“No, you’ll choose a member of the opposite sex at random.”
Melange eyed Ecklund’s two bags warily, then turned to me. “After you.”
Every shred of triumph dissipated when I reached into the satchel of women’s names. The pieces felt like smooth dominoes, no markings, no hints. I sighed a tiny prayer for the best outcome, whatever that might be, and blindly pulled a tile out…
A relieved smile broke across my face. However, she looked sick, as if she already knew her name would be the one emblazoned on that plastic.
As Ecklund bombastically sang her name, Imogen turned her back—to me, to the cameras, to everyone—and began to sob, her hand suffocating gasps.
Cast and crew alike shifted uneasily, surprised by such a visceral reaction from her of all people. While Ecklund fought to salvage things, my bare feet sank deeper and deeper into the rain-drenched mud, as if nothing could stop the earth from swallowing them whole.
III
RUNNING MATES
There’s no trusting man nor woman;
nor fine speeches; nor fine looks.
Off comes the sheep’s skin;
out creeps the serpent.
VIRGINIA WOOLF,BETWEEN THE ACTS
23
2004
SEASON 2, EPISODE 1:
“Storm’s A-Brewin’”
Imogen was scheduled to be on my flight to Turks and Caicos, but she didn’t know if Arjun was flying with us. I texted her at the gate to no response, which was unusual, since we’d spoken daily since Mitch’s diagnosis. Once onboard, my knees strained against the seat in front of me as I feigned sleep. The last thing I needed after weeks spent shuttling Mitch to chemo was spiraling into tears at the sight of Arjun Bhaduri.
“Well, fancy meeting you here.”
I frantically looked up as a muscular blond kid slid into the seat beside me. Was I about to endure a fan pestering me withEndeavorquestions? At least he was cute. Then I realized.
“Barnes?!” This was hardly the scrawny little operator I’d last seen at Season 1’s Reunion. Bulging thighs burst from his pink shorts, and a University of Georgia polo clung to his torso, waves of downy blond fuzz rolling down vascular forearms. His unruly mop of hair had been tamed into the meticulously parted cut that it would be ever after, drawing new focus to his electric blue eyes. “Sorry, you look…”
“Like a Ralph Lauren ad? Geek chic wasn’t doing me any favors. Brawn is what sells.” He smirked bitterly, tucking his tote under the seat. “At least I’ll be able to defend myself in a Trial now, since you, Ron, and Hermione will target me the first chance you get.”
Our trio wouldn’t be doing anything together any time soon, but strangely that wasn’t what snagged me. “How am I Harry?”
“That’s what you took from that sentence?”
“I’m way more Ron.”
“Black hairandscarred? I assumed ‘Muscle Queen Harry Potter’ was your annual Halloween costume. Besides, you’re not funny enough to be Ron.”
I pointedly stared past him, remembering why we hadn’t bonded before.
“Looking for someone, or am I so insufferable a random stranger will suffice?”
“Imogen,” I replied tersely.
“Greta said Imogen’s on her flight from LAX, but they’re not making the connection. A big storm’s coming, and we’re the last flight out of Charlotte. What, your BFF didn’t call?”
