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"Thirty seconds! Thirty seconds until showtime, everyone!! "

I shifted around, trying to get comfortable. You'd think a TV talk show would have a comfortable chair for their guests. I mean, some of the hugest celebrities in the world had sat on this exact chair. And they were probably not comfortable, either.

"Teeth check!" Diana moved in front of my face for a close-up check. Diana was my media coach. Diana's brochure said she could help you "Be Your Best on TV!" I was her newest client. And probably about to be her worst failure.

I bared my teeth at her. Not that there would be any food caught in them. I'd been too freaked out to eat anything since I woke up.

My day started out like usual--you know, wake up, shower … have two hairdressers do my hair. A makeup artist do my face. Some professional fashionista put clothes on me.

No, that's not a regular morning. I did have to admit, I looked pretty good for me. My shoulder-length, dirty blond hair, for once not stringy and split end-y. My best feature, my big green eyes, highlighted in purpley shadow by the makeup artist. My underdeveloped body camouflaged in a blue dress.

"Ten seconds!"

"Chin up, Jamie, stop looking down, you're messing up your hair," Diana hissed. "Do your grounding breath!" I tried some of the breathing methods she claimed would prevent me from passing out in front of twenty million viewers.

"Cameras … rolling!" the words rang across the studio. The crowd cheered, and the television in the corner of the room where I was waiting suddenly came to life. mora live! flashed across the screen. I watched as Mora--yes, that Mora, Queen of All Talk Shows--made her way on to the stage.

"My guest today certainly needs little introduction," Mora said. "If you have a teenage daughter, she probably faked a fever today so she could stay home and watch this show."

Diana put her hands on my shoulders, careful not to mess up my hair those two hairdressers had slaved over. She gave me a quick massage.

"Jamie, loosen up! Think about something that makes you smile! Think about Justin Timberlake!" she said.

Justin Timberlake, Justin Timberlake. Justin, Justin. I love Justin. That should make me smile, right? But I suddenly thought of something. What if Justin Timberlake was sitting home resting up after some concert and all-night party and he's turning on the TV and Mora Live! is on and he's about to watch me?! What was I even doing here? Right now I was supposed to be in English, passing notes to Harmony, staring at Marco Vega. Good thing Marco Vega wasn't watching me on TV. That would really freak me out. Wait. What if he was watching me? What if Miss Gallagher, my English teacher, had rolled one of those TV monitors into the classroom? And the whole class was staring at the screen waiting to see …

"Making her national TV debut on Mora Live! … Jamie Bartlett!"

OK. I'm on. Move legs: left, right, left. Walking, walking up the steps to the stage, remembering Diana's instructions.

I made eye contact with the audience as best as I could, considering there were these massive lights shining directly into my eyes. I smiled at the first girl I could see in the front row. She looked ten times cooler than me. And OMG, that totally cool girl started waving at me and crying.

OMG OMG OMG.

OK, this is the point where my mom yells to wake me out of my daydream that I'm famous, right?

Nope. It isn't a daydream. It's really happening to me. That's right, thanks, I know, you loved my book. Yeah, I was pretty surprised to knock the wizard boy off number one.

It's me, Jamie Bartlett. The bestselling author of the year.

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