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Ultimately, Trevor hadn’t given the okay to be in the documentary—yet—so I’m still hiding that he’s the heart of the film from Holden. I think in the end it’ll be okay since he said he wouldn’t be watching it anyway, and I tell myself this over and over when I start to feel bad. This is a lot like keeping Holden a secret from Corrine. It’s kind of fine as long as he doesn’t know, and the only people who will see the documentary are me and the admissions team at Temple University.

While he’s setting up for the video call with Vice and Virtual, I interview Mama Michaels about her kids. She gives me candid answers to questions about Trevor’s diagnosis, his prognosis, his likes and dislikes—basically everything I can’t get from Trevor or Holden.

“He hadn’t told me why he was doing that contest, but I knew.” She smiles with watery eyes, the camera capturing it all. “I just know Holden. He’s good. I have two great sons.”

Wrapping up, I ask, “Where do you see yourself this time next year? Ideally.”

I slowly zoom in.

She tilts her head to the side in thought. “Let’s see. Holden’s away at school, a photography major. Maybe he’ll decide to besome kind of photojournalist. I don’t really care as long as he’s happy. Taylor’s halfway to her own degree, Mara’s following Trevor aroundeverywhereand he’s constantly groaning about how he didn’t sign up for a younger sibling. And I have to remind him that he did that to Holden.”

“But what about you?”

She blinks. “Oh, I don’t care much. As long as they’re healthy and happy. I’d just want to be around to see it, with Darren.”

I offer a small smile behind my camera. “Last question: Who’s your favorite kid?”

She bursts into laughter, a single tear leaking out finally. She brushes it away and settles down. “I don’t have favorites. I love them all equally.”

“Don’t lie.”

She just winks at the camera, leaving the question unanswered like I hoped she would. It’ll make for a good soundbite to play over a little montage of her kids in the final moments of the documentary. I wrap up and head downstairs to Holden’s room, where he’s set up a tripod for my camera and some semiprofessional lighting equipment he either owns or stole from the school’s photography lab.

“Is it time?” I attach my camera to the tripod.

“Just about,” he says distractedly, tweaking the light behind his laptop a smidge. He checks how he looks in his MacBook screen, the camera displaying his well-lit face bright and crisp. “I still have no clue what they want to ask me that they didn’t already. It’s not like I won.”

I ignore the stab of guilt that gives me. Things have beenbetter, for the most part, since I threw the contest. Vice and Virtual will get whatever extra footage they need from Holden and I’ll getmyinterview, and then the reveal for Trevor and... then we’re done—minor editing notwithstanding. The thought doesn’t fill me with overwhelming, heavy sadness or regret anymore; I feel hopeful. Just because this ends doesn’t mean we don’t have something else beginning.

God, I’m so glad Yvette bailed.

Vice and Virtual lets Holden into the Zoom and he’s greeted by a representative who introduces herself as Charlotte. They do some small talk about the weather and school, howunfortunateit was that he couldn’t compete in the last contest. Again with the guilt.

“So, Holden,” Charlotte says with a glossy smile. “We were reviewing footage for our final episode of the web series—the whole series goes live next week on YouTube—and we found something interesting that we hoped to have you comment on.”

I shift out of sight of the camera, watching the screen as Charlotte requests to screen share. Holden glances at me over his shoulder and accepts.

“As you’ll see,” Charlotte continues, “the girl you had run for you—”

Everything goes in slow motion as a video begins to play.

“It appears she—”

My insides constrict.

“Let someone else—”

Shock. My whole body is in shock. I can’t move. I can’t even talk.

“Win.”

On the screen, it’s clear I didn’t know I was being filmed by anything other than my GoPro. It’s right there, plain as day, me letting Lada take the box and win. I might as well have rolled out a red carpet.

I can’t believe I forgot they were filming their own docuseries.

“Holden?” Charlotte asks, her face appearing on the screen before him again. “Would you care to comment?”

For a moment, he doesn’t move. All the sound has tunneled down to just thethud thud thudof my increasing heart rate. Then he clears his throat and it feels like the oxygen returns to the room.