“God, I can’twaitto watch his freak-out when this episode airs.”
The adrenaline wears off after that, and I crash not even halfway through the ride, waking up only when it’s time to hike back up the mountain and pack up. Camp is quiet and empty for once when we arrive, the ever-present buzz of a hundred production assistants and the glint of camera lenses in every corner noticeably absent.
It sets in slowly at first, then with finality. Filming has wrapped. The game is over. It’s finally time to go home. I thought I’d be more relieved when this day came.
The first thing we do is exchange our mic packs for the phones we surrendered a few weeks ago, but I leave mine off, not ready to tune in to the real world yet. Dinner is a blur. After, Dean packs while I shower, and then we switch off. I’m alone in the cabin when it hits—that funny feeling. It settles in the pit of my stomach. I look at my hands. They’re stiff, trembling from exertion. My skin is rubbed raw from the ropes and cables. Beneath the callouses, the scars I got on my first day are still visible. I’m here. This is real.
It’s weird. I finally have what I wanted in the palms of my battered hands. And yet I can’t get myself to really feel it. You spend so long chasing after something, it’s hard to stop running. I just keep thinking about what comes next. I mean, I won—isn’t that enough?
So, why does it feel like something’s still missing?
By the time I’ve finished packing, it’s beginning to get dark out. I stand by the dusty cabin window and watch the sunset bleed over the mountain. It’s the last sunset I’ll see here. By chance, it happens to be the most beautiful one yet.
When I step out, Dean’s waiting for me on the porch with that god-awful, hideous neon-orange suitcase at his side.
“Keep that thing away from me,” I say, closing the door. I let my palm linger on the doorknob, trying to commit to memory the feeling of the rusted metal.
Dean’s cheeks burn. “I’m not going to drop it again.”
Still, I stay wary of his death-machine-on-wheels as we venture across camp. We both linger at the entrance. TheCamp Clearwatersign arches over our heads. I take it all in one last time, like I did when we first arrived. The sounds of the forest have become background noise at this point, but I tune my attention back to them now. The rustling of pine needles in the wind. Water rolling gently onto a pebbled shore. A cricket humming in the grass. When the breeze settles, silence swallows up everything quickly. The quiet isn’t an absence of sound but a sensation; I feel it wrap around me, hold me, pocketing me in this moment.
I don’t want toleave.
The thought trickles into my head, surprising me. It’s not that I’m not eager to see Umma again—I miss her more than words. But I’m…
I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ll leave the girl I became here at camp, and as soon as Mount Rainier is out of sight, I’ll step right back into the person I was before I got here. A million dollars may be following me home, but what if I come back empty-handed?
Dean has started walking away. He turns when he realizes I’m not following.
“You coming?”
It’s hard leaving, but following Dean makes it a little easier.
We begin our trek down the hiking path to the parking lot. I clear my throat. “So,” I say. “What are your plans for when you get back?”
Dean hums in thought. “Honestly? I want to go to Applebee’s.”
“Applebee’s?What is wrong with you? You didn’t get your fill of brown slop at the cafeteria?”
“It reminds me of home, okay? It’s my sister’s and dad’s favorite restaurant—they share the same bad taste. I want to have dinner there as a family.” Dean’s voice takes on a fonder tone. “Usually when we have dinner all together, it ends in a fight or a lecture. But I think things are going to be better between us now.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Dean’s smile is confident. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What comes next?”
My steps slow.
“Seyoon?”
“I…” My mouth goes dry. “I don’t really know. I always knew—hopedI’d get this far, but I never thought about what comes afterward. What if…”
What if this prize money doesn’t change anything? It’s going to solve my immediate problems—it’ll get me and Umma back on our feet—but what about after that? My parents are still divorced. I’m still not on speaking terms with one of my best friends. I still have problems that can’t be solved with cash.
A gentle hand rubs my arm. Dean has stepped forward, a consoling turn to his lips.
