The crew had piled their gear back into the van. ‘I’ll be in touch soon,’ Delilah promised Jack. She climbed into the front passenger seat, and a moment later the van was gone.

The crowd that had gathered to watch the filming began to roll slowly into school. Glances were cast back at Jack. He heard people whisper the words ‘Jack Sprigley’ and ‘reunion episode’. The Year 7 girls jumped up and down, clutching each other as they scurried away to home room, like they needed to be physically convinced of the miraculous event that had just taken place before them.

‘So that was us, being filmed for TV,’ said Darylyn. She nudged Reese. ‘I’m prepared to bet you’ll look even more handsome on TV than you do in real life.’

Reese smirked, then glanced awkwardly at Jack.

Vivi held out her release form. Along with the forms, Delilah had given them each a stamped envelope pre-filled with the Bigwigs production office address. ‘What are they going to do if my parents don’t sign this?’

‘They’ll probably just pixelate your face,’ said Sampson. ‘That happens sometimes. Though I’ve never heard of them doing it on Bigwigs.’ He paused. ‘Not that I’m an expert.’

Vivi gave Sampson a puzzled look, then led the way into school. Reese hung back, letting Vivi and Sampson and Darylyn get a little way ahead. He turned to Jack.

‘Why are you doing this, dude?’

‘Doing what?’

‘All this big-talking yourself in front of the camera. You never did that the first time you were on Bigwigs. I’ve seen the clips. And what have you got against fish all of a sudden?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Things aren’t the same as when I was on Bigwigs the first time. Things are different now.’

Reese looked away. ‘Dude, I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry things have changed, okay? I feel crappy about it. But it wasn’t planned, you know? It just happened. Like, nine years of knowing each other and suddenly it’s like, “Dude! You’re awesomeness in girl form!”.’ He paused. ‘Hey, why am I saying sorry?’

‘You think this is all because of you and Darylyn?’

Reese shrugged. ‘Isn’t it?’

Jack sighed as Reese put his earbuds back in. Reese was right: he didn’t need to apologise. It wasn’t Reese’s fault that Jack was slowly but surely humiliating himself in front of the Bigwigs cameras. It wasn’t Darylyn’s fault either, or Vivi’s, even though she’d brought Sampson into the group. (He decided it was at least partly Sampson’s fault – just because.)

But one thing was certain: his return to Bigwigs was not working out the way he’d hoped.

‘Maybe you were right,’ said Jack. ‘Maybe I’m not ready for this. Maybe I don’t belong back on Bigwigs.’

Jack looked ahead and saw Vivi swat Sampson with her rolled-up release form. Apparently he had just said something super hilarious.

Reese pulled out his right earbud. ‘What did you say?’

Jack stared ahead at Vivi and Sampson. ‘I said, maybe I don’t belong.’

The news that a TV crew had been filming near the main gates swept through Upland Secondary. At assembly that morning, Principal Byrne explained that, yes, the Bigwigs producers had sought permission to film at the school, but that no firm plans were in place.

‘So you can hold off on those dreams of hitting the big time, just for now,’ she added.

Jack spent the rest of the day feeling watched. His first day as a Year 7 had been exactly the same. He’d come to high school fresh from Bigwigs, and spent the whole of that first morning trying to get away from the star-struck stares and envious scowls.

And then there they’d been, hanging around just inside the school gate. Vivi: strawberry-blonde, leaning against the fence, bright blue eyes shaded by a huge floppy sun-hat. Darylyn: small, dark-haired, standing motionless like a startled bird. Reese: plugged into his music player, afro hair shaped into a fauxhawk. All three of them had looked back at him with a complete lack of recognition or curiosity.

As if they hadn’t known who he was.

Jack hadn’t been able to stop the grin from spreading across his face.

‘Hi,’ he’d said. ‘I’m Jack.’

After that, Jack had forgotten all about Bigwigs. So had everyone else, eventually – with the exception of a certain trio of Year 7 girls. And a certain Oliver Sampson.

Things were great – for a while. Now everything was weird and different. Things were complicated.

The big time, thought Jack.

Faking it was turning out to be harder than he’d thought.

The Boulevard Motel was one of about a dozen motels and mini-resorts that lined the main highway into town. Most of them had emptied out after the end of the spring holidays. The classier ones were all built and owned by the Bruno Distagio property development empire.

This was not one of the classier ones.

Jack spotted the minivan right away. He leant his bike against the wall of the reception building, crossed the car park to room 14, and knocked on the door.

Delilah was busy on the phone when she answered. She mouthed a ‘Hi!’ and waved Jack in. It looked like she hadn’t got around to completely unpacking her suitcase yet. A laptop was open on the bench next to the bar fridge. The Bold and the Beautiful was on the TV. Jack figured Brett and Todd had their own rooms. He wondered if they were watching The Bold and the Beautiful too, and decided it was unlikely.

He was glad Delilah was alone. He didn’t want anyone else hearing what he was about to confess.

Delilah wrapped up her call with a string of ‘Okays’, then tossed the phone aside and turned to Jack. ‘Hi Jack. What’s all this about wanting to come clean?’

Jack took a deep breath and plunged in before he had a chance to rethink his decision. ‘I’m just in kind of a weird place at the moment, and I guess I’ve been saying a few things lately that … aren’t exactly true?’

‘Okay …’ said Delilah.

‘Like, today, what I said about the shooting and the fishing and the boxing and everything? Well … none of it’s real. I … made it up.’

Delilah looked not entirely amazed. Jack wasn’t sure what he’d been hoping to achieve by telling her. Maybe he just felt guilty. Maybe he was hoping she’d offer to scrap what they’d filmed and start again. He thought there was a good chance she’d give him a serve about being unprofessional. He remembered seeing an executive on Bigwigs throwing a tantrum at an intern, the first week of filming, for not being able to get celebrity chef Courtnee Devries to the location for Blue Team’s restaurant challenge because of a grounded aeroplane. The executive had gone red in the face and screamed, ‘Fix it! Just fix it! Do you think my boss would just accept it if I wobbled my lip and said, “But I have no influence over air safety regulations”? No! So fix it!’

But Delilah didn’t yell or scream. She just nodded slowly, thinking for a moment. ‘I’m glad you told me. I was starting to worry about this whole shoot.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘This is reality TV, Jack. The last thing we want you to be is yourself.’

Jack was surprised at how much that sentence seemed to make sense.

‘Actually, I’m glad you’re bringing these ideas to the table,’ said Delilah. ‘It gives us something to work with. So let me get this straight: you’re telling me that all those things you mentioned today – the shooting, the fishing, the boxing – they’re not real?’

Jack nodded.

‘Okay. My question is: do you want them to be?’