Watch Out, Hollywood!: More Confessions of a So-called Middle Child

Watch out, Hollywood—Charlie C. Cooper is set to become a star!

Yes, people, I am finally where I want to be. No more stuck-in-the-middle stuff. I've done all my good deeds, and it's finally my turn to shine. Let me recap:

Trixie is long gone.

I have my very own agent.

Hollywood is begging me to sign a deal for a huge TV series.

Bobby digs me. Big-time.

I'm a real-live celebrity now. Cameras are lined up outside the front of my house, aka the Houdini Mansion. CNN is calling my name. I even get to skip school.

I step into my signature outfit: electric blue Doc Martens, fishnet tights, black tutu, and, of course, my Guns N' Roses vintage sweatshirt. I tease the hair and stick as many sequin barrettes in as I can.

Bingo. A star is about to be born.

I open the front door.

They snap my picture. "LA Times. Over here, Charlie!"

"People magazine," someone yells. "Can you tell our readers what it feels like to be a hero?"

"A hero?" First time I've heard that one.