Read Sunset Boulevard for Free Online Page B

about the Lincoln-Douglas debates.
    "Hey, dudes, look who's here." Rod leered in Jojo's direction, his ruddy face orange under the
    fluorescent bulbs. She shrank in her chair, dread colliding in her stomach with the roast-turkeyand-Brie wrap she'd downed for lunch in a little-trafficked corner of the BHH library, which
    had quieted down since the Class Angel film crew had moved on to a different location on the
    grounds.
    "She looks so sweet and innocent, right? But check this out." Rod pulled his iPhone from the
    pocket of his Abercrombie sweatshirt, flourishing it like he had something new to show them.
    Jojo felt queasy at the tinny sound of her digital hurling.
    Just then, Lewis Buford strode in, his handsome face smiling widely to show off his deeply
    dimpled cheeks. His rugby shirt, emblazoned with his initials, L.B., in huge Old English type,
    was unbuttoned, revealing a tanned, waxed chest. He immediately found Myla's desk, girlishly
    perching on the corner. "Myla, where've you been, baby?" he purred, seemingly oblivious to
    Myla's hateful expression.
    "Everywhere you're not, Lewis," Myla said coolly, looking directly at him with her catlike
    green eyes. Since the party, Lewis had been calling her nonstop. After his billionth call, Myla
    had changed her outgoing message to, "This is Myla Everhart. Leave a message and I'll call
    you back. Unless this is Lewis Buford. Two and a half words for you: Not. F-in. Interested."
    Lewis clucked lewdly, sliding off the desk. "I'll catch you after class, babe. Trust me, you want
    me." He squeezed Myla's shoulder as he passed.
    Myla shrugged him off, rolling her eyes. Jojo watched as Lewis stopped next by Rod,
    watching the video play yet again. "Didn't that fucking kick ass?" Lewis said. "Barnsley got,
    like, two hundred e-mails on the MTV website and the episode hasn't even aired yet."
    Their teacher, Mr. Castorman, walked in, and Jojo felt relief wash over her. Once class started
    she could at least listen and try to forget their teasing.
    "Class, give me ten minutes," he said instead. "I have to go finish an important phone call in the
    teachers' lounge." It was common knowledge that ancient Mr. Castorman, who had exactly
    seventeen hairs left on his liver-spotted head, did the New York Times crossword during lunch.
    Everyone in his sixth-period class got lucky about once a week when Mr. Castorman couldn't
    finish the puzzle before the bell and left his students unattended as he got the last few words.
    Jojo glared at him angrily as he left. How dare he leave her here with these vultures?
    "Sweet," she heard Rod say, feeling her insides shrivel. "Let's go talk to our little BarfBarf."
    He swaggered over, his jock buddies and Lewis close behind. Every face in the class turned to
    look as Rod pulled up a chair, leaning against Jojo's desk. She could smell the garlic from his
    carb-loading lunch.
    "So, what do you have against Barnsley Toole?" he started. "Is it him in particular? Or maybe
    all guys make you sick. Jojo's sort of a lezzie name, isn't it?"
    Lewis guffawed, "Dude, she's a lezzie."
    "It's short for Josephine," Jojo corrected him. Her heart thumped nervously at the class's eyes
    turning toward her.
    "So, Josephine, would you puke on me too? 'Cause I bet you couldn't handle this either." Rod
    stood to his full gargantuan height, displaying his bulk.
    "You wish," Jojo muttered, her whole body shaking with anger. With one quick move, she
    could corner kick Rod's shin. Then again, all she needed was to be the barfing girl who also
    had an anger management problem.
    "Yeah, right," Rod said. "Like I'd wish for that. Who do you think you are? You might be
    Barbar's kid but that don't mean shit if you're a puke-filled lesbian."
    Jojo dug her nails into the underside of her cherrywood desk. How long had this ignorant
    homophobe gone unchecked?
    Before she could reply, Jojo's phone vibrated in her pocket. She slid it out, looking down at the
    screen under her desk. She silently