The wordunforgettablerepeats in my mind, and a rush of adrenaline courses through me, leaving a trail of anticipation in its wake. I’m here. I’m really here. And I’m ready to play the game.
I suck in an excited breath, relishing the fresh outdoor air. Even though I know the jungle is filled with germs of all kinds, somehow being out in the wild feels more natural and less contagious than any of my normal settings. The outdoors have always been my way of coping with life, and now, being forced to spend my time under a blanket of stars with the soothing and steady sounds of the ocean, I’m thinking this might just be the best idea I’ve ever had.
Niall takes the next few minutes to explain to the cameras, and to those viewing this episode, the basics of the game.
My mind momentarily tunes out. Niall’s opening speech is one I’ve heard before when I watched bits of several seasons in preparation for the show. When boiled down, the show is centered around two different types of challenges: Mayday Challenges and Reward Challenges. For the next eighteen days, we will participate in one of these types of challenges daily.
In general, there are typically five Mayday Challenges, leaving the Reward Challenges to fill in the days in between. All the challenges are trying in their own right and typically involve a solid number of physical tests, gameplay, and lots of sabotage. But since the Mayday Challenges directly influence a team’s chances of elimination, they often hold the most weight.
However, from the episodes I’ve watched, it’s the downtime between the challenges that are the most harmful to your game. Besides the challenges, occasional team interviews with Niall, and the Black Box Meetings, there is little to do on the island except survive under the hot sun with a bunch of people looking to throw you out of the game. It’s psychological warfare at its finest.
Eyeing the other teams in their colorful seats, I remind myself that though there are technically seven teams competing this season, we’d all be remiss if we didn’t acknowledge sabotage as the silent and deadly eighth team that it is. Not only doesthe show have built-in efforts to sabotage, but contestants must be constantly aware of other teams’ motives, character, and potential for risk if they want to make it to the end. And with a reward of $500,000 on the line, there are no limits to how creative and crafty people will get.
I glance at Missy as she smooths the pink fabric of her dress across her lap. While we do have a history of sabotaging one another, I have my doubts on whether or not she’ll be able to sabotage another player on this show. When she’s not around me, Missy is all optimistic sunshine, showering others with her Mother Teresa vibes. Would she have it in her to sabotage another player if it came down to it? I can only hope. Because I can’t afford to have her play a weak game.
I need to win.
My mind rehashes my father’s biting words from our talk nearly two months ago.“All your life I’ve been holding your hand, opening doors for you. You wouldn’t know how to succeed without me.”
If I have to play this game on my own, dragging Missy along, I will. We arenotgoing to lose.
Niall walks over to a metal cart, one that looks like the little snack-and-drink trollies flight attendants push down aisles. On top of the cart is the “black box” of an airplane, which is ironically not black at all. Normally, they are bright orange, making it easier for rescue teams to find after a plane crash, but the black box Niall stands beside is a bright coral. It’s an ever-present figure in every single Black Box Meeting onSunsets and Sabotage’s show history.
“Now let’s not forget to mention our post–Mayday Challenge meetings. After every Mayday Challenge, our contestants will come together at sunset for a Black Box Meeting,” Niall says, patting the black box beside him. “It’s here where we’ll get the inside scoop on who’s sabotaging and who’s seen their lastsunset on the island. During this meeting, the lowest performing team from that day’s Mayday Challenge and the lowest scoring team from America’s votes will go head-to-head in a Black Box Elimination, resulting in one team leaving the island for good. Which leaves only one question …”
Niall points to the camera like he’s Uncle Sam in the heat of wartime. “Which team do you want to winSunsets and SabotageSeason Twenty-Three? Without further ado, America. Meet. Your. Contestants.”
Niall starts the team interviews off strong with my baseball legend, Joseph, and his son, Tyrone, asking them a mix of questions ranging from general to funny to personal.
I’m on the edge of my seat, absorbing every fascinating detail that comes from their mouths. Most of which, admittedly, I already knew. Missy elbows my arm, discreetly reminding me that my posture is less than ideal. I didn’t know I brought my mom along with me.
I give her a look and straighten before fixing my attention back on Team Lime, still trying to process that Joseph Williams, the same Joseph Williams that’s on my limited-edition holographic baseball card that I got when I was eleven, is sitting a few yards from me.
Too soon, Niall moves on to Legend and Silver, who do a thorough job of setting the world record for the number of times a person can sayIandmein the span of five minutes. However, they manage to pull several heartstrings as they share their personal story about being raised in poverty and the struggles they faced getting their fashion business off the ground.
Following them, Niall interviews the cocky gym rats from Team Ruby and the comedians from Team Violet. Then Bill and Maria, who sit in the amber seats beside me, go next. The former Olympic tennis athletes are genuinely joyful and quick-witted. Niall asks them to demonstrate their famous tennisgrunts, and Maria pops up with enthusiasm, dragging her husband alongside her. Seeing their height difference reminds me of a chihuahua next to a Great Dane. But Maria’s energy easily compensates for what she lacks vertically. Too easily, Maria has not only her husband, but everyone on set laughing with her as she and Bill pretend to swipe at tennis balls with invisible rackets all while making guttural sounds that somehow resemble freight trains.
Then it’s our turn.
“Missy, dear, you look stunning tonight,” Niall says, addressing her first. Missy’s cheeks are like one of those paint swatches you get at Home Depot, every shade of pink evident in one small space.
“Why, thank you,” she says.
“Oh, and listen to that accent. If you didn’t guess it already, Missy is our former Miss Tennessee State.” Niall turns to the invisible audience in the cameras before addressing her once more. “Now, Missy, I think all of us are dying to know, what brings a former pageant queen toSunsets and Sabotage? This is about as far from the local hair salon as you can get.”
I flinch, trying not to narrow my eyes at Niall for this seemingly benign but highly insulting dig at Missy. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to get into her head to make her doubt herself. I’ve seen him do it with several other contestants tonight. While Niall is the host, he’s also part of the sabotage.
Missy doesn’t miss a beat. “You know, I was thinking the same thing. But then I was admiring your blowout and thought,There must be a salon on this island somewhere.” She shifts closer to him as if she’s going to tell him a secret. “So, why don’t you stop gatekeeping, Niall, and tell me where it’s at.”
Niall points a finger at Missy. “Beautiful and witty. Watch out for this one.” He smirks and runs a hand through his glossy hair before leaning in with a response of his own. “Well, that’s amillion-dollar secret, honey. So if you win, I’ll make sure to tell you.”
“Deal. I look forward to it.” Missy chuckles, managing to wrap Niall Bose around her dainty little finger.
I can almost see my dad nodding in approval at the way Missy managed to turn Niall’s barb back at him in a nonconfrontational and charming manner. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d found Missy succeeding where I lacked.
I think back to our junior year of high school when Missy was chosen to speak at our National Honor Society’s end-of-year ceremony. After the event, Dad spent a good five minutes in the parking lot lecturing me about how I should have been chosen to speak, while at the same time, managing to tell me all the ways that Missy’s speaking skills were superior to mine. Her inflections. Her relatable dialogue. The proper balance with which she smiled at the audience and made eye contact.
She was a natural, whereas I struggled to open my mouth in front of a crowd without mumbling or forgetting words or filling in my sentences with meaningless “ums” and “likes.” Eventually, I ironed out those flaws, but I hated knowing that I had to work my guts out to scrape by Dad’s expectations, when Missy could succeed at anything just by breathing.
