Read Theodora Twist for Free Online Page A

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Between Sophie keeping me up all night with her teething and these new thoughts of maybe going back to work part-time, I can’t remember if I’m coming or going. Have a great time.” And she disappears, softly singing a lullaby to my baby sister.
    Insane. I used to want my mother to butt out. Now I want her to butt in?
    “God, she’s hot.”
    Todd is practically foaming at the mouth. He’s staring up at the screen, so oblivious to everyone and everything except Theodora Twist that he just shoved a popcorn kernel up his nose instead of in his mouth. Finally the credits roll—on the movie and on my date.
    “That was great,” Todd says, turning to me. His smile fades, those gorgeous blue eyes registering . . . disappointment?
    “Something wrong, Todd?” I ask.
    He collects his empty popcorn container and water bottle. “It’s just that it’s hard to look at Theodora Twist for two hours and then come back to reality, you know?”
    Okay, so Todd Tuttle is not such a nice guy, after all.
    “Can I admit something to you?” he asks as we head out.
    You’ve secretly had a crush on me for years. You’re so happy I asked you out. You think I’m way prettier than Theodora Twist.
    “I don’t even know your name,” he says with a snort. “But I know you’re in two of my classes. Math and history?”
    Math and English. I sure can pick ’em.
    Another huge difference between me and Theodora Twist: I am the opposite of famous.
    EmilyIsFine: U should have seen the look on Todd’s face when the lights came up & he had 2 look at me instead of Theodora. Got the blahs. ☹
    BelleSays: He looks like a Q-tip anyway. & there’s way more fish in the sea! LYLAS. xoxo
    JenGirl: Chin up, my girl. The chess club president probably has no idea who TT is. Ray Roarke moves from #3 to #2 immediately.

Theodora
    “No. No. And no,” I say to Ashley, who’s sitting across from me in her office on the gazillionth floor of an L.A skyscraper. She just finished pitching me her concept for a ridiculous TV show that I wouldn’t do for five million, let alone for free (Ashley’s other brilliant idea: my salary would go to various girls charities, like Girls Club of America and Big Sisters). “Hey, how’s that for repeating an answer if pressed—and by the way, stop pressing me. Because the answer is no. I’m not doing it.”
    My publicist and my entertainment lawyer—who wears a stupid Yankees cap 24/7 because he’s bald—stare from me to Ashley as though we’re at Wimbledon.
    Ashley glares at me with those shrewd dark eyes of hers. “Want to know about the offer I got for you this morning? Your own soft porn show on a major cable station. Wanna take it? Your career will be over by the time you’re eighteen. Oh, and you can forget about getting paid a fortune to eat M&Ms in commercials. The Mars company just dropped out of negotiations.”
    Oh. “Good. I don’t need the extra calories. And the answer is still no.”
    Ashley looks through a stack of phone messages on her desk. “Find yourself a new agent. I don’t work with losers who derail their careers. You don’t make money, I don’t make money.”
    I hate you, I want to scream.
    “Would you like to change your answer?” she asks, scrolling through her e-mail. “I’m busy.”
    “No, I wouldn’t.”
    She stands up. “The door is that way. See my assistant for the necessary paperwork to terminate our contract—”
    “I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” I say, hating myself. “Fine. I’ll do it. It’ll be a total nightmare, but I’ll do it.”
    Ashley smiles. She’s won. “With our salary going to charity.”
    “Yep. Every friggin’ penny.”
    Ashley is, annoyingly, always right. If I want to do a movie and she says no way, that movie ends up bombing. Endorsements, charity stuff—whatever she okays always ends up being good for me.
    My publicist and my lawyer are beaming and nodding and already have their CrackBerries out.
    Ashley