My mom was knocking on my door. I opened my eyes and glanced at the clock. It was a little after five. “Yeah?” I mumbled. As my mom turned my doorknob, I flipped over the printout from Andy Oliveira. I’d been reading it when I drifted off. “Jena just called,” my mom said. “Your phone was in your bag, out in the hallway.” “What did she say?” “She and her friends got into Grand Central Station. They’re going to take the subway up here. They’ll probably be at Patsy’s in a half hour.” I rolled over so I was facing the window. “You look exhausted,” my mom said. “Want me to call Jena and tell her you’re not up for it? I’m sure she’ll understand. You’ve got an important callback tomorrow.” “No, it’s okay.” “Are you sure?” “I said it’s okay,” I snapped. Then I got up off my bed and headed into the bathroom. I changed into a minidress and heels. I put on eye-liner, mascara, and a touch of gloss. I rubbed pomade into the ends of my hair and swept it back from my face with a headband.
