Three hours later, someone finally calls our number, and Miranda and I struggle to our feet. The production assistant who takes our applications has so much product in his hair that his head is probably a fire hazard, and I have a strong urge to poke at the sculpted curl on his forehead to see if it snaps off. On one side of the private room are a couple of empty folding chairs, and facing them is a small camera flanked by two casting directors. The woman is wearing a leopard-print blouse and shoes, and her arm is tattooed with a formation of flying birds. The guy has one of those incredibly annoying pencil-thin beards. Seriously, just have a beard or don’t.

“Hi,” says the woman. “I’m Charlotte, and this is Jim. We’re in charge of Around the World casting for the Northeast region.” They each extend a hand, and I wonder if this is some kind of test—which hand am I supposed to shake first? My Internet research on auditions said to go straight for the highest-ranked person, but I can’t tell which one that is. While I’m debating what to do, Miranda gives the woman’s hand a firm shake, then approaches the man. I follow her lead, and then I’m immediately furious with myself. I’m supposed to be the one leading today.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Miranda says, her voice totally calm and confident, like she’s done this a hundred times. “I’m Miranda Henderson.”

“And I’m Claire,” I say. “Henderson. I mean, obviously. ’Cause we’re sisters.” I sound so stupid that I want to slap myself in the face.

Charlotte looks less than thrilled by us. “Great. Why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll get started.”

We sit, and I stare into the steady red light of the camera. Oh God, it’s been on this entire time, which means my awkward introduction has been immortalized for posterity. I smile into the lens, as if that’ll somehow undo the damage.

Charlotte flips through our applications. “Miranda and Claire,” she says. “Why don’t you tell us a little bit about why you want to be on our show.”

For a second, Miranda doesn’t say anything, and before I know it, I’m babbling. “Well, Miranda just graduated from Middlebury, up in Vermont, and the other night we were at this graduation party, and her boyfriend—who was a total fame whore, by the way—well, Miranda couldn’t find him, and …”

It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience—half of me is spewing verbal garbage, and the other half is hovering six feet in the air, dying of embarrassment. Last night, I’d made a huge deal to Miranda about keeping our answers succinct in order to make the most of our time with the casting directors. And here I am, not even a minute into our audition, making their eyes glaze over.

Fortunately, Miranda cuts me off. “We’re here for revenge,” she says. Short and sweet; a perfect little sound bite. Maybe she was listening to my instructions after all.

The producers perk right back up. “Revenge?” Charlotte says, making a note on her legal pad. “Revenge on whom, exactly?”

“My cheating ex-boyfriend. Three days ago, I found him in bed with another girl right before we were supposed to move in together.”

“Ouch,” Jim says appreciatively.

Charlotte looks confused. “Sorry, I’m not sure I understand. How will being on Around the World allow you to get revenge on your ex-boyfriend?”

“Well, here’s the thing,” I say. I’m starting to calm down a little, and I want to give this talking thing another shot. “We’re pretty sure you know Miranda’s ex-boyfriend.”

“His name is Samir Singh,” she cuts in before I can screw up the punch line. “He’s a contestant on your show.”

Charlotte’s and Jim’s eyes widen simultaneously, like it’s a choreographed dance. They look at each other behind the camera and exchange a series of barely discernible nods. “Get Keith in here,” Charlotte calls to the production assistant. “He’s going to want to see this.” The PA nods his shellacked head and leaves the room.

When he’s gone, Jim says, “How do you know about Samir’s participation in the race? If he broke the nondisclosure agreement, that’s a serious violation.”

For a second, I’m afraid this might be enough to get Samir kicked off the show—that would be pretty good revenge in and of itself, but nobody would get to see us humiliate him. Fortunately, Miranda just shrugs. “He never explicitly told me anything, but I knew he was auditioning, and now he’s suddenly going to be gone for a month. It doesn’t take a genius to put two and two together.”

This seems to satisfy Jim. “And why did you choose Claire to be your partner for the race?”

I’m about to say, “The whole thing was my idea, actually,” but Miranda chimes in first. “Claire’s completely obsessed with reality TV. You wouldn’t believe how much time she spends watching it, and she remembers everything she sees—she has an amazing mind for trivia. She may not be your typical charismatic contestant, but I think it’ll be good to have a partner with that kind of encyclopedic knowledge.”

That isn’t how I expected her to spin things, and I feel a stab of disappointment. Of course my store of TV trivia will come in handy, but I had hoped Miranda wanted me on the race with her because of who I am, not what I know.

Before I can respond, the PA comes back with a bearded man in a gray suit who’s carrying a cell phone in each hand. “Hold on, okay?” he says into one of them. Then, to Charlotte and Jim: “Make it quick. I’ve got a location scout on hold.”

“Keith,” Charlotte says, “I’d like you to meet Miranda Henderson, Samir Singh’s ex-girlfriend.” She doesn’t introduce me, which seems unfair.

Keith looks Miranda up and down, like she’s a show pony he’s thinking about buying, then turns and addresses Charlotte like we’re not even here. “Our Samir Singh?”

“That’s right.”

“Ex-girlfriend? Not girlfriend?”

“Yes, ex-girlfriend.”

“Recent breakup?”

“Three days ago.”

“Amicable?”

“No.”

“I hate Samir,” Miranda pipes up. “I swear, I’ll do anything to keep him from winning a million dollars.” It’s exactly the right thing to say. I shoot her a smile that says you’re doing great, but she doesn’t seem to notice.

Keith nods slowly. “Love it,” he says to Charlotte. “Good find.” Then he puts one of the phones back to his ear and leaves the room. “Where is the damn permit?” I hear him bark as the door shuts behind him. “The goats are nonnegotiable.”

“Keith Childs, one of our producers,” Charlotte explains.

“He’s a little ray of sunshine,” Jim adds, totally deadpan, and I giggle before I can help myself.

“So, Miranda and Claire, you’ve got a compelling reason for being here,” Charlotte says. “We obviously like your story. But we need to know if you’re serious about the race in addition to the revenge. It’s pretty challenging, both physically and mentally. Are you up for the adventure?”

“Definitely,” Miranda says. “I have tons of travel experience, and I’ve dealt with some pretty crazy stuff abroad. And Claire … well, she tends to play things a little safer, but I’m prepared to help her through and teach her everything I know.”

I feel my face going hot. For a minute, I struggle to think up a response other than I’m the only reason you’re even here. Why are you treating me like I’m five? But I can’t fight with my sister in front of Charlotte and Jim—we have to present a united front or they might think we’re problematic.

I finally find my voice again. “Fortunately, it, um, works both ways,” I say. “I’ve watched a lot of shows like Culture Shock and Supersonic Safari, so I’m the one who understands how the strategy of a race works. I have a lot to teach Miranda, too.” For example, don’t throw your partner under the bus in front of the casting team.

“Well, good,” Jim says. “You’re both bringing unique strengths to the table. That’s important.”

“That’s all we have time for right now, but we’d love to have you fill out some more extensive paperwork,” Charlotte says. “Can you stick around for a little while?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “We’d love to.”

“It was really good to meet you,” Miranda says. “We hope to see more of you soon.”

“Likewise.” Jim shakes our hands, and I pray mine doesn’t feel too sweaty. “Follow Brandon, and he’ll get you sorted out.”

As we follow the flammable PA through the Great Room, Miranda grabs my arm. “That was awesome!” she whispers. “I can’t believe this is actually working! They loved us!”

There are a lot of things I’d like to say to her, like I’m sorry, did you say us? Because you’re acting like you’re the only one here who matters. Supporting Miranda through this will be harder than I expected if this is how she’s going to act the whole time. But I don’t want to bring her down when she seems so happy and determined. So I remind myself that we’re on the same side, that we’re one step closer to reaching the goal we both want. Once we’re on the race, she’ll see how much I have to offer.

“You did great,” I say.

“It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be,” Miranda replies.

I try not to wish she had returned the compliment instead.

* * *

After dinner, Natalie and I sprawl on the couch in her aunt’s guest room and turn on a marathon of Derby Doctors, a show about ER physicians on roller skates. When I reach across her for the Cheez-Its, she grabs my arm and inspects the inside of my wrist. “Is that a phone number?” she asks. “Whose is it?”

I’d entered Will’s number into my phone and scrubbed the pen off the best I could in the hotel bathroom, but I should have known nothing would escape Nat. “Just this boy I met at the audition today.” Even saying it to my best friend makes a blush threaten to creep up my neck.

Natalie’s eyes widen with delight. “You didn’t say anything about boys earlier! Why are you holding out on me? Tell me everything.”

I shrug. “It’s really not that big a deal.”

“Yes it is! We’ve only been out of Braeburn two days and you’re already picking up guys! I knew you had it in you.”

The blush wins. “I didn’t pick him up!”

“Oh, so he picked you up? That’s even better!”

“Nobody picked anybody up! We were standing in line in front of him, and he was playing this trivia game on his phone, and he asked if I wanted to play. That’s all.”

“And you kicked his ass, right?”

I smile. “Five times.”

“That’s my girl. So what’s his name? When are you going out?”

“His name is Will Divine. He was cool, but it was really nothing. I’ll probably never even see him again.”

“How’d he do today? Maybe he’ll be at the next round of auditions.”

“No idea.”

Natalie rolls her eyes. “Well, text him and ask, woman! Why do you think he gave you his number?”

I swallow hard. “You really think I should?”

“You better, or I will.”

Nat lunges for my phone, but I manage to grab it first—there’s no way I’m letting her get involved in this. She’d probably send Will something like, Hey, hot stuff, wanna come over and play strip trivia? No matter who loses, we both win. Instead, I settle on:

ME: Hey, this is Claire from the audition. How’d you guys do today?

The moment I hit send, my heart starts pounding like it’s trying to escape from my chest. But five minutes later, he still hasn’t responded. “I don’t think he wants to talk to me,” I say. “He probably has a girlfriend.”

But then my phone chimes.

WILL DIVINE: Hey! Good, I think. They made us fill out a bunch of paperwork. You?

Natalie squeals, and I shush her—I don’t want Miranda running in here and finding me all fluttery and ridiculous over a boy I barely know. “What do I do, what do I do?” I hiss.

“Act happy, but not too excited. And keep it simple. You don’t want to overwhelm him with your awesomeness this early in the game.”

I roll my eyes and type,

ME: Us too.

Moments later, my phone chimes again.

WILL DIVINE: Told you. I knew you had it in the bag.

Nat puts her hand over her heart and fake-swoons. “He believed in you, right from the very moment he saw you,” she says. “How divine.”

“Oh my God, shut up.” I giggle and shove her with my shoulder. “What now? Do I write back?”

“Type, ‘You were right,’ ” Nat says. “That way you’re saying, ‘You’re so smart’ and ‘Why, yes, I am awesome’ at the same time.”

“You’re really good at this.”

“I know,” Nat says. Modesty has never been one of her strong points.

I type it, and a minute later, Will writes back.

WILL DIVINE: Always am.

ME: Mm-hmm … except when it comes to pop culture trivia …

WILL DIVINE: Ooooh, burn. Just wait. I’m gonna take you down next time.

“Next time!” Natalie bounces up and down on the sofa. “He thinks there’s going to be a next time! He’s totally flirting with you!”

I spend a good five minutes typing and deleting things before I finally send:

ME: I’d rather fight you for a million dollars.

WILL DIVINE: Fingers crossed for both of us …

When I start to respond, Nat stops me. “That’s enough,” she says. “Leave him wanting more.”

She’s probably right. I don’t want to seem needy. So I put down the phone, turn back to the television, and hope that Will’s sitting in his own apartment somewhere, sighing wistfully and counting down the hours until he can see me again.