For Real(11)

“This is Will Divine,” I say, and by some stroke of luck, I manage not to laugh. “This is my sister, Miranda.”

Will’s reaction to my sister is exactly the same as every guy’s: he takes a minute to appreciate her gorgeous face, and then his eyes dip down, just for a second, to check out her cleavage. “Pleasure to meet you, Miranda,” he finally says in exactly the same way he said it to me. Suddenly I don’t feel quite so special.

Miranda catches the boob sneak peek, and her face hardens. She gives him a cursory “Hi,” then starts digging around in her bag. “Claire, I have an extra magazine in here. Do you want it?” she asks, like I’m not obviously doing something already.

I know she’s just trying to be nice by offering me an escape, but I don’t need to be rescued right now. “No thanks, we’re in the middle of a game.”

“Oh, okay,” she says, but she still looks unsure that I know what I’m doing. “It’s here if you change your mind.” She opens a battered novel and turns away.

“What’re you reading?” Will asks.

“A book.” Her eyes warn him not to press any further.

“Ooookay then.” He holds his hands up in surrender and turns to me with a what’s her problem? look on his face. I shrug and roll my eyes, trying to show him that I have a better attitude than she does, even if I’m not as aesthetically pleasing.

“So, you want to play another round?” he asks.

I’ve had basically no practice with flirting, but I feel like I need to do something to prove I’m as girly as Miranda. So I channel every dating show I’ve ever seen and try to make my voice sound coy. “Sure, if you want to get your ass kicked again.” I’m surprised by how good it sounds, but I still feel my cheeks turning pink, which probably cancels out any mild sexiness I’ve managed. Miranda glances up sharply, but I avoid her eyes.

Will grins at me. “I’m just getting warmed up. You haven’t seen what I can do yet.”

I shrug in a way I hope looks nonchalant. “Fine. Show me.”

I obliterate Will five more times before he finally surrenders and puts the phone away. By now, we’re almost at the front of the registration line. “Do you live in the city?” he asks. “You should join our Pop Culture Olympics team. You’d steamroll everyone.”

You have to be twenty-one to do the Pop Culture Olympics, but I don’t want Will to know how much younger than him I am, so I say, “We’re from upstate, actually. We just came down to do some auditions.”

He nods, and I flatter myself by thinking he might look a little disappointed. But then he turns his attention back to my sister. “Is this your first time at an open call?”

“Mm-hmm,” she says without looking up from her book.

“Have you been to one of these before?” I ask.

“I’ve probably done twenty of them. They’re really good practice.”

“For what?”

“Trying out characters, seeing how believable I can make them. I’m an actor. I mean, I’m in school for it. At NYU.”

“Of course you are,” Miranda mutters under her breath.

“This is the only show I really want to be on, though,” Will continues. “I was so pissed we didn’t get to audition the first time around—they only interviewed the first two hundred teams, and we were number 204. We got there five hours early, but it turned out people had camped out in the parking lot overnight. The line’s a lot shorter this time, ’cause this audition is so last-minute.”

“Wow. Well, I guess it all worked out, right?”

“It certainly did.” Will looks back over at Miranda. “Hey, are you okay? You look nervous. You’re gonna be fine, I promise.”

“I am fine,” she snaps. Her phone starts buzzing in her bag. “I have to take this,” she says. “Save my spot.”

As soon as she’s out of earshot, Will leans toward me. “What’s her deal? Is she always like that?”

I glance at Miranda to make sure she’s not paying attention to us. “Sorry,” I whisper back. “She’s usually really friendly, but she had an awful breakup a couple days ago—she caught the guy cheating the day before they were supposed to move in together. So I guess she’s just bitter toward all guys right now. Her ex was also an actor, so I’m sure that’s not helping, either. Don’t take it personally.”

“Wow,” he says. “That sucks.”

“Yeah. That’s why we’re here, actually—her ex is on the show, and we want to take him down.”

Will’s eyes widen. “Seriously? He’s on this show?”

“Yup.”

He gives a low whistle. “Oh man. You guys have got this audition in the bag.”

“Not necessarily. I’m sure there are tons of really interesting people here.”

“No, I mean … trust me. You’re going to do really well today.”

“Thanks.” I know it makes no sense, since I don’t even know him, but Will’s confidence in us makes me less nervous. We do have an interesting story to tell.

I don’t know where the time has gone, but somehow we’re at the front of the line. Miranda rejoins us as an extremely bored-looking man in a lavender shirt pushes a clipboard toward us across the registration table. “Print and sign your names here,” he says, reciting the words as if he’s said them so many times that they no longer have any meaning.