For Real (16 page)

I shove his shoulder. “Stop being a baby. We’re almost there.”

As Taufik promised, the ride to the zoo isn’t long, and I nearly weep with relief when I see Isis standing under an arch of pink flags near the base of the alligator statue. Even in the sticky Surabaya heat, she looks totally refreshed, like someone’s been spritzing her with iced cucumber water every few seconds.

“Welcome to the Cupid’s Nest, Will and Claire,” she says when we reach her. “You’re in fourth place.”

We both cheer—that’s better than I thought we’d done—and Will picks me up and spins me in a circle. I love the feel of his strong arms around me.

“How did today go for you two?” Isis asks.

“We wasted an hour because our cabdriver got lost, but otherwise it went pretty well,” Will says. “Claire’s a fantastic partner. I’m really lucky to have gotten her.”

I feel my cheeks heating up, but I don’t fight it—the producers will love it if I blush at Will’s compliments. “He’s pretty fantastic himself,” I say.

“I’m so glad this race brought you together,” Isis says in a voice laden with meaning. “Perhaps you’ll have a chance for more steamy escapades together later on.”

“I’d like that,” Will says, and he takes my hand. Greg ducks down to get a close-up of our entwined fingers. There are so many emotions swirling through my head that I feel like I might shatter.

Isis points to a little plaza full of topiary shrubs and tells us to wait there until everyone else arrives. There’s another
bakpao
cart in front of the zoo’s entrance, and I collapse onto the low stone wall surrounding the plaza while Will goes off to buy some for us and our crew. The three teams who beat us are grouped together about ten yards away, and I know I should probably go over and chat with them, but I’m way too tired to move. When Will comes back with the food, I barely find the strength to gobble down two
bakpao
s before I fall asleep on my backpack.

As I drift into unconsciousness, hoping against hope that Miranda beats Samir to the checkpoint, I’m vaguely aware of Will gently tucking a folded sweatshirt under my head.

It seems like only a few minutes have passed before Will’s shaking me awake again, but it must have been longer—when I slit one eye open, the sun’s a lot lower in the sky. It vaguely occurs to me that I still have no idea what day it is. I swat Will away, and I hear him yelp as my hand connects clumsily with his face. “Sleeping,” I mutter.

“Come on,” he says, nudging me with his toe from a safer distance. “We have to pick our new partners, and then you can rest.”

I struggle into a sitting position and peel his sweatshirt off my face. It feels like something flew into my mouth and died. “Who got eliminated?” I ask, trying not to breathe in his direction.

“Lou and that woman with the purple hair, whatever her name is. Jade, or something? They just got in a minute ago.” He points off to the right, where Lou and Jada are sitting on a stone wall with one of the producers and doing their exit interview.

“It sucks that Lou’s out,” I say. “I’m sorry. Are you upset?”

He shrugs. “Nah. No big deal. I’ll see him at home in a
couple weeks.” His nonchalance surprises me—if my sister had been eliminated, I’d be devastated. But maybe it’s different for guys.

Isis arranges us in a semicircle at the base of the alligator statue, and the camera people surround us, careful to stay out of each other’s sightlines. Miranda waves at me, and I smile back at her, relieved that she’s safe, but we’re too far apart to talk. “Congratulations to all of you for completing the first leg of the race,” Isis says. “I hope you’ve all enjoyed getting
very close
to your partners over the last two days. Before you select your new dates, I have a special prize to award. The team who bared the most skin on this leg of the race will receive five thousand dollars each!”

For a moment, I wonder if it could be Will and me, since we did the pool challenge in our underwear. Then again, everyone probably did that. Is it going to come down to who was wearing the skimpiest underwear today?

“The winner of the Bare Bod award is …” Isis pauses for dramatic effect. “Blake and Philadelphia! Congratulations!”

I must be really tired, because I only now notice that Blake still isn’t wearing a shirt, and Philadelphia’s in a sports bra and tiny shorts. Blake’s wearing a silver pendant on a black cord that I hadn’t noticed before, and when I see that there’s a wire running between it and his waist, I realize it must be a microphone. The two of them whoop and hug, and Blake shouts, “Dude, that is awesome! I just took my shirt off ’cause I was hot, and now I get money!
Sweet!
” It’s like he’s forgotten he’s a stripper and he takes off his clothes for money every day.

Isis arranges her perfect features in a more serious expression. “But now it’s time for a bit of separation and heartbreak. You will choose your dates for the next leg of the race in the order you arrived at the Cupid’s Nest. For this first round, the boys in each pair will go first, and next time, it’ll be the girls. Martin and Zora, please step forward.”

The last time I saw Martin, he was sweaty and shaking, but he looks way more confident now that he’s come in first. Even his superhero shirt seems a little cooler somehow. “Martin, who would you like to spend the next leg of the race with?” Isis asks.

“Um, I’d actually like to stay with Zora, if that’s, um, okay with her.” Martin gives Zora a shy smile, just barely meeting her eyes. I can tell how afraid he is of being rejected.

“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 everything 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.