Meredith picks my laptop up to see for herself. I’ve read the email so many times, I practically have it memorized.
Mr. Dean Parker:
On behalf of TSW Studios, we are thrilled to invite you to be a contestant on the reboot ofForest Feud, the #1 game show in television history.
As you probably are aware,Forest Feudis a beloved reality show where twelve teens compete in high-stakes games and challenges in the Pacific Northwest wilderness for a chance to win one million dollars. This season, each player is a relative of an iconic contestant: six relatives of former winners and six relatives of former losers.
We would be delighted to have you, Vince Parker’s son, join us for filming this summer.
Attached is a media kit and documents for you and your legal guardian to review and sign. Please let us know your decision as soon as possible.
Meredith whips her head at me. “How could you not tell me?”
I grimace, dropping my eyes with shame. We never keep secrets from each other.
Dad throws an arm around my shoulder, pulling me in close. I accidentally inhale decades-old dust embedded in the threads of his shirt. His green eyes are sparkling.
“Can you believe it? The show we watched every week for years. The one your old man almost won.” Pride spills into his words. “You’re going to be onForestFeud.”
Fuck.Fuck. This is exactly why I didn’t tell them.
I open my mouth. I can’t get the words out. Dad pats my back, then the words expel themselves like puke on an Applebee’s carpet.
“I’m not accepting it,” I blurt.
Their jaws fall. Meredith picks hers up faster. “Why the hell not?”
“I… I’m not fast enough, or interesting enough. I’m not the kind of person who should be on TV. I don’t—I’m not like you. Or you.” I look at Dad, then avert my gaze.
You may be thinking,Geez, this guy’s self-esteem sucks. And yes, there’s some truth there, but it’s objectively factual that I’d lose. Sure, I’m smart, and I’ve seen enough game shows that I know the winning strategies well enough. But I don’t have the physical strength necessary to get me very far. Or the charm. I get sweaty on picture day—what the hell would I do in front of a hundredcameras? The truth is I’m weak. If I went on the show, I’d just be letting Dad down. Proving that we’re nothing alike.
It hurts to admit. To acknowledge that I’ve always been good enough, but not great. I’m not the kind of guy who lights up a room when I walk into it. I’m a follower, a floater content with my quiet life and handful of friends from the Lit Happens book club. The opposite of the man Dad was during his time on the show, or the person Meredith is now.
They’re both watching me. I want to scratch the sensation of their eyes off my skin. Dad blinks. He drops his arm and steps back, tugging down his ridiculously tight shirt. Something settles heavily on his shoulders. Disappointment.
“You don’t have to make a decision right away. You might change your mind,” he tries.
“Dad, I really—”
Meredith laughs. “If Dean doesn’t want to do it, I will. A million-dollar prize would be more than enough to fund a move to Portland. Then, you’d have to let me go, right?”
Dad’s thick brows pinch. “Well… did you receive an offer email?”
She pulls her phone out and frantically scrolls. The hope in her face fades. “No. No. Why not? I’m your kid, too. Why didn’t they send me an offer?” Bitterness crests her words. “It’s not fair.”
I stiffen.
The air is thick with tension. Dad clears his throat. “It’s late. How about we all head to bed, and we can discuss this more in the morning?”
There’s nothing more to discuss, but I nod. Meredith purses her lips. Dad leaves awkwardly—thankfully forgetting to be mad at us for sneaking out.
Meredith sucks her teeth. “Thanks. For coming to get me. And for showing me how to sneak in through the back door.” A frail smile twists her mouth. “I think I’ll be using that trick for a while.”
And then she leaves too.
I sink to the carpet with a groan. I was so preoccupied with how much I didn’t want to be on the show that I didn’t consider whether they’d asked Meredith: the much-more-qualified, much-more-TV-friendly version of the two of us. She’s right. Why wouldn’t they reach out to her too? Despite being twins, nothing about our lives has been equal.
Turning back to the email on my laptop, I pick at the skin around my nails and think. It’s not fair, I know it’s not, it never is. I wish I could change that. I’m already leaving her behind. And leaving her with no choice.
