Page 12 of Wandering Wild

“Don’t be nervous,” Gabe tells me, swatting at a bee buzzing near his face.

“I’m not nervous.” I cover a yawn. “I’m jet-lagged.”

“You look nervous. You keep rubbing your forehead and shuffling your feet.”

“That’s because I have a headache, and I’m trying to stay awake.” I look straight at my agent, who decided to accompany me on my Australian trip like an overprotective babysitter, and reiterate, “Because I’mjet-lagged.”

After fifteen hours cramped inside a plane from LAX to Sydney, and then another ninety minutes driving to Katoomba, the only thing I want right now is to fall into bed. But that will have to wait, since Gabe has organized for us to meet the competition winner a day early to get a feel for her personality under the guise of us playing tourist together. It’s not ideal timing, but the alternative is meeting her tomorrow when Hawke’s cameras might already be rolling, so at least here we can get any overenthusiastic reactions out of the way. Or overcome any shyness, if she’s the kind of fan who is unable to speak in my presence. Having seen an image of her—a young teenage girl, maybe thirteen or so, with obscenely orange hair that’s sure to scare off any wildlife within a hundred miles—I’m hoping for the latter. Starstruck into silence is always preferable to overexuberant with no boundaries.

I’ll know one way or another soon enough, but until then, all I can do is lean against the railing at Echo Point Lookout, waiting for her to appear.

The view, at least, is diverting, offering a stunning panorama over the Blue Mountains National Park and a postcard-perfect look at what the plaque beside me calls the Three Sisters—three iconic sandstone peaks formed by erosion millennia ago. I could lose time marveling at their beauty, but I cast my gaze beyond them to the forested mountains and valleys stretching further than I can see. The sight is as humbling as it is daunting, and I shiver at the knowledge that, come tomorrow morning, I’ll be somewhere out there, doing everything I can to save my career.

I’ve got this, I tell myself.It’ll be fine.

I’ve repeated the same inner mantra for days, but now that I’m about to meet the winner, trepidation fills me. Gabe is right—Iamnervous. So much is riding on this. Ineedthis fan to help change the world’s opinion of me. Because if the plan fails and I return home without improving my public image, then?—

I don’t let myself finish the thought, and instead pull my baseball cap lower and push my sunglasses up my nose when a group of kids heads my way. I brace for their ambush, but like all the other tourists on the crowded viewing platform, they don’t spare me a second glance, their eyes on the plaque and the view as they talk animatedly among themselves. I remind myself that unless someone looks closely, they won’t recognize me, and I don’t have to be on guard for paparazzi because no one knows I’m here. News of the competition and the winner spread widely, but the location where Hawke is taking us will remain secret until the show airs. That means, for this afternoon, I can just be a regular guy, seeing the sights and enjoying myself like any normal person.

“Here she comes,” Gabe says, straightening beside me.

My stomach sinks as I remember that what I’m about to doisn’tnormal and I likelywon’tenjoy it, but I brush my hands down the front of my long-sleeved white shirt and over the top of my jeans, then adopt a friendly smile as I turn in the direction Gabe is facing. The crowd around us has cleared slightly, but I can’t see a young teenager with bright orange hair anywhere. I do, however, notice two girls around my age, one with short black hair who seems about to burst from happiness, and the other with pale, rosy skin and hair an interesting mix of blue and purple, her striking violet eyes looking everywhere but at me.

“Omigosh, omigosh,omigosh, I can’t believe it’s really you,” the dark-haired girl breathes, stopping before me and rocking on the balls of her feet as if considering whether or not to launch herself full-body into my arms. “I’m your biggest fan. Like,biggest.”

I should have known someone would eventually spot me, even with my hat and shades. I’m about to offer her a selfie and hope she’ll move on quickly so Gabe and I can give our attention to the competition winner—who I still can’t see anywhere—but I freeze when my agent reaches out his hand for her to shake.

“You must be Ember,” he says warmly. “Congratulations on winning the competition.”

A beaming smile lights up her whole face. “Thank you so much! I can’t tell you what a dream this is.”

I blink between them, using all my acting skills to hide my confusion.

“And this, I assume, is Charlie,” Gabe says, turning to the blue-haired girl.

My body locks, since “Charlie” is the name of the person reported as the winner. But this young woman looks nothing like the gangly, prepubescent teen from the photos.

“Yes, this is Charlie,” Ember confirms. “She’s my best friend, the one taking my place on the trip.”

I flick a startled glance toward Gabe, but he shows no reaction, indicating he was already aware of the switch.

Questions flood me, but I hold my tongue—for now—and mask my surprise, turning back to Ember to find her watching me closely. A knowing smirk plays at her lips, proof that she didn’t miss my initial response to seeing the non-orange real-life version of Charlie.

Somewhat slyly, Ember says, “The media did her dirty with the photo they used. It was from years ago, back in her awkward pre-glow-up stage. Clearly.”

Clearly, indeed.

I’m careful to keep my eyes from drifting to Charlie again, even when she clears her throat in embarrassment, since Ember is still watching me—and not like when she first arrived and wanted to fangirl out on me. There’s a different light in her gaze now, something worryingly similar to how Summer looks whenever she wants to play matchmaker.

I cover my apprehension—and my confusion about Ember winning but Charlie taking her place—by stepping forward until I’m beside Gabe, adopting my smoothest voice to say, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Ember’s grin becomes blinding, but Charlie remains oddly expressionless. She still hasn’t looked my way, her gaze moving from her feet to the view, to Gabe and to Ember, but never settling on me. I assume she must fall under the “shy, nervous fan” category, and in an effort to help her, I ask, “Are you excited for tomorrow, Charlie?”

Finally, her attention comes to me, her eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion before they flit away again almost immediately, and she mumbles a sarcastic, “Can’t wait.”

My eyebrows shoot upward, and even Gabe seems taken aback, but Ember elbows her friend and leans in to whisper something, causing Charlie’s shoulders to slump. She sighs and turns to me again, holding my gaze this time as she says, “Sorry. Jet lag.”

I’m about to assure her that I can relate, but then I recall hearing that the winner lives in a coastal town only a short flight from Sydney. My eyes narrow at her lie, but she just peers steadily back at me, as if daring me to call her on it.

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