"Kates, I was kidding," Liz interrupts, but I'm too excited to stop.

"I can't skip my schoolwork, right?" I exclaim. "Wherever I go I'd have to bring a tutor. Unless ... Unless I didn't need one because I was at Clark!"

Liz's eyes widen nervously. "You can't be serious," she replies hoarsely.

"I am serious." I tuck my feet under me and lean into the table. This is exactly the change I've been looking for. The thoughts begin to fly furiously. "I have to finish my school-work for the year anyway, right? So instead of working with Monique, I'd enroll in classes with you every day. Think about it, Lizzie! I'd be getting away from the tabloid crap for a while, which would be a vacation, and I'd get to hang with you. And actually go to class, like I always wanted. I think the experience would totally clear my head. I'd do my press stuff for Laney after class so she wouldn't freak out, which would make Mom and Dad happy, and ..."

"You're babbling, but I get the point." Liz's eyes look like they're bulging out of her head. She takes another garlic knot. "It's just not realistic, Kaitlin. The paparazzi would have a field day with you." She waves her hands wildly as if to drive home her point. "Do you really want your every grade printed in US Weekly?"

"Kaitlin Burke wouldn't exist if I hit Clark Hall. Laney would KILL me." I nervously bite my lower lip and think about tabloid pictures of me eating greasy french fries in the school cafeteria under the headline "Stars -- They're Pigs Just Like Us!" Laney would have a coronary. "I guess I'd have to go in disguise."

"DISGUISE?" Liz's voice is so loud the teens at the next table look over. I pull my cap down lower. "I think you've watched one too many movies. This isn't like putting on a pair of glasses. Someone would recognize you. If that happens, you're finished. Sky would spin it that you're breaking your FA contract or something."

"You're right, she would, if she found out." I cut her off. "But she's not going to find out, Lizzie. I have a hair designer, a makeup artist, a bodyguard, and a crazed personal assistant who guards my privacy as if it were her own. I'm sure we can come up with a killer disguise." I look at her hopefully. "You could help me!"

"You're delusional." Liz shakes her head. "You're on a carb high from that extra slice of pizza. Tomorrow you'll come to your senses," she rationalizes. "This is a cool idea and all, but I was kidding about the Houdini thing. It would never work."

I slide the pizza pan out of the way and grab Liz by both arms, trying to shake the stubbornness out of her. "If you helped me, it would," I try to coax her firmly. "You could be my guide at Clark Hall. Help me fit in, show me around."