Chapter 29. In Which We Keep the Bachelor Island Ghost up past His Bedtime, and Now He’s Probably Going to Set Us on Fir
IN WHICH WE KEEP THE BACHELOR ISLAND GHOST UP PAST HIS BEDTIME, AND NOW HE’S PROBABLY GOING TO SET US ON FIRE OR DUNK US IN WATER FROM THE RED SEA OR WHATEVER HE DOES; I REMAIN UNCERTAIN, TO BE CANDID
Sleeping in a confined space with four strangers for three weeks has already proven to be an inconvenience. This becomes infinitely worse, however, when all those people want to kill one another.
“I didn’t have a choice,” Christiana says on a quaver. She’s sitting cross-legged on her top bunk. “We’re competing against them next week. They deserved to know.”
“What kind of daft logic is that?” Benedict grumbles below my bunk. “If I hit your head with a bat, there would just be an echo.”
“Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that, finger fuck,” Jade snaps while brushing her teeth by the sinks. She whips the toothbrush out of her mouth and wields it like a knife.
Apparently, they’re official. Yippee, I guess.
I stare at the ceiling in my top bunk, remaining silent. Mere hours ago, I assumed that our cabin would be celebrating our near-impossible win and our invitation to compete for the Medal of Victory next week.
“There’s a kinder way to phrase that request, Jade,” Felix says, holding out his hands like a priest as he walks through the room, even though he has no clue what’s going on.
We told him the reason our stuff was rummaged through and stolen was a bear, which he believed and reported to the powers that be.
As long as we keep our mouths shut about Gamma shooting our belongings into the lake, it seems like they’ll keep theirs shut about us burning down their cabin.
“Excuse me, sorry, and may I, too, are magic words that see you through,” he sings. “Polite words make the world feel bright, so speak with kindness, day and—”
Jade’s toothbrush whirls across the cabin and smacks Felix in the head.
“Just leave to make out with Jameson already,” Jade shouts at him. “We know you sneak out every night.”
Felix pats down his plaid shirt, where a line of toothpaste has traveled down the front. At first, I expect he’ll argue, but then he says, “Very well. I’ll be back.”
I bury my head under my pillow to try to tune out the chaos. But when I close my eyes, all I see is the expression on Luca’s face when he was betrayed. And all I feel is a nonstop ache, like I found something and lost it at the same time.
If only Luca hadn’t been here. If only he hadn’t dragged me onto the ice during disco skate night, or pulled me aside during the fireworks festival, or started convincing me I could be someone besides the person Mom and Dad want me to be.
I wish I still hated Luca.
But I don’t. Not at all.
“This is going to make next week’s contest more competitive,” Benedict says. There’s a grouchy gravel to his tone now. “Which is the last thing we need.”
“If anyone should’ve sacrificed themselves and taken the blow for the team, it should’ve been Rory,” Jade cuts in. “He’s the one who suggested we sabotage Gamma in the first place.”
I rip my pillow off and bolt upright. “Then I’ll resign from the Medal of Victory contest. Will that make Cabin Gamma happy? Will it make you all happy?”
Everyone falls quiet.
The silence I wished for seconds ago now feels like torture, forcing me to sit in the aftermath of my declaration.
Winning this contest is the only reason why I came here.
If I go through with this resignation, Mom and Dad will need to invent a new word because disappointed won’t be enough to describe how they feel.
And I may not get accepted to any university, let alone Harvard, without the Medal offsetting my behavioral record.
But I’m sick of needing to win.
I’m sick of this being the only way to fix The Plan, and to live freely.
I suck in a breath, but it doesn’t come. My lungs burn like they’re shriveling up.
Benedict’s mattress squeaks as he rises to his feet and stands in the center of the room. His glare is sharp, full of unspoken frustration after our exchange on the promenade, and it takes willpower to not instinctively turn my gaze. “You’re being woefully dramatic. You should still compete.”
“Why?” I ask, my voice struggling to find any volume. My chest still feels like it’s on fire. “I’m the one who caused all this. If brAIN knew, I’d be disqualified.”
“You came up with the idea, but we all agreed to take part. And the fire only started because of someone’s inability to balance.” He faces Jade. “With that logic, Jade, shouldn’t you be the one sacrificing yourself?”
Jade just huffs.
Christiana nods a few times, albeit hesitantly.
It’s so much of a surprise that I don’t respond at first, either. The last person I ever expected to stand up for me is Benedict, especially now.
Still, the guilt doesn’t leave, and neither does my struggle to breathe. The fact that I started this remains the reality.
As does Luca’s reason for being here.
“Luca needs the Medal more than any of us,” I mumble.
Everyone trades looks with one another. Ones that I struggle to read.
“What?” Benedict finally asks.
“He at least needs it in a way none of us do. The Medal is the only way he’ll be able to afford his dream university.”
The room lapses into another silence.
“You know,” Christiana finally says, “I’ve always been so focused on the notoriety part of the prize that I forgot the other part is scholarship money. I’m assuming I’m not the only one?”
Benedict chuckles, short and low.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“Everything. None of us considered that someone might need the money. Are we truly that self-centered?”
Another witch cackle from Jade. “We’re awful.”
“It’s not fully our fault,” Christiana says beside her, crossing her arms in defense. “If brAIN truly cared about these pranks, they would’ve enforced stricter rules a long time ago. It’s clear they like the competitive image it creates.”
“If Luca deserves to win,” I say slowly, “then maybe we can help him?”
The room remains conflicted. It shows in the way everyone’s brows pinch together, and how their gazes fall. They’re thinking about their parents. Their futures. The pressures they face at home, far away from this island. Just like I am.
Until Christiana brings a finger to her lips. “We should dedicate this week to helping Luca instead. With his project.”
“I agree,” Benedict says, but it’s still a bit hesitant. “Luca is unfortunately more intelligent than us, though. What could we feasibly assist him with?”
“Administrative tasks,” Christiana insists. “Designing his poster. Completing his citations. Printing out research. Who knows?”
Then she looks to me, waiting for approval.
As I sit there and debate the option, Mom and Dad’s controlling voices try to break through. How could you help Luca win the one award you need? How could you give in to so many distractions since you left our watch back home?
But then they vanish just as quickly.
My cabinmates’ bravery is outweighing my parents’ voices. They’re fading to the back of my mind. Something I never thought would be possible.
It’s not enough to stop Luca’s voice, though, and it brings me pause. Why would I ever speak to you again?
First, I need to apologize.
“I don’t think he’s the kind of guy to easily accept help,” I say to them. “So, let me try to talk to him first.”