But then he says, “Because only one of us can win.”
And just like last night, disappointment sours my stomach.
Even as the crew members pack up their equipment and the others trek back to the bus, I linger, shivering in my wet swimsuit on the rocky shore. The waves of the lake roar at an abrasive volume, grinding down my nerves like water turning rock into sand. I feel myself slipping just the same, the last of my composure crumbling at the seams. Only several minutes and many rapid, heaving breaths later do I realize that it’s not the lake roaring in my ears; it’s the blood rushing in my head.
It’s so loud, I don’t hear footsteps behind me until they’re right there. Vendredi.
She takes a seat next to me. “So,” she says. “What happened?”
I bark out a laugh. “What happened was, I thought Dean and I were real friends. But I was an idiot. He was just playing the game.”
He was just playing me.
It was fake. All of it. That’s why this hurts so much. Not because our alliance is ending but because I had thought Dean and I were really friends. With the way he threw me to the side so easily, it’s obvious now it was all an act—on his part, at least. God, I should have known. He’s the reality-show expert, the strategist, the one who pushed us to play pretend in the first place. Of course he’d pretend to be my friend too. But I wasn’t pretending.
“I’m sorry, Seyoon,” Vendredi says. She pauses. “On the plus side… I ran the math. If you and Deanweregoing to split points this challenge? I’d be going home.”
My brain clicks and sputters. That means… that meansI’mmaking it to the finale.
I did it.
I thought I’d feel happier when this moment came.
I turn to Vendredi, who’s here with me when she could be back on the bus. I think, maybe, I’ve wasted too much time thinking about the ones who leave me instead of appreciating those who stay.
It won’t happen again.
36
THIS WOULD PROBABLY BE MORE ROMANTIC IF I WERE BETTER AT FIRST AID
DEAN
The guilt eats me up from the inside out. Gnawing on my bones. Leaving me empty.
I wish it didn’t have to go down that way. I wish she didn’t hate me now. Whenever I close my eyes, I see Seyoon’s betrayed expression. My ears still ring with how hurt she sounded. But I know her—she would’ve refused if I’d tried to reason with her, persuade her to end our alliance amicably so that she didn’t have to split her points with me. She would never have agreed, not after I shared the points I earned in the trivia challenge with her. She’s too fair. But the second we rolled up to set and I saw that lake, I knew it was the end for me.You had a good run, Dean, but your doggy-paddling can’t carry you across the finish line. Not this time.I didn’t want to drag Seyoon down with me, too, not when I know how much she has at stake. So, I had no choice but to end our alliance early.
In another reality where her family isn’t on the line, where we aren’t competitors, maybe I could’ve told her the truth about my feelings. But in this reality, it’d break my heart more to see her lose everything than to find out she doesn’t feel the same.
I didn’t lie to her, though. What I said was true: Only one of us can win.
And I want it to be her.
There’s a suspended tension in the air the rest of the night and the next day leading up to elimination. I spend it walking around camp, running my hand along the logs of the cabin wall, watching the sun dance across the lake’s waves, taking it all in for what I know is the last time. I look up at the sky and hope it’ll be a clear night so I can see the stars again. I’ll miss them back home. I might even miss the woods—something I’d never thought possible.
All day, I keep an eye on Seyoon and wait for her to visit the infirmary and get her hand patched up. She spends her time avoiding me, whispering with Vendredi, andnotgoing to the nurse’s. Christ. She never changes.
Just before we all have to head to the bonfire pit for elimination, I corner her in the cabin, holding the first-aid kit I packed with me. Seyoon, sitting on her bunk, glares up at me. Her scowl falters when she notices what I’m holding.
“Can I?” I ask gently. The corner of her mouth curls down. “I know it hurts,” I prod.
I wait for permission. Eventually, Seyoon grunts and holds out her injured hand. “Whatever. Knock yourself out.”
The mattress dips as I sit beside her. Our knees brush, and she moves hers away. I try not to let my heart break. Seyoon presents me with her hand and glares at the underside of my mattress above our heads. It’s a bad gash, running down the side of her palm from knuckle to wrist. I pull out alcohol wipes, petroleum jelly, and gauze. I apologize for the sting when I wipe the angry cut, butSeyoon doesn’t react or acknowledge me. I take my time, committing to memory the feeling of her skin on mine and the way she smells. This is probably the last time I’ll be this close to her.
My hands tremble as I wrap her palm in gauze. Seyoon notices. “You’re still bad at this.”
I smother a chuckle. “No. It’s nerves this time.”
