11
“This feels like fucking Summer camp,” the American, Evelyn, mutters as she throws her suitcase onto the floor near her chosen bed closest to the window.
“I’ve never been to Summer camp,” Thorun quips as she chooses a bed in the middle of the room.
I stand and consider my options. I’m not entirely sure I’ll stay in this room.
There are six bedrooms in the mansion, each containing four single beds, a fireplace that’s likely never been used, and an ensuite.
Unlike previous seasons, our rooms haven’t been assigned, so it’s first in, best dressed, although having stuck my head into a few of the other rooms, they all seem exactly the same: high ceilings, one big arched window, fake stone veneers, brass chandeliers.
‘Ugh.’
The only difference, as far as I can see, is who you’ll be sharing with.
Initially I’d anticipated I’d be sharing with those I’m temporarily aligned with, but tonight just hadn’t worked out how I’d expected.
I hadn’t managed to truly sound out the other contestants enough to decide on any allies yet, although the Georgian criminologist, Natia, showed promise.
I hadn’t sought out the room that she chose, though, because I reminded myself at the last moment that it would be foolish to show my alliances, potential or otherwise, in such an open way.
“Which bed are you taking?” Thorun asks.
Sighing, I walk towards a bed close to the back wall just as two redheads appear in the doorway.
‘Ah, the twins from Zurich.’
“There’s only one bed left,” the American says to them, her body language indicating that even if this wasn’t the case, she wouldn’t want them sharing a room with her.
The pair shrug at the same time and silently leave.
“Weirdos,” the American says by way of explanation as I turn to look at her after they’ve gone, “and dangerous.”
“We’re all dangerous,” I shrug.
‘But yeah, they are strange.’
“Imagine entering a game where you might die along with your twin sister,” Thorun shakes her head, “that must be terrible — not just for them, but for their family too.”
“I haven’t spoken to them, so I don’t know their story,” I raise an eyebrow as Sona, the Nepalese girl I’d shared the limo with, pokes her head into the room, “but we all have our reasons for being here.”
“Room for one more?” She asks quietly. Her voice is soft, childlike, and I know it’s going to grate on my nerves in no time at all.
I shrug and turn away, but Thorun answers, “Yes.”
‘And that’s our four.’
I can’t help but wonder if the others chose this room because they hope to make alliances with one or all of us.
I’ve already decided I won’t align with Thorun, but I’ll keep the peace with her.
She’s absolutely no threat, and I feel a little sad for her.
I expect she’ll die in the first round of challenges.
The Nepalese I don’t know well enough one way or the other, although her red face paint had smeared all over my gown during the accident, and her baby voice makes me think she’s a fucking idiot.
The American who looks like a 1950’s movie star I don’t know and I don’t want to.
Mostly because the bachelor had spent a great deal of time talking to her tonight at the cocktail party, and his expression had seemed sadder after she’d left.
Whether this was because she was a disappointment or because he would have liked to have spent more time with her, I can’t tell.
Either way, I don’t like her.
‘Tomorrow I need to circulate and decide who I’ll have on my temporary team. I need them to be strong, deadly, preferably highly competitive and easy to manipulate. Shouldn’t be too difficult.’
Walking into the ensuite bathroom I hear Sona say her red paint is to celebrate something called Holi. Naturally, Thorun wants to know everything about it.
Shaking my head, I undress and step under a hot cascade as the American shouts at me not to be too long.
“Vaffanculo,” I garble inaudibly.