Free Being Hartley by Allison Rushby Page A

She doesn't stop to chat to anyone as we go, but gives several people a simple wave and a "hello." As we walk down to the far end of the building, I recognize all kinds of things from my years of SMD viewing—sets, props, costumes. I'm dying to take a look at everything, but Rory seems like she's on a mission, so I follow behind her, obligingly.
    "So, here we are," Rory ushers me inside an open door that I see has "Rory" marked on it.
    "This is your dressing room, huh?" I say, going inside. It's gorgeous—not pink and shiny and girly like everything else around here, but soothing creams and greens with a few hints of gold. "You got to decorate it," I add as I check it out more closely. There's a long counter along one wall, a mirror backing it, an upholstered couch, and a matching huge armchair with a cozy-looking throw folded on it that would be just right for curling up in with a good book or watching the TV that's mounted on the wall.
    I notice there's a couple of picture frames at the end of the counter , and I go over to them and pick one of them up. It's Rory, Allie, and me taking a surfing lesson that last vacation in Hawaii. I chuckle, remembering, as I place it back down again. "It's all very you," I tell her, approvingly, giving the room one last, approving once-over.
    "It's my little hideout," Rory tells me, plopping her bag on the couch.
    "And your own bathroom, too." I cross the room to peek inside the en suite . "Pretty good. What's with all the stuff?" I indicate part of the counter space that seems to be littered with what look like gifts.
    Rory goes over to scan them. "Just the usual. Nothing exciting. They sent me the new iPhone last month, though."
    "Are you serious? That hasn't even been released yet!"
    Rory keeps inspecting the goods. "Makeup, skincare, gym wear…oh, look. Want a pink laptop?"
    "Yes!" I screech, practically jumping up and down with joy. My mom would kill me, but she doesn't need to know, right?
    "Your mom won't mind?" Rory turns to look at me, still holding the box.
    I frown. " Fine . No pink laptop for Thea."
    As Rory places the laptop back on the counter, there's a knock on the door. "Rory? It's Melinda," a voice says.
    "The devil's handmaiden herself," Rory mutters under her breath. "Come in!" she calls out.
    The door opens , and Melinda pokes her head around it. "Just checking everything's okay and that you're all set for this morning."
    "Everything's fine," Rory tells her. "Melinda's the producer's assistant," Rory explains to me. "Melinda, this is Thea, my cousin. She's going to be coming to rehearsal this morning."
    Melinda eyes me suspiciously. "Oh…"
    "Is there a problem?" Rory says quickly, dropping her sweetness and light act and zeroing in on poor Melinda.
    Melinda steps into the room properly now and closes the door behind her. She moves her clipboard into her other hand and takes a second to push her hair behind one ear. "Well, it's just that you know Sonja doesn't really like friends or family being on set."
    "We're not taping today. It's only rehearsal." Rory's instantly defensive, which isn't really like her. "And Sonja knows I have people coming with me this trip—Dad, Cassie, my sister, and Thea. Look, can you just get Sonja to stop by when you see her? I'll talk to her myself."
    "Um, if it's a problem, I'll just stay in your dressing room." My eyes move from Rory to Melinda.
    "There's no problem." Rory turns to face me. "It's all fine. Thanks, Melinda." She gives her the cue to go.
    "Sure…" Melinda is out the door in a flash.
    Ouch. So things really are a little hostile around here, I think to myself.
    "Sorry," Rory says to me, still staring at the now-closed door.
    "That's okay," I say, examining her carefully. "Hey, why don't we watch a little TV while we're waiting?" I go over and pick up the remote, even though I'm dying to ask for the grand tour. What Rory needs right now is distraction—about a year's worth, if she's going to make it to the end of her