For Real (31 page)

“Oh my God,” I gasp. “You were terrified of that sheep. You thought it was going to eat you. That was, hands down, the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Samir has struggled back into a sitting position, but his face is now several layers of red, embarrassment on top of frustration on top of fury. “For the love of God, get off your lazy ass and help me, Claire! We’re about to get eliminated because of a bunch of
sheep
. How do we get them to
move
?”

It takes five more minutes for the sheep to make their own slow, meandering way off the road. Samir spends most of that time leaning on the horn and shouting threats that involve the word “mutton,” and Robby keeps the camera right in his face the whole time. A line of cars starts backing up behind us, and they add their horns to the mix, which doesn’t seem to bother the sheep at all but makes Samir even angrier. By the time our wooly friends decide to amble back into their pasture, Samir has almost no voice left.

When we peel into the nearly empty parking lot of Drumlanrig Castle thirty minutes later, four other
Around the World
cars are waiting to meet us. There’s no need to run at this point—we’re obviously in last place—but Samir does, so I do, too, just to make things easier for Robby. Together we sprint through the gate, across the wide oval lawn, and toward the double staircase at the front of the castle, where Isis is standing. The enormous, brick-red building looms behind her, its chimneys and dome-topped turrets shining a soft gold in the light of the evening sun. I’m glad my elimination
point is a beautiful one. With my head held high, I step into the spotlights that surround our host and her archway of flags.

“Welcome to the Cupid’s Nest, Samir and Claire,” Isis says. “You’re in last place. Your race around the world has come to an end.”

Samir lets out an unearthly howl as he hurls his pack onto the ground and kicks it. “This is all your fault!” he screams at me, flecks of spit flying from his mouth. “I
hate
you and your stupid panic attacks and your terrible directions and your total inability to retain basic information! I could have
won
this if it weren’t for you! I swear to God, you could not have been a worse partner if you’d
wanted
to lose!”

The other teams were resting along the edges of the lawn when we arrived, out of sight of the cameras, but Samir’s making such a scene that everyone creeps closer for a better look. I wait until I’m sure Miranda’s within earshot, and then I turn back to Samir.

“I
did
want to lose, you idiot,” I say. “You think I’m really as incompetent as I seemed today? I thought you were a theater major. Can’t you tell when someone is acting?”

I’m pretty sure the vein in Samir’s temple is going to explode and spray me with blood at any moment. “You
sabotaged
us on
purpose
? What the hell, Claire? If you couldn’t handle the race, you could’ve just quit! You didn’t have to
throw away
my
chance at a million dollars. Don’t you ever think about anyone but yourself?”

The way his words echo Miranda’s is a little disturbing, but this time, I know I’m in the right. “Actually, I do,” I say. I point to the Team Revenge logo on my filthy T-shirt. “Do you see what this says, Samir? It’s not a joke. You can’t treat people the way you treated Miranda and expect to get away with it.”

His eyes bug out. “What happened between Miranda and me is none of your freaking business!”

“When you love someone, her happiness
is
your business. You messed with me when you messed with her. That’s what loyalty means. But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that.” I glance over at Miranda to make sure she’s listening, and she is. “After what you did to my sister, she shouldn’t have to look at your smug face for one more second. It’s time for you to go home.”

When I look around the lawn, I see shocked expressions on every face. Will is staring at me, but my eyes skate right over him and land on Miranda. My sister’s lips are slightly parted, and her forehead is furrowed like she’s trying to reset her brain. And for the first time since I was in middle school, I feel like she’s actually seeing me. I’m exhausted and smelly and covered in soot and dirt and dried pudding, but I have never felt so powerful as I do right now. Even with all these eyes on me, I’m not the least bit stiff or embarrassed. I’m not even blushing. I want everyone to look at me, the girl who’s wily and smart, the girl who stands up for the people she
loves, the girl who nearly fell apart but rebounded stronger than ever.

Isis looks a little baffled, but she recovers quickly. “Samir, do you have anything to say for yourself?” she asks.

“If you’re taking suggestions, you might consider apologizing to Miranda,” I say.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone look as pissed as Samir does right now. “Screw all of you,” he snaps. He turns on his heel and stalks off, leaving his pack behind. A producer tries to intercept him as he storms toward the parking lot, but he brushes right past her. “I don’t have to listen to you anymore,” I hear him say. “What’re you gonna do, eliminate me?”

Isis squints past the floodlights that surround us. “Where’s Miranda? Could you come over here, please?”

Miranda steps out of the shadows, but when she gets close enough to touch me, she holds back like she’s not sure she’s welcome. There’s a lot we need to work through, but at this moment, all I want to do is hug her. I reach out my arms, and she throws herself into them. We’re both sticky and filthy, but neither of us cares, and we cling to each other.

“You got yourself eliminated for me?” she whispers in my ear. I nod against her shoulder, and she pulls me closer. “Claire, I can’t even … I just … 
Thank you
.”

Isis clears her throat and we pull apart, but Miranda keeps a tight hold on my hand. “What would you like to say to your sister, Miranda?” our host asks.

Miranda turns and looks at me. “You are
the best ever
. You know you’re basically my hero, right?”

“Miranda, can you talk to the camera, please?” Isis reminds her.

“Sorry.” My sister looks into the lens. “What Claire did today is
totally crazy
. I can’t believe she got herself knocked out of the race for me. And did you see how she fooled Samir? He had
no idea
what was going on. I mean, the guy’s an asshole, but he’s not dumb. Claire’s just … God, she’s so incredibly smart, and what she did was so selfless. I’m so lucky to have her as my sister.
And
my friend.”

Her words make me feel weightless, like I could lift off the ground and fly joyous laps around the castle in the summer twilight. “Claire, what would you like to say to Miranda?” Isis asks.

Most of the things I want to say will have to wait until we’re alone, so I settle for “Miranda’s such an amazing person, and she deserves to be surrounded by people who treat her right. I hope she never has to deal with anyone as crappy as Samir ever again.” I squeeze her hand. “I also hope she wins the race.”

One of the producers appears by Isis’s side. He’s wearing an Angels cap, and I realize it’s Chuck, the same guy who was in charge at the starting line. It feels like years have passed since we last saw him. “Let’s hold off on the Proposal Ceremony,” he says. “I want to get these two into an exit interview right away.”

“No problem,” Isis answers. “I’ll be ready when you are.” Someone materializes behind her with a cushioned chair, a magazine, and a glass of water, and the moment she sits, a makeup artist starts touching up her lipstick. I realize for the
first time how easy it would be to seem perfect if you had no responsibility for the way you presented yourself.

Chuck pulls a radio off his belt and mumbles something about lighting equipment, and some crew guys spring into action and start setting up a makeshift studio on the steps of the castle. “Hang tight for a couple minutes,” Chuck says before he herds the rest of the racers off in the other direction and leaves me alone with Miranda.

My sister tugs my hand, and we move out of the glare of the lights and into the soft golden glow of the sunset. For a minute, neither of us says anything, and I can hear birds calling good night to each other across the castle grounds. When Miranda finally speaks, her voice is quiet. “Hey, I shouldn’t have said all those awful things to you yesterday. I’m really sorry. When the producers said you were refusing to see me, I thought you were never going to talk to me again.”

My mouth drops open. “What? I never said I didn’t want to see you! I begged them to tell me what room you were in, but they said you didn’t want to see me!”

Miranda laughs bitterly and buries her face in her hands. “Oh my God, are you serious? This show
sucks
. I can’t wait to go home and get away from all these people. Do you think they’d let me leave with you?”

“No, you can’t leave! You have to keep going! You could actually win this.”

Miranda shrugs. “What’s the point, now that you got rid of Samir?”

“Just do it for yourself. Imagine what you could do with all that money. You could hole up in the woods for a decade
and write fifteen Great American Novels. Or take another trip around the world where you’d actually get to stop and look at stuff. Or buy, like, two hundred ponies.”

“These are all valid points.” She pretends to flag down Isis. “Hey, which way to the Love Shack?” We both laugh, and for a second, things feel almost normal between us, but then Miranda’s smile falters. “Seriously, though, this isn’t how things were supposed to go. I don’t want to do this without you.”

“You were already doing it without me. I was busy ditching you for some guy I barely knew.”

“It happens,” Miranda says. “Don’t beat yourself up about it. It’s not like I’ve never ditched someone for a boy. It’s obvious how much you like him.”

Her comment startles me, but then I realize we haven’t really talked in two days. I shake my head, and the emotions I’ve been holding at bay all come crashing back at once. “Not anymore,” I say.

“What happened, Clairie?” my sister asks, and the fact that she’s using my nickname again makes a renegade tear slip down my cheek. She reaches out to rub my back—
circle, circle, pat pat pat
—and I spill the whole story of what happened between Will and me. When I’m finished, I wait for the inevitable lecture about how I shouldn’t have gotten attached to him, how I should have remembered that all of this is a game. But my sister just wraps me tightly in her arms. “I’m so sorry, babe. I know exactly what that’s like.”

“I can’t even tell you how ridiculous I feel right now. I mean, I watched him lie to other people, and for some reason, I still thought I was different.”

“You
are
different,” she says.

“Team Revenge!” Chuck shouts. “We’re ready for you.”

“One second,” Miranda calls. She lets go of me and digs through her pack until she finds her matching red T-shirt. It’s creased and wrinkled, and it still smells like the Javanese fish market, but she pulls it on over her tank top anyway. Then she turns to me and smiles. “You ready?”

I wipe my eyes and slip my arm around my sister’s waist, and together we make our way across the lush lawn and into the glare of the network’s floodlights. When we’re seated, Chuck says, “Claire, can you tell me a little bit about why you decided to sabotage yourself and Samir today?”

It’s the last time I’ll be in the spotlight, and I’m prepared to make the most of it, to get everything out in the open. “Part of what I did today was about revenge,” I begin. “But I did it for other reasons, too—”

Chuck holds up a hand to stop me. “Sorry, hang on. We’re having a little trouble with the camera. Can you guys start over?”

Miranda looks at me, a question in her eyes, and I smile at her.

“Yeah,” I say. “I think we can do that.”

Epilogue

It’s a Sunday night in October, and for the sixth week in a row, my house is full of friends, relatives, and neighbors who are here to watch
Around the World in Eighty Dates
. Miranda and I sit side by side in the center of the couch, the best seats in the house—I’m still considered a guest of honor, even though my final episode aired a couple of weeks ago. We haven’t seen Miranda get eliminated yet, but I know tonight’s episode is her last, based on when she showed up at the Portuguese beach hotel where they kept the eliminated contestants until filming was over. (In keeping with the cheesy tone of the show, everyone referred to it as Heartbreak Hotel.) Next week is the finale, when we’ll all appear one last time to cheer for Martin and Zora as they cross the finish line and are presented with a million dollars. Tawny and Steve, who came in second, each won a trip for two to Tahiti.

Natalie sits on my other side, her neon-green boots propped on the coffee table and the yellow crocheted pillow hugged tightly to her stomach. My other best friends, Chris and Abby, are sprawled on the floor at our feet, having
a heated debate about whether they’d prefer to see Blake or Troy do a striptease. A couple of Miranda’s college friends are up from New York City for the weekend, and they’re taking her back down with them tomorrow to hunt for apartments in Brooklyn. Since I have Columbus Day off from school, Miranda has asked me to come with them to help her pick one out.