Love and Fame Games (Book 1)

17

The Adamson party was visible from the bridge we had to pass before the exit to get there. There were searchlights, headlights, multiple bonfires, a laser display—everything that could call one's attention—and right at the center of the grassy bank was a dome-shaped bandstand for the night's featured entertainment.

Three guesses who that was.

"Oh you've got to be kidding." Alex huffed. There were identical awestruck looks on our faces when we looked at each other in the backseat of Erin's lime green Ford Fiesta. The cutesy car might seem like a funny choice for its owner, judging by the way she looked now, but it had reflected her personality perfectly once upon a time. The goth thing was a fairly recent decision.

"Well, mystery solved. The stakeout's off, I gather?" Beth asked. Nothing ever fazed this girl.

"They are so stupid," Alex muttered, for like, the thousandth time that night. "Why keep something like this from us?"

"Maybe they don't want any more crappy videos of them circulating," Beth suggested. I coughed to cover up a laugh.

"Great publicity stunt, though," Erin remarked as she eased into the first empty spot we found amidst the sea of fancy cars parked on the side of the road. "Best that money can buy."

Adamson High was a neighboring high school, but it might as well be on another planet. You know those super-spoiled, superglam kids on social media who got sailboats as birthday presents, and flew to Europe on their private planes for their school dance after-parties, and also probably got together in their vast backyards to play polo on unicorns? Well, those kids were your typical Adamson High students.

People might think a few varying numbers in zip codes between our areas wouldn't make that much of a difference, but they'd be wrong. At Riverside North High, there was a nice mix of people from all walks of life, whereas at Adamson High, everyone who went there were either kids of CEO's of multinational corporations, entertainment moguls, pro-athletes, or even royalty from oil-rich countries–the kind of people my mom identified with but in actuality only got to be around on occasion because my dad worked for them, not because we occupied the same social stratosphere.

Erin was right: Off-Kilter couldn't ask for a better crowd to create buzz for them than these people. Adamson kids were trendsetters, tastemakers and online influencers. Just a mention from a few of them on social media and over a million new people would know who they were overnight. Whoever made this happen for Off-Kilter really knew what he was doing.

The party was in full swing and showed no sign of winding down. A lot of the kids we passed were already getting sick on the side of the road.

All the money in the world couldn't make that look attractive.

"I told you to leave that," Alex said, noticing the hoodie I'd brought along, against her instructions. Until that moment, I'd been successful in keeping it out of her sight. "It ruins your whole look."

I caught Erin's reflection in the rear-view mirror. She quirked her mouth in a sympathetic-looking smile, calling my attention to the silver hoop on her lower lip.

"Tell me Alex, why do you feel the need to like, curate every piece of clothing I put on at these parties but Erin can look like that?"

"Oh thanks a lot, Adrian, I was on your side!" Erin said, frowning.

"Sorry! But it's just a little unfair to me . . ."

"Beth and Erin can wear whatever they want because they're gonna grow old living in the same house with, like, a million cat-babies or something," Alex explained. "Somehow I don't think that's for you."