For Real (21 page)

Now that I’ve started, dancing feels like something I’ve always been able to do, a skill that’s been locked away inside me for so long I forgot it was even there. I jump up and down and bop my head back and forth, and Miranda grins and does the same. Troy shifts over to the left to make
more room for us, and we spin forward to fill the space. As Miranda links her arm through mine and starts doing silly Rockette kicks, the crowd and the cameras cease to exist for me altogether, and I suddenly remember how my sister and I used to dance around her bedroom to the Backstreet Boys when we were little. Miranda was the only one who could ever make me feel that free and uninhibited, like I could stop overthinking everything and just enjoy being alive.

And for a few short minutes, as we spin around this stage on the other side of the world, it seems possible that someday I could learn to be this way all on my own.

When the song ends, Miranda turns me toward the bride and groom and holds my hand up like I’ve won a boxing match, and the whole room erupts in applause. Everyone’s cheering us on, even the redheaded producer. After a few seconds, I turn and look at my sister, who gives me the most gigantic grin I’ve ever seen. I smile back so hard my face hurts.

I can barely hear her over the noise of the crowd and the adrenaline pumping through my blood, but I see her mouth form the words “You did it.”

And for the first time in as long as I can remember, being myself feels like enough.

It’s nearly midnight by the time Miranda, Steve, Troy, and I find Isis at the Cupid’s Nest in front of India Gate, which looks sort of like an Eastern-style Arc de Triomphe. We check in—Miranda and Steve are third, and Troy and I are fourth, by two minutes—and then my sister and I look around for a place to rest until the other teams show up. There are no benches on the vast plaza, so we finally plunk down on the ground and prop ourselves up with our packs. “So, other than the dancing, how’d your day go?” she asks.

“I’m just glad it’s over,” I say. “Mira, thank you so much. Seriously. I don’t know what I would have done without you up on that stage.”

“Don’t worry about it. It was no big deal.”

“It
was
a big deal. I was totally freaking out up there, and you—”

“Clairie,” she says, cutting me off, “you’re the one who said we’re a team no matter what, remember? If you need me, I’ll be there for you, okay? And I know you’ll do the same for me.”

I can’t think of a situation in which Miranda would need
my help, but I nod. “Of course I will. But every minute counts here, so I appreciate the sacrifice.”

“We’ll just regroup and race faster tomorrow.” Miranda leans back against her pack and stretches her arms over her head as we watch Janine and Aidan jog across the plaza. “God, I’m so sore from squatting down in that stupid goat pen,” she says.

“Troy could help you with that.”

She snorts. “How? By taking his clothes off to distract me?”

“No, apparently he’s a licensed massage therapist. One of the many strange things I learned today.”

“What? How is that even possible? He seems dumb as a brick.”

“Actually, he’s bizarrely smart. He says he’s been acting like a idiot on purpose because that’s what the producers want.”

“Huh. Crazy.”

We sit quietly for a minute, absorbing that and watching the tourists taking late-night strolls, and then Miranda says, “Hey, you want to play the Limerick Game?”

“
Yes
. That’s
exactly
what I want to do right now.”

“You first. Do Troy.” She looks down at her watch and times out a minute.

When it’s time, I clear my throat and recite:

“There once was a stripper named Troy,

Who acted quite dumb as a ploy.

He took off his pants,

Did a butt-shaking dance,

And said, ‘Viewers, I hope you enjoy!’ ”

Miranda laughs. “Nice,” she says. “My turn.”

“Do Isis.”

She thinks for a second. “No fair. Nothing rhymes with ‘Isis’ except ‘crisis.’ Which is kind of ironic.” We both look over at our host, who’s dressed in a crisp linen suit without a single wrinkle. A crisis wouldn’t dare get close to her.

“Yeah, you’re right. Do Steve instead.”

When a minute has elapsed, she says,

“There once was a fellow named Steve,

Who everyone thought was naïve.

But he’s sharp as a tack,

Not a geeky sad sack—

He has proven that looks can deceive.”

“Oh, reeeeeally,” I say. “What happened during
your
hour in the Love Shack? Did the sparks fly?”

My sister laughs. “Oh God, wasn’t that the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever seen? And no, of course nothing
happened
. We just ended up having a ton in common, which was surprising, you know? I thought he would, like, babble on about Dungeons and Dragons for an hour, but we actually spent most of the time talking about Russian novels. And he’s really funny. I was totally impressed.”

“That’s awesome, Mira. I’m glad you guys had fun.”

“I’m going to pick him again for the next leg, if I can. He was a great partner.”

That makes me think of Will, and I scan the plaza for him, but he’s still nowhere to be found. I haven’t seen him since the elephant challenge this morning; Philadelphia’s
probably slowing him down with all her inane flirting. If she gets him eliminated, I will seriously gouge out her eyes with my fingernails, glitter eye shadow and all. I bet that would boost ratings.

“What’re you looking at?” Miranda asks.

“Nothing. Just trying to see if anyone else has gotten here yet.”

“You suck at lying. You’re looking for Will, aren’t you?”

I shrug. “Okay, so what if I am? He should be here by now.” Miranda gives me a look, half knowing and half concerned. “
What?
Spit it out.”

“I just don’t want you to get too attached to him, that’s all.”

“I’m not
attached
to him. I just like him, okay? If you and I can’t race together, we should race with other people we like, right? You like Steve. I like Will.”

“I don’t like Steve the same way you like Will. Steve and I both know it’s a game. I’m afraid that maybe you forget about the game when you’re with Will.”

I think about how he looked at me when I was in my underwear, how his hand felt as it settled against the skin of my bare waist. “Well, not everything
is
a game, okay?”

“It is when you’re on television.”

“He
likes
me, Miranda. He does. You haven’t seen what he’s like when we’re alone and the cameras are off. The stupid ‘steamy challenges’ are a game, but that other stuff is real.”

“I mean, I can’t tell you for sure that it’s not. But you
should try to keep your defenses up, or you’re going to get hurt.”

“I don’t need to defend myself from him!” A couple walking by turns to stare at us, and I lower my voice. “Do you not believe someone could like me that way? Is that the problem?”

“Claire, no. But he’s an actor, and this is a show. I have a lot of experience with actors, and I know what they’re like. Trust me.”

“You can’t assume that all actors suck just because
one
of them does! Will isn’t like Samir!”

She sighs. “Listen, I hope you’re right. And if you want to race with Will, I can’t stop you. But we’re not
actually
here to find our soul mates, okay? We’re here to—”

“I
know
why we’re here,” I snap.

“I’m just trying to help you.”

“Fine.”

“I don’t want you to think that—”

“I said
fine
, Miranda.”

“Okay. Good.”

Awkward silence stretches out between us, so thick and palpable I feel like I could poke it with my finger and watch it wiggle like Jell-O. I want everything to go back to how it was ten minutes ago, and I think about asking her for another limerick topic, but now the atmosphere is all wrong for our lighthearted game. I suggest finding something to eat instead, and we wander around the plaza until we find a food stall. Neither of us says much of anything as we eat our
pakoras
. I tell myself everything’s still fine, that we’re
just tired. But Miranda’s words grate on me, and I don’t start to feel better until I spot Will and Philadelphia checking in with Isis. As soon as he spots me, Will smiles and waves. I know my sister’s wrong about him. There
is
something real going on between us. She’ll see.

It’s nearly two in the morning by the time Isis assembles us for the Proposal Ceremony, and by that time, everyone is tired and cranky. Blake and Vanessa arrive last and are swept away for their exit interview, and I hear Vanessa telling the producer they “got a little sidetracked in an alley for a while, but it was
totally
worth it.” I take my place across the semicircle from Will. Philadelphia is still clinging to his arm, but I just smile, knowing I’ll probably get to separate them any minute.

“I hope sparks flew for everyone in the Love Shack today,” Isis says. I have no idea how she delivers these lines with a straight face. “Before you choose your dates for the next leg of the race, I have a special prize to award. The bride and groom enjoyed all your performances enormously, but they agreed that one couple had the hottest moves of all. And that couple, who will receive the Sexy Strut award of five thousand dollars each, is … Will and Philadelphia!”

Will lets out a whoop, and Philadelphia screams and jumps into his arms. Her legs wrap all the way around his waist like they belong there, like they’ve been there before. I suddenly feel a bit sick. Thank God I didn’t have to watch them dance together.

“Congratulations,” Isis says. “How did you feel about your performance today?”

“Will and I are
such
a great team,” gushes Philadelphia. “I honestly can’t believe I got
paid
to dance sexy with him. I would have given
you guys
money to do it.”

Isis lets out a practiced, tinkling laugh. “I’m glad you enjoyed doing it as much as everyone enjoyed watching you. It’s thrilling to watch you connect with your partners in meaningful ways.” She claps once. “All right! Now it’s time to choose your dates for the next leg of the race! We’ll start with the girls this time. Zora, you’re up first again—congratulations. Who would you like to spend the next leg of the race with?”

“I’d like to stay with Martin,” she says. “This partnership is obviously working for us. Don’t mess with success, right?”

Martin lets out his breath in a rush, revealing how nervous he was that he might have to race with someone else. “Definitely,” he says, nodding hard. When Zora reaches out and takes his hand, he goes red all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Next up is Tawny,” Isis says. “Who would you like to spend the next leg of the race with?”

“I’d like to race with Troy,” she says, shooting Samir a dirty look. “It’ll be a relief to race with someone who actually respects me as a human being.”

Troy waggles his eyebrows. “Ooooh, baby, I will respect you like you’ve
never
been respected before.” He moves to stand next to her and wraps an arm around her shoulders, and Tawny giggles like a twelve-year-old. I’ve got to hand it to Troy—he is really good at staying in character.

Samir is next, and when Isis asks who he’d like to race
with, he smiles at her, the kind of smile that says
I know something you don’t know
. “I’d like to race with Miranda,” he says.

Oh
no
.

I feel my sister tense beside me, and I instinctively reach for her hand, but she’s not paying any attention to me—she’s staring at Isis with her mouth hanging open. “No,” she finally sputters. “I, um, I reject Samir’s proposal.”

“I’m sorry, Miranda,” Isis says, “but you don’t have the option of rejecting him. Samir arrived at the Cupid’s Nest before you.”

My sister looks totally bewildered. “But … I can’t race with
him
.”

“Those are the rules, I’m afraid. Your only other option is to withdraw from the race. You don’t want to do that, do you?”

“No, I don’t want to do that.” Miranda’s voice is quiet, but there’s an undercurrent of fury that makes the hairs on my arms stand up. She whirls around to face Samir. “What are you doing? Did they tell you to pick me?”

He blinks innocently. “I’m sorry, who’s
they
?”

“I don’t know, the network. The producers. You can’t seriously want to be my partner.”

Samir shrugs. “Why not? You broke up with
me
, Miranda. I never had a problem with you. I’m not the one who wanted our relationship to end.”

“If you didn’t want our relationship to end, you should’ve stayed out of
her
pants!” Miranda stabs a finger in Janine’s direction. All around the circle, people start murmuring, and
I realize it’s still not common knowledge that Miranda and Samir used to be together. I wonder if the producers really did tell him to pick her. If I were the story editor, that’s probably what I would have done.