Chapter 26 Amnesia
Amnesia
“This is so cool. Like, creepy-cool. Like a haunted sleepover,” Morgan says as we set up our producer-distributed sleeping bags. “Should we do a cult ritual?”
“Like sacrificing a virgin?” Matt asks. “Because I think you’re a little late for that.”
Morgan’s cackle booms through the cave, but she quickly clamps a hand over her mouth. “Sorry!” she stage-whispers to the teams surrounding us.
Matt is single-handedly helping me understand the phrase a tough nut to crack. I’m not surprised that I’m starting to warm up to him, I’m surprised that he seems to be warming up to me and Yumi. He waggles his eyebrows at Yumi as she coughs back a laugh.
It turns out Matt was partially wrong—the underground “labyrinth” did split in two places, though of course he insists this was an issue with the naming convention and not his extensive knowledge of labyrinths.
Due to sheer luck, we just walked right past the turnoff points.
We’re in a wide section of one of those offshoot tunnels, with the strip lights along the ground currently turned on.
KC and Gabriel are set up in a high-ceilinged corner, playing cards, and the Ball-and-Chain sit at the end of the lighted strip, arguing nonstop.
“Quit being a baby, Clyde. It’s just a centipede.”
“I am not being a baby. It has a million legs.”
“Can we perform a ritual to get rid of Clyde and Cora?” Matt asks, not quietly. They turn and glare at him, then return to taking out their frustrations on each other.
All of our crew have withdrawn for the night, leaving us alone to be captured only by the stationary, tripod-mounted cameras that have been strategically placed around the area.
And while I am excited to be on The Adventureverse doing Adventureverse things, I’m a little disappointed that Yumi and I won’t get to talk in our hotel room.
Our conversation from last night feels unfinished.
But I wonder if it’ll ever feel finished.
I slide into my sleeping bag, watching Yumi convert her backpack into a pillow—the softest things on top. “You think anyone’s going to bail?” I ask quietly.
The corners of Yumi’s mouth quirk up. “Why? You thinking about it? You need me to keep you safe tonight, babe?”
I roll my eyes, smiling. “You wish.”
“You two are so cute,” Morgan comments with characteristic liveliness. “How long have you been dating?”
“Nine months,” Yumi and I say in tandem. I hope it comes across as soul-bond synchronicity and not practiced-in-our-hotel-room-last-night.
“Oh my God!” Morgan’s delight surprises me. “You’re just babies!”
Despite the fact that Yumi and I aren’t actually dating, I take a little offense to this.
We may have only been in a (fictional) relationship for nine months, but we’ve been each other’s person for eight years.
I know Morgan doesn’t mean anything by it, though, so I let it go and ask, “What about you two?”
“A little over six years, now,” Matt chimes in, happy to do anything remotely related to singing Morgan’s praises.
“Oh, wow. Long time,” Yumi says.
“Mmmhmm! We’re engaged, actually.” Morgan lifts her left hand, wiggling her ring finger. “But we didn’t want to lose the rings.”
“Can’t afford it,” Matt says, shrugging. “The life of a professional dancer. If we have to replace the rings, we won’t be able to afford the wedding.”
“Is that why you came on the show?” I ask.
They exchange a look. “Yes,” Morgan hedges, glancing at the cameras stationed around us. She ducks her head and shields her face as she silently mouths the name of a well-known dancing-based reality TV show.
I nod, understanding why she felt the need to be clandestine about wanting to use The Adventureverse as a stepladder to get on a different show.
Nobody likes a Bachelorette contestant who reveals he’s technically still dating his real-life girlfriend, but it’s okay because he “only did the show to boost his music career.” No one’s favorite Survivor castaway is the finance bro who won’t stop pushing his cryptocurrency in confessionals.
The audience is quick to turn on any contestant who admits to being on a show to further their own agenda, even though we all audition knowing that self-sustaining social media fame is the ultimate goal.
Nobody wants to win a million dollars and then go back to working at their dead-end, soul-sucking day job.
But it’s like there’s a secret agreement for everyone involved that you have to at least pretend to be around for the nebulous “right reasons.”
It’s the double bind of not-quite-reality: being authentic, but in the correct way. Like KC said, you have to become a caricature of yourself.
“What about you guys?” Morgan asks. “Superfans, right? Have you always wanted to be on The Adventureverse?”
“Yeah,” Yumi says, looking at me with unadulterated fondness. “We’ve been watching since we were kids. Noelle has an encyclopedic knowledge of the show. Watch. Noe, who was the third team kicked off Season Seven?”
My eyes wander the cave’s ceiling as I think.
“Season Seven was…Finland, Bhutan, Jordan.” I feel like one of those kids who do math competitions, moving an invisible abacus of Adventureverse challenges and contestants.
“Jordan was…” I see it, the puzzle challenge at Petra and the hot air balloon ride over Wadi Musa.
“That was the Kayaking Brothers, Brian and Felipe.” I look up, finding all three of them staring at me in amazement.
Even Yumi—who knew from experience that I could answer accurately—looks impressed.
“Ta-da,” my partner says with a flourish.
Morgan looks between us. “Is she right, though?”
Yumi shrugs. “I don’t know. But she always has been.”
“You can fact-check it when you get home,” I joke, knowing that there’s no way I’m wrong. “Useless trivia takes up about ninety-nine percent of my brain space.”
“Not useless here,” Morgan points out. “I guess that’s why you two are crushing it.”
Yumi and I exchange a glance. Are we crushing it? We have yet to be eliminated, so in that sense, we’re doing well.
Morgan watches us, stars in her eyes that remind me of my dad.
And I swallow as it hits me that it’s the first time I’ve really thought about him since coming out here.
My nose goes numb—pins and needles dripping down to my lips and spreading out to my ears.
I shiver, and Yumi immediately seems to sense something is wrong.
She shifts around in front of me, shielding me from everyone else as she pretends to brush something off my face.
You okay? she mouths.
I can’t make my gaze focus. And I know my mouth is in the wrong shape.
It should be doing something, for the cameras, for the people around me, but I know it’s just settled into an unnerving straight line.
I snap myself back into consciousness, making sure the smile reaches my eyes by exhaling a laugh through my nose.
It’s a trick I taught myself as a kid, and it never fails to set teachers and friends at ease.
They can breathe a sigh of relief, reassured that I’m just spacey, and I can go on with my day without being interrogated about what’s wrong with me. It’s a win-win.
“Sorry, just zoned,” I whisper, shaking my head.
Yumi doesn’t press me. She knows I’m lying, but she also knows it’s purposeful. She sees the moment for what it is, a leave-it-alone mask. So she leaves it alone. Which, of course, makes me want to tell her what I’m thinking. It’s some kind of reverse psychology witchcraft is what it is.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I admit, “I haven’t thought about my dad since we’ve come on the show.”
She cocks her head, frowning. “What?”
“I know, I know,” I interrupt quickly. “It’s not my responsib—”
“No, not that. ‘What,’ like…like, yes, you have.”
I shake my head again. “No, I haven’t. That sucks, right?”
Eyes narrowed, she says, “Noelle, we literally talked about him in the airport. You have thought about him.”
When I realize she’s correct, I can’t help but laugh into my hand. “Oh shit. You’re right.”
Over the years, Yumi has managed to perfect this expression that I’ve never seen anyone else replicate.
She flares her nostrils, lips parted on an amused sigh.
Her eyebrows twitch, as if she can’t decide whether to furrow them or raise them.
It makes me feel simultaneously ridiculous and seen. I hate it. And I missed it.
“Should we add amnesia to the diagnostic list?” she jokes.
“It’s probably just part of some other disorder soup going on up there.” I tap my temple.
Yumi rolls her lips, the edges quirking up. “They should study you.”
“They are.” My eyes shift pointedly toward the tripod-mounted cameras.
Her gaze doesn’t follow mine. It doesn’t need to. “Finally, reality TV used for good.”
After adjusting one more imaginary stray hair, she returns to the sleeping bag, and the absence of her warmth sends me crawling in as well.
Like all the other couples, we’ve zipped our two sleeping bags together to form one mega bag.
But unlike all the other couples, Yumi and I have the unspoken arrangement to sleep facing away from each other.
Still, having her body heat nearby in the chilled, damp cave is a welcome comfort.
As soon as the other two teams—the Influencers and the High Elves—arrive, the lights flicker three times to warn us that we only have five more minutes of visibility.
“Creepy,” Morgan whispers to us, her smile wide as she nestles closer to Matt. “I’m so glad I’m not alone.”
He kisses her on the top of her head. “Never.”
Morgan squeaks happily, closes her eyes, and seemingly falls asleep immediately. I’m jealous, because I’m still awake when the lights go out.