Reality Check

by Jen Calonita

  “Still?” Hallie asks. “You've got to get over it.”

  “I know.” I laugh. “But it's hard to stop thinking about cameras taping your every move. I'm constantly on alert.”

  “Even with Zac?” Keiran teases.

  I make a face. “Okay, not with Zac. He's the only one who can take my mind off everything and anything.”

  The three of us stop talking at the same time. I can hear loud music coming from somewhere nearby. It's dusk and it's tough to see, but I look through one of the alleyways and see the pier next to the Crab Shack is packed. The three of us look at each other and start walking toward the commotion. Keiran puts her arm out to stop us.

  “Guys, look,” she says sounding amused.

  There on the dock are Brooke and Marleyna in the middle of a big party, dancing their hearts out. They're surrounded by people I've never seen before and about two feet behind them is a camera guy. A twenty-something dude standing nearby has a headset and a clipboard. He must be the new Addison. There's a long line of people waiting to get on the pier to get into the taping.

  “Thank God that is not us.” Hallie shudders.

  The three of us creep away, the same way we came, and head down a different street where things are much quieter and the only music you can hear is the sound of crickets. We walk along in silence, enjoying the warm night air. Suddenly I stop short.

  “What?” Hallie asks, alarmed. “Do you hear something?”

  I shake my head and smile. “Nope.”

  “Then why'd you stop?” Keiran asks.

  I grin. “I just realized we're alone. Completely alone.”

  “Feels good not to be mic'd, doesn't it?” Hallie grins.

  She laughs and before long Keiran and I join her. The sound is loud and infectious, but for once, no one but the crickets is around to hear us. Which is just the way it should be.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks, first and foremost, to my amazing editors Cindy Eagan and Kate Sullivan, who were so quick to jump on board with Reality Check. I'm so fortunate to work with such talented, dedicated, and supportive editors. Not that I'm surprised. The entire Poppy team—including Ames O'Neill, Melanie Chang, Andrew Smith, Lisa Ickowicz, Melanie Sanders, and Erin McMahon—are amazing. Huge gratitude also goes to my agent, Laura Dail, who champions my every word and thought, and to Tamar Rydinski, who patiently walks me through all my foreign affairs. Mara Reinstein, as always, served as my unofficial sounding board and first reader, and I'm so thankful for her input. To my family and friends (especially my mom/babysitter, Lynn Calonita, without whom this book never could have gotten finished), thank you for all your love and support.

  Finally, to my wonderful family—my husband, Mike, my sons Tyler and Dylan, and my lap warmer, our Chihuahua, Jack—the sign hanging in our hallway is true: There really is no place like home.