SEMI-CHARMED LIFE — THIRD EYE BLIND
“What thehellwas that?!”
Demi’s tone is biting as I turn away from the camera to face her. Her expression is one of irritation, bordering on anger, but I try to appear as unruffled by her tone as possible.
“What do you mean?”
Obviously, I know exactly what she means. My interjection during the confessional wasn’t just unwelcome—it was inappropriate. Usually, there’s an understanding that, unless the camera operator and producer have discussed it prior to the interview, the producer will ask the questions, and the camera operator (especially one hiredspecifically tonot stand out) keeps their focus on the shot and their mouth shut.
But I just couldn’t help myself.
Molly was intentionally goading me. I had been perfectly content—happy, even!—to lay low, do my job, and not say a word. But something bubbled up inside me when Molly’s answers started feeling like they were less about her thoughts on Duncan or William, and more of a commentaryon me. That, plus the way she treated me before we even started filming, had me seething with rage.
I wouldn’t have expected her to grovel at my feet and beg for forgiveness. But to act likeIwas the one who cheated? LikeIwas the one who trashed our names?
It was infuriating.
If I had been able to move to California, to complete that Netflix internship, who knows where I’d be by now? It’s wholly possible that I would be somewhere else entirely—instead of on this stupid ship, being told topretend I don’t existby someone who is supposed to be my friend.
“Chloe…do you know Molly?” Glen asks from behind Demi. Tentatively, I meet his eyes—and notice they’re not full of anger. Rather, he’s intrigued. “Because it definitely seemed like you knew her.”
“I…suppose?” I hedge. “I mean, I’ve talked to her around the ship.”
“No, it’s more than that,” Glen says slowly, his gaze piercing. “You wouldn’t talk to just any contestant like that. I’ve seen you try to make small talk with other contestants. It’s polite. It’s self-deprecating. It’s a little awkward. That was…something else entirely.”
He’s got me there.
“Fine,” I give in with a huff. “Yes, I know her.”
Demi shoots me an exasperated look while a smile slowly creeps across Glen’s face.
“Spill,” he demands, shuffling closer.
“It’s nothing. I went to college with her, that’s all.”
Glen is already shaking his head. “That’s all? No way, I don’t buy it. If looks could kill, you would’ve murdered her with the glare you gave her! There’s history there.”
I hesitate, glancing between the three of them—Glen, with his ravenous smirk; Demi, with her haughty indignation; and Sora, shifting awkwardly behind them, looking like she’drather be anywhere else. I even catch sight of Probably-Mark trying to eavesdrop unobtrusively from several feet away.
“We used to be friends,” I finally admit with a sigh. “Things didn’t…end very well. We haven’t talked in almost ten years.”
“So, what? You’re, like…enemies, or something?” Demi asks, the iciness in her tone melting into something else—something crackling with electricity.
Before they can even say it, I already know what they’re thinking. Because I would be thinking it, too.
When you’re a storyteller, especially in this industry, you’re always looking for the makings of a plot twist; whether one already exists, just waiting to be coaxed out of the story, or whether there’s an opportunity to create one.
So, with the knowledge that Molly and I have a history and are on not-so-great terms, Glen and Demi start to look at me like hungry wolves, salivating greedily, ready to devour any morsel of information I can throw at them.
At this point, I know I have to be careful; to choose my wordsverywisely. Because whatever I say can, and will, be used against Molly…and maybe even against me.
“Oh, you know how these things go.” I wave my hand dismissively. “Sometimes we just grow out of the friendships we had when we were younger. It was basically that,” I explain, trying to placate them.
“That didn’t look like growing out of a friendship,” Glen argues.
“Well, it was,” I volley back, trying to appear as confident as possible. “We just stopped getting along, and things faded. Nothing major—but I guess she’s holding on to some kind of grudge.”
They don’t look convinced.
