Chapter 1 #2
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 of Forest Feud, the #1 game show in television history.
As you probably are aware, Forest Feud is 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 on Forest Feud.”
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 hundred cameras?
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.
… But maybe I can leave her with something.
It’s midnight when I creep downstairs. I’m a night owl. Dad is too. One of the few things we have in common.
The TV is playing quietly from the living room. It’s the only source of light in the otherwise-dark house. I hover near the wall behind where Dad’s sitting in his recliner. The finale of the fifteenth season of Forest Feud is playing. The season he almost won.
The teenage version of my father runs across the screen.
A girl with black hair darts after him. Jungeun Kim.
The other member of Dad’s alliance. Finally, Garrett Moxley—the third member of the famous Final Three, and Forest Feud’s new host—appears.
He’s slow. It never made sense why the two of them didn’t drop him from their alliance.
I would’ve asked why, but Garrett Moxley is a sore subject in this household.
Dad turns the TV off when the three of them get to the last fork in the obstacle course race. Right before Garrett betrayed them and convinced them to go down the left path, when he somehow knew the one on the right was the one that led straight to the finish line.
He never rewatches this part. We both know how the finale ends.
I clear my throat.
“Christ!” Dad jumps, looking back at me. “You almost gave me a heart attack. Why are you up?”
I take a seat on the sofa. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about the invitation.”
There’s a long pause. “I haven’t told you something either.” He takes a deep breath. “The producers of Forest Feud reached out to me about the reboot a few months back. I told them about you, but they couldn’t guarantee you’d be selected, so I kept my mouth shut until I—”
My jaw drops. “You signed me up? What—why didn’t you tell them about Meredith instead?”
“Because this show is our thing.”
I stiffen at the vulnerability in Dad’s strained voice. I’m grateful for the dark so I don’t have to meet his eyes.
Dad sighs. “I shouldn’t have done it without asking you.
I know—I’m sorry. But it just got me excited, imagining you doing the same thing I did at your age.
I…” He laughs lightly, awkwardly. “I had this vision of when you go off to college, and we can’t have our weekly reality show nights anymore, that I could turn on the TV and see you there.
That way, it’d almost be like you’re still around. ”
His words hit me so hard that my gut turns in on itself.
It hurts to leave somebody who doesn’t want to be left alone.
I want to give Dad something, too. I turn my eyes to the ceiling when they start to sting.
I picture Meredith upstairs, snoring loudly in the childhood bedroom she outgrew a long time ago.
“I wanted to talk to you about Mare,” I say.
The recliner squeaks as Dad shifts uncomfortably. He knows what I’m going to say. “A big city like Portland is dangerous, it’s no place for a young girl on her own. I’m just looking out for her.”
Meredith is more than capable of looking out for herself. More than I am, frankly. It’s not fair how differently he treats us, just because one twin came out as a girl. I should tell him that.
But the words get stuck in my throat, as they always do.
In truth, I don’t have the courage to break the safe, comfortable dynamic between me and Dad.
We don’t have a lot. He and Meredith? They share nearly everything: their love for sports, their taste in food, their effortless charm.
But me and Dad? We have trashy reality TV, conversations about Mom, and an unspoken understanding that I’m his easy child.
I’m not the one who pushes his buttons. If I ruin that, what will we have left?
Mom’s long gone, and pretty soon, he’ll be watching reruns by himself.
So, instead, I say, “I’ll go on Forest Feud.”
He pauses. “Really?”
“But only if you let Meredith move to Portland with me. You told her she has to fund the move herself, right? Well, if I win, I’ll use the money to get a place for the both of us out there. What do you say?”
Dad doesn’t respond for so long that I wonder if he got up and left without me noticing. I’m about to reach out blindly and feel around when his recliner squeaks and two meaty arms wrap me in a bear hug.
“Is—” I cough into his shoulder. “Is that a yes?”
He lets go. My vision adjusts enough to make out that he’s smiling. I smile, too, relief washing over me.
“How could I say no? My son. On Forest Feud.” He sniffles. “Wait, hold on, I have something for you.”
He hurries out and is back a few minutes later. Dad flicks on the light and I shield my eyes, blinking until they stop burning. But when I catch sight of the hideous, battered, neon-orange suitcase he’s wheeled in, they start to hurt again.
“This is the exact suitcase I brought to the show. I want you to have it.”
Dad puts the handle of it in my palm and folds my fingers over it like it’s a treasured family heirloom. The handle is oily for some reason.
“It’s, uh…” I clear my throat. “Nice? Thanks, Dad.”
He ruffles my hair, and this time, I don’t really mind that he’s frizzing up the curls.
“I’m so proud of you, Dean.” Dad smiles. “I know you won’t let us down.”
“I won’t,” I reply.
I can’t.