“It wasn’t like that, it was a blur. He was there, then other guys… I don’t remember much after we started. I woke up to three different numbers texting how much ‘fun’ we’d had.”
“Imagine how many didn’t bother to text.”
“I told you I used to be a different person, but when I said I’ve been trying to change, I meant it. I thought I’d tell you after the show, that I’d endure Barnes being here—”
“No! Look who’s around you!” I gestured furiously to Erika and Imogen, neither of whom responded. “You don’t get to be the oneuncomfortableabout him being here!”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, struggling for words. “Luke, I swear I was only ever trying to protect you. Nothing here means more to me than you.”
I stared him directly in the eye. “That’s a shame, because you mean nothing to me.”
Before he could answer, I shut the door and finally noticed the cameraman who’d snuck in during the confrontation, a shadow dutifully anticipating and capturing my every move.
“Do you want to sleep in here?” Imogen asked.
“I’ll never sleep tonight. I need to get to work.”
The crew had retreated, save for my lone cameraman, who cruised behind me like a shark after a boat that leaked blood. But I didn’t care. I was going to give him something to film. I wouldn’t allow Barnes to strike next or Shawn to manipulate my emotions. If any chaos drove this game, I would be its engineer. And I had one weapon left that I defied even Barnes to outmaneuver. I knocked on the cracked door at the hallway’s end, and out slunk PB, his face blank.
“You okay?” he asked. “I was worried.”
“I’m not here to talk about my feelings.”
“Then to what do I owe this late-night tête-à-tête?”
“Does your offer still stand?”
His shoulders went alert. “You ready to get this house in order?”
“I’m ready to burn it down.”
He couldn’t suppress his grin. “Well, to quote you… Put me in, Coach.”
38
2015
SEASON 20, EPISODE 9:
“Shawn of the Bed”
So apparently I’m flying home in a body bag?” Melange squinted up from her crutches. For Episode 10’s Tribulation, we’d driven deep into an old-growth forest to a towering hundred-foot rock face, rappelling ropes swaying like strands of hair down the slick mossy cliff. I’d been competing in these stunts for a month straight, yet they never became less surreal.
As rain clouds loomed overhead, my eyes darted from the worn trail by the rock to the bank of overgrown ferns where the show’s muddy tractor trailers had parked. Then I finally found what I’d prayed to see… Giant toy rocket launchers with neon foam artillery lay by the art department’s pop-up tent.
I’d be damned if I hadn’t learned some skills from PB. The morning after Greta’s revelation, Imogen and I had blithely passed Troy while he was putting a fresh battery in his walkie. We’d “reminisced” about a game from Season 1, where the teams pelted each other with dodgeballs. “If only I could take aim at Barnes and Shawn,” I’d opined. Now here was my chance two days later. We’d get Barnes in the Trial, and then PB would send him packing.
We’d descend the rock face in pairs, ringing ten staggered bells along the way. Meanwhile, the rest of the cast would fire the foam projectiles from below to impede us. “The five slowest times are up for elimination, but if you miss a bell, you’re automatically in the Trial,” Ecklund said. “Melange, because of your medical issues, you—”
“Head straight to the Trial?” she supplied.
He nodded. “But! You’ll determine who’s there with you if you’re a good shot.”
“Well, you’re about to see my talent from the Miss Texarkana Belle pageant in action.”
“And as our last Tribulation winner, you’ll determine the order everyone goes in too!”
Melange beckoned me, Imogen, PB, and Erika over as she began writing her list for Zara. “Obviously Barnes goes first so I can serve him a heaping helping of the Dick Cheney special.”
