Erika glared, any prospect of victory evaporating without our help. “You’ll unclip the second I say so?”
“Scout’s honor,” I agreed. “Now, we’ve got a flight to catch.”
48
2015
SEASON 20, EPISODE 11:
“… And Start Getting Real”
Greta provided us bright red snowsuits before we boarded the chopper, but the imminent cold was nothing compared to Erika’s demeanor. “It makes me sick thinking how many excuses I made for you,” she grumbled, tugging the zipper up her chest. “All the shit you’ve been complicit in, and I just swept it under the rug because I feltsorryfor you. I don’t care what whitewashed narrative the network tries to force down people’s throats, I’ll be giving my unvarnished opinion of you to every journalist and podcast that will have me.”
“That is entirely your right,” I said, fully meaning it. “I’ll never contradict you.”
“PB was right. You truly can’t find anything better to do with your life than this show. It’s honestly pitiful.”
“Erika, stop,” Imogen said. “You might hate Luke, but I promise you can trust him. And you know you can trust me, so let’s please just get through today?”
“I don’t owe either of you anything,” Erika snapped.
“Actually, you do,” Greta remarked from the sidelines. “Imogen, at least.”
Imogen’s eyes narrowed. “Greta, don’t.”
“What? She should know why you came back here after your divorce.”
“Excuse me?” Erika asked.
“The network never wanted to cast you, but Imogen baked it into her deal—which she has done every season since.”
“Why didn’t they want me?” Erika demanded. “Because I was trans? More stupid bullshit about how to categorize me for the Trials?”
“They were afraid of reminding viewers about your brother,” Greta replied, not unkindly.
Erika froze then, all the wind knocked out of her. “How could you not tell—”
“I never wanted you to doubt you deserved to be here,” Imogen said.
“But why keep coming back for me?”
Imogen held her gaze. “I guess I didn’t have anything better to do with my life.”
A chastened Erika followed Greta toward the helicopter, cooperating for now.
“It was good of you, to do that for her,” I said to Imogen as she finished lacing her boots.
She inhaled, something twisting behind her eyes. “I did it because someone did the same for me. Forus.”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it, Luke. How would a Black girl who lasted three episodes onMedals of Honorand a gay guy with no TV experience get cast on a Battle of the Reality Superstars?”
My lips parted, but I struggled to even say his name. “Arjun?”
“Mary Peach told me after he died. He wanted someone on his team who was strong. Apparently that was me. And he wanted someone he could trust. Which was you,” she said. “He thought we’d gotten raw deals, so he made the network cast us. Fresh start.”
I thought back to the airport, how excited he’d been, as if we were the friends he’d been waiting on for longer than we’d known. “Why didn’t he tell us?”
