For about five seconds, there’s dead silence. Then Zora says, “I’m sorry, what? You want us to date each other?”

Yup. That pretty much covers it.

As if her outburst has given the rest of us permission to speak, a chorus of heated, whispered conversations breaks out all around us. Miranda grips my arm hard enough to bruise, and I can feel that she’s trembling. “Did you know about this?” she hisses.

“Are you kidding? Of course not! Do you seriously think I’d bring you on a dating show now? Do you think I’d audition for one ever?”

“Oh my God.” Miranda rakes her fingers through her hair. “I can’t do this, Claire. This isn’t what I signed up for. Can we quit? What does our contract say? I skimmed over all those parts with the tiny type. Why didn’t I read the whole thing? You’re always supposed to read the whole thing! Do you think it said something about this?”

“I don’t know,” I say, and my voice sounds like it’s coming from very far away. My sister’s rare display of panic feeds my anxiety, and the whole world suddenly starts tilting beneath me. I struggle to come up with something reassuring to say, but I can’t think of a single good thing about this situation. My sister may have to cozy up to the person she hates most in the world. And I, at the age of eighteen, have to go on my first few real dates with total strangers, some of whom are Vegas strippers, in foreign countries, on national television. This might actually be my worst nightmare.

We didn’t rock the auditions. I didn’t impress the casting team with my theory about reality TV being a great equalizer. Miranda’s here because the producers want drama, teeth and claws and screaming fights, and maybe, if they’re lucky, a dramatic, sappy reconciliation between her and Samir. And I’m here because I’m awkward and inexperienced and totally ridiculous in this context. I’m the one they’ll underscore with sad tuba noises.

I am on this show for comic relief.

I taste acid at the back of my throat, and for a moment I’m sure I’m going to be sick. In a desperate attempt to distract myself, I look around the circle to see how the other teams are reacting. The African American stripper shouts out, “Hells yeah!” and high-fives the blond one, and the sorority girls giggle in unison. The geeky guys are whispering heatedly, and I catch the words “boobs” and “terrifying” and “never even had a girlfriend,” which makes me feel a little better. I seek out Will’s eyes, expecting to see my shock and dismay reflected there, but he looks infuriatingly calm. Did he guess the twist from the auditions somehow? Maybe all the signs were there, and I missed them. How could I have been so stupid?

Isis’s soothing voice cuts through the chaos. “I know this is an unexpected development,” she says, somehow managing to convey sympathy, superiority, and rabid excitement all at once. “But if everyone could calm down, I’d love to tell you more about our show. That’s not the last exciting surprise I have in store for you today!” If this is what all her “exciting surprises” are like, I don’t want to hear any more, but I don’t think I have a choice.

“First of all,” Isis says when everyone has quieted, “please turn and look at your partners.”

We do, and my stomach twists at the scared-rabbit look in my sister’s eyes. I want to be strong for her, to promise her we can still take down Samir, but I’m not sure I have any leftover strength to give. As Miranda stares back at me, her face softens a little, and I realize I must look as bad as she does. At least we’re in this together.

“Now say good-bye,” Isis instructs. “The person you’re looking at right now will not be your partner as you race around the world.”

I try to shout “What?” but all that comes out of my mouth is a breath. Across the circle, one of the strippers says, “Later, bro,” totally impassive. Aidan mutters, “Seriously?”

Isis produces two pink silk pouches embroidered with the heart-map logo and the labels GIRLS and GUYS. “All teams will be composed of one girl and one guy,” she explains. “I’ll be randomly selecting your dates for the first leg of the race. At each check-in point, there will be a Proposal Ceremony, during which you will choose your own dates for the next leg in the order you arrived. We have some seriously steamy challenges in store for you, so look around and pick out the racers you think are hottest. You’ll want to race quickly so you can snatch them up before someone else does! There will also be special prizes awarded throughout the race for making sparks fly! Let’s get started—are you ready to meet your first dates?”

The strippers and the sorority girls cheer. “This is the worst thing ever,” Miranda whispers. “What if I get Samir?” She sounds like she’s going to cry.

“Odds are you won’t, right? And it’s not like you guys are going to pick each other at the Proposal Ceremonies, so you’ll be safe after today.” I grab her hand. “Listen, no matter who they pair us with, I’m still going to help you take him down. That’s the reason we’re here, and we’re always going to be a team, okay?” Miranda nods, but she doesn’t look reassured.

Isis reaches into her silk pouches and pulls out the first two names. “Claire?” she calls out, and I hold up my hand to identify myself. “Your partner for this leg of the race is … Will.”

Oh.

Oh.

The tight coil of fear in my stomach hatches into a swarm of butterflies on speed. I can feel my cheeks turning bright red as I think about doing “seriously steamy challenges” with Will Divine, and the fact that there are at least four cameras pointed at me doesn’t help the situation. I feel a little light-headed—maybe all those butterflies are clogging up my brain stem. I bite my lip and look down so millions of viewers won’t see the terrified excitement in my eyes.

“Please come stand next to your new partner, Claire,” Isis says.

I give Miranda a quick hug and whisper, “Good luck, Mira,” and then I walk across the circle to Will, feeling my sister’s gaze on my back.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Will says with a smile when I reach him, and I look up into those piercing eyes. He seems like he’s pleased that I’m his partner, but maybe I’m just seeing what I want to see. If there really are going to be intimate challenges, he probably wishes he’d gotten one of the hot sorority girls. Or maybe Zora, with her edgy blue streaks, or statuesque Janine. Suddenly, my Team Revenge T-shirt seems childish and ridiculous.

“Isn’t this insane?” I whisper. “My sister is going to kill me. I’m the one who roped her into auditioning, and now she’s on a dating show with her ex. I feel awful.”

“Maybe running away from him will give her incentive to race harder,” he says. The adorable dimple in his right cheek peeks out at me, and I know that if it means keeping him as my “date,” I’ll race pretty hard myself.

While we’ve been talking, divorcée Jada has been paired with Will’s friend Lou, and the blond sorority girl, Philadelphia, has been paired with Blake, the blond stripper. When Isis reaches into her bag again and pulls out my sister’s name, I cross all my fingers and toes and pray she won’t be matched with Samir. “Miranda, your partner for this leg of the race is … Aidan,” she says. I let out my breath in a thankful rush as she moves to stand beside him, looking relieved.

The other stripper, Troy, whose dark skin is covered in geometric tattoos, is paired with cheating Janine. Vanessa, the other sorority girl, gets Steve, one of the nerds, and she stands a little apart from him, like the desire to attend Comic Con might be contagious. Samir is paired with Tawny. That leaves blue-streaked Zora to partner with Martin, the one I heard whispering about never having had a girlfriend. She’s a good six inches shorter than he is, but she looks very intimidating; when they stand together, he crumples in on himself so much that she looks taller. The thought of the two of them doing sexy challenges together makes me cringe.

When we’re all paired up, the cameras turn off for a minute while Chuck assigns us our crew people. For each leg of the race, each team will have a different camera operator and sound person, and we’re not allowed to go anywhere they can’t follow us, except to the bathroom. Today, our camera guy is Greg, who has an impressive mustache that curls up at the ends, and our sound person is a skinny, freckled guy named Terry. They look at me like I’m nuts when I ask them if they’re excited about the race, and I realize that for them, this is just another normal day.

Isis walks around the semicircle and hands each team a long pink envelope embossed with the show’s logo and sealed with Velcro. Then the cameras turn back on, and Isis says, “You each have your first instruction envelopes. Inside are your directions about where to travel first. As soon as I tell you to begin, you may open them and start racing. Who knows where in the world you’ll find your soul mate?”

“You want to open it, or should I?” whispers Will.

“I’ll do it,” I say.

“May the forces of love and luck be with you. Ready … set … race!” Isis shouts, and the sound of ripping Velcro fills the air.

“Read the instructions out loud,” Greg says, sticking his lens right in my face.

“ ‘Drive yourselves to Los Angeles International Airport in one of the cars provided and fly to Surabaya, on the island of Java,’ ” I read, my voice trembling a little with nervous excitement. “ ‘Once there, make your way by cab to Alun Alun Stadium, where you will receive your next instructions.’ ” There’s a wad of cash in the envelope, which I tuck into my pack with my passport. I guess we’re supposed to use it to pay cabdrivers.

“Java?” Will says. “Seriously? This is awesome. Let’s go!” He high-fives me, and we turn and sprint for our packs. As nervous as I am about the unknown challenges ahead of me and about being separated from Miranda, there’s another part of me that’s sparking with excitement.

The race has begun, and we’re off.

Except, as it turns out, we’re not. When we’re halfway to the stadium doors, heavy packs bouncing and jostling against our backs, Chuck raises a megaphone (where did that even come from?) and calls us back to the starting line. Some of the camera operators didn’t get the shots they needed, so we’re told to reseal our envelopes and enact the whole scene again. I guess this explains the Velcro. Isis repeats her cheesy tagline like she’s never said it before, and we rip into our envelopes with feigned hungry curiosity. Will reads our instructions aloud this time, and then we sprint for our backpacks … only to be called back a second time. If this is what racing around the world on television is going to be like, we might never make it as far as the airport.

The fourth time is the charm. I’m jogging along halfheartedly when Martin and Zora sprint past us, followed by Troy and Janine. Only then do I realize this time is the real deal. “Oh my God, go go go!” I scream to Will, and we fly out the exit and run toward a row of waiting black cars with heart-map decals on the windows. Will hops into the driver’s seat, but when I move to get in next to him, Greg tells me I need to sit in back so he can film both our faces. The sound guy crams in beside me.

“I don’t know where the airport is,” Will says to me. He does a quick search for a GPS, but of course there isn’t one in the car. “Do you have a map of LA?”

“Yup.” Miranda and I bought a bunch of maps in preparation for the show, and I pull open my pack, proud of myself for being so prepared … until I realize that map ended up in my sister’s bag. “Crap,” I say. “You didn’t bring one?”

“It’s in Lou’s stuff.” Will rattles off a string of words that will definitely need to be bleeped out.

Miranda’s coming out of the stadium now, and she slides into the driver’s seat of the car at the end of the row. “There’s my sister,” I tell Will. “Follow her, okay?”

“Good call.” Will pulls out of the parking lot behind Miranda. When she looks back to check her blind spot, I try to wave at her, but I’m pretty sure Aidan’s head is blocking her view. She’s smiling at something he said, and for a minute I want to be in that car with her so badly it hurts.

And then Will says, “I’m so glad I got you for this first leg. Can you imagine being paired with one of the sorority girls?” He catches my gaze in the rearview mirror, and those eyes make my brain feel like a Cadbury Creme Egg that’s been sitting in the sun too long.

“Hey, just be glad both strippers are guys, so you’ll never have to be with them,” I say.

“I don’t know. On a show like this, a certain willingness to take off your clothes could actually be an asset.”

“There are other ways to get what you want,” I say. I have no idea what I’m even talking about, but it sounds pretty good.

Will quirks an eyebrow at me. “I’m sure you know all kinds of tricks. We’re going to kick some ass together, Claire Henderson.”

I grin back at him, and when my sister’s car pulls onto the highway and accelerates away from us, I’m surprisingly willing to let her go.