Read Online Fangirl by Ken Baker - Free Book Online Page A

confused smile. He whispered back, “Music what?”
    â€œLover,” she said, now full-on blushing.
    Peter nodded. “Got it.”
    â€œBut,” she quickly added, “It is spelled L-U-V-R. Not L-O-V-E-R. That was taken, unfortunately.” Josie laughed nervously.
    â€œOkay, MusicLuvr.” Peter patted her upper arm. “I’ll look for your Tweets.”
    Before turning away, he gently brushed a strand of her hair back and tucked it behind her ear, combing it carefully with two fingers. A chill shot down Josie’s neck and tingled into her back. “Bye,” he told her. Josie could only stare back at him. Her body looked frozen, but it was on fire.
    There’s a difference between looking and seeing. Looking can only provide a two-dimensional glimpse of a person—an image you get from the pictures, the videos, the carefully crafted photo shoots, the interviews, the paparazzi images, the magazine covers, the impersonal Tweets. For Josie, seeing was definitely believing—that her connection might, just might, be real. At last night’s concert, she felt him. Now she was seeing him.

10
    All day long, the texts from Ashley came into Josie’s phone. All day long, Josie didn’t reply.
    How fun was that? Can u believe it? Hes soooo hot.
    Cant believe he hugged u!
    J, im so sorry I didn’t tell u. I wud have but wanted to surprise u.
    Jose-ski . . . r u mad?
    Where r u????
    The desperation oozed onto her phone all through Algebra II, Spanish, History, then AP English.
    When the final bell rang at two thirty, Josie hustled quickly across the concrete-and-grass campus to her locker on the freshman row, looking over her shoulder nervously as she unlocked it and grabbed her backpack. Friday. She must have cheerleader practice. Thank God.
    Josie put her head down and bolted for the back exit near the tennis courts, avoiding the front courtyard where most of the students hopped on buses or were picked up by parents.
    â€œJosie!” a boy’s voice called out from behind. She could tell it was Christopher, but she wasn’t in the mood for anyone at the moment.
    She turned around anyway, and saw Christopher running after her, his backpacking jostling awkwardly up and down. She flashed a quick peace sign, but nonetheless kept walking with purpose in the opposite direction.
    â€œI heard what happened with Ashley,” he said breathlessly catching up to her. “That’s so messed up. Are you okay?”
    â€œI’m fine. I’ll text ya later. Promise.”
    â€œI’m here if you need anything. Psycho move on her part.”
    â€œVery psycho,” Josie said as she made her way along the pathway toward a black pickup truck parked at the curb. The four-wheel-drive beast had dried mud splattered all over the sides and a windshield with so many dead bugs splattered on it they looked like they were sprayed on with a paint gun. Josie climbed up into the passenger’s seat anyway.
    â€œYou really need to wash this thing,” Josie said, settling in. “It’s pretty disgusting.”
    The muscular man in a tight-fitting black T-shirt sitting behind the wheel nodded in agreement as he turned down the volume on the radio playing an old-time country song.
    â€œYeah, you’re probably right,” the man said. “It’s dirtier than a pig pen.”
    He had unusually wide hands and thick forearms. His hair was dark, but for slightly graying sideburns, and it was buzzed short, revealing the outline of a receding hairline, the only part of his lean body that looked his age.
    â€œSo how was your day?”
    Josie didn’t respond.
    â€œCómo estás? ” he said, his Spanish accent as authentic as a Taco Bell burrito.
    â€œDad.” Josie exhaled. “If you really need to know, it was interesting.”
    â€œInteresting, good? Or interesting, bad?”
    â€œBoth.”
    Her dad turned left at the traffic