Chapter Twenty-One
The next morning, our seventh at camp, we barely need producer intervention. We know to split by gender at breakfast and to talk about our feelings and our relationships, something I’m still not comfortable with, but faking it has gotten easier.
Until this morning, that is. Today, I’m despondent.
I’m certain I’ve ruined things with Kei, whether it’s because I let myself develop actual feelings for him, or because I kissed Jesse, or because I’m only a reasonable facsimile of a woman in comparison to Alessandra.
She’s a lingerie model, and I don’t even own any lingerie.
I haven’t had a boyfriend who’s respected me since eighth grade.
I can’t even find west, for fuck’s sake.
I look at her across the Mess Hall. She’s sitting with the other female POPPs, looking relaxed and confident. Might as well start packing my bags.
Valeria has taken the lead on directing the conversation this morning, making sure everyone gets a turn to talk about their POPPs. She grills each of us, and when it’s my turn, I say something non-committal about Jesse being “super sweet.”
“Good morning, campers!” Gabby has appeared, a wide smile belying the dark circles under her eyes.
She’s accompanied by a short, broad man in a crisp navy suit.
He has tanned, leathery skin, and a head of thick, white hair.
He looks so out of place in his fancy suit and shiny shoes that it takes me a moment to recognize him.
Oh. Holy. Shit. It’s the Silver Fox.
“Good morning!” Gabby yells, clapping loudly.
A hush falls over the Mess Hall. “I hope you’re all ready for another great day at Camp Couple-Up!
” She has ratcheted up the chipmunkiness of her voice.
Harmony shoots me a sidelong glance. “I’m delighted to welcome a very special guest, a very special friend of the show, Mr. Robert McFarland.
” Gabby claps fervently, beaming at the Silver Fox.
He smiles, his eyes twinkling, just like they did that night at the bar.
“Is she delighted or is she terrified?” Harmony murmurs.
“Mr. McFarland is just here to observe, like a fly on the wall, so you just go about your day as usual.”
“Pretend I’m not even here,” Mr. McFarland says, in that deep, lilting voice. His eyes roam the crowd until they settle on me. He gives me a wink.
“But we do so, so appreciate you being here,” Gabby says, grasping his arm.
She turns back to us, her expression suddenly stern.
“Here’s how it’s going to happen this afternoon.
After breakfast and gym time, you’ll need to get ready for the Couple-Up Ceremony.
When you hear the bell, the female campers and their POPPs will meet by the flagpole, and the male campers and their POPPs will meet at the fire pit. Understood?”
“So, all the females gotta go to the flagpole?” Giovanni asks, rubbing his forehead.
“No, just the female campers. The female POPPs will go to the fire pit with you guys.” Gabby’s smile only barely conceals her exasperation.
“We will have two separate Couple-Ups, the first one will be at the fire pit, where the male campers will choose if they want to stay with their current bunkmate, or couple-up with their POPP.” She pauses, scanning the group for any hint of confusion.
“Now,” she says, in a slightly louder voice.
“I’m going to really need you to pay attention to this part.
” She’s staring directly at Giovanni. “Once all the male campers have decided, then the girls will make their decisions. Yes, Giovanni?”
“Do the females know what the guys have chosen?”
“Jesus, Giovanni, no, they don’t know,” she blurts. And then, with her composure regained, she continues. “After each girl makes their choice, their current bunkmate—the guy at the fire pit—will join them at the flagpole, either alone, or with their POPP, if they’ve chosen her. Yes? Good?”
Giovanni’s brow is knitted together, but he doesn’t say anything.
Gabby continues. “If two campers choose one another, they will continue to be bunkmates, and both of their POPPs will go home. If one camper chooses their POPP and the other doesn’t, then the remaining camper will be single, and therefore vulnerable to elimination.
If both campers choose their POPPs, everyone stays.
Does anyone have any questions?” She’s smiling, but also somehow manages to convey no one better have any fucking questions.
“You’ve got about ninety minutes, so go do your thing.
” She claps, leaning her head toward Mr. McFarland as he says something in her ear.
Then he looks toward me, smiling. I start to make my way toward them, but Gabby drags him away.
I’ve become reliant on my daily swim to clear the darkness from my mind, so I quickly get changed and head to the lake.
I jog down to the water and run right in, the icy cold jolting me out of my head and into my body.
I dive under, gliding through the darkness until my lungs can do no more. I resurface with a gasp.
A chill ripples through me, not the kind you get when you’re cold, but the kind you get when you’re being watched. I scan the beach—except for the eyes of the cameras, it’s empty. I whirl around in the water, but I am, as always, alone in the lake.
I look down into the water, which is so dark I can’t even see my legs treading beneath me.
Which means there’s no way to know what’s in the water with me, below me, around me.
I suddenly need to get out of the lake. I thrash my way back to shore, and then take off running up the beach path.
A cold breeze threads through the trees, their branches rustling as if they’re laughing at me.
Probably everyone is laughing at me. This was such a ridiculous idea.
Who do I even think I am? I burst into the clearing, where I stop, hands on my thighs, gasping for breath.
“Cleo,” says a deep voice from behind me.
I whip around. The Silver Fox. “You scared me,” I pant.
“Apologies.” He’s smiling, but I can’t tell if it’s friendly or if it’s mocking. “I wondered if you’d be here,” he says, his lip twitching. “Have you found the man of your dreams yet?”
He’s not wearing a mic, so it’s probably safe for me to banter, but I can’t take the chance.
“Working on it,” I say vaguely. “So, what brings you here?”
“Just checking in,” he says, equally as vague. “I’m an investor, of sorts.”
“Ah.”
He leans in closer. “Do you think I’ve made a good investment?” His twinkly smile has slipped slightly.
I swallow. “Yeah,” I croak. “For sure.” We all almost died from food poisoning, the Bunkhouse should be condemned, and we could get eaten by bears at any moment. But sure, great investment.
He cocks his head. “Yeah?”
“Totally.”
He leans back. “Good.”
“So,” I say brightly, as I feel a sheen of sweat prickle on my top lip. I can do witty repartée all day, but polite chit-chat is a special sort of hell. “You must be pleased with the reaction to the show. Tyler said we were trending on Twitter.”
“There you are!” Gabby appears, practically tripping over herself. “How’d you sneak away like that?” she says, patting some non-existent dust from Mr. McFarland’s lapels. “Cleo’s not bothering you, is she?”
He peers at me with his forehead creased, like he’s concerned, but his response is nonchalant. “Not at all. Just catching up. I recruited her. Kei, too, actually.”
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Gabby says, with exaggerated warmth, before turning to me.
“You’d better get ready for the Couple-Up Ceremony.
” She points toward the Bunkhouse, and then links her arm through Mr. McFarland’s.
“I’m so excited to show you our new editing software,” she says as she drags him away.
He glances over his shoulder, one eyebrow arched.
I smile weakly until he turns his head again.
I shiver. The sense of foreboding that I felt in the lake is still with me.
Maybe it’s just my overactive imagination, or nerves about Kei and Alessandra, or maybe it’s just the wine hangover, but something feels off.
I can’t shake the feeling in the shower, or even when Harmony lends me her nicest sundress—a lemon-yellow number with braided straps—for the Couple-Up Ceremony.
When the bell rings, beckoning us to the flagpole for the moment of truth, I feel like I’m about to witness my own execution.