Chapter Nine
Isla felt unexpectedly light. Not only had she confessed to Petra, Nadine, Aggie, and Josie, and told them the whole truth about Tamsyn, airing out her secrets like laundry, but she’d also somehow found herself in an alliance with the four of them.
Petra and Tamsyn had come up with the name Red Gum Rebels, using the towering trees as inspiration.
Isla had to admit there was a ring to it.
Not that she wasn’t being cautious. Sometimes all it took was one small tug for the whole thing to fall apart at the seams.
Isla understood that better than most.
Her alliance with Talia and Sabine had nearly cost her the game.
And then there was her sister Mallory, who had turned betraying Isla into something of a childhood hobby.
The most memorable incident happened when Isla was nine.
The night before school picture day, Mallory had announced they should cut matching bangs in the bathroom mirror.
“We’ll do it together,” Mallory had said, handing Isla the scissors.
“But you go first because you’re younger and your hair grows faster. ”
Isla, who was tragically gullible and deeply committed to her sister’s happiness, had hacked off a thick chunk of her own hair.
By the time their mother walked in, Mallory’s hair was still perfectly intact, and Isla was the only Stone sister immortalized in the annual school photo with a bluntly chopped micro fringe.
Still, Isla’s airiness refused to fade. They were on their way to the first Sending of the season and while everyone was clearly displaying obvious signs of anxiety—Barra chewed the inside of her cheek so intensely Isla could see the muscles ticking, Abigail walked with her arms folded tight over her chest and Frankie kept clicking her knuckles—Isla felt nothing but nostalgia.
Her first ever Sending was ages ago, but she remembered everything, right down to Vivian’s green maxi slit dress and cream espadrilles.
“Don’t look so nervous,” she said, glancing at Tamsyn walking beside her. The dusty red sky caught in Tamsyn’s inky black hair, turning the edges coppery in the fading light. “It’s going to be fine,” she added and was briefly surprised by how badly she wanted Tamsyn to feel better. Less nervous.
Not that she should be surprised. Right? They were friends now. Tamsyn had even braided Isla’s hair, and Isla had regaled her with talk of her worst modeling shoots.
Still, Tamsyn’s expression remained the same, like she was on her way to a funeral.
Isla even considered nudging Tamsyn with her elbow, but then they stepped out from a rocky outcrop, and Isla’s attention was quickly snatched to something ahead.
The set of Season Five’s Sending.
On one side, two towering river red gums anchored a frame of thick wooden poles that were lashed together with rope.
On the other side, a jagged rock face rose like a wall.
The earth between the trees and rock was leveled and sprinkled with crushed red gravel.
Glowing lanterns and hand-blown glass globes floated from the branches above.
They swayed like heavy, oversized jewelry, catching the dying blood-orange sunlight.
A wooden platform holding the table and the infamous six cups was situated in the center of the space.
Around the platform, in a somewhat lopsided semi-circle, were tree trunks with their tops sanded flat.
Isla took in every detail. Including Vivian, who was standing on the platform smiling as they entered the space.
As always, she was impeccably dressed. This time around, she wore a pearl-white wrap dress with a V-neckline that framed her chest without trying too hard.
Isla’s eyes dropped to her shoes. Tan leather wedge heels by Aje adorned her feet.
Isla could recognize that braided jute sole anywhere.
She’d worn the exact pair during a sun-drenched campaign shoot in Broome last year.
It was her first time in Australia, and she hadn’t taken everyone’s advice about the high UV rays.
Her poor shoulders had burned to a crisp.
“Welcome to Season Five’s first Sending,” Vivian said, flourishing her thin, muscly arms as all twelve contestants walked into the space.
She waited for everyone to take their seats. Isla chose a trunk in the back row out of habit. Tamsyn slid into the spot beside her without hesitating. For the briefest second, their eyes locked.
Then Tamsyn smiled. Her top left incisor caught her lip, and Isla had a sudden flashback of Tamsyn standing in the doorway of Mallory’s kitchen.
Tamsyn moving closer and closer, her cowboy boots silent on the marble tiles.
And that kiss. That kiss had somehow been better and sexier than any other kiss Isla had ever experienced.
Better even than kissing the French artist on the steps of Montmartre.
I mean, the French practically invented kissing, so that kiss should have taken first place.
Isla’s stomach roiled.
How on earth were they going to be friends if Isla’s brain inconveniently conjured up such inappropriate images that made her thighs hot and shaky and her lungs feel thick and cottony?
Not to worry. Isla had a handle on it. She snapped her head away as quickly as the muscles allowed and concentrated on the back of Aggie’s head.
Three days ago her blue hair had been as vivid as a tropical parrot’s feathers, and now it looked washed out and dulled.
Vivian cleared her throat. “Tonight, you will all vote for the pair who you think deserves to leave this game. The pair at the bottom will then face a choice. Leave this game together or go forward to The Sending where only one will be sent home.”
Isla’s skin erupted in prickly goosebumps.
She stole a glance at Tamsyn’s legs and saw that her skin had done the same.
Then she glanced at Petra on the other side of her and was surprised to see her looking as cool as a cucumber.
She had her legs crossed and fingers interlaced and folded over one knee.
She was smiling at the camera crew as if she didn’t have a care in the world.
And maybe she didn’t. Tonight they weren’t just six strong; they were eight.
This morning, Isla and Tamsyn had strategically excused themselves to the watering hole.
It wasn’t actually a hole at all, but an old waist-high well built from uneven red bricks that were patched together with pale mortar.
A heavy circular wooden lid rested on it with a metal handle bolted into its center.
They had bumped into Barra and Dominique.
They’d tag-teamed. Neither had mentioned the Red Gum Rebel alliance, and there was no reason for it. It was their secret to keep.
Tamsyn had gone first. “I’ve watched every season of Outlast Her at least twice, and I can tell you one thing: the first Sending is always stressful.” She had looped the rope once around her hand, then lowered the bucket into the well.
Isla had unscrewed the lids of four water bottles and added, “No one really knows what’s happening yet, so people panic vote.”
“And panic votes usually land on the safest option,” Tamsyn had said, glancing at Isla over the well. “Not the strongest player.”
Dominique had taken little to no convincing. As someone who’d been voted off first in her original season, she was just happy to be included in the plan. “I’m in,” she’d said immediately. “Just tell us who you’re thinking of, and we’ll do it.”
Barra hadn’t answered right away. She’d held out her water bottle and watched Tamsyn pour water carefully into it before saying, “Fine. If Dominique thinks it’s a good plan, then so do I.”
Isla had been completely surprised at how well she and Tamsyn worked together. Like flint and steel striking at just the right angle to spark. And spark they did. There was absolutely no reason to think tonight’s vote wouldn’t be as easy as pie. But then again, it was never really that easy.
“First, I’d like to hear from you, Abigail,” Vivian said.
Abigail suddenly perked up. She was sitting in the front row beside Barra.
Isla could just see the side of her lilac bandeau top and the tattoo of a six-legged octopus sticking out beneath it.
She had hair the color of burnished copper and a small nose ring that glinted in the sun.
Isla had barely interacted with the woman.
All she knew about her was that she was a California firefighter who’d spent weeks battling the Camp Fire in 2018.
The only reason Isla knew that was that Janelle had brought it up in a conversation about her grandmother’s missing parrot, which had gone missing in said fire.
“Yes, Vivian,” Abigail said once she’d been addressed. She had a smoky, almost gravelly voice that could sand a person down to the bone. Isla was oddly surprised that Abigail hadn’t been recruited to do voice work for something gritty and animated.
“When you heard this season was Legends versus Contenders, what were your first thoughts? Did you ever imagine you’d be lining up against returning players?”
Abigail chewed at her bottom lip for what felt like ages before she said, “I guess I was mostly worried about feeling intimidated by some of the Legends. When you watch people on TV, they seem larger than life. I was worried that might affect how I played the game.”
“And were you intimidated?” Vivian asked.
Another pause, though this one thankfully not as long.
“For a few minutes, yes,” Abigail said, nodding.
“But then you realize everyone out here gets hungry. Everyone sweats the same. Titles disappear pretty quickly when you’re falling off a wobbly platform into water.
We’re all just people who want the same thing. ”