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    Hot New Thing
    Hot New Thing
    Hot New Thing
    Ebook95 pages1 hour

    Hot New Thing

    By Laura Langston

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    About this ebook

    Lily is discovered by a big-name director when she’s auditioning for a role in a toothpaste commercial. He wants her for his new movie, which is great except for the fact that it’s shooting in Los Angeles and Lily lives in Vancouver. With the help of her Chinese grandmother, she convinces her parents to let her go to LA with her agent as a chaperone. But when she gets there, she finds out that if she wants to be more than the flavor of the week, she’s going to have to pay a price that may be way too high.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateMar 1, 2014
    ISBN9781459804333
    Hot New Thing
    Author

    Laura Langston

    Laura Langston is the author of several books for children and adults. Lesia’s Dream recently won for the Kobzar Literary Award, Canada’s newest national book award. It was also nominated for three other children’s choice awards. Mile-High Apple Pie, her recent picture book, was nominated for the OLA’s Blue Spruce Award; The Fox’s Kettle was nominated for a Governor General’s Award for Illustration; and Pay Dirt! was nominated for the Red Cedar and Silver Birch Awards. A former writer and broadcaster for the CBC, Laura Langston also writes regularly for Canadian Gardening magazine and has authored a book on herb gardening. She lives in Victoria, British Columbia.

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      Book preview

      Hot New Thing - Laura Langston

      love.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Chapter One

      I almost miss my first shot at fame.

      When my algebra teacher, Mr. Basi, keeps me late Friday to give me the talk, I panic. I have to get to the studio. I need to make the audition. I need this gig. It’s a speaking part.

      After the lecture, I run for the bus, dodging puddles and spray from passing cars. Why did they ask us to wear white in January? Why?

      On board, I pick the driest seat I can find and protect my white jeans from wayward umbrellas and drippy bags. This commercial could be the one that totally launches my career.

      Hey, Lindsay Lohan started out making commercials for pizza and Jell-O. Dakota Fanning pushed Tide.

      I need this audition to be a success. All I’ve done lately is a single spot for some kind of salami, and I didn’t even speak. Plus, the money sucked. If I earned some real cash, maybe my parents would take my acting seriously.

      Reel Time is one of the biggest studios in Vancouver and takes up most of a city block. I get off at the corner, hurry past the abstract bronze sculpture at the north entrance and quickly sign in.

      My friend Claire grabs my arm and propels me down the hall seconds after I push through the tinted glass security doors. We’re in a set of rooms on the fifth floor. She shoots me a quick look and comes to a sudden stop. Whoa! What happened? You look terrible.

      My heart jackknifes. I do? I try to peer at my reflection in the stainless-steel frame of a passing wardrobe rack, but the woman is moving too fast, and all I see is a blur of white. Did I get splashed? Is my hair messed up?

      No, it’s your eyes. You look like somebody just died.

      I failed the algebra test.

      Claire sucks in a breath. Oh, crap.

      Yeah. We sprint past a group of women costumed in period gowns, two men having a whispered conversation and a janitor spraying the wall with lemon-scented cleaner.

      Claire knows all about my parents’ ultimatum. If I don’t pass algebra, I have to quit Arbutus Academy. As it is, I’m expecting my dad’s favorite speech later. You need to spend less time on acting. More time on polynomials. For your future. Your career.

      A career in polynomials? Shoot me now.

      You need to find someone to help you, Claire says.

      Cheat, she means. I can’t do that.

      Her lips tighten. Oh my god, Lily, grow a set. You can’t do everything by the book. You’ll never get anywhere. Claire has angelic blue eyes and long blond hair, but she’s lifetimes away from wearing a halo. You need to move out of your comfort zone.

      What I need is a miracle and a decent gig. The truth is, I’m desperate. Last year I booked half a dozen gigs, including a small speaking part in a TV movie of the week. This year I’ve had only one gig. That dumb salami. Really, how low must a girl go?

      Claire heads for the main elevator and pushes the Up button. There’s a closed audition for a movie of the week going on this afternoon. Word is, Nic Mills is consulting.

      Nic Mills is here? Mills is up there with Scorsese and Spielberg. Okay, not totally, but almost.

      Yeah, and we’re going.

      I tap my foot as we wait for the elevator to come. June would never schedule us for that. Especially me. I’ve had so many rejections, my own agent is losing interest.

      Claire leans close. Which is why we’re crashing it.

      Unease prickles the back of my neck. No way.

      Yes way. I met this guy at a club last week and he’s some assistant to the producer. Or maybe the director. She wrinkles her nose. Anyway. He’s in there. I’ll text once we’re done with the toothpaste gig, and he’ll let us in. She looks at me. You brought an extra portfolio, didn’t you?

      Of course. I always carry extras. You never know when you’ll have an opportunity. The elevator pings. But it’s a closed audition. We need an invite.

      The elevator doors whoosh open. Inside are more audition hopefuls, girls who obviously signed in at the south entrance, a floor below. Grow a set, Claire mouths as she elbows her way into a sea of white clothes.

      I feel like a Q-tip squished into a box. I size up my competition. The girl on my left looks athletic. The girl beside her looks artistic. Claire is girl-next-door wholesome. Me, I look exotic. Looking exotic has its pluses, though June says it makes me harder to cast.

      But today it’s all about the teeth. I check them out as the elevator begins to rise. One girl has square, giraffe-like teeth and another has a mouth full of small pearls. I run my tongue over my incisors. My teeth are somewhere between the two. They’d better be bright enough. I white-stripped twice last night and again this morning.

      The doors open on the fifth floor. June is waiting. She’s a short pigeon-shaped woman with a helmet of dyed-black hair and perma-tanned skin. Finally! She shoves the call sheets into our hands. I’ve filled them out. Clip your head shots and resumes to the back and go into the waiting room. She points to a nearby doorway. They’ll audition you in groups of five.

      I glance at my number—twenty-six—and sneeze.

      Bless you. June turns to Claire. The casting director wants a sweet teen look, and you do that so well. When you take a cat, choose a white Persian. That’ll be lovely with your hair.

      Cats? No wonder I’m sneezing. Which I do a second time. Who puts cats in a toothpaste commercial?

      Don’t ask questions, dear.

      I shouldn’t be surprised. Once I had to pretend to smell bacon while I talked to some daisies. I’m allergic to cats. I try to see into the room, but there’s a crush of people at the door, and I can’t see over their shoulders. Still. Just the thought of anything feline makes me sweat. I lift my arms away from my sides. And sweat is so not my best look.

      June pushes her red glasses up. Lily. She gives me the smile I have come to hate. The I-am-apologizing-in-advance-because-you-won’t-get-chosen smile. I wouldn’t worry about the cats. I doubt you’ll be in the room very long. But just in case—go with the Siamese.

      Siamese? They’re the absolute worst. It has something to do with

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