By Meg Cabot
EM WATTS IS GONE.
Emerson Watts didn’t even are looking to visit the hot SoHo Stark Megastore grand commencing. yet a person had to glance out for her sister, Frida, whose weigh down, British heartthrob Gabriel Luna, will be making a song and signing autographs there—along with the newly appointed Face of Stark, teenager stick insect sensation Nikki Howard.
How used to be Em to understand that catastrophe could strike, altering her,and existence as she’d recognized it, ceaselessly?
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Dad. That was Dad. Mom and Dad were talking. They were saying things. They wanted me to wake up. Why? Why couldn’t I just go on sleeping? I knew I should listen to them – whenever Mom tells us to do something, Frida and I always do it. Eventually anyway. But I felt like I couldn’t move. Like I’d been turned to stone. I just wanted to go on sleeping forever. Still, I could hear Mom, her voice charged with urgency. ‘Em! Em, if you can hear me, open your eyes! Open your eyes, Em. ’ I knew that old trick.
About my being too tired to do what she asked. I’d explain it all later, when I wasn’t so sleepy. I needed to get my energy back. I’d be fine with a few more hours of sleep. Finally I managed to open my eyes. Not because anyone was calling my name. Not because I was seeing amoebas behind my eyelids. My eyes just . . opened. All by themselves. But when they did, and I looked around, I was surprised to find I wasn’t in a swimming pool, or even at home, but in a bed in a hospital room. I could tell that I was in a bed in a hospital room, because even though it was pretty dark – it had to be night-time – nothing looked familiar to me.
Or how I knew them. I couldn’t believe such a totally hot guy was visiting me in the hospital. And I really couldn’t believe he had brought me flowers. ‘Of course I remember you,’ I lied. ‘That’s good to know,’ Gabriel said, smiling again.