I So Don't Do Famous Read Online Free PDF Page A

the spotless white leather seats. Junie and I ooh and ahh over the adorable TV and the minibar.
    We’re barely buckled up when Stephen peels out into the airport traffic. Zooming away from a trail of horn blasts, we zip onto a freeway with about thirty different lanes, each one filled with vehicles speeding faster than their neighbors.
    Hello, California!
    And then we arrive at 7000 Hollywood Boulevard. The Roosevelt stands tall and white, with its name in block letters on the roof. We check in and ride the elevator up to the eighth floor and our adjoining rooms. Dad unlocks his door first. He drops into a corduroy chair like he’s arriving home from a grueling day at the office. With a yawn the size of the Grand Canyon, he stretches his arms up above his head. “I need to phone Paula and then make some business calls to set up meetings for the next few days.”
    And take a nap with ESPN on in the background, I think.
    â€œDo you girls want to watch cartoons or something in your room?”
    â€œCartoons? Uh, Dad, we’re
middle
schoolers, not
pre
schoolers?” And we’re on vacation in a hotel with a few resident ghosts and a load of movie-star history.A hotel that’s located right in the thick of things on Hollywood Boulevard. There will be no cartoons in our immediate future.
    â€œActually, Junie and I want to scope out where the awards ceremony will be, find the pool and restaurants, and see if there’s a gift shop.”
    â€œGot it.” He yawns again. “Don’t leave the hotel grounds and stay in touch.” He picks up the remote.
    Junie and I take the elevator back to the lobby. By the check-in counter is a white sandwich board announcing today’s various functions. We’re at the top of the list:
    6 p.m.: Blossom Ballroom
    Hollywood Girl Dinner and Awards
    (by invitation only)
    Across from the counter, there are groupings of coffee tables and overstuffed leather couches and chairs. We plop down at the side of the room. I stretch out on a wide chaise longue, crossing my legs at the ankles. My pink toenails wink in the dim light.
    Junie’s beside me, also reclining on a chaise longue. She hauls her backpack up next to her hip, tugs open the zipper and pulls out a spreadsheet. “I want to narrow down places we can visit while we’re here. Places I can write about, that is.” She gnaws on the end of her pen. “Definitely the attractions withinwalking distance, like Grauman’s Chinese Theatre, Madame Tussauds, the Walk of Fame and the Kodak Theatre.”
    â€œThose sound good,” I say. “And how about shopping on Rodeo Drive? Also, my mom mentioned Pink’s hot-dog stand. I’m salivating at the thought of a chili dog.”
    â€œIt’s so cool that your mom’s coming out.” Junie looks up from her list. “When will she arrive?”
    I shrug. “In time for the awards dinner. That’s all I know.”
    Junie jots away in her no-nonsense cursive. “I want to write about some off-the-beaten-track places too.”
    â€œNot too off-the-beaten-track, though, right?” Sometimes I worry about Junie and how she doesn’t totally relate to the typical teen.
    She taps the pen on her thigh. “Well, like the Petersen Automotive Museum and the Museum of Neon Art.”
    â€œYou might want to rethink that plan.” I hold my hand up like a stop sign. “I’m your target reader, and I have zero interest in reading about those places.”
    Junie juts out her chin. Just an inch or even less. But when you’ve been friends with someone for as long I’ve been friends with Junie, you can read all the body language. When Junie juts out her chin, she’s moving into stubborn mode. And once she’s in stubborn mode, there’s no budging her.
    Beep.
She has a text.
    My chest tightens. Because only a few people text Junie: me, Brianna and Nick. It’s obviously not me.