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  So we strut into the party like we own the place, laughing and waving to total strangers, pretending like we’ve known them for ages, like we go way back. The party is smallish, almost intimate, and very high end. Dare I say . . . sophisticated? Everyone is wearing Rag & Bone and drinking red wine and Ray Charles is playing soft and crisp from sleek speakers in every room.

  “This is . . . delightful.” Jessie squeezes my arm. “Ohmygod, look, it’s Kristen Stewart. And ohmygod, ohmygod, Harper, it’s Sophia Wingate from the Disney Channel! She’s talking to Dalton!”

  “Come on.” I laugh. “Let’s go say hi.”

  “I can’t. I’ll totally lose it.”

  “So lose it, who cares? Worst-case scenario, you’ll make me look cool, calm, and collected in comparison.” I wink and lead her to Dalton and Sophia Wingate, who is wearing a gorgeous red cashmere sweater and black leather skirt. I love it when celebrities are even prettier IRL.

  “Hi, babe!” Dalton pulls me in for a kiss and it makes me happy that he’s not afraid to be seen with me.

  I introduce him to Jessie and he kisses her hand like a gentleman, making her blush, then introduces us to Sophia, who is flattered when Jessie says “I’ve been obsessed with you since elementary school.”

  “Harper, hi!” It’s Lilly and Angelica, the girls I met at Magic Castle, swooping over in furs and diamonds and pearls like two majestic birds.

  “Harper, you remember Lilly and Angelica,” says Dalton.

  “Of course.”

  “I am so sorry about what a jerk Roger was last time we saw you,” says Lilly.

  “I’ve broken up with him since,” says Angelica.

  “It’s really okay,” I tell them. “I survived.”

  “Honey, were you crying?” Lilly asks. “Your eyes look red.”

  “Oh, ha”—I wipe my eyes, suddenly very self-conscious—“we were at a horrible party before this.”

  “Horrible,” Jessie emphasizes.

  “Bad enough to cry over?” Angelica asks.

  “Yes.” Jessie doesn’t miss a beat. “These idiot kids were passing around a fake picture of Harper naked.”

  My cheeks burn, embarrassed.

  “It was photoshopped, honestly,” I try to explain.

  “What?” Dalton almost spits out his drink. “Who are these wankers? I’ll slap them!”

  “Oh, um,” I say, “just some kids from school, but I’m moving past it. No need to hit anybody.”

  “Welcome to fame, sweetie.” Sophia gives me a sympathetic look with her famously angelic baby face.

  “Has this happened to you?” I ask, feeling safe for the first time tonight.

  “Duh! Are you kidding? I’ve been dealing with that insanity for as long as I’ve been on TV.”

  “I’m ashamed for society to say that it’s happened to me as well.” Dalton pretend-sulks.

  “It happens to anyone who’s anyone,” Angelica says. “You’re in good company, I promise. It’s just an occupational hazard.”

  “It’s never happened to me.” Lilly pouts.

  “Well, honey, you haven’t made it yet,” Angelica teases. “One day if you work hard enough and keep aiming for the stars, maybe you too will be lucky enough to have some creep superimpose your face onto someone else’s body.”

  * * *

  “Whose house is this anyway?” Jessie asks once we’re all crammed into a titanium photo booth set up in the backyard.

  FLASH!

  The first flash goes off before we’re ready and we laugh, slightly blinded by the light.

  “It’s my friend January’s,” says Sophia.

  FLASH!

  “January Jones?” Jessie asks, so clearly having the time of her life.

  “Yeah, she’s renting it from this guy who’s renting it from Mark Zuckerberg, who just bought it from some Russian oil tycoon.”

  FLASH!

  “Well, you don’t hear that every day,” I say as we all scurry to switch poses in time before the final FLASH!

  “I’ll get it, I’ll get it!” Jessie is first to jump out of the booth and wait patiently by the photo dispenser.

  “I like your friend, Harper. She’s got good vibes,” Sophia says, climbing out after her, and Jessie almost dies.

  “I agree,” says Angelica, holding up her wineglass. “Cheers to Harper and Jessie.”

  “To Harper and Jessie!” Everyone clinks glasses and Jessie looks over at me like Oh my god, what is happening?

  “You know what we should do?” Lilly proposes. “We should jump in the pool.”

  “Are you high?” Angelica laughs.

  “No! I’m just in a good mood. Can’t I be in a good mood?”

  “Let’s do it!” Jessie cheers.

  “I don’t have a bathing suit,” I say. “And I’m not about to get naked after the night I’ve had.”

  “So we’ll go in our clothes!” Now Dalton is as revved up about the idea as Lilly and Jessie are; he’s pulling off his leather jacket as he speaks.

  “I’m game,” says Sophia, taking off her cashmere sweater to reveal a pearlescent white tee.

  “No way.” Angelica crosses her arms. “I’m not wearing one thing that costs less than two hundred dollars.”

  “Oh my god, you’re such a brat!” Lilly squeals.

  “Yeah, right, those jeans are Brandy Melville and you know it.” Sophia laughs.

  “So what if they are? I’m not jumping. The last thing I need is to catch pneumonia.”

  “Suit yourself!” Lilly says, running and jumping feetfirst, jewelry and all. A pink glow emanates from the bottom of the pool and it looks pretty damn appealing.

  Dalton and Sophia and Jessie follow her lead, making a huge splash.

  “It’s bloody cold!” Dalton hollers. “Can’t Mark Zuckerberg afford to heat his pool?”

  “Don’t listen to him, the water’s lovely!” Lilly calls out to Angelica and me, who gaze skeptically into the pool where the four of them are now treading water like a bunch of wet dogs. Truth be told, they look like they’re having a blast.

  “It’s warming up now, actually,” Dalton says. “Hm, I could get used to this!”

  “Come on!” Jessie splashes us. “Get in here, get in here!”

  Angelica and I glance at each other, like Should we do this? Can we do this?

  “YOLO?” she says to me, with a slightly pained look on her face.

  “YOLO,” I agree. We clasp hands, and on the count of three, we jump.

  * * *

  “The other Jessicas are going to be so insanely jealous.” Jessie, wrapped in one of Mark Zuckerberg’s towels, is swooning in the backseat of our homeward-bound Uber.

  “I’m glad you had fun,” I say. My teeth are chattering and my lips are practically blue, but I’m feeling satisfied and relaxed like never before.

  “We should never have dragged you to Clayton Schaeffer’s house. You’re a big fish in a small pond there. You’ve got much cooler stuff going on, Harper!”

  “Well, I mean, I’ve never really fit in with—”

  “You were so right,” she rambles on excitedly, “high school parties are not your scene. Those kids are small, close-minded, insecure little idiots. You should be hanging out with open-minded, worldly, creative people, like Sophia Wingate. People who get you and have real lives of their own so they’re not just jealously trying to tear you down all the time. I’m telling you, Harper, Ashley Adler is so obviously dying of jealousy. Your success literally kills her, I can tell.”

  “Oh” is all I can say. For the first time I actually feel sad for Ashley Adler. Like any truly mean person, she must be really suffering inside. I look out the window at the city lights racing by and sigh. In the midst of being bullied, I had never stopped to consider what makes people mean. Nobody is born mean. People become mean when they’re not given the love and affection they deserve; people become mean when they don’t like themselves and just don’t know how to handle that. Meanness comes from a place of
deep sadness, no doubt. I had always thought Ashley just hated me, but now, with my cheek pressed up against the window glass, I realized it wasn’t me she hated, but herself. The thought made me heavy. Didn’t she have anyone to tell her she’s awesome? Did she never have anyone to believe in her? Suddenly I stopped feeling like her victim and started feeling like the lucky one: I may not ever be able to escape hateful people (i.e., the #haters), and they may always exist out there in the world, but as long as I’m kind to others and true to myself, at the end of the day, I’ll always have my people waiting for me with open arms. I wondered if there was anything I could do to help her. Like always, I found myself wanting more than anything else to talk to Ellie, and crushed that I couldn’t.

  * * *

  TUTORIAL #5

  What to Pack for Vacation!

  Here are some tips and tricks to pack like a pro:

  1. So before I even start packing, I like to make a list of everything I’m going to need on my vacation and what I’ll want with me on the airplane. So I’ll go on Pinterest for inspo, because they have awesome lists on everything you could think of.

  2. Check your closet and see what you actually do have in your wardrobe. I don’t know about you, but I actually forget what I have and then I get all stressed, like, Aaah, I don’t have anything! and then I go shopping and spend money and then later I realize I actually had a lot of good stuff and spent money for no reason! Yeah, it’s good to check beforehand, trust me.

  3. My third tip is to lay everything out on your bed before putting it in your suitcase. That way you can see what you’re actually packing, which will hopefully prevent overpacking. Or underpacking, if that’s an issue for you. Personally, I’ve never come close to underpacking even once in my life.

  4. So then it’s on to what to actually pack for your vacation. It depends on where you’re going, but if you’re going somewhere hot, then obviously I would suggest a couple of pairs of shorts, a few breezy tank tops for beach lounging, a selection of dressy/cute tops for fancier dates (just in case you meet BAE surfside, of course), and some short skirts. Even if you are in fact going somewhere hot, I really recommend bringing your snuggliest sweater for when the sun goes down, as temps can get real chilly real quick. And then of course some dresses to wear to dinner or just to the beach to put over your bathing suit. And of course don’t forget your jammies to sleep in. Am I the only one who loves that word? Jammies! It’s such a cute word!

  If you’re not going somewhere warm, make sure to pack some pants or leggings (or both!). When it comes to shoes, I like to bring two or three pairs—sometimes four, just to be safe. If you bring something open-toed, also include something close-toed, and something with a heel, so you’re pretty much prepared for any situation your vacation might throw at you.

  5. Bring laundry bags or a wet clothing bag for your bathing suits. You’re also going to want to pack your toiletries, of course, so what I do is lay them all out on my bed like I did with my clothes, just to see what I have. You’re going to need the basics like shampoo, conditioner, soap, razors, toothbrush, deodorant, makeup wipes, and then also any makeup you might want to bring. I suggest some waterproof mascara for poolside chillin’ (or rainy days!).

  6. My final tip is to put some bright, easily identifiable tags on your luggage, especially if your luggage pieces themselves are sort of standard. The last thing you need after a long flight is a battle with some stranger over whose black Samsonite is whose. Trust me.

  Extra Tip: On to what to bring in your carry-on bag: I pack my carry-on to the max, like, not a joke. I’ve had bad experiences where my luggage got lost and I’ve had nothing, so now to be safe I like to basically have my whole life with me in my carry-on bag just in case. I bring all my electronics, any headphones or chargers that I need, then also a notebook and some magazines to entertain me on my journey. Less exciting but super important are your travel documents, which you gotta have: boarding passes, passport (if you’re traveling internationally), wallet, ID card, money, et cetera et cetera. Last but not least, I like to bring snacks slash candy onto the plane with me—­and gum! That’s what keeps me going on a flight, and what keeps my ears from popping out of my head during the ascent and descent.

  So that is pretty much it for this vacation essentials tutorial! I hope you guys can now pack like a pro and are so excited for any vacations you’ve got planned. I’ll see ya on the flip side!

  You are my everything goals.

  Lots of love, Harper

  * * *

  CHAPTER 8

  ••••••••••

  Suspects

  If two weeks ago you had told me that I’d be sitting next to Dalton James on a Virgin Atlantic first-class flight to London, I would have laughed in your face. I mean, come on, life just doesn’t work like that. At least I’m not used to life working like that, anyway. That’s how I know this is meant to be; without fate or a higher power, something like this could never happen. At least that’s what I told my parents when pitching them the idea. After about seven hours of begging and what felt like an eternity of their deliberating, they finally agreed to let me go, with the condition that I call them once a day (fine), don’t do drugs (duh), and promise to practice safe sex (duh!). To borrow a line from one of my biggest role models, Cher Horowitz, aka Alicia Silverstone in Clueless: AS IF! Dalton and I just met, sure we’re moving fast, but that doesn’t mean we’re going anywhere past second base on this London trip.

  The flight starts off a little rocky. Literally. As I confessed to Dalton, I am terrified of flying. But first of all, I’m a firm believer in facing my fears, and also, if I didn’t fly, how would I ever get anywhere? Long car trips make me a little queasy, and don’t even get me started on trains. Nonetheless, flying always freaks me out more at first—so we’re on the runway and the plane starts making those really aggressive vrooommmm sounds beneath our seats, and I grab Dalton’s arm. His incredibly cool, calm, and collected arm.

  “It’s the sound,” I explain. I’m gripping hard, I can’t help it.

  “That?” He laughs. “That’s just the engine, love. Getting ready to take off.”

  I gulp audibly. “Take off from the ground? Already?”

  “Yes, already. Are you all right?” He holds my hand and looks into my eyes, probably trying to find a sign of the somewhat sane person he invited on this trip. Before I have time to respond, the plane begins racing forward and I can feel my face drain of color. I’m pale as a ghost as the plane lifts off the tarmac and goes teetering into the air.

  “Are you all right?” he asks again.

  “Uh-huh. I’m just . . . um . . . is this normal?”

  “For an airplane to be in the air? Yes. Otherwise they’d call it a groundplane.”

  “Ha, no, I mean is it normal for it to be doing that shaking thing?” As I say this, the plane’s light quivering becomes full-on quaking. Fall-out-of-the-sky-level quaking. “Oh god, are we going to die? I don’t want to die, I don’t want to die.” I swear my life is flashing before my eyes and all I can think is what a bitch I was to Ellie and how I’ll never get a chance to say I’m sorry.

  “Babe,” Dalton says, half worried (for my sanity), half amused (quirky is cute, right? RIGHT?), “it’s just some turbulence. This happens. It’s normal.”

  “Is it really? Do you promise?”

  “Yes. I promise. Look.” He directs my attention at the flight attendants, who are casually examining one another’s manicures at the front of the plane. “Do they seem worried? They do these flights literally every day, so if something was wrong, they would know about it.”

  “Okay, I guess that makes sense. So as long as the flight attendants look calm, there’s nothing to worry about?”

  “Exactly.”

  “But what if they’re not paying attention?”

  “What? Not paying attention?” My God, he must feel like he’s talking to a preschooler. “They’re completely plugged in at all times to any information t
he captain has. They’d know if something was wrong, trust me. And besides, there’s literally nothing to be concerned about. Even if something did go wrong, these plans have a million backup systems.”

  “Really?”

  “What is this, your first time on a plane?”

  “No! I actually have to fly all the time for meet and greets, promotional things, whatever. I just can’t ever get used to it. Probably never will.”

  “Boy, are you adorable,” he says, poking the tip of my nose. “Now calm down and relax. Order a movie and get comfortable. We have a long flight ahead of us.”

  “All right.” I sigh deeply. “I’ll try to relax. What movie are you gonna watch?”

  “Oh, I’m not going to watch a movie. I have to use these flights to catch up on my sleep. I got that tip from Kim and Kanye.”

  Ah, the other jet-setting power couple.

  * * *

  Two hours into the flight and I’ve tried everything I possibly can to relax. I’ve anxiously scrolled through all the movies that Virgin has to offer (they all seem too scary or too cheesy or too serious). I’ve ordered almost everything off the snack menu (Chips Ahoy!, Pringles, Gummy Bears, chocolate-covered pretzels, you name it). I’ve unpacked and repacked my travel bag. I’ve written a list of things I want to see in London (all I have written on it is Big Ben, because I don’t actually know what else there is to see over there). I’ve curled my body up into a ball and tried counting sheep (all efforts to fall asleep were in vain). I’ve tried listening to soothing music (Mojave 3, Iron & Wine, even some Enya). I’ve tried looking out the window (bad idea, we are way too high up). Last but not least, I’ve chewed on some melatonin gummies to knock me out. None of this is working, and all the while Dalton is passed out with his earplugs in and his tongue hanging halfway out of his mouth. Charming. He somehow manages to even sleep through the most violent patches of turbulence. It’s. So. Frustrating.

  The thing is, I know why I can’t make myself relax, and it has to do with more than just being thirty thousand miles in the air with no control over the situation whatsoever. It’s about Ellie. I can’t stop thinking about what Dalton said, about how if @ThatBitchHarper really was her, the last thing she’d do is tweet about Jamba Juice. Why give herself away so easily? There’s only one answer, and that is, she didn’t. It’s not Ellie. It makes much more sense for it to be someone who wants me to think it was her. But who could that be? I try to think of who else could have known we were at Jamba Juice. Someone who just happened to see us on the street walking in? But what are the chances that the person who knew about my first date with Dalton just happened to see Ellie and me walk into Jamba Juice? Seems insanely unlikely. Unless ­@ThatBitchHarper has been following me. Could that be possible?