Reality Check Read Online Free PDF Page A

up mad at each other,” I worry. “I don't want our friendship shredded for some TV show. You guys mean more to me than Justin Timberlake does.”
    “We won't let the show tear us apart,” Brooke insists. “We'll make a pact to remember that what one of us says on camera could be taken out of context. We're not the type to let fame go to our heads. We'll still be the same people.”
    Hallie and I look at each other and she raises her right eyebrow. I want to believe Brooke, but somehow I think she's going to be the first one booking the cover of
People
.
    “We know each other better than some TV show can portray us,” Keiran agrees. “We're not going to fly off the handle with each other.”
    “You think?” I question. I've seen Brooke when she's mad at one of us and being subtle is not her strong point. I'm sure I'm not that great in a fight either. I don't shut up till I've said every last thing I want to say. I'm our group's Judge Judy.
    “Charlie, I think we're going to be fine,” Brooke insists. “How could we ever get mad at each other when we're making so much money?”
    Susan hasn't said exactly what we'd be paid yet, but when Mom called her yesterday she hinted that it would be in the $10,000-an-episode range. That's more than I'd make at Milk and Sugar in three years and the show's paycheck is for a week or two of work! “I'm still so blown away and it's all happening so fast,” I admit. “Don't any of you think this is happening a little too fast?”
    Keiran snorts. “You think too much.”
    “I do not!” I protest.
    “Do too,” Brooke agrees, and takes a bite of celery. It's not school lunch if Brooke doesn't have some sort of crudités set up. “You pro and con yourself to death until you can't even make a decision. One minute you're singing with your mop and cracking jokes and the next you're Ms. Serious. Now, what's it going to be? We're supposed to call Susan and tell her whether we're meeting with her for dinner on Friday. She's too important to be kept waiting. What's your answer? The clock is ticking and I have a long walk to gym.”
    The bell rings before I answer. Everyone groans.
    “Charlie, after school you have to have a final answer,” Brooke demands. “You know you want to do this. Just relax and say yes! Think of how much fun we're going to have.” She throws an arm around me. “The four of us together are unstoppable. We're not going to get ripped apart, I promise. And don't forget the best part of all this.”
    We look at Brooke expectantly. “We're going to be paid to hang out.”
    We all laugh. The girls begin grabbing their bags and throwing away the remains of their lunches, but I move a little slower. I have free period next, and no one is going to care if I show up at the newspaper office five minutes late. I need air and sun for this decision. If I could go to the beach that would be ideal, but I'm stuck with the school's dead garden. Guess this isn't the best place to ponder my decision either.
    “We'll meet at my locker at three,” Hallie yells as she heads back inside.
    I head indoors and I hike my heavy messenger bag higher on my shoulder. I turn down one of the long, dark halls. There are no windows, which is sort of depressing, and every hall is painted the same shade of blah beige (just like the brick walls and the lockers). The only things brightening the landscape are fluorescent flyers taped to the walls reminding students about spring play tryouts, Friday's pep rally, and the dance committee. The Cliffside school halls are crowded—well, if you call about a hundred students per grade at a high school crowded. We have three minutes to get to class between bells and sometimes you can get knocked over by a freshman making the mad dash from the gym on one side of the school to the English cluster all the way on the other. I slide right to avoid one such girl, brow sweating, biting her lip, as she zips by.
    I round the hall corner and enter the large