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pseudo-sun-bleached hair and sighed. “I was afraid of this.”
    “Afraid of what?”
    “This. You.” Hank motioned toward her like she was a deadly virus. “Who’s helping you, Addy?”
    “What?”
    “You heard me.” Hank crossed his arms and glared at her. “Someone told you to say that to Jonathon. Who is it?”
    “N-no one. It was a mistake. I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry that you’re the front-runner or sorry you’re all over the Internet? Funny, for someone who swears she doesn’t want attention, you sure are getting a lot.”
    “I didn’t want any of this to happen. Honestly.”
    Hank growled, “I spent half the night talking with parents. Parents who have been playing by my rules and are now feeling cheated because you come along and do your thing and their kids are barely even noticed.”
    Addy stiffened. “Hank, what do you want me to say? I’m sorry. I didn’t plan this, and I certainly wasn’t coached to do this. I’m sorry you’re angry, but it isn’t my fault.”
    “It most certainly is your fault,” Hank yelled, then calmed himself before continuing. “Let me make one thing crystal clear: this is my show. I’ve worked long and hard to get here. I am the host and I am a producer—and I call the shots. Me. Not you. Do you understand that?”
    Addy refused to say another word. Hank stared at her and she stared right back.
    “Look, I have no choice but to keep you on another week.” Hank raked a hand through his hair again and grunted. “But that’s all you get. I’m still willing to work with you. I know potential when I see it, and you’ve got it. But only if you understand that you work for me, and not the other way around. I don’t want you to sneeze without checking with me first. Got it?”
    Before Addy could even consider a reply, Hank stormed off.
    Walking into The Mansion’s living room, Addy thought things couldn’t get worse. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her trailer and call Uncle Mike. He would know what to do. He would at least be a friendly voice. Instead she heard Hank’s voice addressing the contestants.
    “Girls, I want all of you to gather in the living room for some casual shots. Just sit and talk, act as naturally as you can. Be careful on the couches, though. Only two or three on each, the rest can just stand behind them. Don’t sit on the floor. You are young ladies ,” he added. “And hurry up. We need to get the other groups in for their camera time.”
    Cameramen swarmed in from all directions, blocking the exits. Lights and boom mics crowded the ceiling. The girls, each applying more layers of ultrashiny lip gloss, vied for a spot in front of the huge gilded mirror above the marble-topped table in the foyer. They were all chatting about how beautiful everyone looked, how much they liked Dawn’s eyes and Lila’s hair and Hannah’s shoes. Eyes darted to the cameras after each compliment.
    “Dan, no mics on this. We’ll be playing music under these shots. Cameras only.”
    The girls suddenly switched tactics. Smiling toward the cameras, they moved en masse to Addy. “So, Addy,” began one of the girls, a southerner with long blond hair and a big mouth, “how long did it take you to come up with that line the other day?”
    “Yeah,” piped in another contestant, a beautiful Latina, her hazel eyes flashing, “we didn’t know we’d have to start playing the game so early. You think you’re pretty smart, huh? Well, you’ve messed with the wrong girls. Just wait until those cameras are off. We’ll—”
    Addy was shocked at the contrast between how they looked and what they were saying. Suddenly Kara pushed her way through the crowd, smiling and yelling at the same time.
    “Leave my roommate alone or I will make your beautiful faces look like a scene from a horror movie.”
    Addy couldn’t help laughing as she watched Kara—always smiling her thousand-watt smile—turn the angry mob into a group of frightened little