Chapter 41 Villains
Villains
They’ve gathered us all together, back in the courtyard, to announce whose loved ones will be at dinner tonight.
It’s a joke. Once everyone has had a tearful reunion yet again, it becomes clear that the only people going back to the hotel alone are me and Logan.
On the plus side—solidarity is a plus, right? —he seems just as miserable as I am.
That is, until Bee steps out of the line of chosen ones, away from her blond bombshell mother, and raises her hand. “Jonathan, can I ask something?”
I watch it happen, unfolding the exact way it would on TV, except from this side of the screen I feel significantly more horror.
Yumi’s eyes meet mine across the courtyard, equally shell-shocked at the sudden realization of our mistake.
We’re supposed to be the superfans. We’re supposed to understand the game.
How could Bee and Logan figure it out before we did?
“What’s your question, Bee?”
“Can I give up my spot with my mom so that Logan can be with his grandma?”
JSP’s eyes sparkle. With evil. “I personally don’t have an issue with that, but let’s ask your fellow contestants. If they unanimously agree, I’ll allow it.”
He goes down the line, conveniently skipping Yumi and coming back to her last.
After everyone else has said yes, she really has no choice. She holds my eyes, pleading with me for…something. Whatever it is, I don’t have it. I don’t have anything right now. But she agrees anyway.
Just as Logan and Bee move to switch spots, JSP lifts a hand to stop them. “Hold on a moment. We need a unanimous decision.”
Oh God. Kill me. Push me off the Torre del Mangia. Unclip my harness from a via ferrata. Strangle me with lupine roots. Trap me in a labyrinth with no exit. Bludgeon me with 120,000 books. Crush me beneath a pile of orangey-brown rocks. Just kill me.
“Noelle, your vote?”
I close my eyes. I don’t care if everyone sees. This is the worst thing The Adventureverse has ever done.
“Noelle.” Logan’s voice is quiet and small. “Please?”
I was going to say yes anyway, I just needed to get over the overwhelming urge to throw a tantrum on TV. But the way his voice cracks on please breaks me.
“Yes,” I say, even though it hurts. Even though the jealousy and resentment and rage in my body are threatening to shatter my heart.
I say it because I understand the game. I understand the viewers.
If I were sitting at home and I saw someone refuse another contestant this, I would hate them.
So I swallow down my emotions. “Of course, it’s the right choice. ”
Camera crews swarm us as Logan pulls me into a hug. “Thank you, thank you,” he whispers into the crown of my head.
“JSP,” another voice says.
Logan and I step apart, both of us looking over at Yumi.
“Can I do the same thing for Noelle? She needs to see her dad.”
I know he’s going to say no. He always does. But for a second, hope rises in me—not like birds on a breeze, but like floodwaters in an unprepared residential neighborhood.
“I only have the power to allow one team to switch,” says the show’s executive producer, who definitely does have the power to allow more than one team to switch. “Sorry, girls.”
Production separates us, herding everyone but me and Bee away before taking us back to the hotel.
We’re forced to do an interview together, where Aliona really hammers home how embarrassing it was for the superfan team not to switch spots before the team of models.
She reminds us that our loved ones are boarding a plane back home this very moment.
She congratulates Bee on her compassion for Logan.
I don’t care.
I’m busy drowning.
The waiting room the producers have quarantined us in is filled with tension.
I don’t even bother to attempt conversation with Bee, knowing she’ll only make me feel worse about the situation than I already do.
The gut punch of not even getting to see my dad, of knowing he was, at some point, close enough for me to hear his laugh, is too painful to ruminate on.
He flew all the way out here, only to get back on a plane to Arizona without me seeing his face.
I comfort myself with the fact that his doctor wouldn’t have allowed him to fly if he wasn’t healthy enough. So that’s something, at least.
But what hurts almost as much is that Yumi couldn’t pick him out of a crowd. I wonder if it hurts him, too, if he even knew the setup of the challenge.
A producer sticks their head in, glancing at the cameraman, who slides his phone back into his pocket without looking at it. I get the feeling that he summoned this producer to rile up some tension. Bee and I sitting in full-on silence must not be making Good TV.
“Do you girls need a bathroom break?” the producer asks, nodding their short silver hair down the hall.
I shrug, tearing off my mic pack without asking. “Sure.” I don’t wait to hear Bee’s answer, heading down the hallway toward the communal bathroom, where I splash cold water on my face. The door opens and closes as I dry my face on a brown paper towel that’s doing nothing to absorb the water.
“Don’t talk to me. I’m not looking for drama right now.”
The words hang in the air. Before the silence stretches too long, Bee calmly retorts.
“Do you know the stereotype you were cast for?” Her voice is measured, calm, but there’s a definite undertone of challenge.
I roll my eyes. “Of course I do.”
Bee’s gaze pierces through me, her expression unyielding.
“Logan and I know ours, too. I didn’t come on Adventureverse to befriend people who are going to talk behind my back once the cameras stop rolling.
So, to be honest, I don’t give a shit if you walk away from The Adventureverse hating me.
I would throw you under the bus any day, if it meant we’d win. ”
“Well, good for you!” I snap back. “Throw me under the bus, but don’t expect me to act like I’m okay with it. You have no idea what I’m going through.”
Bee’s facade cracks for just a moment before she regains composure. “I may not know exactly what you’re going through, but don’t pretend like you know me, either. Logan’s family needs the money, okay? We’re all here for our own reasons. So don’t judge me for playing the game the way I need to.”
Her words hit me with a sudden gravity, a revelation that cuts through the fog of rivalry. I understand them now.
But it doesn’t make me hate her any less.