Between my parents' long-winded speech about my future acting plans, Matty being signed by Laney, and Laney's signature name-dropping stories about her other clients ( "I spent all morning with Reese and the kids," she'd drawled as my family listened intently. "She wanted my help picking out a dress for the Erase MS event this weekend"), I could barely get a word in. And when I did meekly suggest taking a vacation this hiatus, instead of doing the Kaitlin Goodwill press tour they were suggesting, my parents, Matt, and Laney acted as though I was certifiably insane.

"Take ... the ... hiatus ... off?" Laney repeated slowly, tapping her long French-manicured nails nervously. "That's NOT a very good idea." She trained her almost-black heavily lined eyes on me. "The tabloids are devouring stories of you and Sky. If you disappear for a few months, she'll win."

"It's time to get in gear!" Dad gushed like a cheerleader. "Work, work, work, Kaitie-kins. It will pay off."

Matty was the only one on my side. Well, sort of.

"Laney, I could go on Ellen for Kaitlin." Matt flipped his blond mop top, green eyes glowing with excitement. "I don't need media training like Kaitlin does. I could be her cute younger brother who sticks up for her. And talk about my next project, of course ... once I get one."

Matt's still never gotten over the fact that I could only get him a walk-on role on FA. He was so mad about it that he barged into the writers' room one afternoon and demanded a bigger part. I'm lucky the writers were good sports about my 13-year-old brother's outburst. They could have shipped Sam off to Cambodia to build schoolhouses out of mud.

"This is your career we're talking about, Kate-Kate." Mom smiled sweetly, sealing my fate to a hiatus full of TV appearances, interviews, and social events from the day FA shooting ends next week till I arrive back on set in August. "If we want your career to be a long one, we have to protect your image and squash these rumors pronto. You can take a weekend off, but then it's back to work. Understood?" She raised her right eyebrow at me scarily. Again, that's never a good sign.

"Understood," I had agreed quietly.

What I should have said is that I'm exhausted. Completely and utterly flattened from the gossip hounding, fights with Sky, and nonstop schedule. And if I don't take a break from all things Hollywood, I might wind up having a breakdown that prompts me to dye my hair a scary shade of platinum blond, stop consuming anything but Jamba Juice, and begin partying till four AM like some other young stars I know, but am too discreet to name.