The Sister Surprise by Abigail Mann (book series for 10 year olds .txt) 📕

‘Yes,’ says Max, at the same time as I say, ‘No.’

‘Great,’ says Lowanna, ignoring my response. She scrolls through the auto-prompt on her iPad. ‘Intro, couple of jokes, quick description of the spit samples, then results. Oh, and if you want to throw in the phrase “Who do you think you are?” that’d really help our Google ranking, but not too obvious. We can’t afford to get sued. Make some guesses about what you think you’ll discover. Ava, you’re up first, Max second, a lil’ reflection to close … and we’re done!’ Lowanna locks the iPad and hovers, the cups of her headphones held just above her ears. ‘All good?’

‘Yeah, s’fine,’ says Max, nudging me with his arm.

‘Don’t forget, push all your feelings into your face,’ says Lowanna, snapping her headphones back on. ‘Subtlety doesn’t work on camera.’

‘Yeah, about that. Can I have a quick look at the DNA results? I didn’t know we were meant to know them in advance.’

‘Uhh, no. Slight change of plan. We’ve decided to keep your results sealed until the big reveal. Max has been prepped for it. He’s got your back. Trust me, it’ll make for a better delivery.’

Max picks his teeth and flashes me a school photo smile. ‘Time to shine, buddy.’

I take a shallow breath as the set swims in front of me. Industrial lighting, the smell of heavy aftershave, and a drum-skin tightness across my forehead swash together and catch in my throat like bile. At the back of the studio, Duncan unfolds a chair in the gloom. He settles into it, his legs crossed at the ankle, observing all before him like the family patriarch. Max raises a hand to wave, but I’m barely keeping my cinnamon porridge down as it is, so don’t risk any non-essential movement.

‘Something must have caught his attention. Thanks, Tia.’ Max drops his gaze, heel jiggling, as Tia turns to me. She removes a wide brush from her holster and dusts my T-zone so thoroughly I’m sure she’s trying to lift fingerprints.

She steps away and I sense Max beside me, sitting tall and poised. He squeezes my knee and nods towards the camera, red light blinking. Lowanna clicks her fingers to get my attention and traces the line of her mouth, urging me to smile like an over-zealous pageant mum.

‘Quiet on set!’ comes a voice from the darkness. ‘Energy! Enthusiasm!! And we’re live in three, two, one …’

Chapter 4

Max nudges me with his elbow. I blink, barely able to focus on the prompter, which has slowed down to a crawl. Lowanna’s eyes bulge with impatience. I sit up straight. I’ve been tiptoeing around Duncan for five years, and now he’s right in front of me, leaning forward in his chair as Max goes off-script. I urge my brain to engage as Max buys me some time, but my head is full of noise, all of it loud and distracting. Up until today, I thought of the live stream and the DNA test as two completely separate things, so much so that I hadn’t quite processed how publicly I’d receive the results.

I hear my name and it snaps me back into my own body. Engage brain, Ava. I catch sight of myself in a monitor off-set: a squinting mole woman, albeit with meticulous winged eyeliner. I can’t open my eyes any more, because I’m sure that my skull will split down the middle like an overripe watermelon if I do. Maybe smiling will help? I try, but combined with the squint, it’s like I’m in the throes of an acid trip.

Lowanna looks between the monitor and me before smacking her forehead with a clipboard.

‘OK, so we better explain how it’s going to work. Ava, you ready for the science-y bit?’ says Max, pretending to push glasses up his nose with a wink to the camera. He’s working the viewers like they’re sat round his table in a pub. In that scenario, who am I? The mute who sits in the corner with a soda and lime? Duncan shifts in his seat, poised and attentive as a tennis umpire.

I mimic Max’s laissez-faire posture and prop my heel on the stool, looking to him with a smile that I hope comes across as girlish and cool. ‘Well, I did get an A in GCSE Biology, but my knowledge is limited to the life cycle of a plant cell nowadays, so you might have to break it down a little.’

Max laughs. I feel my shoulders retreat from their defensive position up by my ears.

‘Right! So basically, we sent some saliva samples off to our friends at The Ancestry Project, who analysed our DNA to find out what’s going on behind the scenes of our genetic make-up.’

Oh my God. That was almost word-perfect from the script I wrote. This is good. I look down the camera lens, chin up. I know what to do from here.

‘So how much have you thought about your results since we sent our samples off?’ I ask, glancing past the camera to Duncan at the back of the studio. He gives me the tiniest of nods.

‘Quite a bit, actually,’ says Max, feigning nonchalance. ‘But I’m not expecting any curveballs. My dad’s a massive history nerd – sorry, Dad – so I know a fair bit about where the Oswolf–Brownes come from.’

‘Oswolf–Browne?’

‘Yeah. We were quadruple-barrelled at one stage, but my grandfather knocked two names off by Deed Poll way back when. Bit of a mouthful, isn’t it? Ironic, seeing as he was an auctioneer, but there you go. Anyway!’ says Max, clapping his hands together. ‘Ava, what do you know, or think you know, about your heritage?’

‘Err, not a whole lot to be honest,’ I say, propping my chin on my fist like a crop-top-clad version of The Thinker. ‘I haven’t grown up with knowledge of my dad.’ I weigh my words, unused to hearing a voice so candid coming out of my mouth. ‘Only that I must have had one, otherwise I wouldn’t