“Zora, since you came in first as well, you have the option of rejecting Martin’s proposal. What would you like to do?”
“I want to stay with him,” Zora says. “Martin’s the best.” Martin looks at the ground, pleased and blushing and relieved. The viewers are going to love him.
As Isis explains that Martin and Zora will depart for the next leg of the race twelve hours after they arrived, I sneak a sideways glance at Will. Is he going to pick me when our turn comes? Have I been a good enough partner? I think we did pretty well together, and he did tell Isis he hoped we’d have more steamy times together. I try to think of something witty and cute to say when he chooses me, but my sleep-deprived brain is a total blank.
“Steve and Vanessa, please step forward,” says Isis. “Steve, who would you like to spend the next leg of the race with?”
“I’d like to race with Miranda, please,” Steve says without hesitation.
My sister looks surprised, though I can’t imagine why—she’s always picked early for things. “Oh,” she says. “Okay.”
“Miranda, Steve arrived forty-five minutes before you, so he’s given you a significant lead,” Isis says. “That’s very flattering.”
Miranda beams at Steve. “Wow, thank you. I’m happy to be your partner.” She moves to stand next to him and touches his arm lightly as she says something in a voice too low for me to hear. He blushes, and the camera guys jostle each other to get a good reaction shot. She barely knows him, but somehow my sister’s already managing to make Steve feel like a rock star. I wish I knew how to do that.
When it’s Vanessa’s turn, she chooses Blake, who’s currently standing arm in arm with Philadelphia. “Bitch,” I hear Philadelphia mutter. Before she relinquishes her big blond prize, she stands on her toes and kisses him possessively on the cheek, leaving behind a smudge of sparkly lip gloss.
It’s Troy’s turn now. He looks around at the remaining girls, sizing us up like he’s at one of those restaurants where you get to pick your lobster live from the tank. “Okay, I’m not gonna lie,” he says. “If I’m gonna end up carrying my partner around again, I’m gonna need someone a hellllllll of a lot smaller than Janine. Girl, you are smokin’, but you are freakin’ tall. These guns have their limits.” He pats his biceps, then flexes for the cameras. I feel sorry for whoever gets him.
The moment I think it, he points straight at me. “Claire, right? You’re tiny. I’ll take you.”
Oh crap. Somehow it hadn’t even occurred to me that this could happen. I’m not the kind of person who tends to get singled out by strippers, especially when there are girls like Philadelphia in the mix. As I stand there with my mouth hanging open, Isis prompts, “Claire, please stand with your new partner.”
Before I do, I glance back at Will, and he gives me a sad little wave. “Bye, Dominique, I’ll miss you,” he whispers, and I know he definitely would’ve picked me if he’d had a chance. The cameras follow me as I walk over to stand next to Troy. “Thanks for choosing me,” I manage to say, but it comes out sounding pretty unenthused.
Troy doesn’t seem to notice. He wraps one of his giant arms around my shoulders and says, “Fasten your seat belt, baby. You’re gonna have some funnnnn with Troy.” With his free hand, he high-fives Blake, whose other arm is tucked snugly around Vanessa. Why couldn’t Steve have picked me instead of Miranda? I could have handled a nice gentle nerd.
Janine’s up next, and when she requests Aidan, Samir’s eyes widen with outrage. “What the hell?” he sputters.
“Sorry, dude,” Janine says. “Aidan’s faster.” Miranda smirks, and when Samir glances at her, she innocently picks at something on the front of her shirt, drawing his attention to the Team Revenge logo. I should be loving this whole exchange, but it’s hard to concentrate when there are so many other things weighing on me. Like Troy’s fifty-pound arm, for instance.
It’s Will’s turn now, and he says, “I’d like to race with the lovely Philly, please.”
Philly? Seriously? Since when are they on a nickname basis? Doesn’t Will remember that she’s the one who spilled our tray of water on purpose? Then again, maybe that’s why he picked her—if you know for a fact someone plays dirty, it’s best to have her as an ally. It’s good strategic thinking. But it still makes my stomach twist when she goes to stand next to him and takes his hand, twining their fingers together. At least Samir is last in place with Tawny, who looks extremely annoyed.
“I hope you’re all pleased with your new partners,” Isis says with a custard-sweet smile, though it’s very obvious some of us aren’t. “I’ll see you next time for another episode of Around the World in Eighty Dates. Where in the world will you find your soul mate?” She says the tagline a couple more times in case the producers don’t like the first take, and then the crew starts packing up their equipment.
“All right, everybody,” Isis says. “There are two vans here to take you to the hotel. When we arrive, the producers will be doing interviews with you, so please don’t jump in the shower or go to sleep right away. After that, we need to give our wonderful crew some time off to rest, and you must stay in your rooms alone until the cameras are up and running again. We wouldn’t want our viewers to miss out on a single moment of your bonding time with your new dates! In the morning, transportation will be available from the hotel to the starting line every twenty minutes. You will depart twelve hours after the faster person on your team arrived at the Cupid’s Nest. Anyone have questions?” Nobody does. We’re all too tired to think straight.
I try to maneuver myself into the same van as Miranda, but she disappears into the rear one before I can reach her, and I’m herded into the one in front. I lean my head against the window, too tired to hold it up myself, and pain shoots through my neck—I must have twisted funny while I was sleeping on my pack earlier. I knead the knotted muscles with my fingers, trying to work out the kinks.
“You okay?” asks Troy, who has just slid onto the seat next to me. For a second, he seems more like a human than a caricature—his voice sounds gentler, and he’s not drawing out all his vowels in that ridiculous way. But then he destroys the illusion by reaching behind me and touching the base of my neck with his giant hand. “Does your neck hurt? I can work on that for you, if you want.”
I flinch away from him. “No thanks, I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? ’Cause I’m reeeeeally good at—”
“Seriously, Troy,” I snap. “The cameras aren’t even on, so knock it off, okay?” It comes out a little louder than I intended, and Vanessa snickers behind me.
“Jesus, Claire, I’m just trying to help. I’m not going to give you cooties if I touch you.” When I don’t respond, he says, “Fine. Whatever. Enjoy that stick up your butt.” He turns around to chat with Blake, and I ride the rest of the way in silence.
A producer hands me my key when I enter the hotel lobby, and I go straight to my room, drop my pack, and collapse facedown on the bed. Usually I’m one of those people who won’t even sit on a hotel bed until I’ve removed the top blanket—I’ve seen those Dateline specials about germs—but right now I’m so tired I’d lie in a bed covered with other people’s chewed gum.
I’m floating in and out of consciousness, dreaming about alligator-shark wrestling, when a producer knocks on the door and calls, “Claire? We’re ready for you.” I shuffle down the hall after her in a stupor, trying to tame my staticky hair. It feels like this day is never going to end.
There are two interview stations set up in a small exterior courtyard full of palm trees and orchids—just like I thought the airport would be—and the producer points me toward the one on the left. I expect to find Will chatting with a producer when I make my way around the backdrop, but instead, Miranda’s sitting in the far chair. Her eyes light up when she sees me, and she jumps to her feet and hugs me fiercely. She smells like chlorine and fish and sweat, but underneath is the familiar, cocoa-butter scent of my sister. Out here in the middle of Indonesia, where e
verything is so alien, that smell and the feel of her arms around me are such a relief that I want to cry. Being with her feels like being home.
“Clairie,” she says, close to my ear. “I’m so glad to see you. Are you all right?”
“Of course,” I say, confused. “Should I not be?”
She pulls back to look at me. “I hated having you off on your own today, when we were supposed to be together. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to—”
The producer cuts her off, and it’s only then that I remember he’s even there. “Hi, Claire, I’m Ken,” he says. “I need to ask you guys some questions, okay? We’re running on a tight schedule.”
“Oh. Right.” I manage to muster up a smile for him. “Hi there.”
“Go ahead and sit down,” Ken says, and I slide onto the folding chair next to Miranda’s. She gives my shoulder a little squeeze, like she has to keep reassuring herself that I’m here and in one piece.
“Now, let’s start at the beginning. How do you guys feel about the show’s twist? Were you surprised to discover that the race has a romantic component?”
“Yeah, we were both pretty shocked,” I say.
“Could you rephrase that for me, using a full sentence? Like, ‘We were both pretty shocked by the twist’?”
Oh, right—when they air this interview, they’ll edit Ken out. “We were both pretty shocked by the twist,” I repeat. “It’s safe to say we wouldn’t have auditioned for the race if we had known it had a romantic aspect.”
“Definitely not,” Miranda agrees.
“And why is that?” Ken prompts. He obviously knows, but he wants Miranda to say it on camera.
“Samir is my ex-boyfriend, and he cheated on me with Janine,” Miranda says. “They’re pretty much my least favorite people in the world right now. The only reason Claire and I even came on the show was to prevent Samir from winning. But I thought it would be us against them, and if I’d known there was a chance I’d have to race with him, I would have stayed away for sure.”
Ken nods. “Claire, how do you feel about the romantic nature of the show?”
While I’m considering how to phrase my answer, Miranda starts talking again. “Claire doesn’t have the same problem I do, obviously, but these kinds of challenges are going to be a bit of a stretch for her. I’m really impressed with her for getting through today. I was so worried about her.”
I don’t like where she’s going with this, and my stomach twists uncomfortably. “I’m fine,” I say. “Totally unscathed, see?”
“Why are you concerned about Claire’s ability to do these challenges?” presses Ken, like I’m not even here.
“Well, I mean, she’s clearly the youngest one on the race, and the show is more … mature than we were expecting. I’m sure everyone here was equally surprised by the twist, but the rest of us have probably had intimate experiences in the past, so it’s not that big a deal. But if you’ve never really experienced romance before … well, this isn’t exactly the best way to get your feet wet, you know? It would be so easy for her to get hurt.”
I gape at my sister. “You don’t get any say in how I ‘experience romance’! And you don’t know anything about my history with ‘intimate experiences.’ You’ve been gone for the last four years.”
Concern flits over her face. “Did you date someone I don’t know about?”
“No, but—”
“Well, that’s what I mean, Clairie. Since you don’t know what it feels like to be in a real relationship, it’ll be easy to get confused here and start forming attachments, even though it’s only a game.”
“Miranda, I know it’s a game, okay? Coming on this show was my idea, not yours. I know how it works.” I really wish we weren’t having this discussion on camera. Ken is practically drooling, and none of this is his business.
“I’m just trying to protect you,” Miranda says.
“I appreciate that. But I can take care of myself.”
“Okay,” she says, but she doesn’t sound convinced.
Ken changes the subject. “Claire, what was your biggest challenge today?”
I sit up a little straighter and try to take back control of the situation. “My biggest challenge today was when we had to swim in our underwear,” I say. “I was really embarrassed at first, but Will was super gentle and supportive, and it wasn’t actually that bad once I got used to the idea. I think the only way to succeed on this race is to acknowledge your hang-ups and try to move past them. There are enough obstacles in our way already. We can’t create more obstacles of our own.” It comes out sounding much better than I expected.
Miranda’s eyes widen. “You swam in your underwear?”
“Well, yeah … I mean, I wasn’t going to swim in my jeans, and they told us there weren’t any bathing suits. Wait, did you get one somehow?”
“No, but I made Aidan hold a towel up between me and my camera guy while I changed into shorts. Seriously, Claire, I’m floored that you had the guts to do that.” She shakes her head in disbelief, and I smile. This part of the interview will balance out what my sister said about my naïveté and inexperience.
“Tell me why you’re so surprised, Miranda,” Ken says.
“Claire has always been super modest. There was this one time I took her shopping for bras and I accidentally opened the fitting room door while she was changing, and she was so embarrassed that she started crying and wouldn’t come out for forty-five minutes.”
I cannot believe she’s telling this story right now. Ten seconds ago, I was the ballsy little sister, and now I’m the girl who had the freak moment of bravery in a lifetime of shame. Even if Miranda is legitimately proud of me, I know the producers will edit this to make me look ridiculous. If they wanted me to be the show’s comic relief, Miranda’s playing right into their hands.
“I was thirteen when that happened!” I say, trying to keep my voice light. “I’ve changed a little since then, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Yeah, but not only did you strip on TV, you stripped in front of a guy you clearly like,” Miranda says. “For you, that takes guts. Way to go, Claire. Seriously.”
I am going to kill her.
Of course, Ken digs his little claws into that like a kitten with one of those catnip-filled toys. “Is Miranda right, Claire? Are you interested in Will?”
I’m sure my raging blush is enough of an answer, but I try to defuse the situation anyway. “I mean, Will is great, but I barely know him.”
“Do you think he’s interested in you?”
I think of how Will told me I was worth half a million dollars and how he told Isis he hoped we’d get to do more challenges together. I think of how he sneaked a look at my chest in the pool and how he opened up to me on the plane. But those things are personal—if the network didn’t get them on camera, they don’t deserve to know. “I guess you’re going to have to ask him,” I say.
“How do you feel about your new partners for this next round?” Ken asks.
“I was really hoping to get someone else, honestly,” I say. “I don’t think Troy and I are very compatible.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He’s … um …” I try to come up with a nice way to phrase what Troy is, but I can’t. “He’s kind of sleazy. He started coming on to me in the van on the ride here, and he got really snippy when I told him to back off.”
Miranda touches my shoulder. “Do you feel unsafe? We can talk to someone if you do, and maybe you can get special permission to switch partners or something.”
When I was in kindergarten, our neighbor Alan Bracknell used to call me names all the time, and Miranda always chased him off our lawn for me. I was grateful to her back then, but it’s sad that she thinks I need that same kind of protection twelve years later. I shrug her hand off. “No, it’s fine, Miranda. He just grosses me out a little.”
“What do you think of your new partner, Miranda?” Ken asks.
“It was really nice of Steve to give
me a lead,” Miranda says. “He seems a little intimidated by me, but once he relaxes, I think we’re going to have fun. I wish I could give him to Claire—he’s a total gentleman. I know how to handle pushy guys like Troy.”
Ken asks a bunch more questions about the specifics of our days, and then he tells Miranda she’s done and asks me to come back in ten minutes to do another interview with Will. As I walk my sister toward her room, I debate whether I should ask her to show a little more respect for me on camera. But when she slips an arm around my shoulders and says, “I’m so glad we got to be together for a few minutes,” I lose my nerve. I have so little time with her on this race, and it seems stupid to waste any of it fighting.
I squeeze her back. “I wish you were my new partner.”
“Seriously. I hope I’ll get to see a little more of you on this next leg, at least.”
Her voice sounds friendly and warm, like she’s really disappointed that our bonding trip hasn’t worked out as planned. But the things she said in our interview make me wonder if she just wants to be near me so she can keep a closer eye on me. I promise myself that I’ll keep racing like I did today, no matter who my partner is, so Miranda will see that my competence wasn’t a fluke. She’ll see that she doesn’t need to protect me. She’ll see that even ten thousand miles from home, I can take care of myself.
“Yeah,” I say. “I hope you’ll see a little more of me, too.”
The next leg of the race begins for me at 1:07 a.m., and when my alarm goes off at midnight, I pack up my stuff and meet Troy in the lobby. He still looks exhausted—he probably went out drinking or something instead of resting. As the van to the starting line is about to leave, a chattering, giggling Will and Philadelphia pile in behind us, both clutching take-out coffees that didn’t come from the hotel. I hate that they clearly got up early to spend more time together, despite the producers’ orders not to leave their rooms.
“Hey.” Will shoots me a megawatt smile as he settles down in the seat behind mine. “You get some sleep?”
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