Free Ciao by Melody Carlson

okay, she can be released around six.”
    To celebrate, Mrs. Bishop and I go get a cup of coffee. “Thank you so much for waiting with me today,” she says as we head back up to see Fran. “You have no idea how much it means to me.”
    “Well, Fran is a special person,” I tell her. “I feel like I’ve been through so much with her already. How could I not come?”
    When we find Fran later, she looks tired but relieved. I tell her how everyone is sending warm wishes her way and we visit a bit. There’s a new light in her eyes, but it’s plain she still needs some rest.
    And although I know it will be some time before the transplant really begins to reverse her leukemia, I still feel very hopeful as I drive home. I believe Fran is going to make it!

Chapter

8
    On Thursday morning a town car, arranged
by Leah, picks us up to go to the airport. Mom’s already in the back with her laptop open, going over some of the details as we ride to LAX.
So far, so good,
I’m thinking as we get out, gather up our bags, and head inside. Paige is wearing oversized sunglasses with her hair tucked into a hat. I’m not sure about her attempt to go incognito, since I know from experience that this getup attracts nearly as much attention as her usual look. However, it’s either a slow day at LAX or the paparazzi have already found someone else to chase, because our entrance into the terminal is uneventful.
    “Remember when Paige got tackled by security?” I say quietly to Mom as we’re checking our bags.
    Mom chuckles. “Don’t remind me.”
    “Well, she’s been very careful ever since.” I smile at my sister as she hands her luggage over. She gave up her Pepto-Bismol pink bags months ago, but her Louis Vuitton is fairly easy to spot —and if you ask me, more tempting to steal. Paige no longer seems too worried about that, however.
    After we’re settled at our gate, Paige and I get some magazines and things. As I’m browsing a photography magazine, I hear my sister make a little yelp. She’s standing by the gossip rags, and I figure she’s seen another tidbit about herself and Ben, but she holds up a tabloid with a photo of Eliza and Dylan. The headline says “Heiress Steals Paige Forrester’s Man.” And this time there is no question mark.
    I go over and examine the picture. “That looks like an old photo,” I tell Paige. “And it looks like it’s been tampered with.” I shrug. “No surprises there.”
    “But listen to this,” Paige says angrily. “’Eliza Wilton confesses to a secret tryst with designer Dylan Marceau during Bahamas Fashion Week. Marceau is engaged to fashionista Paige Forrester, star of the popular TV series
On the Runway,
but their relationship is reported to be on the rocks.’ “ She reads a little more then throws the paper down. “Disgusting!”
    Several girls cluster nearby, whispering. It’s obvious they recognize us.
    “Come on,” I urge Paige. “They’re probably pre-boarding our flight by now.” We make our purchases and, realizing that I’m as uninterested in publicity as Paige is, I follow her lead and don shades before we rejoin Mom. Meanwhile Paige stands by a post with her head down, focused on her iPhone, probably checking out the rumor mills to see who is saying what about her and Dylan and Eliza.
    I tell Mom about the tabloid and she just shakes her head. “There ought to be a law.” Then she laughs. “Oh, yeah, there is. But it’s pretty hard to prove slander in a court of law. Especially for celebrities.”
    “It’s funny, isn’t it?” I say. “Paige being a celebrity. It’s like I sometimes forget—you know, when we’re just hanging out athome, doing normal stuff. And then we’re out in public and something happens and it’s like — wow, she really is famous.” “So are you,” Mom tells me.
    I laugh and adjust my sunglasses. “Yeah, right. The only reason I put these on was to disguise the fact that I’m Paige’s sister.”
    “So do you