The Reunion by Kayla Olson(7)

4. Ransom Joel isn’t the cast’s only animal activist. Sasha-Kate poured a huge portion of her earnings from the show into the Save the Whales movement, and has cochaired a number of fundraising events to promote general awareness for the protection and preservation of our oceans.

5. And finally, looooook at baby Sasha-Kate from S1:E1 of the show. Remember how they always had her hair in double Dutch braids for those first two seasons? I had almost forgotten, especially since her hair became EVERYTHING in later seasons (surely you remember the Bianca, since every girl on the beach that one summer had those billowy sand-blond ombré waves that looked like the actual beach at low tide?? Or is that just me?).

Group watch party starts tonight at six, PST—live chat under hashtag #LBWatchParty! Post a photo of your Sasha-Kate-inspired Dutch braids if you wear them!





3




I’m putting on a careful coat of mascara, turning Ransom’s last text over in my head, when my phone buzzes again: it’s Attica, my publicist.

Any chance you’re suddenly interested in adopting a kitten? Or maybe Bre and I could find a fundraiser for you to chair, like maybe for snow leopards?

A kitten? I send back. SNOW LEOPARDS? (??)

Almost immediately, she sends a link over. Something about Sasha-Kate in the headline, from a site I’ve never heard of. I skim the post, grateful Attica’s not here in person to see how dramatically I’ve just rolled my eyes.

We’ve reached the point where texting is inefficient. She picks up on the first ring. “So what if Sasha-Kate wants to save the whales?” I say in lieu of an actual greeting. I glance out the window—Jimmy, my driver, is set to pick me up in ten minutes. “It’s not a competition.”

“You say that now,” Attica says. “But it does matter, Liv. I know that’s just a random blog post, but it’s not the only one that’s popped up lately—you want a reboot green-lit after the reunion special, and not just some mediocre spin-off where you get cut out of it. You need to make sure the audience is firmly Team Liv.”

“I was never under the impression they weren’t.” I’m not even sure I want a reboot green-lit—not that Attica can be blamed for assuming so, since I’m still working through my feelings and haven’t told her otherwise—but it would be beyond insulting to be cut out of it. Girl on the Verge without its original girl? Surely they wouldn’t.

“Oh, they love you, Liv, always have! But we’re talking kittens and whales here—if any of those Sasha-Kate fan sites wanted to make you look cold in comparison, they could.”

I bristle at her words but resist the urge to defend myself.

“How about this,” she goes on. “Think of something that feels right for you. Once you land on your thing, let me know and I’ll work my magic. Forget about the snow leopards?”

“Already forgotten.”

“Okay—rest up, think about it, get back to me when you can. How are you feeling about tonight? The carpet, the press?”

“Eh,” I say. “I’ll survive it.”

“You’ve got this.” She’s made of confidence, and I want so badly to believe her. “Just do your whole mysterious enigma vibe if there’s anything you don’t want to answer, okay?”

“So that would be preferable to, say, biting their heads off in very public fashion?”

“Only slightly. But yes.”

When we end the call, it’s like the air has physically stilled in the room. Attica’s energy is palpable even over the phone, just like Bre’s. If not for Mars—calm, cool, and collected to the extreme, a mostly ideal personality mix for an agent—my team would skew too heavily toward the frenetic. I’m somewhere in the middle: my whole life, people have attached words like magnetic and charismatic to my name, even though I’ve got a relatively calm way of moving through the world. Some of that poise came naturally, and some came through practice; my first publicist back in the day coached me by saying, over and over again, words that could have come straight from my father’s mouth: Starlight is full of energy, but it stays fixed in the night sky. You’re a star, Liv—act like one.

The girl staring back at me in the mirror took that advice to heart a long time ago, for better and for worse. Sparkling eyes, cherry lips, smoky shadow beneath perfectly arched brows: a familiar face to go with a household name, even if she’s fiercely devoted to keeping parts of her life locked away, just for herself. Luminous but distant.

I peek out from my bathroom window and see Jimmy’s Mercedes idling in my circle drive, only a little bit early. I touch up my lipstick one final time and head downstairs.



* * *



Bre’s outside and ready when we pull up. Her green dress perfectly complements her red hair and fair complexion; her heels could kill. She slides into the open seat behind Jimmy.

The ride gets off to an uncharacteristically quiet start. Bre fidgets, riffling through her slim handbag for who knows what.

“You good?” I ask, and she meets my gaze with dreamy eyes.

I’ve seen that look before—and never in a million years expected it from Bre. Not once have I ever seen her nervous or intimidated in the presence of another person.

“I’m so excited, Liv,” she breathes. “I thought I’d be chill, but—ahhhh—I’m so mortified right now that I’m like this. Sorry, I’ll try to pull myself together.”