Free A Tale of Two Pretties by Lisi Harrison Page B

down
, she thought, in case they were still lurking. She tried to think back to Jon Gosselin and his fifteen minutes of fame. How
     had he managed to get cut from his show?
    She stayed awake the rest of the night, watching the moon cross over the sky and realizing for the first time just how much
     it looked like a giant camera lens.
    CUT TO:
    When Dylan awoke next, she flailed her arms through the air in case any more cameras were in her face.
    She was alone, for now, but the crew was in the house, squeaking around in Converse sneakers and dragging heavy lighting rigs.
    Upon catching a glimpse of reflection in the vanity mirror, Dylan nearly fell off her bed. Her normally lush, shiny hair was
     dull and knotted like Britney’s weave. Dark circles that no amount of Clinique All About Eyes could remedy lined her eyes.
     Her ruby lips had faded to the color of her cheeks, which, thanks to lack of sleep, were Edward Cullen–pale. Her desire to
     be captured on film today was zero-minus-fifty.
    Quietly, she slipped on the closest pair of shoes she couldfind. KORS Michael Kors platform clogs didn’t complement her flannel pajamas, but only Massie would be thinking about fashion
     at a time like this. She crept to a window and slowly opened it. The ice-cold wind slapped-and-chapped her on contact.
    Crossing one leg over the ledge, she began shimming down. She was making good progress, one step-shimmy-step at a time, when
     her left clog got caught on the trellis. Without warning, the wood snapped, and just like that, Dylan was headed down, down,
     down, until she landed—thud!—in the backyard bushes, her clog clinging to life two stories above.
    “Ankle,” she moaned.
    She tried to push herself up to a sitting position but her flannel pajamas were caught in a rosebush. With an impatient tug
     she forced herself free, leaving an L-for-Loser-shaped piece of fabric dangling from a branch.
    “Go! Go!” a voice echoed across the backyard. Suddenly a camera appeared over her, capturing her in her full au naturel glory.
     Dylan flashed back to all the “Stars without makeup!” features she’d devoured in
Life & Style
. She’d never felt so connected to Heather Locklear before.
    The director’s voice shouted, “Stay with her. We can make it look like she’s sneaking out of the house to escape her mom’s
     punishment! We can position her as the ultimate family rebel—the Khloe to the rest of the family’s Kourtney and Kim. Someone
     who’s always been jealous of her sisters and will do anything for attention!”
    “Get away!” Dylan screamed as the clog fell from the trellis and bounced off her knee. Pain white-flashed in front of her
     eyes but she managed to stand and speed-limp toward the garage before the tears came.
    But the camera caught every single uneven step.

THE RIVERA HOUSE
THE BACKYARD
Tuesday, December 28th
2:25 P.M.
    From the hordes of tracksuit- and sweatpants-clad girls marching through the Riveras’ gate, there was no denying that the
     PC’s idea of hosting a hand-me-down clothing swap was going to be a Massie-ive success. Kristen followed the crowd and stumbled
     up the drive, grateful for Alicia’s event-planning ability. It was easy to get lost on the Rivera estate, and even though
     Kristen had been there dozens of times, it was a maze of marble statues, snow-covered gardens, and unexpected paths that veered
     off into any number of garages, guesthouses, and sheds.
    Luckily, Alicia had thought to order professional, custom signage that marked the way to the backyard tent, where the sale
     was being held. GREEN IS THE NEW BLACK! shouted the signs, followed by RETHINK YOUR WARDROBE, REUSE OUR CLOTHES in smaller
     lettering. The grin on Kristen’s face grew wider. She wasn’t sure if criticizing the LBRs of OCD was the way to get them to
     spend their money, but from the looks of things, it was working—and not just for OCD, she realized, racing past a group of
     unfamiliar preteens. Clearly,