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Layana looked up from the script. She crushed her lips into a grim line. Her arctic blue eyes searched my expression, a glassy, unfocused sheen over her irises. She knew what this scene was as much as I did—utter damnation in the eyes of every viewer.
In the skit, I was supposed to try to convince Layana to help me sabotage Glitter. When she refused, shocked by how horrible I was, I would proclaim my hatred for all of the contestants, including Layana, and make clear that I’d sabotage them all. It was over the top. It was stupid. And it made me look like a monster.
“It’s fine,” I told Layana.
“It’s not fine.” Her voice was a hushed whisper, devoid of the energy and enthusiasm that normally filled her speech.
But her fury was coming. I could see it building as her gaze turned to icy daggers.
“It’s not real,” I said. “And I don’t care what people think.”
She balled her fists into the script, crumpling the paper, and pressed her lips into a firm line of determination.
“We will never perform this garbage.” Layana pointed a finger at each person in the production crew.
Gilbert let out an exaggerated sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You signed a contract. You do what you’re told.”
“No,” Layana said.
She was putting her chance at winning on the line for me, for my reputation, when I hadn’t seen fit to fight it myself.
“You don’t have to—” I whispered to her.
“You have nine contestants left on this show. You kick off two of us now, after fans are invested in us, you lose ratings,” Layana said. “And tonight Glitter and I will livestream and spill all the juicy details about the skits and false confessionals.”
Gilbert gritted his teeth. “You. Have. A. Contract. You break the NDA part of it, and you put yourself in legal jeopardy.”
Layana’s lips turned in a cat-like grin.
Oh no, this was bad. Really bad. This was not the hill either of us should die on. It felt like watching a trainwreck in slow motion.
She said, “So sue me.”
Then she took my hand and ushered the pair of us back to set. My ears were ringing.
“You shouldn’t have done that. Why did you do that?” I asked. “Being on this show is—”
“I know. It’s my dream.” She scowled into the distance. “If the cost is the two of us being pitted against each other, it’s time for me to pick a new dream.”
She was really on a roll today in the Morgan-defense game. I hoped she hadn’t screwed things up for herself withWhat the What?, because no matter how shocked she was by what they’d wanted me to say, this fight was not worth the risk. It was just another day for Layana the Brave and Impulsive Badass, and I loved her for it, even if it made me worry for her.
The bright lights flashed to live, signaling our time was up.
Waylen walked out on set, already talking, but everything felt fuzzy and unfocused. I narrowed my eyes on him and tried to figure out what exactly we were going to be doing.
“...interpretive dance competition. Go!”
I stood there, stunned and confused as everyone ran around. What was an interpretive dance competition, and how was I supposed to prepare?
I looked at Layana, who was already busy running around and grabbing gift-wrapped packages hanging from balloons in the air.
“Morgan.” Chester had a look of concern.
“What?”
“Get at least one balloon,” he said.
“Right.” I climbed up onto my table and grabbed the nearest one.
