For Real(75)

“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 *, 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.”