“Not since I hit puberty.”
She reaches into her bag and pulls out a can. Then she offers it to me.
“It’s up to you, Caden. You can drink it if you want to, but remember, you’re going to have to take your shirt off in front of Juliet at some point, and your body is perfect right now. Do you want to risk losing your physique over one tasty beverage?”
I push down all the thoughts telling me to grab the drink and finish it in one go, and shake my head. “No, you’re right. I’ve worked too hard to ruin it now.”
She beams and puts the Coke back into her bag. “Good choice. So, just to keep you in the loop about what’s happening, right now we’re going to go to your home, the place you’ll live while you’re competing. Oh, and you’ll meet your parents. They aren’t your real parents, but I don’t think you’re dumb enough to think that. Seriously, some Love Interests get so excited, like I’m taking them to their birth parents. It’s totally pathetic. By the way, do you remember your birth parents? I read that some people have memories of their infancy.”
I look down at my hands. My only memories are of foster parents who only pretended to love me because it was necessary for development, then mirrored walls, red-clad guards, and a promise of a better life if I became a good enough liar.
“Well,” she says. “I guess you don’t want to talk about that. That’s fine. Anyway, you’ll meet the people we’ve chosen to be your parents. I didn’t have any control over the mom, but I did pick the dad. Not that that means much, as all the good ones were already taken. So he’s, er, a bit rough. I’d stay away from him as much as possible if I were you.” She glances down at her watch. “Okay, it’s five-thirty now, which means you’ve only got a little bit of time to get ready before school starts. And have a guess who is going to be there.…”
“Jennifer Lawrence? No freaking way!”
She rolls her eyes. “No, unfortunately for you, she’s already been paired. For real, though, Juliet is going to be there. So, on the drive over, I want you to read this.”
She reaches into her shiny gold handbag and pulls out a few sheets of paper that are clamped together by a black clip. I glance at the first page. It’s like a movie script, only my name is in big block letters above some of the dialogue. The page is titled “First Meeting.”
She leans in closer. “This is your script. Obviously, I can’t predict exactly what Juliet is going to say, but I’ve studied her for a while and I can make a pretty informed guess. Just make sure you keep the idea of each line and tailor it to what she says. Hit all the right beats and you’ll be fine. Craike told me you showed him in your interview how great an actor you are. Now is the time to use those skills. You’ll need them.”
I flick through the pages, quickly counting ten. Each one is full to the margins with script. There’s only one page for our first meeting, but there are others for things like first date and first kiss.
“So it’s all fake?”
“There’s no such thing as fake. As much as it sucks to admit sometimes, everything that exists actually exists and everything that happens actually happens. Do I look fake to you? Does the paper you’re holding not feel solid? This is real. It’s just unusual. Think of it like a great romance. People in those never come together in the way they expect. All this stuff with the LIC and me and everything could be the setup for your kick-ass love story.”
Yeah, because manipulative liars make great partners.
She gasps. Oh crap, she heard me.
“Sorry,” I say. “I just thought I’d get to talk to her with my own words.”
“There’s plenty of time for that. But, trust me, a good first impression can often be the difference between winning and losing. Speaking of, when you’re out there, I want you to always keep your eyes on the prize. The contest will be called when it becomes clear that she’s chosen one of you as her partner. Basically, as soon as she declares her love for one of you in a big, meaningful way, it’s over, and the rejected Love Interest will be removed. Sorry, I got off topic. What was I talking about?”
“First impressions.”
“Ah, yes. You need to make sure in the first second she sees you that you present yourself as a viable romantic option. Screw it up and you’ll be constantly fighting an uphill battle to make her view you as someone she could love. Now, you need to get your backstory right.”
“My backstory?”
She rolls her eyes and lets out a long sigh. “Yes, Caden, your backstory. You can’t tell her you’re from the LIC, can you? When Juliet was a child, shortly after she aced her Mensa test, a plant was placed in her school. Wait, you know what a plant is, right?”
I shake my head. I have a pretty good idea what a plant is, but I’d like to hear what Kaylee has to say about them.
“They’re nothing special,” she continues. “They’re just kids who are particularly good at acting. We send them out for a while, and then they come back to the LIC. When they grow up, they become Love Interests, just like you. Anyway, this plant and Juliet became best friends, but then his nice, gentle father died in a boating accident and they had to move away. It was so tragic. You are that boy, returned to her after all these years. And don’t worry, the plant was homeschooled, so the only people you need to keep continuity with are Juliet and her parents. Anyway, today, at school, you get to surprise her by showing up out of nowhere.” She taps the script on my lap. “Which leads to this scene.”
“So this plant’s name, it was Caden, right?”
“Yeah, it was.”
Not even my name is really mine.
I turn and look out the window, trying as hard as I can to get rid of that thought before it inflicts even more damage. All I am is a Love Interest. Without that, I’m not even worth a name. “What happened to the other Caden?”
“Oh, it’s kind of funny—you’ve actually already met him! He was the Nice you went up against in the final round. To be honest, I’m glad Craike picked you—that guy was so smug. But that doesn’t even matter. You’re the real Caden now, so stop talking and start reading. I need your performance to be perfect. And, well, you need it to be perfect as well, obviously. Have you seen what they did to Dylan? He’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I’m telling you, a guy would have to be very nice to make me forget about him.”
Her words linger. You’re the real Caden now. She’s kind of right, and it fills me with something like confidence. Unlike my time at the LIC, where what they wanted from me was kind of vague, I now know exactly what I need to do to survive. I need to become Caden, a sweet, funny Nice guy, and I need to make Juliet fall for me.
It’s what I have to do.
* * *
The limo pulls to a stop in front of a white house. It’s made of wood and is probably best described as quaint, but that’s putting it charitably. It has two roofs—a peaked one that covers the porch and a second, higher one. The plain wooden front door leads to a small, sun-bleached porch enclosed by a white railing. A lot of the paint has chipped away, revealing the dark wood beneath. The front yard is filled with weeds, and the plastic garbage bin that sits on the curb is overflowing.
Kaylee stands in front of the house beaming, proudly presenting it with a flourish of her hands. “Whaddaya think?”
I cross my arms. It looks like a gust of wind could blow it over. Or crack it apart. I want to tell her how shit it is, but I know I can’t.
“It’s, well, a fixer-upper. But that’s cool! It’s a nice break from living in a spaceship. It feels more real, you know?”
She blinks slowly. “Don’t play Nice with me, Caden. I’ve been inside your head and I know you’re not the boy you pretend to be. You have no idea how much effort it takes to make a house look this awful, and I want credit for all my work. I did it because it’ll make you seem endearing to Juliet. Your parents are already in there. Well, the woman is pretending to be your biological mom and the man is your stepdad. Don’t mess that up, because Juliet will obviously remember
the accident that killed your dad and it’d be almost impossible to recover from a slipup that big. Oh, another thing: don’t try getting close to them, they’re pretty messed up. Remember, they’re people who were deemed unfit to be Love Interests, so they had their, um, minds refreshed. Unfortunately, we haven’t perfected the process, and they’re always a little … Well, you’ll see. And, on top of all that, they never got the chance to meet their soul mates, so it makes sense that they’re pretty broken.”
Soul mates? Is she serious? A Love Interest would never think that their Chosen is their soul mate. We may be perfect for her, or at least we can act like we are, but the relationship is always skewed in her favor. A Chosen is never tested to see if a Love Interest will fall for him or her. It’s always the other way around.
“Are you even listening, Caden?” she says, pulling me from my thoughts. “This is important. Now they pose as the parents of new hopefuls like you. But they’re grieving, remember that. They lost the only person they’ll ever love. Because of that, some of them can be downright nasty. Obviously not around your Chosen, but when it’s just you, it’d be wise to keep your wits about you. I can’t stress that enough.”
“Hearing you loud and clear.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
We clamber out of the limo into the warm sunlight. I take in a deep breath through my nostrils. A pair of chirping sparrows fly past the house and over a yellow pickup truck.
I touch the sun-warmed metal of the truck. Kaylee reaches into her pocket and produces a key ring. She tosses it to me and I catch it with one hand.
No freaking way.
“Is this mine?”
My enthusiasm is reflected in her grin. “It sure is! Are you a good driver?”
“I’m the worst! But who cares?”
“Well, start practicing. Girls like boys who can drive.”
I stare at the truck. This is mine. “Thanks so much, Kaylee. Really.”
I actually mean it.
Kaylee leans against the hood of the limo. “You’re such a boy sometimes. Well, Caden, this is it for now. I’ll be in contact, though.” She pulls me into a hug. After patting my back once, she moves away, but keeps hanging on to my biceps. “Good luck today. I’m rooting for you, and not just so I can show Judy who’s the best coach. Remember that I’m on your side whenever things get tough, all right?”
“Sure.”
She rubs my right bicep with one hand, then lets go. “Oh, and one last thing. We’ll be able to communicate via your implant most of the time, but if I don’t answer, you can contact me on this number.” She reaches into her bag, pulls out a white business card, then hands it to me. Her number is etched into it in shiny silver ink. I move it from side to side, marveling at the shine. “But only contact me in a real emergency, okay? I have a life, remember.”
“Noted.”
She nods once, then walks back to the limo. As the door slams, I spin around and make my way up to the house. I reach the door and rap my knuckles on it. Okay, Caden, guard up, Nice face on.
The door swings open, revealing a woman in her late thirties. She’s very good-looking, with an angular face and remarkably pale-blue eyes. She’s easy to look at in a model-like, appreciate-from-afar kind of way, but she’s not someone who actually turns me on. She’s too stern-looking and, quite frankly, too old for that.
“You must be Caden,” she says, her voice flat.
“That’s me!”
“Well, welcome to this old shithole.” I look past her and inspect the place. It’s obviously past its prime. The TV that sits in front of a faded maroon couch is square and bulky, an antique, really. The kitchen is cramped and cluttered with plates covered in crusted-on food.
“Why couldn’t you have been a Bad?” she asks. “They always get mansions. And now, because of you, I’m stuck in this dump.”
I look past her, taking the place in. “I’m sorry that you don’t like it here, but it’s not so bad, is it? I think it’s kind of charming.”
She narrows her eyes and fans her fingers through her knotty hair. “So that’s how this is going to be?” She lets out a weary sigh. “Fine. Your room is up the stairs and down the hall. Don’t make any noise, I’m watching Judge Judy.”
She walks back to the couch and slumps down.
I step over a pile of rank-smelling clothes into a small room with a tight staircase. I climb it. At the top is a long hallway with three doors: two bedrooms and one bathroom. My guess is that my room is the one opposite the bathroom at the far end of the hall. The prospect of it being my room makes me smile. This is my house. It’s not much, but it’s mine. Just to be sure, I gently push open the door of the room closest to the staircase and peer inside. It’s trashed, the floor covered in dirty, crumpled clothes, moldy pizza boxes, and other garbage.
In the middle of the mess, on the bed, is a great bear of a man. He obviously used to be Bad: even asleep, his face is set into a snarl. He’s shirtless, and his chest is huge, taking up a massive portion of the double bed. He moans, and I quickly but quietly close the door. If a man like that saw me staring at him while he was asleep, it wouldn’t end well for me.
I reach my room and pause. This is it. The moment I’ve dreamed about forever. No matter what it looks like, this room has to be better than my cell.
I swing the door open. It’s surprisingly plain. A simple metal bed frame with a single mattress covered in a navy sheet is jammed into the far corner of the room. A white desk is pressed against the opposite wall, and a wooden chest of drawers is tucked into the corner. The walls are bare but, thankfully, plaster, not mirrors. There’s one mirror in the room, a freestanding antique in the far corner, but I can spin that around if I want. And then I’ll finally be able to sleep without having to look at myself!
I walk to the window and push it open. Outside is a small stretch of brown-tiled roof, then there’s the porch, the front yard, and the road. Beyond that is an overgrown paddock surrounded by a barbwire fence. A black cow raises its head and looks in my direction, its jaw bobbing up and down as it chews.
This is my view! Every morning when I wake up, this is what I’ll see. Because this is my room! It’s basic, sure, but it’s clearly not a cell. It’s a normal person’s bedroom, and it’s all mine. I can put posters on the walls! They’d probably have to be approved or something, but I can’t think of any reason why Kaylee would say no to that request.
I turn back and look at the desk. Beside the computer is a stack of beaten paperbacks, obviously taken from the LIC’s library. I actually miss going there. It wasn’t a full library or anything, as the collection was strictly regulated, featuring the bare minimum required to let us pass as regular teenagers. Still, there was a lot of good stuff there if you knew how to look for it. The sci-fi and fantasy section was particularly good, probably because our learning about Narnia or whatever was much safer for them than our learning about the real world.
I smile as I pick up the first book, a copy of The Martian I’ve read at least five times. I go through the pile and find a lot of the books I found refuge in when things got bad at the LIC: Ready Player One, Neuromancer, and Dune. These books helped me get through some pretty terrible stuff, and it’s only now that I’m out that I’ve realized how attached to them I am. They’re all a part of me, and these copies, the exact ones I read at the LIC, are the copies I want on my shelf for the rest of my life.
Caden, can you hear me?
Sure can. And Kaylee, thanks for the books. They’re … They mean a lot to me.
I know! You told me you like sci-fi, and I keep track of these things.
Still, I think you should take them back. I’m out now, so I don’t need them as much as the guys who are still there. Yeah, you should definitely take them back.
Nonsense, Caden. If you care that much, I’ll make sure there are new copies for the library. But those books are yours now. Anyway, what do you think of the place?
I glance around my room. I freakin
g love it.
That’s great! Now, your school uniform is in the closet. Shower, shave, and get yourself ready. Have you memorized the script?
Not yet, but I’m working on it.
Good. Now get ready. Make yourself pretty for your girl!
I open the closet, revealing a chest of drawers and silver coat hangers. Hanging from them are five short-sleeved white shirts with a navy logo in the middle. Then there’s an assortment of button-downs, some plain and therefore wearable, but there’s a lot of plaid. Oh my God, so much plaid. Next are two suit jackets, one black, one navy. Finally, there’s a black cotton T-shirt with a familiar green label on the chest.
Starbucks? What’s that doing here?
Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, I got you a job. How good are you at making coffee?
Um, I’m probably the worst coffee maker in history. I’ve never tried! I didn’t even think to learn, but obviously I should’ve. I …
Don’t stress, Caden. It doesn’t matter that much. I got your “mom” to act like a concerned parent who wants to give you a reason to get out of the house after school. The manager there’s a good guy, so he’s given you a few trial shifts. Most important, Juliet goes there every single day after school, so you’ll get a lot of extra time with her. Also, it’ll make you seem responsible, which is a big thing for Nices. Your first shift is tonight. But aside from that, what do you think of the rest of the clothes? I tried to pick things I thought you’d like.
I run my hands through the clothes. Not one item is sky blue. I’m not sure how she knows me well enough to guess what kind of clothes I like to wear, or why she thinks I’m plaid’s biggest fan, but I’m grateful Kaylee took the time to say something nice. If she likes me, maybe she’ll put more effort into keeping me alive.
They’re great. Thanks so much.
No worries. Now get dressed like a big boy; I’m sure you can figure out the school uniform. I’m out!
I pull a short-sleeved dress shirt from its hanger, and then grab a white undershirt and a pair of long gray slacks. I take a pair of undies, gray Calvin Kleins with a white waistband, from the pile and make my way out into the hall.
The Love Interest Page 5