Pop Princess by Rachel Cohn

manners.
    â€œWONDER!” he shouted. My head pounded again. “PHONE!” As I walked into the hallway, Charles shoved me lightly on the arm. “Dude,” he said. “Thank Henry already, why don’t you. I swear, you can be such a rude bee-yatch. The guy’s not gonna hang around forever.”
    I shoved Charles back. “Shut up,” I said, and took the phone from him. Please let it be Trina, I prayed, Trina calling to wish me a happy birthday. I could plead my case to her. I stumbled to the phone and said in major sick voice, “Yeah?”
    â€œWonder Blake?” a deep voice asked.
    â€œYeah,” I repeated, trying not to sound so awful. What if this strange voice was like a radio station calling to tell me I’d won some cool prize and here I was, practically spewing into the phone for all the New England airwaves to hear.
    â€œWonder, it’s Gerald Tiggs. Don’t you even recognize my voice? Are you sitting down? Listen up, Cinderella. Pop Life Records wants to sign you up. Kayla’s label! They want you to come audition this week. Think you can get to Manhattan tomorrow? I can have a ticket waiting for you and your mom at the airport in Boston.”
    Did I think I could? Uh yeah, I thought I could.
    Hallelujah. Escape.

Part Two
Shades of Blonde
Dirty Blonde

Seventeen
    Just days after signing with Pop Life Records, I received this e-mail from Kayla, who had agreed with Tig to “mentor” my new pop princess career.
    Hey girl!
    How To Become A Pop Princess, in Five Easy Steps:
    Step 1—Hair. For the raven-haired like me, streaks of red, orange, or pink will do. For the mousy-haired like you, move on up, girl, to a dirty blond shade with streaks of gold. Tousle ’n’ go go go.
    Step 2—Dialect Coach. Your name is Won-DUR, not Won-DAH. Regional accents are forbidden for teen movie stars, but acceptable in a pop princess only if the accent is subtle and unaffected, and preferably Southern. If you are from Boston, you will have to work wicked hahd to unload that accent. Don’t be a chowDAHhead. You prefer chowder, thank you very much.
    Step 3—Diet. Expect rigorous dance and workout sessions, but don’t expect those cal-burning sessions mean you can give in to the chocolate monster. Your outfits will be skimpy and so should be your meals. Skip the appetizer, dessert is a no-no, and you can forget you even know about the existence of pizza (“pizzer” to us Cambridge girls, hee hee). Learn to love your new best friends: grilled chicken and fish, and salads drizzled with fat-free dressing. The occasional Coca-Cola is acceptable, for a boost. The exception to Step 3 will be lunchtime interviews with teen magazine journalists, who will feel good about themselves when they can report to their readers that you gleefully munched down a double cheeseburger and fries dipped in mayo and ketchup, as you apparently do all the time. Throw in a slice of cheesecake to really make ’em feel extra good.
    Step 4—Talent Manager. Tig is that rare commodity: an ethical manager with killer instincts, who will protect your interests and instruct you in ensuring your financial future as if you were a corporation rather than a person. Don’t ever expect to learn anything about him personally—he is all business and you are all product. Do expect consultations with top Wall Street financial advisers and brand-marketing executives.
    Step 5—School. If you are under eighteen and maintaining a professional career as an entertainer, the law requires you to spend a certain amount of time in school, or with a tutor. Lucky for the pop princesses of the world, there’s a nice little legal loophole called dropping out of school entirely. Go for the G.E.D. if you want, but you are a professional person in the working world now—and no one in the music biz cares whether you have a high school diploma or not. Your time will be consumed