"So you don't know where Celeb Insider got that crazy story about me reshooting a kissing scene with Trevor to make you jealous either, huh?" I asked. "What did it say again? Oh, that's right. 'Kaitlin Burke made Sky Mackenzie fly off the set in tears."

"Someone must really not like you around here, K." She squinted her big brown eyes at me. "Come to think of it, I just read another story about you. Online. Something about your mom being a total Hollywood wannabe."

That was the last straw. I wanted to lunge at her. I pictured an insane catfight like Paige and Krystal always get into on our show (you know the type -- someone always winds up pushed into a pool wearing an evening gown), but then I remembered Laney's plea. So instead, I turned on my heels and slammed the dressing room door.

"Don't be a stranger, K!" Sky called out in a singsong voice.

I CAN'T STAND HER!

I love my job, but between us, times like this make me want to buy a one-way ticket out of Los Angeles. I feel like everyone I know lives and breathes Hollywood 365 days a year. Whatever happened to a little downtime? You know, talking about something other than movies, curling up with a good book or going to the beach? Laney and my parents don't know it yet, but I've been thinking about making some serious changes when Family Affair wraps for the season. Like finding a remote island and clearing my head for a while....

Who am I kidding? When your face is on TV every Sunday night at 9 PM, how do you disappear without people noticing?

One: On the 101

"Kates. Katie? KAITLIN! Get up!" Nadine's muffled voice calls as I lay motionless beneath my heavenly 600-thread-count comforter. "You're supposed to be at the shoot at eight-thirty, and it's already seven AM."

I hear Nadine frantically searching through piles of my unread magazines and clothes, looking for my cell phone. "You know how bad the traffic is on the 101. Get up!"

"Alright, alright," I groan as I throw back my Star Wars bed sheets. "It's just that we wrapped so late last night."

"At least you didn't have an hour drive home at one AM," she says with a yawn. I watch groggily as Nadine finds my cell lying on top of a still-packed suitcase I took to New York for a press junket last weekend.

I feel bad for Nadine, but the person I really feel sorry for is my makeup artist, Shelly. She's going to have a tough time covering my dark undereye circles for today's Teen People shoot.

"Throw these on." Nadine tosses me my favorite pair of worn boot-cut faded denim jeans. "Paul and Shelly are going to do your hair and makeup when you get there, so don't worry about that," she adds sharply. "Just wash your face."