready to leave as soon as I say.’
    ‘Jeez, Louise,’ Emmi drawled. ‘Lighten up, will you?’
    ‘I’m serious,’ Louise went on, throwing an exasperated look at her younger sister. ‘I promised Dad I’d have you all outside waiting for him and he’ll totally be on my case if there’s any delay.’ She paused. ‘Most importantly, don’t do anything to show me up. Okay girls?’
    We nodded. But the truth was I was barely listening. Now we were here it hit me that I was about to enter a room that actually contained Frankie Clarke. It was beyond exciting. It was a total dream come true.
    We walked inside. The room was only half full but the atmosphere was electric. I looked round but I couldn’t see anyone famous. Still, I supposed, most people who worked on a film set wouldn’t be well known. Emmi gripped my arm.

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    ‘Look!’ she