For Real (17 page)

“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?”

“
I
certainly didn’t,” Philadelphia chimes in before I can answer. “
This
one snores like a chain saw, and I could hear him through the wall.” She giggles and shoves Will’s shoulder in a familiar way, as if they’ve known each other for years, and it makes me want to puke. I turn back around and concentrate on looking like nothing is bothering me.

Isis is waiting for us at the checkpoint, looking as fresh and rested as she did at the starting line in LA. Doesn’t she ever sleep? We meet our new camera crew and get miked,
and at exactly 1:07, Isis hands us our first pink envelope. I notice she has tiny
Around the World
heart-map decals on her nails. “May the forces of love and luck be with you,” she says as I rip open the Velcro.

Fly to New Delhi, India, and make your way to the Lodhi Gardens, where you will receive your next instructions and complete a task of jumbo-sized proportions
.

“India,” Troy says, nodding slowly. “Sweeeeet. I hope we have time for some of those samoas.”

“I think you mean
samosas
,” I say. “Samoas are Girl Scout cookies.” I can’t even believe this guy—this is almost as bad as Blake’s comment about Serbia being in Russia.

Troy shrugs. “Either one’s fine with me. It takes a lot of nourishment to maintain this kind of hotness, if you know what I mean.” And then he
kisses his biceps
. I’ve never seen anyone actually do that in real life.

Will, Philadelphia, Troy, and I all end up on the same Singapore Airlines flight that leaves at six in the morning, which should get us to New Delhi at three-thirty in the afternoon. Martin, Zora, Blake, and Vanessa are already at the gate, sprawled on the floor with magazines, but Miranda and Steve are nowhere to be found. As soon as the sorority sisters see each other, the room gets noticeably colder, and Philadelphia suctions herself to Will’s body like a big blond leech. “Take a walk with me, babe?” she coos, tucking a strand of his hair back under his lucky hat. I know she’s probably just trying to prove to Vanessa that she doesn’t
care about being separated from Blake, but watching Will head off down the hall with her feels like having my organs rearranged. I steer Troy in the opposite direction to look for some food.

When our flight is finally called, I find that we’re seated two rows behind Will and Philadelphia. It’s close enough that I can hear the rise and fall of their voices, but I can’t tell what they’re saying, even if I strain. When I lean out into the aisle, I can see a sliver of Will’s arm and half of his right shoe, but that’s it. I wonder if he’s feeling calmer about takeoff, now that I’ve taught him the deep-breathing exercises. Does he trust Philadelphia enough to tell her about his fear of flying? For all I know, he’s keeping calm by gripping
her
hand right now.

Troy sees where I’m looking and gives me a sly smile. “Oh,
that’s
why you’ve got such a stick up your butt,” he says. “I get it. What, you worried he’s going to join the mile-high club with her or something?”

I lean back quickly, my cheeks flaming. Of course he would choose now to start being perceptive. “No,” I mutter, though I suddenly wonder if I should be worried about that.

“Maybe we should slip into the bathroom together for a while,” Troy says. “Make him niiiiiiice and jealous.”