Oh, I’m thinking a lot of things. Why the producers didn’t cast us doesn’t even crack the top twenty. In fact, Yumi and I not getting cast on an all-couples season ofTheAdventureverseis the only thing that actually makes sense right now.
“To be honest,” Aliona plows on, “it’s just business. Who will garner more views, that’s the primary focus. And let’s just say, if a couple has over ten million followers across platforms—”
Yumi hits the mute button, her face tight. “Your dad is really sick?” she asks again.
“Yes,” I say, unable to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “I’ll take you to see for yourself after this call, if you want.”
She pauses for a moment, then nods and unmutes the call.
“—we couldn’t pass up that opportunity for viewership growth, but as far as on-camera fireworks? You girls haveit.”
There are fireworks all right. And they’re exploding behind my eyes as Yumi shakes her head at me like a warning. Like this is my fault, somehow.
“We think you’d be a perfect fit. The only hitch is, of course, that the season starts in two days,” Aliona says, oblivious to the rising tension on our side of the phone call. “So, while we hate to rush you, we’re going to need an answer within the next hour.”
“Hour?” I squeak. An hour? What kind of maniac gives someone an hour to make such a big decision? The snarky part of my brain replies,The kind of maniac who knows there are thousands of people out there who will say yes if you don’t.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I know it’s short notice and you probably have plans—”
Of course I have plans. It’s the last summer before college. I have orientation. Dad and I were supposed to drive up to Sedona. Not to mention, Yumi and Iaren’t dating.
“But even if you don’t win, it’s a free vacation. We can’t send the eliminated teams home until shooting wraps, for fear of the boot order leaking. So even the first team out gets a month at an all-inclusive luxury resort. Lounging by the pool with free food, frozen margaritas, and snorkeling excursions might not be a million dollars, but it isn’t a bad gig.”
“We’re only eighteen, we can’t drink,” Yumi tells her.
“Not in the US, but drinking ages are different overseas,” Aliona says, so quickly that I’m sure she’s used this line to convince applicants before. “Anyway, we’d love to have you on. As you know, reality TV stardom can open a lot of doors, and not just financially. There are sponsorships, spots on other shows, connections. It’s once-in-a-lifetime.”
Yumi scrubs a hand over her face in frustration. I’m right there with her.
“Take some time to think about it, but not too much time. If I don’t hear back within the next hour, I’ll be reaching out to other candidates. To be clear, we want you, but we don’tneedyou. Opportunity never knocks twice at any one door. Do you have any questions for me, girls?”
I’m beginning to hate the wordgirls.
“No, I don’t think so,” Yumi answers professionally. “Thank you so much for considering us. We’ll have an answer for you soon. Take care!”
“Talk to you soon, girls,” Aliona says.
The call ends, and I immediately throw up.
Yumi is unsurprised, offering me the Solo cup I forgot she even had. It hovers at the edge of my vision, and though it is the nicest thing she’s done for me in a long time, I don’t know how much Norris basement jungle juice is going to help right now.
Reading my mind, she says, “It’s Gatorade.”
I take it, swishing the salty-sweet sports drink around a few times before spitting it out. As I swallow the next sip, I close my eyes and try to breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
Anxiety vomiting is probably one of humanity’s more charming adaptations, right up there with pet allergies and lactose intolerance. I don’t know when my body first decided throwing up was a reasonable response to stress, but it’s where we are now. Once, during outdoor phys ed, I made a sudden break for the grass under the bleachers (I had a presentation in AP Lit later that day), and when a concerned classmate reported my condition to our gym teacher, he said, “Oh yeah, Noelle just does that sometimes.”
I use the edge of my sandal to brush a pile of gravel over the mess I’ve created in Taylor’s backyard, shaking free of the tiny rocks that try to settle beneath my foot. Crouching next to the bench, I grip the edge, alternating between rocking back away from it and pulling myself forward onto it. I never could sit still, something that only gets worse when I’m anxious.
I feel the clock ticking, Yumi’s presence like an Indiana Jones–style trap wall closing in on me. My dad, medical bills paid off. My dad, alone on the couch while I gallivant around the globe.TheAdventureverse, “sapphic.” I’ve gotta get my mind right and figure this out. I can feel things about it later.
Body language experts would have something to say about the way I shake my head no as I say, “I still want to do it.”
She balks. “Have you lost your mind? It’s an all-couples season. I feel like you didn’t hear that part. Couples. Something we are not.”
I lean back as far as I can before my hands start to slip on the stone. “But—”
“No!” Yumi interrupts. “No, there isn’t a but. We aren’t a couple.We cannot compete on an all-couples season. What’s not clicking?”
