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.