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the bar. As she poured herself a drink, I told her that I was having dinner with Tyler and that Dad said it was okay.
    She took a big sip of her drink and stared at me. “Are you crazy?” she exclaimed.
    I told her it was just dinner and not a big deal.
    “Avoid. Him. Like. The. Plague!” she said. She pounded the bar with her hand to
    deemphasize every word. “Hollywood. Destroys. People.” She took another gulp of her drink before continuing. “It destroys relationships. Show-biz people make lousy boyfriends,
    husbands, wives …”
    She went on and on like that. Blah. Blah. Blah.
    I couldn’t stand listening to her. Finally, I just left the room.
    I hate my mother.
    There. I said it.
    Well, maybe I don’t hate her, but I hate the way she acts when she’s drunk.
    I hate that she gets drunk.
    I hate …
    I hate the word hate . And I don’t want to have all these negative thoughts before I see Tyler.
    I’m going to go outside to wait for him. I don’t want him to see my mom drunk.
    10:15 P.M.
    I don’t know how Tyler puts up with it. It must be so awful to be in the public eye. I only had a little taste of what he goes through all the time.
    Okay, Maggie, calm down and start at the beginning.
    When the studio limo pulled up to the house, Tyler jumped out and held the door open for me.
    He was so sweet. I was glad I dressed casually, because he was in jeans too.
    He said he was sorry he was late.
    I told him he wasn’t late and that I just felt like waiting outside.
    Then he told me he thought we could go to this place he’d heard about, Fish ‘N’ Stuff.
    On the way, he asked me questions about school and my friends. I knew he was asking because he wanted to know more about me. He wasn’t doing research like Felicia.
    When we were a couple of blocks from the restaurant, he told the driver to pull over.
    “Do you mind if we walk from here?” he asked me.
    I said it was fine with me. I do it all the time myself.
    As we stepped out of the car, Tyler put on sunglasses and turned his baseball cap around so the visor shadowed his face. It was his disguise. We sat in a booth in the back of the restaurant.
    No one but the waiter knew that Tyler Kendall was eating there. I like how waiters around here are very cool about that sort of thing.
    We both ordered sodas and the fish of the day. I was so relaxed with Tyler that I had no trouble eating. We ate and talked and laughed. An hour and a half went by like ten minutes. I felt as thought we could have sat there together for hours. But Tyler had to be on the set at six-thirty the next morning and I had my curfew.
    Tyler put his cap and glasses back on. No one in the restaurant even looked up as we walked past the other tables to the door.
    We didn’t see the crowd of reporters waiting for us until we were outside. Flashbulbs went off in our faces. Reporters pushed one another to get close to us.
    “What’s it like to go out with the cutest guy in America?” a woman yelled as she snapped my photo.
    “Hey, girl, what’s your name?” someone else shouted.
    Another reporter stepped on my foot.
    I was scared, but Tyler acted very calm. He said things like, “The shoot’s going great.” Then he put an arm around my shoulder and whispered in my ear, “Let’s go.” We moved quickly past the reporters. They followed us down the street, snapping pictures and shouting questions.
    When we reached the corner, Tyler signaled to the limo driver. He zoomed over to us. We jumped in and slammed the door shut.
    “Who is she?” I heard someone yell as the limo took off.
    I was out of breath and felt like crying. Tyler was breathless too. “I don’t know how they knew where I was,” he said.
    I told him it was okay. But I didn’t feel okay. Then I remembered this happens to Tyler all the time.
    “I hate it when they trail me like that,” he said as if he’d read my mind. “It’s like I don’t have my own life.”
    “So why do you do it?” I blurted out. “You