Chapter 2 #2
“I didn’t spread that rumor. I was just joking around. How was I to know Lilly was going to tell everybody? Besides, it was you who got yourself kicked out of the running. You were the one using your daddy’s pretty pennies, paying people off so they’d vote for you.”
“I was passing out voting stickers. Welcome to America, where voters get rewarded with stickers when they vote.”
“Hmm, last time I voted, my sticker didn’t come with a gift card to Chick-fil-A attached.”
Okay, so maybe not my finest moment, but I had good intentions.
Regardless, not long after the rumor was spread, Principal Henderson caught wind of it and pulled me and Missy into an empty classroom to tell us we were both disqualified from the running that year—Missy for spreading rumors and me for supposedly bribing students.
Principal Henderson then left us alone in the classroom, letting us decide how to inform our peers we were stepping down from candidacy.
It took Missy all of two seconds before she accused me of ruining her shot at a future scholarship.
But losing a chance at a scholarship was nothing compared to the look of disappointment I’d see on my dad’s face when I told him I was disqualified.
And thus, our competitiveness turned to loathing.
But despite our disagreement, the one thing we did agree on in that classroom was that, regardless of how we felt about each other, we would not let it ruin our friend group.
We’d recently been witness to Paige’s breakup with Ian and the fallout that happened, and we weren’t eager for another rift among friends.
Not when our friend group meant so much to us both.
Ever since then, we’ve made it our motto to “endure and not stir.” Missy’s little way of reminding us to endure each other and not stir up any unnecessary drama.
And so that’s what we’ve done. Going on nine years now.
Well, nine years that, thankfully, have been broken up by years of college and law school.
But in the few moments we’ve spent together since our high school days, we’ve made our jabs count.
I’m quite proud of how our little loathing baby has grown up to be nice and strong.
“So was it you?” Missy asks, jarring me from my thoughts.
“What do you think?” I level her with a look.
“Then was it your dad?”
I scrunch my forehead. “Why would my father nominate us?”
“I don’t know. Maybe you told him you wanted to be on the show so he pulled some strings. I don’t have enough fingers to list off the many times he’s done something like that. Is it so far removed from the realm of possibility for it to cross my mind?”
I involuntarily flinch. So often we fling insults at each other in our weird game of Battleship, just hoping our missiles will strike the other’s pride. So often they miss, but every once in a while, Missy manages to strike me where it counts, and I’m hit and sunk before I know it.
Her words remind me of the deal I made with my father last month. This game show is my chance to prove to him I’m capable of succeeding without him, not to mention that I’ve staked the next five years of my life on winning this show.
The memory of that conversation alone has my blood pumping.
“You okay in there, Major Tom?” I look up to see Missy’s furrowed brow.
“What?”
“You were out in space.”
I flex and stretch the ache in my hands, realizing I’ve been clenching them tightly.
Missy looks at me like I’m a UFO.
I’m about to tell her that she’ll have to get Botox earlier than she planned if she insists on scrunching her face so intently, but she cuts me off.
“So we’re doing this?” she asks, lips tight.
“I mean, we don’t have to. I can always go, and you can stay here.”
Missy rubs a hand across her forehead, blowing out a controlled breath. “Why couldn’t you have been a hockey player?”
“Because hockey is for people who can’t play baseball.”
“Oh, not this again.” Missy does an exaggerated eye roll.
A knock on the door cuts through Missy’s dramatic moment. “You two okay in there?” Ji asks. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t having a funeral without me. I’ve got experience planning those things, you know. Also, Mrs. Delgado is gone. You’re safe to come out.”
“Thank goodness,” I breathe in relief.
“Well then, I think we’re done here.” Missy pierces me with a hefty dose of contempt before motioning to the door. “Go ahead.”
I eye the brass doorknob. “No, I insist. Ladies first.”
“No, really, I want to see how Colton Downing opens a bathroom door.” She raises her eyebrows in challenge, taking full advantage of my phobia.
“You know, I’ve always found it interesting how people touch the faucet handles with dirty hands, then wash their hands, then touch the same dirty handles to turn off the water.
I bet we’re carrying those germs all over the house. Starting with that doorknob.”
I clear my throat and look away from her. Then, I pull a tissue from the box next to the sink, wrap it around the doorknob, and pull the door open, as per my usual bathroom escape method.
“Oh my stars.” Missy’s eyebrows hike up her forehead.
“You do know there will be no Lysol wipes on the island, right? How are you going to survive in the jungle for eighteen days?” She pesters me as she follows me out of the bathroom and to the kitchen where I discard my infected tissue in the trash can.
“I think the more appropriate question is how am I going to survive living with you in the jungle for the next eighteen days.”