“Until tonight,” Valeria teases, as she pads by on her way to the bathroom.
As everyone starts their morning routines, things start to feel more normal. At the Mess Hall, we cobble together some breakfast from the ever-diminishing supply of groceries.
“Ugh, this show is a farce,” Sue-Ellen says, picking at her dry white bread. “I’ve never seen a more disorganized production team. Like, there are ten people here who need to eat. If they’re too cheap to hire craft services, then the least they could do is keep the fridge stocked. It’s not rocket science.”
In any other universe, I’d wholeheartedly agree with Sue-Ellen, but here, under the watchful eye of the camera, I say, “They’re just working out the kinks. It’s only the second week. Cut them some slack.” I imagine Tyler and Gabby watching this scene back, nodding at one another, like they’re so grateful I’m here.
Sue-Ellen glares at me but doesn’t shoot back.
After breakfast, we check the Chore Board, but it hasn’t been updated.
“Maybe we just choose our chores for the day?” suggests Trina.
“We could do food prep,” I say, nudging Kei. Maybe I can get him in the storeroom and remind him that he can’t ice me out like this. We’re supposed to be closer than ever after our night in the Treehouse, but he’s acting wounded, like I rejected him. Which I didn’t. Because he wasn’t asking. We just got carried away.
In the kitchen, we take stock of what we have (which is not much) and decide to make a stir-fry using one of the sad-looking bags of frozen vegetables in the freezer.
“Where’s the rice?” I ask, like I don’t know exactly where it is.
“In the storeroom,” Kei replies, without looking up from the onion he’s chopping.
“Can you help me measure it?”
“We just need five cups, you can do that.”
“But those sacks of rice are so heavy,” I say, trying to tamp the note of exasperation that has crept into my voice.
“Just scoop it out into a bowl,” he says, sweeping the onion to the side of the cutting board. Using the flat side of the knife, he crushes a clove of garlic.
I sigh. “Okay, I’ll just go into thestoreroomnow.”
“Okay.”
I swallow my frustrated sigh. I measure out the rice, holding my breath against the smell in the storeroom, which has definitely gotten worse, like there’s something dead between the walls. I wait for a few minutes to see if he’ll join me, but he doesn’t. When I go back out, he’s wiping down the counter.
“What else can I do to help?” I ask, but he doesn’t look at me. Frustration hums in my stomach. “Is everything okay?” I say, silently willing him to remember he’s on camera.
He plants the handle of the knife down with more force than is necessary. He shakes his head with a sigh. “Yeah, sorry. I’m just tired.”
“Well, we were up pretty late,” I say, letting the suggestion of what kept us up hang in the air. I look at his lips. I can feel the distance between them and my own, and I wish he would close that distance, show everyone how close we are after our intimate night. But he just turns his back to me.
“I’ll take care of the rest,” he says, pulling a pot out of a cupboard. “Why don’t you go see if Harmony needs any help.”
This is not a good look for us, but I have to act unfazed, so I plant a kiss on his cheek and head out to find Harmony. She and Valeria are lounging in the hammocks.
“Still no sign of anyone?” I ask as I climb in beside Harmony.
“Nope,” she says, picking at her cuticles. “It’s pretty weird, isn’t it?”
“Do you think they’re messing with us?” Valeria asks. “Like, is this some kind of test?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Like they want to see how we act when no one’s watching?”
Harmony nods to the camera affixed to the trunk of the tree, its red light glowing. “Someone is always watching,” she sighs.
In the afternoon, I go for a long swim. The lake is a respite from the tense atmosphere of the camp. Without Tyler and Gabby there to orchestrate our every move, we’re all at loose ends, like puppets with no one to pull our strings.
After dinner, we build a fire and make a half-hearted attempt to have a party. We pass around a bottle of vodka someone found in the Arts & Rec cabin, but we’re a bunch of dull drunks. Mostly no one speaks, but when someone does, it’s almost always to theorize about the sudden disappearance of the crew.
