“Why is our team all white people?” Chrissy asked. “It’s like reverse racism.”
“Babe, didn’t you know all white people are the devil now?” Harttjoked. “Besides, I’d take our gang of badass muthas before the Rainbow Coalition over there any day. Plus, we’ve got diversity. Luke’s a gay. Like, a famous one.”
I tried not to visibly wince, praying their exchange wouldn’t make the broadcast edit.
“So obviously I’m down for the reptile house,” Hartt continued. “Luke, ready to show folks what they’ve been missing?”
I nodded, knowing I’d have to earn my keep. “Count me in.”
“I bet the girls aren’t aching to wrestle the creepy crawlies, so my dudes? Volunteers?”
Aspen agreed, but lanky model Chase blanched: “Youknowthat’s my phobia!”
PB silently raised a hand. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in,” Hartt replied, but if PB was offended, those eyebrows barely twitched. “Ladies?”
“I’ll go,” Melange offered. “Big Bitch will make y’all pick me anyway.”
“Stop calling me ‘Big Bitch’!” Chrissy squawked.
“And the last girl?” Hartt asked to crickets. “I vote Vanessa.”
Vanessa recoiled. “Seriously? I have more seniority than any of these silicon sacks.”
“And the team appreciates your experience, V. Good talk.”
On Hartt’s cue, the huddle dissipated, but not before Vanessa fired a parting shot. “If you amoebas think I won’t make you regret this, you’re even stupider than you look.”
“You know,” Melange mused under her breath, “I think rehab’s really chilled her out.”
“Your orders are officially locked,” Zara announced. “No switching.”
The six tributes from each team assembled, and the Angels had selected very differently. Greta was the lone woman sitting out, and the only males participating were Camdon the Ken Doll and floppy-haired Shawn. “Four women?” I whispered to Hartt.
“Don’t you mean three?” Hartt smirked, indicating Erika.
I bit my lip, praying I wouldn’t become the resident bin for any bigoted asides he’d queued up. I couldn’t afford to piss him off yet, but thankfully the remark hadn’t been caught on camera. I left him at the head of our line, only to realize Imogen and I were both in last position. She stared militantly ahead, and I resisted the phantom impulse to call her name.
“Rolling!” Zara alerted. “Action, horn!”
Hartt and Camdon shot into their respective tunnels, torsos straining against the thick plexiglass walls as they army-crawled through. Hartt hustled toward the sixth and farthest apple, which he’d insisted on getting first, but Camdon abruptly popped out of the Angels’ closest porthole like a buzzed gopher. He swiftly plucked their first apple from the snakes and returned, allowing Shawn to tap in before Hartt was even halfway to his distant target.
“Anybody else think we missed the point?” PB asked, and I realized what the Angels had foreseen. The snakes were a flashy distraction; the tunnels were the true obstacle, which the women could navigate better than any brawny guy. Shit.
“We can’t change our order,” Melange reminded.
“We can still choose which we grab,” I blurted out, any reason to be deferential gone. “We need our smallest people going farthest out. Melange, you okay going all the way?”
“You’re talking to a Southern girl. Snakes aren’t an issue.”
“So Luke grabs apple one, Aspen gets apple two. You and me for the middle ones, Ness?” PB asked.
“Oh, we’re using nicknames now,” Vanessa replied icily, turning away from him.
Hartt and Shawn returned simultaneously, the Angels officially lapping us. Erika took off alongside PB to hearty cheering from her team. Precise and deliberate, her movements suggested a history in gymnastics. Meanwhile, PB demonstrated considerable agility, obtaining his apple just seconds after Erika, then Aspen capably retrieved his closer target to tie us. Clearly no fan of the frothing snakes, Jiamin struggled for herapple while Melange dove in, her theatrical makeup and pithy comments masking a surprising amount of speed. She was back, apple in hand, while Jiamin was still gingerly straining to avoid the snakes crowding hers.
Magically the lead became ours,andwe’d already gotten our most distant apples. Vanessa reached her apple by the time Jiamin returned, triggering Winston for the Angels. We Devils were still cheering when Vanessa halted, a malicious smile on her face as she posed primly on the edge of her porthole and cleared her throat. “So, let’s talk about why you dipshits wantedmein this goddamn terrarium.”
Hartt hurled insult after epithet at her, but she just pantomimed yawning until PB finally interrupted. “Ness, are you going to blow up your game the first night?”
