Fangirl (27 page)

So she called him.

It went straight to voice mail.

“Hey, Christopher. It's me. Josie. Uh, I'm calling you in case you're not getting my texts for some reason. Okay, so, I just wanted to talk to you. All right. So, yeah. Just wish you would text or call me back or something.” Josie paused and exhaled into the phone. “Anyway, well, I miss you. Call me. Bye.”

Josie had always thought of herself as anything but lonely. She had her music. She had her gadgets. Her bedroom, after all, was a kinetic hub of multimedia connectivity and telecommunications that forty years ago probably had enough microprocessing power to launch a rocket to the moon.

But now she lay back on her mattress, the same one she had since she was eleven, her feet dangling off the edge like she was a giant, feeling completely, utterly, desperately alone. And, more than she ever would have expected, she missed Christopher.

Going off the grid might not be as easy as she thought. When she graduated middle school the previous spring, her dad bought her a new iPhone, her mom gifted her an iPod Touch (the one that holds 32 gigs, enough to fit her 2,345 songs), and her grandma in Toronto (God bless her soul) sent
her a MacBook. Ever since, her laptop had been her portal to the rest of the world, the machine that, even more than her phone, she would die without.

And on her laptop screensaver had flashed a series of pictures of her and Christopher, hugging each other in front of the Golden Gate Bridge while on a drama club trip to San Francisco the fall of her freshman year. The Two Amigos.

Christopher was the furthest thing from a cool “bro,” and he didn't even hang out much with the drama nerds or band geeks, though he did play trumpet and designed sets for the fall and spring productions. Christopher knew more about music than anyone she knew within the Bakersfield city limits. But most impressive to Josie: Christopher possessed the equivalent of a PhD in '90s rockology. Sublime, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Matchbox 20, Smashing Pumpkins, Chris Isaak, Radiohead, The Verve, Weezer, Goo Goo Dolls, Blink-182, Sheryl Crow, Dave Matthews Band.

Christopher had sat her down one afternoon and played her his entire '90s playlist. The country music her dad always played had decent enough lyrics, but the music part had that hillbilly sound to it. The '90s music Christopher played, however, lyrically told relatable stories
and
sounded cool.

One day after school, Christopher sat her down at the coffee shop and flipped open his laptop. “As a female, you need to know about Sheryl,” he said.

“Sheryl?” Josie asked her tutor.

“Crow,” he said matter-of-factly. “Sheryl Crow—hands
down, the best female singer-songwriter of the '90s.”

He opened up a folder on his desktop titled “Goddesses.”

“Just ask your mom,” he continued.

“My mom doesn't like music.”

“Everyone likes music,” he replied. “Just not everyone
appreciates
music.”

Christopher then gently placed his white earbuds into Josie's tiny ears and proceeded to play her every track from Sheryl Crow's 1993 debut album
Tuesday Night Music Club.
The songs blew Josie away.

But now, her personal rockologist/philosopher was gone. Like Ashley. Like Peter. Like her dad.

The last few years she already had been suffering from a profound sense of abandonment. And, in some twisted act of counterproductiveness, she had reacted by abandoning everyone who loved her . . . only to then be abandoned by everyone for real. The cycle had come full circle. Karma was biting her on the butt. And it stung like a bitch.

Christopher, the one person who she could always rely on to text or call immediately, was clearly not getting back to her. And though it pained her deeply, she couldn't blame him.

Just then, her doorbell rang and Josie shot up and ran to the front door and squinted through the peephole. The person was standing too close to the door to see their face, but she could make out what looked like yellow flower petals. Her heart racing, Josie whipped open the door, and greeting her on the doorstep was a pair of the kindest, most gentle eyes
peering over a blossom of sunflowers. Instinctively, Josie extended her arms straight out and enveloped him.

“BBFF,” she gasped, holding on to Christopher so tightly he looked as if he could suffocate. She then stepped back and took the flowers from him. “Awww, they're perfect. Totally perfect.”

Josie closed the door and joined him on the porch. “I'd invite you in, but I'm not allowed to have anyone over,” she said quietly. “Grounded for life.”

“Ah, GFL. Harsh. I figured. That's why I came over. You probably won't be hitting up Starbucks anytime soon.”

Josie grabbed hold of his arm.

“Christopher, I'm sorry. I've been a total idiot. I became that stupid girl who changed herself for a guy—something I always swore I would never do. I was being ridiculous.”

Christopher couldn't hold back a laugh.

“What's so funny?” Josie asked.

“I saw the paparazzi pics from yesterday. That outfit was pretty ridiculous.”

“I can't disagree. I don't know what I was thinking.”

“You were thinking you were in love. You're a romantic. You're a hopeless romantic, Josie Brant. That's why you're such a great songwriter. You have a heart the size of California.”

“If I had a heart, I would have been more sensitive to yours. I promise I will be better. I will be a better friend.”

Christopher stuck his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and fixed his gaze at her.

“I finally listened to your playlist,” Josie said.

Christopher shrugged his shoulders. “Forget about it. It was just a moment. It passed.”

“It was so sweet. Those songs. I mean, your friendship means the world—”

“Amigo.” He interrupted her and took a breath. “Please stop with the F word already!”

“What?”

“Friend this, friend that. I get it. We are
friends
.”

“I don't mean it like that,” she insisted. “Really.”

“Well, I don't wanna be your lover. I'll leave that to the pop stars.”

“Yeah, right. That's just working out great for me.”

“Seriously,” Christopher added. “Don't worry. I've decided that our friendship is more important to me. I don't want to lose that. You know, now all we should wanna do is have a little fun.”

“Sheryl?”

“Duh, obviously.” He laughed.

Josie didn't believe Christopher. His eyes told a different story.

“The reason I came over was to tell you that, yeah, I
was
hurt. But not any longer. I'm still here for you. I just wanted to make sure you were doing okay. Friends forever?”

“But maybe someday we could be something more than friends,” Josie blurted out. “Maybe I'm just confused.”

“No.” Christopher shook his head. “We're not meant to be
that way. I'm happier this way. We are both happier.”

“But if it makes us so happy—” Josie sang in her best Sheryl Crow voice.

“Then why the hell are we so sad?”

“Exactly,” she said.

“Because letting go of something that makes you feel bad usually hurts the most.”

Josie hugged him again. This time, he reciprocated. His tight embrace seemed to squeeze tears from her eyes.

“And, oh,” he added, releasing her. “Happy birthday tomorrow.”

The buzzing phone
on the mattress bolted Josie awake. Still half asleep, she answered it.

“Hello?” she groaned.

“Josie?” a male voice said.

“Yeah.” She sat up in bed. “Yes, this is Josie.”

“I just wanted to call and wish you a Happy Birthday.”

“Peter?”

“Yes.”

Josie's eyes popped open wide. All she could muster was a groggy, “Okaaaay.”

“I guess I can't call you ‘Almost 15' anymore,” Peter said.

“No, you can't.”

#Awkward.

“I'm not only calling to wish you a Happy Birthday, Josie. I'm also calling to say I'm sorry. Truly. I jumped to conclusions, made assumptions—before I had all the facts straight. And now I do have all the facts straight. And I apologize.”

“But, Peter, I told you the facts: I didn't do it!” Being able to face her accuser, Josie felt empowered for the first time since the whole ordeal went down. And she vented. “You've always had the facts. You just chose to believe all your so-called ‘people'—and not me.”

“You're right, Josie. Everything I said about wanting to be my own person, doing what I want to do and thinking for myself—it all went out the window. I messed up.”

Josie let his words soak into the silence between them.

“You did. And even though I want to tell you it is okay, that I am over it, that I understand, the truth is that I don't. I'm not even sure I want to talk to you right now.”

“Wait, Josie, don't hang up!”

Josie gritted her teeth and got up out of her bed.

“I don't expect you to forgive me, Josie, but I wanted to tell you that what I did was wrong. Very wrong. And you deserve a lot better. Anyone deserves better, but especially you. What I said on the stage in Vegas is true, Josie. You're my muse. I want you back in my life.” He exhaled into the phone; Josie could almost feel his warm breath. “And I'm not taking no for an answer.”

“That's a really beautiful thing to say, but why should I believe you? Why should I trust anything you say?”

“Well, for the same reason that I should have always trusted you. Because I think we are just meant to be together. I want to write great love songs with you. I want our life to be a love song.”

“Wow, you really know how to charm a girl,” she said, her voice turning more serious. “The problem is that the rest of the world hates my guts. All thanks to you.”

Josie was just getting warmed up. She hopped off her mattress and began pacing her room.

“I can't believe that you, suddenly, call me out of the blue and assume that you can throw me under the bus, kick me out of your life like some cheap groupie, and then ask me to get over it just because you call me up and tell me I am your muse? It doesn't work that way. I don't care if you're the most famous teenager in the world.”

“That's not what I expected at all,” Peter said. “What I expected was a strong girl, with a strong sense of herself, to stand up for herself and tell me to go to hell. That is the Josie I expected.”

“Well, then your dream has come true! The problem is that, realistically, no matter what you think, the rest of the world thinks I'm a shady homewrecker.”

“Not for long they won't.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let's just say I have a special birthday present for you. Are you near a computer?”

“No. My mom hid my laptop because she doesn't think it's a good idea for me to go on the Web right now. And, I have to say, I agree with her.”

“You guys are wrong,” Peter said sharply.

“Yeah, right. Easy for you to say.”

“I'm not kidding. Your phone has Web, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Just, please, do me a favor. Hang up and go to Hot Hollywood's website.”

“And what will I see there?”

“Just trust me.”

EXCLUSIVE! Peter Maxx's Ex-GF Exposed as a Secret Tabloid Source, Federal Probe Underway

Today 6:40 A.M. PDT by Jackson Phillips,
Hot Hollywood Chief News Correspondent

After being exposed by an investigation led by Peter Maxx's longtime bodyguard, G Girls singer and ex-girlfriend of Maxx, Sandy Jones, was immediately fired from the group and now faces federal criminal charges for allegedly hacking into Maxx's cell phone and accessing his e-mail account so that she could leak information to the gossip website OMC.

In an exclusive interview with Hot Hollywood to air in its entirety tonight, Maxx reveals that he had broken up with Sandy Jones before even meeting the Bakersfield, California, high school student, Josie Brant. “My security team, led by Big Jim, uncovered that Sandy sent OMC false and misleading information with the goal of making her look like a victim and making me look like a jerk.”

When reached by Hot Hollywood via phone and asked if he was aware that many of his so-called “scoops” were the result of potentially illegal activity and he could himself face charges (and deportment as he is a British citizen), OMC's normally outspoken Editor-in-Chief Johnny Love replied with a terse “no comment.”

In his sit-down with Hot Hollywood, Maxx further explained, “Sandy and I had made the mistake of not being honest with our fans and revealing that we were no longer dating. I regret that decision, but promise not only to make it up to my fans with a series of upcoming free concerts, but also make it up to Josie Brant, who is an amazing girl and unfortunate victim of a false attack on her character. You will be hearing and seeing a lot more from Josie Brant.”