BZZRT!
Carter slams his buzzer before my hand’s off the table. “A. Ryan Alley.”
The sound of coins jingling rings out as five points are added to Carter’s screen. He looks smug.
“How the fuck did he read that so quickly?” Seyoon hisses, panic lacing her words.
There’s no time to answer her, because Garrett’s already moved on to question number two. “How many years wasForest Feud’s original run on air?”
Seyoon’s quick reflexes get her to the buzzer first. “Fifteen.”
Garrett makes an incorrect buzzer sound with his mouth.
Adrenaline flushes through me as I slam the buzzer again. “Seventeen,” I correct. “There was a season that got delayed.”
“Hmm, one of you was wrong, and one of you was right. Do they get points for that, Blake?”
The woman purses her lips, thinking. After a minute, she nods. “For that round, yes. But since you two are on a team, please make sure you are giving a unified answer.”
Seyoon’s white-knuckling the side of the lectern. “Relax,” I whisper. “Let’s take it easy, okay?”
She nods hastily, but there’s still something wrong. “Easy. Yeah. Relaxed.”
Then Garrett’s back to it, leaving us hardly any room to think. There’s a scramble to the buzzer every time—a race I keep losing. Fuck. I can read the answer options quick enough, and I know which one is correct, but my reflexes can’t compete with Carter’s, Siddharth’s, or Vendredi’s. Seyoon could, but she’s too busy carefullyreading over the options on the tablet much longer than everyone, looking startled when someone else answers before she’s finished.
“How many times has a contestant thrown up on screen?”
“Oh!” Siddharth screams, practically jumping on his lectern to slam the buzzer first. “C. One hundred times.”
“Wha—onehundredtimes? You really think we shot, edited, and aired a hundred contestants hurling? Wrong.”
“Aw, man.”
“Which toe did season-four contestant Robbie Evans lose in the first challenge?”
Bzzrt.“D. His big toe?” Five points to Vendredi.
The sound of coins jingling over the speakers grates on my nerves, a reminder of all the points we’renotgetting. I glance over at the parent section and regret it. Dad’s standing up, biting his fist like it’s taking every ounce of his strength not to jump on stage and interject himself. Seyoon’s not looking much better. Her foot bounces restlessly on the stage.
Garrett flips his card. “What number—”
Seyoon slams the buzzer so hard the plastic cracks. “C.”
What the hell is shedoing?
“Hey!” Carter yells, pointing at us like an angry debate candidate. “The answer options haven’t popped up, she didn’t read them. That’s cheating.”
Garrett huffs. “Maybe not cheating, but it’s certainly annoying. From now on, anyone who buzzes in before reading all the answer options will face a ten-point deduction. Got that?” He directs the question to Blake and the woman running the computers depositing points onto our screen. Blake nods.
Seyoon drums her fingers nervously next to the buzzer. “What happened to taking it easy?” I hiss.
“Sorry.” She winces. “I… I can’t read the options fast enough. A one-in-four chance of getting it right didn’t sound bad.”
“That’s a three-in-four chance of getting itwrong. Let me do the answering, alright? You’re going to get us a penalty.”
“But everyone’s beating us to the buzzer! We’re going to lose,” Seyoon snaps. “Wecan’tlose.”
My head jerks back. I examine her splotchy face, her chest heaving with breaths, the way her pupils jump around. “I know we can’t. I won’t let us, okay?”
