Holly Hearts Hollywood Read Online Free PDF Page B

school so they could learn to socialize and go to proms and stuff. Well, I’m still going to school, but I’m getting a tutor! Mom and I talked about it for a really long time and weighed the pros and cons. We figured that I’d probably get just as much, if not more, social interaction working in my internship and at the studio as I would in high school. Plus, I don’t want to juggle a double life like Hannah Montana.
    So, I won’t have to go to real school! I’m absolutely thrilled. High school was always stressful for me. It was an endless sea of faces that always seemed to be laughing either at what I was wearing or what I was saying. But a tutor! I imagine that my tutor will be one of those snobby intellectual types, bitter about the burden of his knowledge. He’ll have salt-and-pepper hair and a curly goatee that he strokes before he says something brilliant. We’ll drink black coffee and stay up late discussing Nietzsche and Dostoevsky. He’ll drill me in Latin, and it’ll be the only language he allows me to speak around him. He’ll be harsh, but I’ll learn important life lessons from him, and he’ll learn unexpected things from me. But I’m getting ahead of myself here.
     
     
    Later, 12:45pm—Java Bean Coffee
     
    I’m what you’d call “socially awkward.” Meredith and Amanda were my only friends back home. I could blame it on the small town environment. All it really takes is one person to make me an outcast, and that’s it—I’m the laughingstock of the high school. Every single lunch period involved some sort of wet or heavy food being hurled at me. So you can imagine my surprise today when I managed to make three friends in a one-hour time span.
    I arrived at the studio to meet my tutor to talk about my “educational needs” and discovered that my tutor was a girl named Jennifer, not some cranky, older man, or, God forbid, a young hot guy. Jennifer looked like a former cheerleader with her perky ponytail and super-white smile, and during our conversation, I learned that she was a cheerleader at UCLA. She works for the studio, so that’s where we’ll meet most of the time. Jennifer works mainly with packets, so I won’t have heavy textbooks to lug around.
    When we were done chatting, Jennifer offered to walk me to the lobby and wait with me until Mom came. I guess that was some kind of girl-code for chatting about her favorite Showtime shows and filling me in on the “deets” of Homeland, “which you would totally love,” as she put it. So, Jennifer was talking my ear off when suddenly a girl with electric-blue dreadlocks walked up and said hello.
    “Um, hello?” I managed to say, never having seen a girl with that color hair before. She had a silver nose ring and an eyebrow piercing to boot. I was really jealous of her skin. It was a beautiful dark brown color and perfectly clear. She seemed super-familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on where I’d seen her before. I think I would’ve remembered seeing someone like her. She was wearing neon-blue skinny jeans, a pink striped top, and a shell necklace.
    “I’m Serena,” she said brightly. Her tone and upbeat personality were a bit surprising, considering her somewhat alternative appearance.
    “Serena,” I repeated before suddenly realizing who she was. “You’re Serena Salazar!”
    Serena Salazar is the pop singer of choice for those who don’t like the bubblegum variety. She’s famous for her ever-changing hair color that always manages to match her clothing.
    My heart turned over. “You’re Mr. Salazar’s daughter?”
    Serena laughed, her white teeth flashing against her red lips. “Yes, I was actually one of the first people Daddy signed to the label.”
    “Oh, cool,” I said smoothly. And by smoothly, I mean awkwardly.
    “What’s your name?” Serena prompted.
    “Oh, right. Holly. Holly Hart.”
    Serena’s brow furrowed. “I think I remember my dad mentioning a Holly Hart.”
    My stomach turned over