“Ryan Lansing,” a woman says almost immediately, and her team begins cheering even before Nate hits the ceremonialStarving with the Starsgong (or the little replica gong he got from somewhere) to signify the correct answer.
Damn it. I knew they’d start with an easy one, but really? Ryan was almost nevernotnaked.
I grip the closest hand holds and pull myself up, climbing until my fingers reach the masking tape line. I’m only a couple feet off the ground. Not bad.
Jason’s team gets his first question, too, about who brought the copy of theTori Spelling autobiography as their luxury item. (Melissa: “I, like, live my life by the principles of Hollywood’s favorite daughter.”)
The questions get a little tougher next round, but once again, both of our teams answer correctly, and we both move up another few feet. After the third question is asked toTeam Climbing Sh!t, I’m starting to realize that the real problem may not be the height, but staying in these super uncomfortable positions on these tiny little hand and foot-holds for any length of time. Jason’s team pauses before they answer, and my fingers start to cramp.
“How’re you doing, Hobbit?” Jason taunts, while his team deliberates. “You’re almost at normal-person height now.”
“Never better,” I say back. “It’s okay, Jason’sTeam. He’ll understand if you have to take your time. Jason knows all about performance anxiety.”
The crowd laughs and applauds at our banter—I think they especially love any callback to our supposed on-show romance (that wasn’t really anything more than a few sex jokes and some inventive editing by the producers). But damn, I’m happy when my team answers the next question quickly and I can move again—at least until I find myself in a similarly uncomfortable position, this time even higher off the ground.
Why on earth do people do this for fun?
This goes on, Jason and I moving higher up the wall with each question. My team, unfortunately, continues to do really well, even as his misses a couple questions, and I climb higher and higher, until I start to be afraid to look down. My heart is pounding against my ribcage, but the real pain is in my hands and, right now, my left leg. I’d put my foot on a hold that was higher up than I’d figured, so now I’m doing some sort of weird yoga-like position against the wall, the Bent Lotus Pose of Extreme Discomfort.
This is where I’m stuck while my team proceeds to start missing questions, and by the time Jason’s up next to me, my arms are actually shaking.
“You guys are pretty high up there,” Nate says, and I grit my teeth, wishing he wouldn’t remind me. “How’re you feeling?”
“So gooooood, man,” Jason calls out. He lets go of a grip and turns to face the audience so he’s only holding on by one hand—his feet aren’t even on footholds! God, the dude has arm strength.The crowd cheers. He’s not even breaking a sweat, though his face is flushed more than usual, which I’m guessing is from the alcohol. “I’m feeling fucking awesome. How about you, Su-Lin? You feeling fucking awesome?” He swings back so he’s in a more normal climbing position.
I have made the mistake of looking over at him, which then shows me that we’re way farther from the ground than I am comfortable with. My breath is getting shallow and tight, and the sight of him dangling like that—with no harness, like a gigantic drunk idiot!—didn’t help things.
“Yep,” I manage, but it comes out as a squeak.The audience laughs—some in sympathy, I hope.They know I’m not the real climber here.
“She’s doing great, yeah, guys?” Nate says, getting cheers from the audience.
“Thanks, but maybe we could just move on with the questions?” I say. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold this position.
Brendan’s got me, I tell myself. If I have to let go, he’s got me.
But even knowing that—even looking up just enough to see the steel bar with the carabiner that my harness rope is hooked through, knowing all the safety equipment is in place and I’ve got a guy down there who wouldn’t ever let me fall—my brain can’t shut off the increasing, irrational panic.
Is this what it’s like for Brendan?
Nate chuckles. “Okay, Su-Lin, you’ll like this one. We all know it was Chad Montgomery who fucked the puppet. But who was the first one accused?”
Jason glances over at me, clearly remembering that whole terrible sequence of events and probably checking to make sure I’m okay.
“Ryan Lansing,” a girl from my team announces triumphantly.
Nate hits the wrong answer buzzer. “I’m afraid Ryan was not the first one accused.Team Climbing Sh!t, the question’s yours to steal!”
There’s some deliberation among Jason’s team, and I grit my teeth, practically willing the answer to them just to move this along: Alec Andreas. It was Alec I first accused; he hated Ruby.Though it only took the look of horrified disgust on his face to convince me it wasn’t him. Alec isn’t exactly great at hiding his true feelings.
“Hey,” Jason says, cutting into the murmuring from the team below. I’m not sure if he’s trying to get my mind off the question or what, but he lifts first one hand and then the other until he’s literally gripping the wall holdswith his bare-freaking-feet. “Look Ma, no hands!”
My already galloping heart jumps into my throat, even as the crowd goes nuts. He doesn’t have a harness, and while he’s usually doing stupid things, this seems worse than usual. Probably because he’s drunk.
“Jason, stop it!” I hiss, past caring about witty trash-talk.
“Better hurry up, guys,” Nate says. “If he dies showing off because he’s bored, you’re out.”
Nate doesn’t sound like he’s freaking out, but maybe he didn’t get a good whiff of Jason’s breath like I did.
