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  CAMEO. Copyright ©2006–2010 by Tanille Edwards. All rights reserved. No part of this book maybe reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electrical or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  For information, address Fire Flies Entertainment LLC 1077 North Avenve, Suite 114 Elizabeth NJ07201 (212) 561-1654.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters, businesses, organizations, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actualpersons, living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

  Cameo is a trademark of Fire Flies Entertainment LLC.

  Undercover Starlet is a trademark of Fire Flies Entertainment LLC.

  Published 2010

  Cameo: a young adult novel/Tanille Edwards.

  Library of Congress Control Number 2010928040

  ISBN 978-0-9787302-2-2

  1. Young Adult – Fiction & Literature 2. Young Adult – Romance

  3. Young Adult – Thriller

  Contents

  Prelude

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  Prelude

  It was pitch black outside as the full moon glistened through the vinyl blinds that adorned Gary’s half window in his bedroom. His room was nestled in the far corner of his parents’ craftsman-style house in Hempstead, Long Island. The scrawny seventeen-year-old sat at his desk in an oversize, droopy wifebeater and Snoopy boxer shorts. His hair was jet black and gelled down into a curly fade. His bedroom was dull, full of computer science books and a series of coveted Stephen King thrillers—a lonely boy’s surrogate girlfriend.

  “Uh! Got to keep these passwords straight,” Gary exclaimed out of frustration.

  Gary slid open his desk drawer full of colorful Post-it notes with various codes and passwords written all over them. It seemed like nowadays you needed a password for everything. There was even a code to get into his front door. He took out a new pad and wrote down a username and password for his Tracebook account. A lamp slammed to the ground behind him near his bedroom door. The bedroom went dark. Gary turned around to see what had happened. He heard footsteps in the hallway. He slapped his hand over his open mouth as if a fly might make its way inside while he trotted to the door.

  Senior quarterback Craig stood outside Gary’s bedroom with his back against the wall like an operative from Mission Impossible. Dressed in a tight, black mock-turtleneck muscle shirt, his muscles bulged like those of a beefy club bouncer. Michelle crept up the hallway to stand next to Craig, dangling a large roll of duct tape in her hand. Craig ducked his head into the room to see what was going on. Michelle pressed her nude lips together and batted her overdone smoky eyes. She ran across the bedroom door to the opposite side. With her back to the wall, she took a look inside the room. Gary had picked up the lamp and was reaching to turn it on. There will only be light when I say there will be light, she thought to herself.

  Michelle tugged on her black Kangol hat to signal. Craig charged into the room, grabbed a hold of Gary, and forced a pair of socks into his mouth. He pulled Gary’s hands behind his back like a crooked cop from a gangster movie. Gary struggled like an insect caught in a spider web. He wiggled every which way to no avail. Michelle stood at the open bedroom door with a wicked half-smile playing across her photo-perfect, dark-chocolate face. She batted her false eyelashes for a dramatic finish.

  Gary jammed his heel into Craig’s toes. Craig threw Gary down onto the floor, and Michelle slammed the roll of tape against Craig’s chest.

  “Tape his hands up,” Michelle commanded.

  Craig grabbed the tape. She walked in to examine the room. “Lucy! Get in here, now!” Michelle called out.

  The petite, mousy-brown-haired Lucy walked into the room, looking as pale as a ghost. She had missed her last two tanning sessions to complete photo excursions for Michelle. It didn’t bother her, though. Lucy was just glad to have been the one asked to be in Michelle’s exclusive presence. Lucy had a digital camera hanging from her wrist. The camera hung down lower than the hemline on her denim miniskirt. Lucy snapped several pictures of Gary as he squirmed on the floor. Michelle worked her way over to Gary’s computer.

  Craig came from behind and put his hand in Michelle’s.

  “This is sooo great. The yearbook committee will love it,” Lucy whispered in a little girl’s voice. She always thought it made her seem nicer and less threatening, the complete opposite of Michelle.

  “This better get me prom votes. I don’t have time to waste,” Michelle said.

  Lucy, startled by Michelle’s authoritative, slightly nasal voice, continued to take pictures of Gary rolling on the floor while he screamed curse words behind the socks stuffed into his mouth. She was aiming for just the right shot. The quandary was that she had no clue what Michelle wanted.

  Lucy jumped back when Gary hurled his body toward her. “Ew-u! He keeps moving. Make him stop!” she said.

  Craig kneeled on the floor and held Gary still. “Yo, are you really related to this loser?” Craig asked Michelle.

  “Dude, he’s just a cousin. Someone standing next to you at the tattoo spot could be your cousin. Plus, he’s super useful,” Michelle said.

  “True. Look how he’s helping you get votes,” Lucy surmised.

  “You got a tattoo?” Craig asked.

  “You haven’t seen it? He hasn’t seen the Bengal Tiger?” Lucy asked.

  He could never find it anyway. He wouldn’t even know where to look, Michelle thought to herself. She sifted through some of the files on Gary’s desk.

  “Like, I remember when I was kicked out of Girl Scouts because I told the troop leader to go to hell,” Michelle said. “Then Richard…”

  “You don’t call him Dad? You’re so crazy!” Lucy said.

  “Anyway, he sentenced me to computer camp.” Michelle continued.

  “I didn’t know you were a nerd,” Craig said, offended that this was yet another thing he had no clue about. He felt like he didn’t know anything about Michelle, and she didn’t really care to share.

  “Craig, focus,” she snarled at him. Then she turned her attention to Lucy, her adoring fan. “Anyway, Gary showed me how to hook up these wicked viruses at camp.”

  “Stellar. Done here,” Lucy said.

  “Let’s be out,” Craig said.

  “So the Gagged Nerd page is done?” Michelle asked.

  “Yes. Next up, the Fashion Rejects Anonymous page,” Lucy said.

  “If it will get me votes.” Michelle shrugged.

  Lucy cut the tape off Gary’s wrists. Craig cuddled up next to Michelle. “You’re going to be the hottest prom queen,” he said.

  Maybe you could surprise me with a real adjective besides “hot,” she thought to herself. But that would be like asking an old dog to learn a new trick. She yawned. As soon as she opened her mouth, Craig kissed her. She politely pushed him away. She let out a low, deep sigh.

  “Duh! You guys were voted couple of the year, and you’ve only been dating like a month. That must be some type of omen that prom queen is in the bag,” Lucy said.

  Gary approached the three high school socialites, infuriated that he now had to comb stray cotton strands off his tongue. He grabbed Lucy by the arm. “Are you
crazy?” Gary asked her.

  “Handle this,” Michelle instructed Craig.

  “You better not publish those pictures or … or I’m going to release some of your pre-braces pictures,” Gary threatened Michelle.

  “You make a threat like that, you better be able to carry it out! You don’t want me to come for you, do you? I have a key to your house, Gary,” Michelle said.

  “That works both ways, Bitchee Michee,” Gary said under his breath.

  “God, you’re so ungrateful,” Lucy said, puzzled at Gary’s apparent discontent.

  Craig pushed Gary against the wall and held him there. “Calm down,” Craig commanded.

  “You stupid puppet. Get off me,” Gary snapped. Craig slammed Gary against the wall again, then jammed his forearm under Gary’s chin.

  “Without us, he wouldn’t even make it into the yearbook. Shame on him,” Lucy said. She and Michelle exited the room. Michelle was trying her best to walk like a runway model for her audience. If her hips swung out any farther, she would be perfect for a rap video.

  “Now you’re going to go back to your computer geek stuff and forget this ever happened,” Craig instructed.

  “I don’t think so!” Gary snarled.

  Craig punched Gary in the stomach. Gary doubled over.

  “I bet you think so now,” Craig said as he loosened his hold on Gary.

  Gary made his way to the violated area, otherwise known as his computer desk. Craig left quietly. As Gary grunted from the pain in his stomach, he noticed something.

  “Uh! So lucky to be your cousin. Ms. Perfect, try not to lose my password next time.” Gary rummaged through the pile of papers on his desk to find the password Post-it. “And get the story straight, child, because I failed programming class in computer camp. You’re the one who taught me to program viruses!” Gary shouted out. But they had already left the house. He had never felt so exploited.

  “I have created the group list for your term projects,” yelled Mr. Sui, an overweight, bald Asian teacher dressed in an Armani suit, obviously taking himself way too seriously for public high school. “Right now, the project topic sheet is being passed around. Choose one of the four project options,” he announced with a grand gesture.

  “He must have been royalty in a past life, since he can’t shake the act,” Nia whispered to Cindy. Before the tall, sun-kissed beauty could say another word, Mr. Sui continued his oration. “Students, you can choose from the following: a five-page, double-spaced, Times New Roman—not Courier New—twelve-point font report on global economic events or an oral report including visuals such as graphs and photos for presentation.” He marched to the back of the room with his back perfectly erect and his head held high. “Or, the third choice, a skit based on an economic, historical fact that shows how changing that fact would have changed history. Or, last but not least, you may choose to do a magazine article. …”

  “Oh, what kind of magazine article? Can we go to, like, a Fifteen Magazine feature for it?” the almost-legal, triple-highlighted, big-boned, label mistress Carolina interrupted.

  Mr. Sui cut his little eyes at Carolina. He was annoyed that she had cut him off without raising her hand.

  “Now that I can complete my thought. … You can create an article intended to be used as a reference on an economic event. In layman’s terms, for the breezies and homies, the article must contain facts from a book as well as an analysis, meaning some thought on the event and its effects on the past and on the future. Seeing as how we require some real content, teeny-bopper magazines could never be a source of inspiration.” He threw Carolina a smile.

  Craig leaned against the lockers in the popular corridor. He was nervous. He had his hands tucked into the pockets of his letterman’s jacket. Michelle clanked her $200 Jimmy Choo–inspired knock-offs all the way up to Craig. He started to breathe faster. He looked Michelle up and down, wondering if he had made the right choice, though she did dress better than Nia—at least that’s what the football groupies said. That should count for something, he thought. Craig was really feeling her skin-tight denim shorts and her form-fitted, hot-pink Undercover Starlet™ hoodie. Of course, he hadn’t noticed her matching shoes, handbag, and hat. What dateable guy would? Oddly enough, that logic eluded Michelle. She expected him to remember everything she had worn for the past three weeks. She went through painstaking lengths never to wear the same thing twice in one month, not even the same shoes.

  “What did you page me for?” Michelle asked.

  Craig shrugged his shoulders.

  “This,” Michelle said as she pointed to her and Craig, “is a luxury not to be abused.”

  “I wanted to holla at you. ’Cuz when we’re together, you barely even look at me. Are you mad?” Craig grabbed Michelle by the waist and pulled her to him. She jumped back.

  “Are you brain dead? This is an arrangement. Get that straight! I want prom queen, and you’re the key to it. If you were listening when I do speak to you, then maybe you would know this,” she said. Craig’s football teammate approached. Michelle quickly kissed Craig and slipped her hand in his pants’ pocket.

  “What up, Craig?” the teammate asked.

  Craig had to momentarily disengage himself from Michelle’s abrupt expression of lust to come up for air. “What up?”

  The teammate stepped into his classroom. Michelle immediately pulled away from Craig and shivered slightly in disgust. “DO NOT do this again. Otherwise … it’s over!” Michelle said. She wiggled her French-manicured fingertip in Craig’s face like the wand of a wicked witch.

  “You think I need you?” he asked

  “Right, like you have options.” Michelle walked away.

  He followed her. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he had a burning question eating at him inside. Why did she hate him? He grabbed her arm to get her to stop walking. It only angered her more. He could tell from her stare. Her eyes were laced with disapproval. She looked at him as if he were crowding her space.

  “Why do you say I don’t have options? I had a girl when I got you,” he said.

  “What? Are you going to run back to Nia, the wholesome, popular misfit? That’s a real good look. Besides, after me, she’ll feel like a downgrade from first class to the cargo compartment!” Michelle walked away from Craig feeling like she had just trumped the senior king, especially since she walked away with his cell. Why use her own daytime minutes? She had to get something out of the arrangement, right?

  Nia’s mobile vibrated vigorously as Mr. Sui stood at his desk sorting papers with only moments to spare before his next class. Mr. Sui raised an eyebrow in Nia’s direction. Embarrassed by the apparent disruption, Nia quickly took her cell out of her minuscule Undercover Starlet™ purse and hid it underneath her desk to turn it down.

  “Students?” Mr. Sui said in an effort to test the class’s attention, as he believed it belonged to only him. He waited until the class was completely quiet. “Pack up the sheets and go to the back of the room to get your partner’s name,” he continued. The class moved toward the back of the room like a herd of wild elephants that had just spotted a watering hole. All except Nia. She sat there in her seat wearing an Audrey Hepburn–style boatneck white top and sleek, dark, low-rise, slim-fit jeans coupled with Undercover Starlet™ customized logo boots to match her purse. It had never upset her that Craig never noticed her outfits. There were many guys in class whose eyes glanced her way every so often to catch a glimpse of her brushing her long dark hair over her shoulder or smiling at a funny text message.

  Nia’s best friend, Cindy, was a boy-crazed sexy mama dressed in black leggings one size too small for her curvy, size four frame and an off-the-shoulder sweatshirt that barely covered her derriere. Her long brown hair was flat-ironed super straight. Cindy was prettier than most airbrushed magazine models, considering her flawless skin, her large eyes, and her high cheekbones. Although she enjoyed pushing and leaning against some of the school’s cutest boys in the senior-only cr
owd at the back of the room, Cindy made her way back to Nia’s seat to convince her to join in the fun.

  Nia checked the text in her inbox. It read: CCCALL ME!

  Peering over Nia’s shoulder, Cindy asked, “Who’s that?”

  “No clue,” Nia replied. She searched through the options in her inbox. The sender’s number was private.

  “It could be, like, a wrong number. This is why we should focus our attention on the cuties standing in the back of the room. Is it possible I am paired with someone as cute as me?” Cindy asked. Cindy grabbed Nia by the arm and dragged her to the back of the room.

  “Oh … my … God! Nia and Jason? What has this world come to?” Carolina yelled. Nia and Cindy looked at each other. Carolina was their arch nemesis.

  “That’s what I think every time I see you,” Cindy said to Carolina, all the while confident she might’ve been lucky with the draw as well. Jason, the six-foot-four star basketball player who looked like a young Michael Jordan with a little bit of Dwayne Wade, quickly left the room.

  Cindy rushed to the back of the room with a slight bop for cool factor; she always did things she thought were cool to impress the male population that adored her body. The crowd had dispersed by the time she reached the posted list.

  Steaming mad, she whispered sternly, “Who is Roger?”

  In the absence of a reply, she yelled, “Roger? Raise your hand now.” You should only be so lucky to be paired with me, she thought.

  “Never fails,” Nia said under her breath with a smirk. She was relieved that Cindy faced as terrible a fate as her with this partner stuff.

  A short boy, dressed in a red and black plaid lumberjack shirt with thick bifocals that made his eyes look like black-eyed peas, walked toward Cindy. To top things off, he was pulling a backpack on wheels. He waved at Cindy with a warm smile on his face.

  “Cindy,” Roger said. He was excited to meet his new partner.

  Cindy gasped. She threw her hand to her forehead and turned to Nia. “I think I might vomit. Am I flushed?” Cindy began to fan herself. The school bell rang.