Chapter 6 Word Vomit
Word Vomit
It’s summer, so we’re on Pacific Daylight Time (don’t ask, Arizona time zones are weird).
Because it’s nine at night, both here and in California, I’m fully intending to leave a Sorry for the late response, please call us back in the morning voicemail.
What I don’t expect is for a woman to actually pick up.
“This is Aliona,” she declares in the voice of someone who balances checkbooks in their free time and straightens stacks of paper for fun.
I look at Yumi. She looks at me. I don’t think either of us anticipated a conversation.
“Hi, Aliona,” I manage to say, though my body is crackling with nerves. “This is Noelle Breland?”
“And Yumi Panganiban,” Yumi chimes in, suddenly upbeat and familiar. It cuts straight to my heart, knowing her flat affect was a switch she flipped on just for me. I put that knowledge aside and try to focus on why we’re here. My dad, my dad, my dad.
“Girls!” The word melts like butter, spreading and expanding in a slightly ominous way. “I was beginning to think you weren’t interested! You’re lucky I haven’t contacted any other teams yet. Give me one moment to pull up your application.”
Though I’ve only spoken six words to this woman, the breakneck efficiency in her tone makes me feel like I’ve already signed a contract and boarded a plane.
The timer on Yumi’s phone screen says it’s been fifteen seconds since the call began, but I drink in the deep breath of an endurance athlete.
Yumi’s brow furrows at the sound. In the other timeline, she reaches across the bench and takes my hand. In this one, she looks away.
“Ah, here we go,” Aliona says, her keyboard clicking in the background. “First things first, you’re both eighteen, correct?”
“Yes,” Yumi answers, smiling pleasantly down at the phone. That’s good. She’s always had a smile you could hear, and I want Aliona to hear it.
“Great. And I see you describe yourselves as superfans, which we love to see. Superfans historically do very well, but I bet I don’t have to tell you that, huh?”
Thank God. Talking about The Adventureverse immediately puts me at ease. “Yeah, kind of. But only…” I trail off, my eyes flicking around as I count. “Three superfan teams have actually won.”
Even Aliona’s laughter is efficient. “Yes, I love it. Bring this energy to the show and you’ll definitely be fan favorites.
But let me back up real quick and start at the beginning.
Jonathan St. Pierre, our host—” Because it’s so laughable to think we might require an explanation of who JSP is, I instinctively smirk at Yumi.
I’m expecting her to be smirking right back, but she just stares resolutely at the black screen.
“—proposed to his partner last month. We’re going to re-create the proposal at the starting line on Monday. ”
My head reels at the fact that The Adventureverse is starting this Monday and I could be on it. It’s like pulling back the curtain on my favorite play and seeing all the actors taking their places.
“The itinerary is incredible, and we have an amazing cast. And, of course, the two million dollars. I don’t want to give too much away, but I truly think this is going to be our best season yet.”
I don’t believe her. The Adventureverse says that every season. Our best season yet! might as well be their tagline, given how often they trot the phrase out for promo. Real fans know that nothing will ever top The Adventureverse: All Stars.
“We loved the chemistry in your audition, and everyone in production agreed that you’d be a perfect addition to round out the cast. While we did initially go with a different queer female couple—”
Wait. What? What?
My head swivels, cheeks heating and mouth falling open as I look between an equally shocked Yumi and her phone. Aliona is still talking, but I have to focus to hear her over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
“—broke up yesterday, and obviously we can’t have that on an all-couples season.
” She laughs. “But we remembered you from our initial shortlist, and the producers unanimously decided to reach out to you first. It’s not often we have an attractive, diverse…
What do you identify as, if you don’t mind me asking? Lesbian? WLW? Queer? Gay? Bi? Sapphic?”
Yumi and I simply stare at each other. She mouths, What the fuck, Noelle? And I mouth back, I don’t know! It’s the first moment resembling camaraderie that she and I have had in a year, and I can’t even enjoy it because I’m trying not to self-destruct.
“Girls? Did I lose you?”
“No, we’re here,” Yumi says, widening her eyes at me and throwing her hands up. She doesn’t mouth, Say something, because she doesn’t have to.
I panic. A classic. “We, uh—we don’t—we’re not…?” I trail off with a noise similar to the ones my car used to make when I was first learning to drive stick.
Yumi rolls her eyes, but it’s more knowing than pissed. I take that as a good omen.
“It’s okay,” Aliona says. “Give it some thought and let me know. The marketing team already planned promo with ‘sapphic’ in mind, so we’ll use that until you decide.
It’s not often we have an attractive, diverse sapphic couple apply, and even less often do they understand the show or how to play to the camera.
Now, I know what you’re thinking: If we liked you so much, why didn’t we cast you in the first place? ”
Oh, I’m thinking a lot of things. Why the producers didn’t cast us doesn’t even crack the top twenty. In fact, Yumi and I not getting cast on an all-couples season of The Adventureverse is the only thing that actually makes sense right now.
“To be honest,” Aliona plows on, “it’s just business. Who will garner more views, that’s the primary focus. And let’s just say, if a couple has over ten million followers across platforms—”
Yumi hits the mute button, her face tight. “Your dad is really sick?” she asks again.
“Yes,” I say, unable to keep the exasperation out of my voice. “I’ll take you to see for yourself after this call, if you want.”
She pauses for a moment, then nods and unmutes the call.
“—we couldn’t pass up that opportunity for viewership growth, but as far as on-camera fireworks? You girls have it.”
There are fireworks all right. And they’re exploding behind my eyes as Yumi shakes her head at me like a warning. Like this is my fault, somehow.
“We think you’d be a perfect fit. The only hitch is, of course, that the season starts in two days,” Aliona says, oblivious to the rising tension on our side of the phone call. “So, while we hate to rush you, we’re going to need an answer within the next hour.”
“Hour?” I squeak. An hour? What kind of maniac gives someone an hour to make such a big decision? The snarky part of my brain replies, The kind of maniac who knows there are thousands of people out there who will say yes if you don’t.
“Yes, I’m sorry. I know it’s short notice and you probably have plans—”
Of course I have plans. It’s the last summer before college. I have orientation. Dad and I were supposed to drive up to Sedona. Not to mention, Yumi and I aren’t dating.
“But even if you don’t win, it’s a free vacation.
We can’t send the eliminated teams home until shooting wraps, for fear of the boot order leaking.
So even the first team out gets a month at an all-inclusive luxury resort.
Lounging by the pool with free food, frozen margaritas, and snorkeling excursions might not be a million dollars, but it isn’t a bad gig. ”
“We’re only eighteen, we can’t drink,” Yumi tells her.
“Not in the US, but drinking ages are different overseas,” Aliona says, so quickly that I’m sure she’s used this line to convince applicants before.
“Anyway, we’d love to have you on. As you know, reality TV stardom can open a lot of doors, and not just financially.
There are sponsorships, spots on other shows, connections. It’s once-in-a-lifetime.”
Yumi scrubs a hand over her face in frustration. I’m right there with her.
“Take some time to think about it, but not too much time. If I don’t hear back within the next hour, I’ll be reaching out to other candidates. To be clear, we want you, but we don’t need you. Opportunity never knocks twice at any one door. Do you have any questions for me, girls?”
I’m beginning to hate the word girls.
“No, I don’t think so,” Yumi answers professionally. “Thank you so much for considering us. We’ll have an answer for you soon. Take care!”
“Talk to you soon, girls,” Aliona says.
The call ends, and I immediately throw up.
Yumi is unsurprised, offering me the Solo cup I forgot she even had. It hovers at the edge of my vision, and though it is the nicest thing she’s done for me in a long time, I don’t know how much Norris basement jungle juice is going to help right now.
Reading my mind, she says, “It’s Gatorade.”
I take it, swishing the salty-sweet sports drink around a few times before spitting it out. As I swallow the next sip, I close my eyes and try to breathe. In through the nose. Out through the mouth.
Anxiety vomiting is probably one of humanity’s more charming adaptations, right up there with pet allergies and lactose intolerance.
I don’t know when my body first decided throwing up was a reasonable response to stress, but it’s where we are now.
Once, during outdoor phys ed, I made a sudden break for the grass under the bleachers (I had a presentation in AP Lit later that day), and when a concerned classmate reported my condition to our gym teacher, he said, “Oh yeah, Noelle just does that sometimes.”
I use the edge of my sandal to brush a pile of gravel over the mess I’ve created in Taylor’s backyard, shaking free of the tiny rocks that try to settle beneath my foot.
Crouching next to the bench, I grip the edge, alternating between rocking back away from it and pulling myself forward onto it.
I never could sit still, something that only gets worse when I’m anxious.
I feel the clock ticking, Yumi’s presence like an Indiana Jones–style trap wall closing in on me.
My dad, medical bills paid off. My dad, alone on the couch while I gallivant around the globe.
The Adventureverse, “sapphic.” I’ve gotta get my mind right and figure this out. I can feel things about it later.
Body language experts would have something to say about the way I shake my head no as I say, “I still want to do it.”
She balks. “Have you lost your mind? It’s an all-couples season. I feel like you didn’t hear that part. Couples. Something we are not.”
I lean back as far as I can before my hands start to slip on the stone. “But—”
“No!” Yumi interrupts. “No, there isn’t a but. We aren’t a couple. We cannot compete on an all-couples season. What’s not clicking?”
“I’m not a child,” I snap, pulling all the way forward, until I’m pressing my upper body onto the bench.
She sighs, running a hand through her hair. “I know. I’m just saying. We can’t do this, Noelle.”
I wish my name in her voice didn’t still shoot lightning through my body. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters besides getting that money. “I can. I could do anything for my dad.” I hold her gaze like a challenge, my chest rising and falling steadily. “Please?”
Her beautiful face is impassive for so long that I’m sure she’ll refuse, but then she says, “You told me we could see him after the call.”
I’m on my feet before I can think about it. “You wanna see him? We’ll go now.”
Yumi nods, standing to join me. “If he’s really as sick as you say he is, I’ll consider this terrible, terrible idea.”
This is a deal I’ll take, because once she sees my dad, she won’t be able to walk away.