9 Two Rivals, One Bunk Bed
TWO RIVALS, ONE BUNK BED
DEAN
Garrett and Blake are there after dinner to personally escort us to our cabin so we can begin assigning bunks, a team of cameras close behind them. Even after just one day with those glassy, all-seeing screens following me around, my senses are chafed.
The cabin itself is quaint but charming.
The dark oak logs of the walls have been decorated with warm, homey string lights.
I scan along the ceiling, my suspicions confirmed when I spot cameras tucked into the corners of the room.
It seems like a lawsuit waiting to happen, but reality TV is known for its blatant disregard for privacy.
I’m not surprised, but I’m not thrilled, either.
More concerning are the bunk beds. There are double-decker bunks along each wall of the room, with a dresser on either side of each bed. Our luggage sits next to the door, waiting to be collected.
Adin, trailing in behind me, hacks and pounds on his broad chest. “Has this place not been aired out since our folks were staying here?”
“Think of it as inhaling a piece of history. A souvenir you get to keep in your lungs forever,” Garrett says. “Now then. Carter gets first dibs on beds, then Dean, then down the ranks, depending on how you placed.”
Carter picks the bottom bunk in the farthest corner, so I pick the one on the opposite wall. It goes down the line until people start pairing up one by one, leaving only the last contestant.
Damnit.
“Don’t look so excited,” Seyoon grumbles at me as she flings her duffel bag on the ground next to my bunk. She hesitates, glancing at the empty loft bed. “Could I maybe have the bottom bunk?”
“That defeats the purpose of picking based on ranks,” I reply.
She crosses her arms and glares. “I move around a lot in my sleep, okay? So if I roll off the top bunk, fall, and break every bone in my body, it’ll be your fault. Can your conscience handle that?”
Probably, but I’d like to avoid hearing springs squeaking above me all night, so I haul myself up and onto the loft bed. Seyoon gives me a tight-lipped smile, probably her version of a thank-you.
Chatter flits through the cabin as everyone settles in.
I stay where I am, frowning up at the oak ceiling.
I wish I had my phone to tinker with as an excuse to not socialize.
Even if I wanted to, I have no idea how I’d insert myself into any of these conversations.
I’m oil on water. Bleach in vinegar. Similar to the side effects of chlorine gas that is produced when you mix those, my attempts at socializing cause breathing difficulties, watery eyes, nausea, and headaches for all those involved.
Garrett sidles up to one of the bunk beds and knocks on the post, getting our attention.
“Glad to see you’re all getting cozy! Before ol’ Blakey and I head out and let you get some rest, I just have one more parting piece of advice for you all.
Remember earlier today, when I said there’d be an opportunity to win points outside of challenges? ”
Seyoon’s mattress creaks below mine as she sits up. “You did?”
“Does no one listen to me?”
“Well, what is it?” asks Beck.
Garrett ambles to the center of the room, hands crossed behind his back as he turns in a slow circle, eyeing us with amusement.
“As you know, Forest Feud is the name, but family is the game. We and the studio network aren’t shying away from the whole legacy shtick, and neither should you,” he says. “You’re all here because of your past connections, so now we want to encourage you to make a few of your own.”
Aeneas, in the bunk closest to him, raises their hand hesitantly. “Um, sorry, what does that—”
Garrett holds his hand up. “Wait. Let the silence sit. Dramatic pause.”
The pause is more awkward than dramatic as a camera operator swivels around to get all of our baited reactions.
“Alright,” Garrett continues. “What that means is: We want you to form alliances with each other. The audience will eat that stuff up, especially if relatives of past rivals start working together.”
He peers around the room, lighting up when he spots his victims. “Seyoon, Dean, and Carter—the perfect example. How about a follow-up to one of TV’s greatest alliances? Eh?”
None of us reply. Blake steps around Garrett.
“Perhaps it’ll change your mind to hear that those in an alliance will get three bonus points for every challenge they continue working together,” she says. That is tempting.
A sharp scoff from the bed opposite mine. “I don't care. I’m not taking them under my wing,” Carter says.
“I’d never want to work with you anyway,” Seyoon snaps, standing up from her bunk. “And you better not go crying to Uncle when I beat you in the next challenge.”
Someone makes an obnoxious cat noise from across the room. Carter sits up.
“Big talk for a girl who hardly made the cut—just like your mom barely made the final three.” He turns and locks eyes with me next.
“And you. Don’t get comfortable in second place.
Your dad may have done it, but you don’t seem like half the man he was.
” Carter lies back down. “There’s no competition here, and certainly no chance for an alliance.
I’m going to beat both of you just like my uncle beat your parents. ”
The cabin erupts into excited hoots and calls for a fight. Garrett’s riotous laughter bounces off the walls. “He’s definitely my nephew!” he says. Blake tries to quiet everyone, but there’s no quelling a room of teens sensing tension brewing.
No, that’s not the only thing that’s brewing. My blood boils hot under my skin, scalding where my pulse hammers.
Carter’s good. It’s smart to make a strong first impression; there was always one person who made a big show like this on every season of Forest Feud.
It’s a surefire way to be remembered as a tough player.
If the rowdy crowd wasn’t interrupting every thought in my head, I’d think it through and realize that taunting me isn’t personal.
In all likelihood, Carter probably doesn’t give two shits about me, let alone how I measure up as a man against my dad.
But for once, I’m not able to think it through. Because the pressure building in me hasn’t had a chance to cool all day. Because I came here to do right by Dad and Meredith, not embarrass the Parker name and come home empty-handed.
In the ruckus, I glance at Seyoon. She’s silent, shockingly. Her back is turned away from me, so I can’t make out her expression, but by the way her clenched fists shake at her sides, I know she’s not letting this one go, either.
That Moxley is going to pay.
Afterward, everyone is too exhausted to do much more than collapse in bed. Once they call lights out, the only sound in the dark cabin is the occasional snore or sleepy murmur. But I can’t sleep. I toss and turn for hours, staring blankly into the dark.
In the middle of the night, shuffling below catches my attention. I lie still as the mattress creaks and feet softly hit the floorboards. The door to the cabin squeaks opens, letting in a sliver of moonlight before it’s shut just as quickly.
I last only a few minutes before curiosity and restlessness get the best of me. I toss the blankets off, hop down, throw on my hoodie, and head outside.
The sky is a shade of heavy, inky black, suffocating in a way that could swallow you whole. But it’s the stars—millions of them—that compress the air from my lungs.
I thought I’d seen stars before. You can spy Ursa Major from my bedroom window on a good night.
But this? These are stars. Bright, crisp pinpricks stand in contrast on a sea of emptiness, spanning each corner of my periphery.
The sky feels less like a roof over my head and more like a hole in the ozone.
I’m reminded of how small I am, of the gravity keeping my feet on the dewy grass.
I understand for the first time why people go out in nature.
A cool breeze whistles through the forest, sobering me from my trance. I drag myself back to Earth, to the stillness of an empty campsite. Only the wind and my stuttered inhale interrupt the quiet.
Well. That, and the muffled, angry ranting coming from the shed next to the cabin.