7 You Want Me to Have Your Back? The Thing That Got Julius Caesar Killed?
YOU WANT ME TO HAVE YOUR BACK? THE THING THAT GOT JULIUS CAESAR KILLED?
DEAN
I watch Seyoon out of the corner of my eye, examining her splotchy flush and her exhausted stance, bent over and gripping her knees. Her gaze is fixed on the dirt between her shoes. She’s so stiff, I’m not even sure she’s breathing. I’ve never seen anyone run that fast.
More unfathomable than me placing second in a race is her scraping to make the cut at all. If I wasn’t still trying to calm my heartbeat, I’d rub it in her face. With class, of course. Not like she would.
Garrett blows his whistle in a happy tune. “Campers, I’m impressed! I—wait, wait, wait, hold on.” He straightens his blazer and turns so the closest camera gets his good side. He starts again.
Campers, I’m impressed! You all demonstrated some serious skill and agility. Well, those of you who didn’t fall in the pit holes, get washed down the creek, or fall off your zip lines. The rest of you? Nice work. We’re in for a seriously cutthroat season.
Unfortunately for those who came in last, this was your last hurrah with us. An assistant will show the four of you to the Loser Limo; your bags are already inside. That’s right, get out of here. Shoo!
One of the people who didn’t make it in time, a girl with dyed purple hair and watery eyes, sniffs. “Like, now?”
“No,” Garrett concedes. “We still have to film a going-away outro for you guys when we’re back at camp. Stick around for now. Just… maybe out of my shot.”
For the remaining eight of you, congratulations! You’ve made it through your first challenge. Now, for the exciting part: How many points have you earned? Let’s turn to the handy-dandy tally board that my buddy Luke has put together for us in real time.
A blond, lanky man who must be an executive assistant of some kind and doesn’t seem pleased about earning the title of Garrett’s “buddy” picks up a large board.
The left side is numbered with places from first to eighth, while the right side has the points column.
In between are tiny pieces of wood with our names carved on them, slotted into place.
1st
Carter Moxley
10 pts
2nd
Dean Parker
9 pts
3rd
Vendredi Tengku
8 pts
4th
siddharth patel
7 pts
5th
adin zavary
6 pts
6th
beck mclaughlin
5 pts
7th
aeneas hudson
4 pts
8th
seyoon shin
3 pts
Nine points. Seeing my name so high on the leaderboard makes pride balloon in my chest. I wish Meredith and Dad could see this. They will, I remind myself. I scan the rest of the contestants’ names, catching on the one in first place.
Wait. Is that—?
“Moxley?” Seyoon says, broken from her stupor. People move out of her way as she approaches the board. Her jaw falls. She swivels around and points her finger at the guy who came in first. “You’re Garrett’s kid?”
Garrett ruffles the boy’s strawberry-blond hair. “This is Carter, my nephew. Winning must run in our genes.”
“You call that winning?” Seyoon continues, completely oblivious to the way all five cameras have been trained on her since her voice started rising in volume. “He cut our cable. I saw your tool, you tool.”
Carter crosses his arms and shrugs. He’s Seyoon’s height but has perfected the art of looking down on someone, even with his stature. “I had it on me. It’s not cheating to use the resources available to you.”
“And was one of those resources having your uncle as the host? I’m sure you were as caught off guard by this challenge as the rest of us, and that it was a total coincidence you had a bolt cutter on you.”
To my horror, Seyoon seeks me out in the crowd. “Back me up, Dean. He could have killed us!”
Everyone and the cameras turn to me. The blood drains from my face. I don’t know what happened to the zip line. All I knew was there wasn’t any time to waste, so I didn’t stop to think about it. With all these eyes on me, I can’t think anything at all. “Uh…”
My silence punctuates the air. Seyoon glares, shaking her head.
Shame crawls down my spine.
“That’s the nature of the game,” Garrett says to her. “And I explicitly said the only rules are you can’t cut through the woods. So, no, Carter didn’t technically cheat.”
“Winning on technicalities instead of merit, yeah, okay. That definitely does run in your family, you sleazy—”
She seems to finally notice the cameras surrounding her and snaps her jaw shut. Blake, next to one of the camera operators, looks disappointed that she didn’t finish her scathing line of thought. Insulting the host would make great TV.
When it’s clear Seyoon’s done, Blake steps in and clears her throat. “Alright, everyone. We need to get back to camp and film contestant introductions before the sun sets, so everyone head back to the buses, please. Sound good?”
Her crisp, clear tone leaves no room for argument. The rest of the contestants murmur and cast Seyoon, Carter, and me glances on their way back to camp. My skin burns. As Carter passes, he crinkles his nose in disgust. I didn’t even say anything to him. Damn Seyoon for dragging me into this.
And then it’s just me, her, and a single camera and mic operator. My earlier plan of rubbing in the fact that she didn’t end up beating me seems moot now.
“Did you actually see Carter cut our zip line?” I ask.
“No, I accused the nephew of the host in front of everyone for shits and giggles. You seriously don’t believe me? Yes, I saw. He played dirty and had an unfair advantage. How could you not back me up there?”
The thought of Carter, the nephew of the guy who cheated Dad over, doing the same to me makes my face flush with a mixture of humiliation and resentment. But I swallow it down. I know better than to cause a scene while being filmed. I’d rather die than have a public outburst. “There was no point.”
She barks out a laugh. “That’s pathetic.”
My breath stutters. Anger is quick to fill my lungs instead. “I’m not pathetic because I don’t let emotions get the best of me. I use my head. That’s the kind of player I am.”
“Don’t bullshit me. You were just scared to speak up.”
A bit too close to home. “And you’re too full of yourself to accept why you lost. We both fell off that zip line, but I didn’t stall. You did.”
Seyoon pauses, biting her tongue. I can see the gears turning in her head as she replays the last moments of the race. Regret crumples her expression. “Whatever.”
She sniffs indignantly, rubbing her nose and smearing something red on her face. My eyes drop to her hands. They’re bloodier than before; she opened her cuts back up at some point. Probably in the fall.
I rub my chest, suddenly tight, and notice there’s half of a bloodied handprint on the front of my shirt. A memory of her grabbing it to keep me from falling off the zip line pops into my mind.
Shit.
Seyoon starts to storm away.
“Wait,” I say, reaching out to her but stopping midair. My tongue is thick in my mouth, making the words difficult to get out. “Uh. Thank you. For saving me from falling off.”
It’s obvious she barely remembers. Like it was a reflex to help me instead of a decision. Seyoon flexes her hand, grimacing. “Well,” she spits. “That’s the kind of player I am.”
Something ugly scratches at my insides as she walks away.
Our fight replays in my head as I head to the bus, trying to pretend like I don’t see the camera operator in my periphery. Fight is an uncomfortable word. It implies letting my feelings take over—which they did. They never do. At least, I never let it show when they do.
A pressure headache grows behind my temples as I think back further, to the ugly sensation of everyone’s eyes on me. The bulge in my throat I couldn’t speak past. The shame that stuck to my skin when Seyoon leveled me with a look of disgust.
I should’ve spoken up about Carter cheating. Dad and Meredith would have. They would have said something smart, something tough. They would’ve stood up for what’s right.
The show’s just started, and I’m already letting them down.