Free The One and Only Zoe Lama by Tish Cohen

“We never found out what the E in LOVE stands for.”
    “I think I can live without knowing,” I say, shifting my position so a bag of apples can act as my pillow. I close my eyes and pretend I’m on a sunny beach. “What about you, Susannah?”
    “Totally. Put it away.”
    Laurel ignores us. “ E is for Emotion,” she reads. “Keep your emotions steady. Emotional highs and lows can be unnerving for your MBF. Nothing will enrich your life experience like a good MBF.” She drops the book. “Major Best Friend. It sounds so…G.I. Joe or something.”

    “Being Devon’s best friend probably isn’t much different from being in the military,” says Susannah. “Drab.”
    Just after we pass the third floor, the elevator jerks to a screechy stop. We look at one another. I crawl over to the control panel and whack the eight button. Nothing happens. I whack again, this time blowing on my fist first. Still, nothing.
    My heart starts to pound.
    “What’s wrong?” says Susannah in a tinny voice. “Are we stuck? We can’t be stuck! My agent and my mother are picking me up out front soon. In his Hummer.”
    Laurel rolls her eyes. “ Stupid Hummer.”
    “Shut up, Laurel! You’re just jealous!”
    “Am not!” She reaches up to rub her throat as she swallows hard. Her voice changes. “But I am getting thirsty…”
    “Everybody stop talking!” I shout. “I need to…to think. And breathe.” I pull open the steel door to the emergency phone and peer inside. I decide that phoning for help is ridiculous, so I press the alarm button. It buzzes like a metal pipe full of mad beetles. I use the Morse code for SOS—three short buzzes, three long, three short—which means Save Our Souls.
    “I don’t believe it,” says Susannah. “I’m going to missthe audition. My entire career is over.” Then Susannah does something unprecedented. She takes her sunglasses and hurls them against the back wall of the elevator. It’s such a shock to see her entire face, I can’t speak right away.
    “We need to distract ourselves,” says Laurel, pulling my mother’s shea-butter lotion from a bag. She squirts some on her hand and rubs it all over her face like a mud mask. “We’ll pretend it’s a day at the spa.” Laurel lies back like she’s poolside and passes the lotion to Susannah. “I’m not sure if dehydration is blurring my vision, Susannah, but I think I’m seeing a…”
    “What?” Susannah’s hands fly up to her face. “I need a mirror. Someone get me a mirror!”
    Laurel closes her eyes like she’s getting a massage. “Maybe we can call your agent in his Hummer.”
    “This is no time for jokes!” Susannah screeches like a crazy lady. “Here!” she says, pulling out the aluminum foil and tearing into the box. She pulls a corner sheet from the roll and peers at her reflection. She gasps in horror, then looks at us with bugged-out eyes. “I don’t believe it…it’s my first pimple.”
    Laurel jumps up and knocks a few bags over onto the dirty floor.
    “What are you doing?” I ask.
    “I’m rationing,” she says. “Splitting up the food into thirds. Everyone needs protein, grains and cereals, fruits and vegetables, and dairy.” She stops. “Except…”
    “What?” Susannah and I say together.
    “We have absolutely no liquids. So even if we eat tiny amounts and huddle together for warmth, we’ll be dead in two days. Three if we drink our own urine.”
    “That’s disgusting!” says Susannah. “Anyway, I can’t die. When they find my body, it’ll be scarred by acne !”
    “Nobody’s dying!” I say. “Let’s not panic. We haven’t even tried the phone.” Opening the tiny metal door again, I reach for the red phone and pick it up. Right away, I hear it ringing, then a miniature voice says, “Nine-one-one operator. Police, fire, or ambulance?”
    Before I can explain that what we actually need is an elevator repairman, Laurel and Susannah grab the phone, both wailing at