“I’m sorry, Grant,” I say. “That totally sucks. They’ll come around, though. You just have to give it time.”

He frowns and looks down at the table.

“Hey, at least they haven’t totally disowned you.”

“True,” he says.

“They love you, Grant.” I finger the camera strap around my neck, wishing I knew what to say to make him feel better. “They’re just kind of freaked out by the whole thing. Like I said, you have to give it time.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Maybe.” He sighs and looks down at the floor. After a second, he picks his gaze up and looks at me across the table. “Hey, Ally, no, but seriously, do I look okay?”

NOW

I spent five hours that day taking pictures. The weird thing was, even though it was hard work, the time flew by. I should have realized the fact that I was actually excited about doing schoolwork meant something.

Actually, maybe it wasn’t as obvious then as it is now. I mean, I had tons of stuff to keep me distracted: classes, my new friend Kelly, the fact that my life was being broadcast to America. Oh yeah, and the fact that for some ridiculous reason, I started getting hot and weak everytime I was around Drew.

THEN

THINGS THAT ARE FUCKED UP:

1. That Vanessa Hudgens had naked pics of her leaked on the Internet not once, but twice.

2. The fact that there are people out there who think it’s totally acceptable that Brad picked Angelina over Jen.

3. That I’ve spent two hours getting ready to go develop my pictures with Drew.

What is wrong with me? I mean, it’s just developing pictures. I look at myself critically in the mirror. I’m wearing a pair of dark flare jeans that I borrowed from Kelly and a blue-and-white striped sweater that shows off my chest. I blow-dried my hair until it was wicked straight, then used the curling iron to create loose waves around my shoulders. I borrowed a pair of huge silver hoop earrings from Jasmine, and high black shoes from Simone. What the girl was doing with a pair of hooker shoes like these, I don’t know. Ever since she started liking James, she’s been dressing decidedly more slutty.

I check my reflection one more time before heading to the living room, where Drew’s waiting for me.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Not really,” I say.

“Got your camera?” I hold it up hesitantly. I grab my coat off the stand by the door and follow him outside.

“Are you scared yet?” he asks as we walk to the photo lab.