Running from Reality Read online

  Praise for Allie’s Bayou Rescue, Book One in the Princess in Camo Series

  “Allie’s Bayou Rescue is an awesome book to read together as mom and daughter! We love how real it was about the obstacles we face as girls—but not without a God who cares for us in our struggles, pursues us, and knows EXACTLY where we are going, AND HAS IT all under control—especially when we don’t.”

  ELISABETH AND GRACE HASSELBECK, TV PERSONALITY AND DAUGHTER … AND DAUGHTERS OF THE ONE TRUE KING!!

  Other Books in the Princess in Camo Series:

  Allie’s Bayou Rescue (Book 1)

  ZONDERKIDZ

  Running from Reality

  Copyright © 2018 by Missy Robertson and Mia Robertson

  Illustrations © 2018 by Mina Price

  Requests for information should be addressed to:

  Zonderkidz, 3900 Sparks Dr. SE, Grand Rapids, Michigan 49546

  Epub Edition January 2018 ISBN 9780310762553

  ISBN 978-0-310-76250-8

  Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.® Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.Zondervan.com. The “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.®

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Any Internet addresses (websites, blogs, etc.) and telephone numbers in this book are offered as a resource. They are not intended in any way to be or imply an endorsement by Zondervan, nor does Zondervan vouch for the content of these sites and numbers for the life of this book.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any measn—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.

  Zonderkidz is a trademark of Zondervan.

  Art direction: Kris Nelson

  Printed in the United States of America

  * * *

  18 19 20 21 /LSC/ 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  To the entire Robertson Family: May we never forget the incredible opportunity God handed to each of us through a silly reality television show. And may we always remember the responsibility required in deflecting His light away from us and back to Him. “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked,” (Luke 12:48). I pray that what we as adults taught our children through this experience will help shape them into the next godly generation of Robertson world-changers.

  —Missy

  To Reed and Brighton: For always having my back when I need you the most; for being my older brother and sister and giving me a fun and safe place that I can always run to. I love you!

  —Mia

  Dear Person Who Is Reading This,

  You have in your hands a top-secret journal entry written by Allie Kate Carroway.

  Yes, I’m the Allie Carroway from the reality TV show Carried Away with the Carroways.

  Yes, my family really is that crazy.

  And yes, I am the girl with all the allergies. Why do people always want to know about that? It’s not like I’m the first person to ever wheeze, sneeze, or have their throat swell up and choke them when they eat a peanut.

  I’m sorry. That sounded a little . . . defensive. Let me start again.

  You have in your hands a top-secret journal entry written by me, Allie Kate Carroway. I recorded it shortly after returning from a trip I took with my cousins to Los Angeles, California. It was the most magical week I’ve experienced in the twelve years I’ve been alive, and I had to write it down (and ask my cousin Lola to include a few sketches), since we have no video or photos to prove it happened. In fact, the whole thing was so unbelievable, I’m afraid I won’t even believe it in a couple of years.

  So, Person Who Is Reading This, I don’t know how you found my journal, but you’re one lucky duck. Get ready to be blown away, and encouraged—all at the same time—because that’s what happened to me. But make me one promise: If you choose to read the entire story, you can’t tell a soul what happened—especially my Papaw Ray.

  Sincerely,

  Allie Kate Carroway (Yes, that one.)

  Contents

  Praise for Allie’s Bayou Rescue, Book One in the Princess in Camo Series

  Other Books in the Princess in Camo Series:

  Chapter 1: 9–1–1!

  Chapter 2: Can You Help Me?

  Chapter 3: SOLD

  Chapter 4: Pack or Puke?

  Chapter 5: Lickety Split

  Chapter 6: On Strike

  Chapter 7: Demands and Deals

  Chapter 8: Separation Anxiety

  Chapter 9: Layover Lunch Bag

  Chapter 10: Terminal Pile-up

  Chapter 11: Princess Patch-Up

  Chapter 12: Bag of Wonders

  Chapter 13: Wise Guys from the East

  Chapter 14: California Carroways

  Chapter 15: Movie Star House

  Chapter 16: Sleepless on Star Drive

  Chapter 17: Hair and Hills

  Chapter 18: Dumbwaiter Discovery

  Chapter 19: Star Calling

  Chapter 20: Sand and Tar

  Chapter 21: Hollywoodlum?

  Chapter 22: A Star in the West

  Chapter 23: Map Magic

  Chapter 24: Everything You Need

  Chapter 25: Busting the Enemy

  Chapter 26: Reality Check

  Chapter 27: God of Wonders

  CHAPTER 1

  9–1–1!

  The day we filmed the Carroway Family Christmas episode—Friday, October 31st—was the day I ended up in the emergency room with a bunch of sick and injured trick-or-treaters.

  The whole scene was weird. A huge, decorated Christmas tree, strung with multicolored lights, stood in the corner of my Aunt Kassie and Uncle Wayne’s living room, and stockings—one for each person in our extended family—hung across their massive fireplace mantle. A bowl of Halloween candy sat on a tray by the front door, in case any of the little kids from the neighborhood came early to trick-or-treat. Christmas carols played on the sound system, and all my aunts, uncles, and cousins—dressed in ugly Christmas sweaters—took their assigned seats around three separate dinner tables and filled their mason jar mugs with sparkling cider for our traditional Christmas dinner toast.

  It was taking forever for the film crew to set up, and I was starving. So, before I sat down, I snuck into the kitchen and grabbed a Rice Krispy treat from the dessert tray. I hid it in my pants pocket and listened as our director, Zeke, barked instructions.

  “Okay, I know it’s spooky and Halloween-y out there . . .” Zeke curled up his fingers to look like spider legs.

  “. . . but in here we’re all merry and bright!” He smiled big and swung his arms around like a choir conductor. “Got it?”

  Most of us laughed, but Kendall, my thirteen-year-old cousin, sighed out loud.

  “What-ever.”

  “Hey—no grinches on the set!” Kendall’s dad—my uncle Wayne—threw a napkin ball at her, and it smacked her right in the throat, which was covered by a leather choker. This one had a blue gemstone in the middle of it.

  Kendall readjusted her choker and smoothed her straight, shoulder length, light-brown hair.

  “Then can we really sing something? That would help me get in the spirit
.” Kendall loves to sing, and always looks for an opportunity. Lucky for us she’s good.

  “Not yet,” Zeke said. “First we have to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.” One of my other preteen cousins, Lola, brushed her fingers through the pink streak in her short, dark-brown hair and grimaced at the green bean casserole in front of her. “It may look good, but we kind of know better, right?”

  “But this is a new caterer, and I hear the food’s delicious.” Lola’s younger sister, Ruby—who is the best baker I know besides my Mamaw Kat—poked a finger in the green bean goo, licked it, and then smiled.

  “I’m willing to give eating a try.” Hunter, Kendall’s newly adopted twelve-year-old brother sat next to me and rubbed his belly. “I’m starving!” He reached for a roll, and right as he did, a freckled hand appeared from behind and knocked it down.

  “Not yet, mister.” It was Hannah, our wardrobe manager. Sometimes—okay, lots of times—her duties expand outside the boundaries of just controlling what we wear. She’s petite, but she can be scary. And tonight, she had styled her short red bedhead to make her look like a zombie, and had drawn some zipper lips on her face with an eyeliner pencil.

  “Here.” I broke off half my Krispy treat and discreetly handed it to Hunter under the table.

  Hunter smiled, took the treat with one hand, and pushed his rectangular dark-rimmed glasses up on his nose with the other.

  “Thanks,” he whispered.

  He started to lift the treat to his mouth, but stopped when Zeke began directing again.

  “Okay, everyone. Here’s how this is going down. Papaw Ray will give the toast. Then after you clink your glasses, Wayne will say a prayer. Then Kat’ll serve the turkey, and y’all take it from there. Just have a good time, talk, and eat. When we’re finished filming your table, we’ll let you know.”

  “I can already tell this turkey isn’t as moist as mine.” Mamaw Kat used to make the food for all our episodes, but when the producers started scheduling several meal scenes a day, she couldn’t keep up. That’s when all the caterers in town began competing for the job of feeding the Carroways, and if I had to rank them, they’d all tie for last place.

  “The turkey looks fine, Kat.” My mom picked up a piece of turkey to inspect it, but then frowned and dropped it in the gravy boat. “There. Now it’s moist.”

  Mamaw laughed. “Well, at least I’m cookin’ our real Christmas dinner.”

  My stomach gurgled right then since my Krispy treat was not filling me up at all. I stood and faced the family. “People—let’s get this thing done in one take. I want to hand out candy to the little monsters.”

  “Thank you, Allie,” Zeke said. “Seems I need an assistant director with this bunch. Okay, when I say action, Ray, you’re on.”

  Zeke yelled action, and the Carroway clan went to work filming “Christmas Dinner.”

  Papaw Ray began his speech as we held up our mugs:

  “Every year, we are grateful, and this year is no exception. God has allowed some challenges, but he has brought joyful blessings into our lives as well. This year, we are especially thankful for our new family member, Hunter. Every day is better with you here, young man. You’ve always been family, we just had to find each other.”

  “Here, here!” the grownups yelled, and they clinked mugs.

  “Here, here,” I said to Hunter, and we clinked. “Why do people say that during toasts?”

  Hunter shrugged. “I guess because we’re glad to be here?”

  “Maybe because it rhymes with ‘cheer,’” Ruby said.

  “I think it’s British,” Kendall said.

  “You want everything to be British,” Lola said. Lately Kendall had been trying to speak with a British accent, like some of her favorite singing stars. The hilarious thing is that Kendall has the strongest Louisiana accent of all of us, so every time she spits out a British y’all, it makes me laugh.

  “Would you bow your heads?” Uncle Wayne stared us down to quiet our table, and just as we were bowing, I noticed Hunter taking a bite of his Krispy bar.

  I closed my eyes and tried to focus on thanking God for the food. This was being filmed, and even though I wasn’t sure if I was thankful for this particular food, a prayer’s a prayer—so I never pretend.

  Uncle Wayne began:

  “Father, we want to thank you for sending your Son to earth so many years ago . . .”

  “PEANUT!!!!”

  Hunter screaming that word right next to me made me jump and drop my Krispy bar on the floor.

  “Hunter!” Aunt Kassie stood up and threw her napkin on her plate. “What is going on?”

  Hunter opened his mouth and spit what remained of the chewed-up Krispy bar onto his plate. He pointed to the sludge and then stared at me with his wide, green eyes.

  “Allie, the Krispy bars have peanuts in them! Somebody call 9–1–1!”

  Now my mom and dad were up, and they swarmed me.

  “A peanut? That’s impossible! The caterers know Allie’s allergic.” Mom looked up at Hannah. “They know, right? All the other caterers knew.”

  Hannah pushed her way through to Hunter’s plate to inspect the sludge. She sniffed it.

  “I don’t detect anything nutty.”

  I picked my part of the Krispy bar up from the floor.

  “I haven’t tasted any peanuts.”

  Dad bolted to the kitchen, and Mom grabbed the bar from me. She dissected it on my plate, pulling the yummy chocolate layer off the top. “It looks nut free to me.”

  Now Hunter was up and looking in every corner of the room.

  “Allie, where’s your emergency kit? You need to give yourself a shot!” He retrieved my pink wrist pack from a corner table near the sofa and ran it over. “Isn’t someone going to call an ambulance?”

  Dad yelled out from the kitchen. “Maggie!” A second later he stood in front of me. “I found a couple of nuts in each bar. Allie, did you taste a nut?”

  “No, sir,” I said, and I felt a knot form in my stomach.

  Mom ran to her purse and pulled out her phone. “I’m calling 9–1–1. Allie, hit yourself with the needle, just in case.”

  Heat rushed to my face as I watched my family scurrying around. Lola, Ruby, and Kendall tried to push in close to me, but their parents pulled them away.

  “Give her some space,” I heard Aunt Kassie say, and then the cousins disappeared.

  Exclamations of “Oh, no!” and “This is terrible!” echoed throughout the house while the cheery Christmas tunes continued to play.

  “I’ll go meet the ambulance,” Papaw Ray said. “The rest of y’all better start prayin’.”

  Dad grabbed my elbow, lifted me up from my place at the dinner table, and led me over to the sofa. “How do you feel, Allie-girl? Is your throat itchy?”

  I grabbed my throat and rubbed it. Was it itchy? Maybe. And maybe it was all in my head. I was certain I hadn’t tasted any peanuts. But then, I hadn’t eaten peanuts for years, so maybe I had forgotten what they tasted like.

  Dad helped me fish the Epi-pen out of my medical kit, and he held my arm steady while I removed the cap and jabbed it into my thigh. The thing is on a spring-loader, so once you jab, there’s no chickening out.

  “Ow!”

  I really hate that thing.

  Mom came over with a blanket, and put it over me. “Just lay back and take it easy. Help is on the way.”

  “I really think I’m okay . . .”

  “We’re not taking any chances.” Mom looked down at her watch. “Where is that ambulance?”

  Dad stood up and placed his hands on Mom’s shoulders. “Maggie, it’s only been a couple of minutes.”

  Mom’s hand flew to her forehead. “Did I forget to give them the gate code?”

  “I heard you give them the code,” I said. “Plus, they’ve been here a million times. I’m sure they have the code memorized.”

  What can I say? My family tries crazy things, so often someone has to ride i
n an ambulance to the hospital. Sometimes it’s a broken bone, or a cracked head. One time, my dad got bitten by a snake near the river, and his foot puffed up so much I thought his toes were going to pop off.

  “I told you I should be doin’ the cookin’.” Mamaw brought a wet washcloth from the bathroom and laid it on my forehead. “Now don’t you worry, sweet girl, you’re gonna be just fine.”

  Hunter reappeared over the back of the sofa and nudged my shoulder. “Allie, hang in there. You have to be here for my very first Christmas as a Carroway.”

  “Hunter, I’m not going to die! I feel fine.” I relaxed back on the sofa and focused on the tree with all the colored lights. Were they turning blurry? I shook my head a little, closed my eyes, and then opened them again.

  It’s just your imagination, Allie. Hunter may have eaten a peanut, but you didn’t.

  Or had I?

  I tried to remember what it felt like the last time I did eat a peanut. It was at church, right after I was baptized, at our celebration reception. I thought the cookie was oatmeal, but no—it was peanut butter. I was so excited about all the events of the day that I just chomped away, not realizing I was poisoning myself. That led to a not fun couple of days in the hospital, and I promised myself I’d never do that again.

  Apparently, I couldn’t be trusted to keep a promise.

  “Here comes the ambulance,” Mom stood by the window and waved my uncle Josiah over. “Jo, can you go help Papaw direct them to the right door?”

  “Sure, Maggie.” Uncle Jo went to the door, and was greeted by little voices that said, “Trick or Treat!”

  I turned and popped my head over the back of the sofa to see the first costumed kids of the night.

  “Not fair,” I yelled. “I wanted to hand out the candy.”

  Right behind the fairy princess and ogre came two paramedics, who rushed right over to me.

  “Nice costumes,” I said. “There’s candy in a bowl by the door.”

  The first guy, a muscular one with short blonde hair, lifted my left eyelid and shined a light in it. “Allie Carroway, you’re my favorite kid on TV.” He flicked the light in my other eye. “Did you really eat a peanut or is that just a rumor?”