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in my direction like she's got something serious stuck up her ass.
    "What's with you?" I ask, pushing the storyboards back.
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    Mimi shakes her head and looks away, her face all saggy like she's totally freaked.
    I try to hide my smile, but I can't help it. I mean, if someone like Mimi's scared, I can only imagine how creeped out everybody else is gonna get.
    "I thought you were into this stuff," I say.
    Mimi continues to avoid eye contact, picking at what's left of her black nail polish.
    "You're not backing out on me, are you?" I ask.
    She shrugs and continues to pick.
    "Come on," I bitch. "You're all I've got so far. You can't bail on me now."
    "I'm not bailing," she says, finally meeting my eye. "I have to go there. Before they tear it down. I have to see what it's like."
    "Are you honestly saying you've never been there before?" I mean, Halloween, of all people?
    She shakes her head. "Not yet."
    "So how come you know so much about it?"
    "What do you care?"
    "Just asking," I say, sensing that I've hit a nerve.
    "Well, I gotta go." She stands from the table and pushes the storyboards even closer to me--like she wants nothing more to do with them.
    "You're still coming to the meeting tomorrow night, aren't you?" I ask.
    "Don't worry," she says. "I'll be there. With gloves on." She grabs a pair of those fingerless mittens from her bag
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    and puts them on over her lame-o spider tattoo. Then she takes her stuff and leaves, making me wonder why she's being all weird and mysterious. Making me realize that there's a lot more to Halloween than I thought.
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    GRETA
    TONY JUST WON'T LET UP. He's sitting in Mr. Duncan's director's chair, ordering me around like he's Steven Spielberg. It's the last class of the day, a free period for Tony and me, and, considering our drama-rat status, Mr. Duncan doesn't mind that we hang out in the theater-- since this is where we end up every day after school anyway, rehearsal or not.
    "It could really be a good opportunity for us," Tony says.
    He's talking about this independent film project that Derik LaPointe is trying to rope us into. In a nutshell, Derik wants to film a movie at the old abandoned mental hospital in Danvers.
    In another nutshell, Tony is sexy as hell, but he can be unbelievably relentless at times. When he gets his mind wrapped around something--like the time he wanted us to audition for American Idol even though neither of us can
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    sing, just so one of us could meet Simon, since Simon's got all the connections--the boy just doesn't give up.
    "Just think how this could jump-start our careers," Tony says.
    Like me, Tony is an actor. But, as the writing on his T-shirt says, what he really wants is to direct. He's forever telling Mr. Duncan just where to put his clipboard, his director's chair, his spotlights. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already got visions of taking over Derik's project as well.
    "If Derik wins," Tony says, "his film will be shown on national TV. Just picture it: us, on RTV with millions of people watching. We'll be getting auditions left and right."
    I smile, somewhat taken by the image. I mean, this could be so much bigger than just another high school production, than just another stint with the community theater.
    "Yeah, but what about the whole cheese factor," I say, snapping to my senses. "I'm a quality actress. Not some reality TV bimbo."
    "Of course, babycakes, you're the best. Nobody's arguing that for a second," Tony says, in an effort to soothe me. "But you also can't argue the merits of reality television. It's made a lot of careers."
    "Ten seconds of fame, more like it."
    "Well, that's ten more seconds than what we've got right now."
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    "Okay, fine," I say, rolling my eyes. "Let's say we agree to this gig. What do you think the chances are that Derik LaPlaya LaPointe is actually going to win?"
    "No matter, sweet cheeks," Tony says with a shrug. "Because even if he doesn't win ... his film is going to be viewed by real industry people--the