For Real(9)

I raise my hand high in the air. “Ooh, ooh, I know this one.”

Natalie points at me. “Yes, Claire?”

“Because producers love drama.”

“Exactly. And what’s more dramatic than a girl trying to take down her cheating ex on national television?”

“Nothing,” I say. Natalie leans over and high-fives me.

Miranda absentmindedly breaks her muffin into pieces. “It’s not actually a terrible idea. But if I am going to audition—and I’m not saying I will—I’ll need a teammate, right? I guess I could ask Aubrey … she managed to talk the conductor out of kicking us off the Eurostar that time we bought the wrong tickets. Or maybe Vivian would go with me? She’s pretty badass.…”

As Miranda lists her Middlebury friends, my mind starts wandering. I see myself behind the counter of Jojo’s Joe, lonely and friendless, fighting with the perpetually broken espresso machine. And then I imagine myself bonding with my sister—really bonding this time—as we race around the world together, getting revenge on the person who hurt her. If there’s one thing I know inside and out, it’s reality television. I could teach Miranda how to handle the constant presence of the cameramen, how to avoid being manipulated by the producers, how to craft a good sound bite. For once, I’d actually be the leader. Even if we didn’t make it very far on the race, this might show my sister what a competent person I’ve become.

Before I can change my mind, I say, “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“I’ll audition with you.”

My sister’s eyes widen with surprise. “Seriously? You want to audition?”

“I mean, I think I could be helpful. I know a ton about reality TV.”

“Producers love sister teams,” Natalie adds. “Especially ones like you two, ’cause you’re so different from each other. And oh! I could go to New York with you for your audition, since my internship starts a few days later, and we could all stay with my aunt Layla and do New Yorky things! It would be awesome.”

Miranda doesn’t look remotely convinced. “Are you sure you can handle that, Clairie? You can barely even speak in front of strangers.”

Her comment feels like a slap in the face. Maybe that was true when I was eight, but I can’t believe Miranda still sees me that way. Yeah, I’m still shy at parties, but that doesn’t mean I spend my entire life timid and tongue-tied. I’m sure I could survive a few minutes of answering a casting director’s questions, especially if my sister were right next to me. The race itself would be scarier—on this kind of show, pausing even long enough to psych yourself up for something can get you eliminated. But I can tell it’s going to take something drastic to show my sister I’m not a child, and who knows when I’ll have an opportunity like this again?

“I could do it,” I say. My voice comes out a little sharper than I intend.

“I’m not trying to be mean or anything,” Miranda says. “You know I think you’re awesome just as you are. But I don’t want to get all the way to New York City and have you freak out and change your mind at the last second.”

Maybe she’s not trying to be mean, but that still stings. “I don’t back out of things at the last second.”

“Well, sometimes you do. Remember when you were on the bus to sleepaway camp and you made it stop again halfway down the block so you could get off? Or the time you were an eggplant in that school play about nutrition and you refused to go onstage?”

“I was eleven when the camp thing happened, and I was six in that school play!”

“But it’s not like those were the only times, Clairie. I mean, I took you to a party yesterday and you hid outside the whole night, just like you always do. And that’s fine, that’s the kind of person you are. But maybe it means you’re not cut out for this kind of thing. If we actually got on TV, I wouldn’t be able to take care of you. I barely have the energy to take care of myself right now.”

Part of me wants to yell, No one’s asking you to take care of me! But I swallow my frustration, since losing it will only make me seem even more childish. Telling my sister I’ve grown up isn’t going to do anything, anyway. I have to make her see it.

“I’ll definitely be nervous,” I say. “But I’m not going to let you down. It’ll be a stretch for us both, right? I don’t know anything about performing, and you don’t know anything about television. We’ll help each other.”

Miranda takes Natalie’s phone and reads the casting notice. “You’re really serious about this?”

“Absolutely. I’m willing to give it a shot if you are.” I try to look confident as I hold out my hand to her. “What do you think? Want to destroy the douche bag together?”

My sister still doesn’t look convinced. But after a long pause, she reaches out her hand and gives mine a firm shake. “Okay,” she says. “If you think you can do it, we’ll give it a try.”

I grin at her. “You won’t regret this,” I say.

I can only hope I won’t, either.





Two days later, Miranda and I are at the W Hotel in New York City, joining an enormous line of people waiting to audition for Around the World.