"Okay, so the shoot is supposed to end at two, and then you have that fitting at So Chic at two-thirty for the Off-Key premiere," Nadine tells me as she pins her thick red hair back with a Hello Kitty barrette. "On the car ride over you have two phone interviews. One with E! and one with Weekly Entertainment."

"Is that all?" I joke. I grab my Sidekick and shove it in my denim messenger bag. Several green jewels pop off the unit and fall to the floor. Next time I should just have my Sidekick bejeweled professionally, instead of attempting to Bedazzle it myself.

Nadine ushers me out the bedroom door and down the spiral staircase, into our family room. "Don't blame me," she mutters. "Your mom is your manager. She's the one who sets your schedule." Nadine opens her mouth to say something else, but stops. Mom's entered the room in her tennis whites and a pink PB&J Couture hoodie.

"Sweetie, you're up. I was just going to wake you," she says, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. My mom's birth certificate says she's forty, but looking at her, you wouldn't think she's a day over thirty-five. Platinum blond (kudos to Sergi, her colorist), bronzed (thanks to Fergie at Mystic Tanning), and in fantastic shape (daily training with Logan), she sometimes gets mistaken for my older sister. She loves when that happens.

"I was thinking," my mom begins, towering over me. (I inherited Mom's emerald green eyes, but not her statuesque height.) She grabs a clump of my naturally honey blond hair. "When Paul does your hair today, tell him not to pull it back," she says, eyeing the strands closely. "It should be down and curly, like Mina Burrows in this month's Vogue. I hate when your hair is pulled back. Your head looks too small."

Nadine mumbles something under her breath.

"I also want you to promise me you'll at least try on some couture stuff," Mom continues. "It makes you look more grown up and sophisticated. That's how you get the older roles, sweetie. Look older."

"I'm sixteen," I say as I untangle myself from her and make my way into our spacious kitchen. I open the Sub-zero fridge and toss Nadine a water, then grab a cinnamon raisin bagel for myself. "I like looking my age. I hate how Sky's always trying to be twenty-five instead of sixteen. She looks ridiculous."

"You may think so, honey, but Sky's going for an image. We've got to take yours to the next level too if you want bigger and better roles." Mom raises her eyebrow at me -- never a good sign -- and grabs the bagel out of my hand. She hands me a peach instead.