Chapter 9. In Which the Probability of Being Trapped on an Island with My Enemy and Thus Getting Sent to a Washington St
IN WHICH THE PROBABILITY OF BEING TRAPPED ON AN ISLAND WITH MY ENEMY AND THUS GETTING SENT TO A WASHINGTON STATE DEPARTMENT OF CORRECTIONS PRISON INCREASES
We lost against Cabin Iota and Theta, obviously. And Luca won his round, more obviously. The dread in my stomach opens into an endless cavern.
Already, the Medal is slipping out of my grasp, along with The Plan.
Along with eventual freedom.
“Your auras are sickening,” Jade says through a grimace. She’s sitting beside Christiana on her bed, working on beading her creepy eyeball charm again. “Should I bring out”—she checks both ways as if she’s ensuring no mentors are around—“my rations?”
Benedict nonchalantly reads beside the space heater on the floor instead of answering. I try not to look directly at him for the sake of my sanity.
Christiana also doesn’t respond, too focused on Jade’s sweatshirt. Rather, the rat poking its head out of the front pocket.
Unease settles in my chest. “What do you mean, ‘rations’?”
“Alcohol,” Jade responds simply.
“What?”
“What, did you want weed? I didn’t bring any this time.”
“No—”
“We could throw a secret party next weekend. Invite others?”
Partying. Out of the Seven Deadly Distractions, that one ranks third.
“I don’t think Felix will allow that,” Christiana says quietly, observing his empty twin bed and clock-lined windowsill by the door. At least someone here is logical.
“We can get around him,” Jade says, setting aside her eyeball charm. “Mentors are always screwing off on Sundays. And each other. Let’s do it.” She winks at Christiana.
Christiana stays silent, but her cheeks tinge pink.
Sunday. The day before the second test.
Is anyone taking this seriously?
I hold up a hand. “There are still professors who could notice, or—”
“They’ll keep their mouths zipped,” Jade says. “My mom is a princess.”
My mouth hangs open slightly. She’s the royal.
I study her spiked jewelry and ripped black clothes.
Even if Jade’s parents are royalty, that sole connection wouldn’t have been enough to get her admitted into brAIN.
She would’ve needed to prove her brainpower, too.
She must be the awful type who doesn’t do her homework purely because it bores her, even though she could complete it in seventeen seconds.
“A princess of what?” I ask her.
“Greece and Denmark. I’m the great-granddaughter of King Constantine II and Queen Anne-Marie. Mother was born here, but she moved around a lot. Now she mostly ghost hunts with my stepdad in Ohio.”
“My parents are also powerful enough,” Benedict adds, raising a gloved hand from his bed. “Our donations are why the professors here get a sabbatical.”
There’s no way I’m letting them throw a party.
In fact, I’m not letting this team slip down the drain any further.
“Okay, time for some ground rules,” I say, stifling my desire to yell it like a boot camp leader. I climb down my bunk ladder and go to my cubby to grab the whiteboard and dry-erase marker I packed.
If this first test made anything clear, it’s that I need them to succeed. As much as I want to, I can’t do this alone. Which means I need to get all of us on the same page.
“The mentors already told us the rules,” Jade says, making a confused face.
“Not their rules. My rules. Our new team rules.” Balancing the board against a prong of my bunk, I pop open the cap to my marker and write the Seven Deadly Distractions: vulnerability, sleep deprivation, partying, dating, junk food, video games, social media.
Christiana squints at the board. “Are these what we’re supposed to do?”
“No. What not to do—”
“No junk food?” Jade interrupts, her high-pitched tone full of disgust. Her rat pokes out of her sweatshirt again, pulling her attention.
She pets its head. “By the way, this guy’s name is Big Papa Huge Time.
When the Bachelor Island Ghost visited me in my dream last night, he told me that’s what he’d like to be called.
I think I’ll bring him to the apple-picking event tonight. You guys are going, right?”
The Bachelor Island Ghost. Felix brought that up on the first day I arrived, too.
“What ghost?” I ask.
“He hasn’t visited your dreams yet?”
“Um. No.”
“Most people believe he’s a past camper who lost the final Medal of Victory contest and suffered a heart attack due to the shame.”
“Oh.”
“But I think he’s one of the original three bachelors who named this island.” Jade lifts the ominous glass chunk in her lap again. “These evil eye amulets will protect us. Besides candles, wearing one is the most effective way to guard yourself against him.”
“No sleep deprivation is technically already a rule here,” Benedict interjects without looking up from his book. “We have quiet hours. Therefore, it’s redundant. And social media and video games are highly inaccessible.”
“Good point, Benny,” Jade says.
The glare he sends her could cut through steel. “Benedict.”
Already, my polite exterior that’s been so carefully curated by my media training is threatening to melt off again, just like at JSHS.
“Let me finish, please,” I say, holding back something more colorful. I replace social media and video games with camp-hosted events. “No canoes, no campfires, no apple picking—no activities that will distract us from winning.”
“What?” Jade shouts.
“These rules ensure that we’ll beat the two cabins we’re up against next week.
We need our brains in the best shape. Also, every morning, from seven to before classes”—I write it down—“we’ll study in the Food Laboratory.
Every evening, from six to nine”—I write that down, too—“we’ll regroup and strategize for the next day. ”
Because if we actually follow these rules, then we might stand a chance at beating Luca once we inevitably go up against his cabin. But I keep that last bit to myself. Showing any hostility toward their precious hockey star could deplete any semblance of teamwork we’ve formed.
“Does that say dating, too?” Benedict asks, setting his book down beside his thigh. He sits upright. “You’re truly telling people not to date?”
“No way! We already have CCs,” Jade says. Her eyes are full of horror, like she’s seeing the ghost she swears haunts this island. “And did you see how hot Luca looked this morning? If we have a party, we can invite him.”
“Don’t compliment other teams,” I say, my voice rising. I tap my marker against partying on the board in quick succession. “And no party. Don’t you all have something to lose if you come home empty-handed?!”
Everyone stares back at me, eyebrows raised and mouths ajar.
Maybe because what I said is true, and they will lose something if they don’t come home with the Medal. Or maybe my mask just slipped more than I thought, and I look as out of my mind as I did when I threw my smoothie.
Voices come from outside our cabin, pulling our attention toward the window. One is playful and upbeat, with a familiar light, raspy lilt.
“That’s Luca,” Jade says, rising to her feet. “Someone invite him!”
My mouth opens, ready to scold her again.
But then an idea clicks into place.
Partying is one of the Seven Deadly Distractions. For multiple reasons. The alcohol. The potential to get hungover. The exhaustion. It’s a hotbed of irresponsibility. If Luca comes, then there may be plenty of ways to sabotage him there, leaving him incompetent for the next day’s test.
It’s not what I want to do. Only a day ago, I swore I would never stoop to Luca’s level and take part in the brAIN Wars. That I would win with my mind and pencil. But my cabinmates aren’t listening to me, and they seem completely uninterested in studying. Can I really trust them?
The answer leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
Slowly holding up a finger to signal that I’ll be back, I step out onto the porch. Luca is walking toward Cabin Gamma alongside his team. His smile is as bright as sunlight peeking through a cloudy haze, lightening his dark hair and eyes a shade.
“Luca!” I call.
The moment Luca spots me, his face lifts in surprise. Excitement. Like he’s eager to rub in how catastrophically he beat me.
He leaves whatever conversation he was having with his cabinmates to approach me on the porch. Hands tucked into his mesh shorts pockets, he shows me that frustratingly charismatic, goofy grin of his. “Prince Charming.”
My spit catches in my throat. I try to get it dislodged. “Don’t call me that.”
Luca only beams brighter, like he definitely still will.
The only reason Luca would ever call me that is obvious: I was the opposite of a prince charming when I threw that smoothie at him, and I haven’t proven that I’m anything otherwise since I showed up here. Now he’s relishing that. How is he always finding new ways to mock me?
Inviting him to this party will require a friendly face, so I show my own well-practiced, award-winning positive expression back. “Your team did well today.”
“Yeah! I think so.”
“Congrats.”
“Thanks, buddy.”
That’s all he says. No subtle jabs. No laughs.
Nerves tumble through me at how unexpected it is.
They magnify as I realize what I need to do next.
Luca won’t attend our party, leaving himself open to sabotage, if I don’t make it sound cool enough.
As Long Beach High’s most popular hockey player, he’s been to a million parties. I’ve never been to one.
“Hello?” Luca says, waving his ring-adorned hand in my face.
I snap back to focus. Stuffing my hands in my slacks pockets, I lean against the cabin wall. Because I couldn’t care less if Luca comes, obviously, even though the future of my image and livelihood may depend on it. I’m cool. “My cabin is having a thing on Sunday.”
“A thing?”
“A party thing.”
“Sick.”
“With, like, alcohol.”
“Yeah. Got that.”
The treetops rustle in the breeze. A crow caws.
“You’re invited,” I say upon realizing that key missing ingredient. “If you wanna run through. Maybe five. Six.”
“A personal invitation?” Luca asks, tilting his head. His dark curls shift enough to reveal a cartilage piercing on his left ear. I never noticed until now.
“I—I guess,” I say. Stutter, really. I don’t know why.
Luca’s grin grows. “How could I say no to that?”
It’s the answer I wanted, yet my chest becomes heavy. I’m purposely trying to get my enemy to bomb a test with the Seven Deadly Distractions. Is that going too far?
No. This is the brAIN Wars. And Luca started it.
Meanwhile, Prince List’s image and mine are on the line. Nothing is for him.
“I’m glad you can come,” I say, the reminder strengthening my resolve. “At least, if you can get past your mentor and sneak in.”
“I’m sure I can,” Luca says. “We’re supposed to be smart, right?” He winks at me. It’s playful. Sarcastic? Is he implying I’m not?
I smile back thinly in response.
With that, Luca returns toward his cabin, and I walk back into my own.
Christiana and Jade stand there, staring at me.
“Look who’s pro-party now,” Jade says, judgmentally crossing her arms.
The embarrassment hits hard. I fix my shirt collar to buy myself time to concoct an excuse.
“We’ll still meet to study every morning and night on top of our schedules.
And ditch other extraneous camp events. Talking with Luca now made me realize that”—I shouldn’t keep saying party aloud.
Mom and Dad will somehow hear me back in New York City—“a get-together might help us bond with other teams. And improve our own.” I look pointedly at Benedict.
He keeps silently reading his book.
Typical.
Christiana perks up suddenly. “Rory, you’re a genius!”
I suppose. But. “What?”
“All of the cabins do need to bond more.” Excitement overtakes her body, making her do jazz hands and a little shimmy, her pixie cut bopping around her ears. “All of this sabotage is really so uncalled-for.”
“I’m not following,” I say.
“Think about Delta today.”
“What about them?”
“I heard they didn’t turn in their packet because they were so tired after those timers went off all night in their cabin. If all the cabins bond enough, though, then maybe we can make this fifty-year brAIN Wars tradition of sabotage go away. Like you said!”
Wait. “I said what?”
“Intriguing notion,” Benedict says, shockingly inserting himself into the conversation. He rests his hand on his sculpted jawline. “Then the next three tests would no longer be dictated by who was sabotaged most recently. They would be based on true intelligence. A fair trial.”
I hold up a palm. “No, no. This isn’t what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” Christiana asks.
Benedict and Jade show me equally confused stares.
I’m trying to sabotage your beloved Luca.
I can’t say that. That will get me hated by my cabin. I’ll be kicked off Bachelor Island and smote for harming the world’s perfect angel.
“Never mind,” I mumble.
“Will we have enough drinks to invite a lot of people?” Christiana asks Jade. The petrification she showed only minutes ago about possessing alcohol has disintegrated under the hope of spreading peace.
Jade walks to her bottom bunk and pulls out a gym bag. She unzips the top, revealing fifteen liter-sized bottles of vodka. “Probably.”