8 To Defeat My Enemy, I Must Know My Enemy, Then Memorize My Enemy’s Fun Facts, Then Sit with My Enemy at Dinner, Then…
TO DEFEAT MY ENEMY, I MUST KNOW MY ENEMY, THEN MEMORIZE MY ENEMY’S FUN FACTS, THEN SIT WITH MY ENEMY AT DINNER, THEN…
SEYOON
It’s a long, torturous drive back to Mount Rainier with the four contestants who lost sniffling in the back of the bus.
Either it wasn’t in the budget to rent a separate car for them, or Garrett’s just an asshole.
Probably the latter. I definitely don’t spend the entire hour thinking about how close I came to being one of them.
When we arrive at camp, we get a brief tour of the place right as dusk starts to mark the horizon line.
There are five cabins: the Communal House, where we can eat, hang out, and spend what little free time we have between challenges and filming; another large cabin for the crew; a bathroom and shower building; and our cabin.
Instead of letting us in to take a break, Garrett leads us around the back of the cabin, where there’s a small wooden shed a few paces away from the woods. Blake is waiting there for us.
Blake pats the side of the shed. “This is the confession booth. While you can expect anything you do or say to be recorded with the exception of off hours between one and six a.m., this is a dedicated spot for you to talk one-on-one with the camera and let the viewers in on what you’re thinking at any given moment.
Get your side of a story out, make a funny quip, confess something you need to get off your chest—it’s all welcome. ”
She opens the door to the shed. It’s cramped inside, with only a small bench, a pair of side lights, and a camera hooked up on the opposite wall. She smiles disarmingly. “Who wants to go first?”
I’m the only one to raise my hand. She gestures for me to come up, and I take a seat on the rickety bench inside the shed. It smells like someone’s grandpa in here.
“What do I say?” I ask.
Blake leans against the wall outside, drumming her fingers on her clipboard. “Set the scene for viewers. Tell us how you felt when you first got to camp. What were you thinking? What brought you here?”
Humming, I try to recall. “I thought it was really cool to be in the same place my mom was twenty years ago, and—"
She cuts me off. “Speak in the present tense, as if you’re having these thoughts for the first time and just happen to be letting the camera in on them. For viewers watching this, these confession tapes will be edited in mid-scene, so it’ll make sense to them.”
Blake reaches in to squeeze my arm encouragingly.
“Try again. I’ll ask some questions to help get you started, but remember that my lines are going to be edited out.
So focus on giving a cohesive answer.” Blake nods at the camera.
“And look there. It makes the audience feel like you’re letting them in on a secret. ”
Something about that makes me squirm in my seat. But still, I face the camera and try to remember everything she’s just asked of me. I put myself back in the headspace I was in when I first crested the hill and saw Mount Rainier’s snowy cap peeking out from behind camp. My throat tightens.
CONFESSION TAPE—Seyoon Shin, Contestant
My mom was on the last-ever season of Forest Feud. She got third place, but she should’ve won. If she had, our whole lives would have been different.
So, being here now, playing on the same show she did, seeing the same view she saw… it feels very full circle. Every time I look at that mountain, these trees, I remember why I’m here. Who I’m doing this for.
I’m here to win for her. And I’m not leaving this mountain unless the prize money comes with me.
Blake cackles. “That’s perfect. Oh, I knew I’d like you.”
She asks me a few more questions, coaching me into talking more about who I am, my life back home, that kind of thing.
It’s kind of fun, actually, and really cathartic, until she asks, “Tell us how you feel about narrowly managing to escape elimination in the first challenge. For context, we’re probably going to splice this in right after you crossed the finish line. ”
CONFESSION TAPE—Seyoon Shin, Contestant
Um, uh… I…
“You know,” I say, turning away and hopping out of the booth, “I think I’ve been in here long enough.”
Blake’s perfectly thin eyebrows rise, but before she can argue with me, I escape into the group of other contestants waiting for their turns nearby. She sighs, then looks at her clipboard.
“Alright. Dean, come on up.”
I purposefully look bored as Dean gets into the booth, but I eavesdrop on every hesitant, awkward answer he gives.
Guy does not like being in front of the camera.
After a while, I can’t hide my interest, especially when all the others have their turns.
Is it because I’m nosy? That’s none of your business.
Okay, fine, maybe I am. But these are my competitors; it’s important to hear all about their strengths, weaknesses, and hobbies.
Especially if I want to befriend any of them—I mean, crush them in competition.
I’m reminded of how I used to pore over the stat sheets of the rival team before each and every track meet.
Thank you for always enabling my digital stalking habit, .
I start picturing little stat cards in my head for each person, internalizing the barrage of information in the only way my brain will accept.
Dean Parker
Personality: A jerk who uses his boyish charm and stupid good looks to get away with crimes against humanity (me).
Strengths: Nothing!!!
Weaknesses: Doesn’t know how to hold on to a suitcase handle.
Relative: Vince Parker, dad. Allies with Umma and Garrett (ugh).
Fun Fact: I hate him, he’s seen every season of Forest Feud (nerd), and oh yeah—I hate him.
Notes: I must defeat him in a way that is so humiliating he spends every day agonizing over how he insulted me and ignored my attempt at friendship.
Carter Moxley
Personality: Snobby nepo baby.
Strengths: Probably knows a lot about reality-TV tactics because of his uncle. Kind of athletic, I guess.
Weaknesses: He’s an entitled asshole. Doesn’t use sunscreen.
Relative: Garrett Moxley, uncle. “Won” the last season. Don’t make me repeat this.
Fun Fact: He has sleep apnea and preemptively told the rest of us to “deal with it.”
Notes: I must destroy him, too.
Siddharth Patel
Personality: Class (camp?) clown.
Strengths: As resilient as a rock.
Weaknesses: Had to be informed what resilient means.
Relative: Anvi Patel, sister. Won the fourteenth season. He wants to win too so that his sister doesn’t have one up on him.
Fun Fact: Thinks Bigfoot is real and is deathly scared of him.
Notes: Laughs too hard at his own jokes and spoils the punch line.
Vendredi Tengku
Personality: Fueled by spite and sunshine.
Strengths: Athletic. Bubbly. A literal social butterfly because she’s both social and beautiful like one. Good thing these notes are just for me.
Weaknesses: Says she’s really competitive like it’s a bad thing, but I think that’s a strength.
Relative: Mariah Dillworth, mom. Won the twelfth season, but Vendredi didn’t mention much else about her.
Fun Fact: She wants to be an actor.
Notes: I think we’d make good friends.
Beck McLaughlin
Personality: Unassuming, but with entirely too many talents and niche hobbies.
Strengths: I don’t even know where to start. Math whiz, plays every wind instrument, speaks three languages.
Weaknesses: Not very physically strong. Loses her train of thought easily.
Relative: Her mom and dad were both previous contestants. Her mom won the eleventh season, and her dad lost the same one.
Fun Fact: She’s already been on a reality show before. She almost won Phantom Pursuers, a ghost-hunting show, but accidentally exorcised the spirit instead of catching it. She hopes to win Forest Feud to redeem herself.
Notes: Ask her how one catches a phantom.
Adin Zavary
Personality: A confusing mix between a frat boy–type and a loser. So maybe not that confusing after all.
Strengths: Good with people. Athletic.
Weaknesses: Makes enemies as easily as friends.
Relative: Bilal Malik, uncle. Lost the same season that Siddharth’s sister won.
Fun Fact: Wants to win to make sure he gets elected as student body president and wrestling captain next year… wait, that’s it?
Notes: Has already started bonding with Siddharth, which seems like a headache in the making.
Aeneas Hudson
Personality: Has the anxiety levels of somebody being hunted for sport.
Strengths: Kind, easy to get along with, logical.
Weaknesses: I don’t think they crumble under pressure, per se. More like pressure beats them with a mallet.
Relative: Courtney Grill, grandmother. Lost the seventh season.
Fun Fact: They accidentally signed up for a lifetime membership at their local hot dog–eating league.
Notes: Uses they/them pronouns and really, really doesn’t want to be here.
After what feels like forever, we finally wrap up and break for a very belated dinner. I grab my ambiguous brown slop and survey the cafeteria with a mission: I will make friends today, goddamnit.
There are two girls sitting together in the corner: Beck and Vendredi. Perfect.
I round their table with my tray in hand, waiting so I don’t interrupt their conversation.
Beck, a girl with shocking green eyes that pop against her pale skin, talks a mile a minute, gesticulating so much that it makes her black bob flip this way and that.
Vendredi is listening intently, nodding like she’s fascinated.
She’s one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, with her square, dark-brown face and perfect smile.
“—So while the Whaley House claims to be the most haunted house in America, based on my investigation on Phantom Pursuers, I think it only lands as the sixth or fifth most haunted, right under—” Beck notices me then. “Oh, hello.”
“Hi.” I smile. “Are you talking about ghosts?”
“Yeah.” Beck perks up. “Why? Are you a truthseeker, too?”
“Um… maybe? I like all sorts of stuff. I thought it sounded interesting when you were talking about it in the confession booth,” I say. “Can I join you gu—”
“No,” interrupts Vendredi, sounding panicked. Her eyes widen, and she hurries to finish. “Um, sorry. It’s just that, uh… we’re saving those seats. I’m sorry, really.”
Beck shoots her a confused look, and my ears warm.
Oh.
“That’s okay. Actually, I just remembered I have an appointment,” I blurt. My skin gets hotter. I notice the camera operator at the neighboring table now, tracking us. “I mean meeting. I mean—”
Alright, leaving now.
I turn on my heel, ignoring the brief crumpled expression of regret on Vendredi’s face. Okay. So the first and second attempt to make friends didn’t work out. That’s fine. You know what they say about the third time.
I look around the rest of the cafeteria, at the several camera people milling about, capturing all our interactions. The positive and the painful ones. How many failures of mine have already been documented today? Do I really need another?
… Maybe I’ll wait to try again.
I toss my dinner into the trash on my way out, not that hungry anymore.