Chapter 11
MISSY
“America hates us.” Those were Colton’s parting words to me before starting the Black Box Elimination.
Now they replay in my mind as easily as a Burger King jingle.
Despite the truth of his words, internalizing his negativity while balancing one foot on a wooden block and raising my other foot to my knee like a flamingo is anything but helpful.
I glance across the Black Box Meeting stage and look longingly at the half circle of “safe” teams as they sit in their battered yet colorful chairs.
At this moment, I wish beyond words that I could switch one of them.
Instead, I stand at center stage as they, and all of America, watch me and Juliet from Team Violet try to stand on a wood block longer than the other.
Colton and I may have made it to the beach with all our S.O.S. coconuts in the nick of time, but according to America, we should have come in last place, so they made sure to put us there in their rankings.
Although, I really can’t fault America for how they voted.
After watching the recap of the second Mayday Challenge and the way Colton and I had it out on live television, I would have ranked us last, too.
We’ve been arguing for almost as long as we’ve known each other, but seeing our squabbles played back to us on a big screen felt like watching a pair of second graders fight over whose turn it was to swing on the swing set.
Fortunately, thanks to the rain, most of our argument was drowned out, but what was heard sure didn’t do us any favors.
“Missy, you’ve got this,” Colton says from behind me.
Though Colton’s words are soft and outwardly encouraging, they are awkward to my ears.
Since seeing the teal flare light up the sky and being released from the bungee cuffs, I spent the better part of our afternoon ignoring him while replaying our argument in my mind.
My nose flares remembering his words to me in the jungle.
You wouldn’t know the meaning of hard because everything comes effortlessly to you.
Does he really think my life is just a walk in the park?
All thoughts of Colton vanish as my whole body sways. An entire half circle of contestants gasp as I wobble precariously on a foot-high block of wood. My torso leans forward and back, overcompensating as I try to recenter myself. That’s when I remember to engage my yoga abs.
By the skin of my teeth, I manage to steady myself. I can almost feel Colton’s relief even though he stands ten feet behind me, watching as Juliet from Team Violet and I battle it out. Poor Team Violet came in last today, making them, once again, part of the Black Box Elimination.
I glance at Juliet, just long enough to see the look of determination on her face, her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed in on one spot in the distance.
Nothing but the beads of sweat trickling down her forehead signal any outward distress.
She could win this. One more wobble and poof, my dreams could vanish.
I try to think of anything but my foot and all that’s riding on this moment, but when I do, my mind starts spiraling, leading me to memories that are best kept dormant.
Too soon, my frantic thoughts wake up a moment from my past that’s far more painful than the four-by-four-inch wooden block digging into every nerve ending of my foot.
I mentally try to smother the images that come to mind, but it’s too late.
I’m fourteen again, watching from the rear window of Aunt Candice’s Subaru as she pulls away from the ancient single-wide in Tennessee that I’ve always called home.
Mama stands just outside the yellowing front door, wearing the bedazzled jean jacket I’d upcycled, cut, sewn, and glittered for her—just like she’d taught me to do last year.
“Looks like you’re the next Coco Chanel, Missy Girl. One day, you’ll be heading your own fashion line,” Mama says.
“You think?”
“If that’s something you want, then I know you’ll do it. My Missy Girl has never faced a challenge she can’t meet.”
“Then you’ll be in charge of all the models’ hair, right?” I say, imagining a future with Mama by my side.
“Of course. Whatever you want, we’ll do it together.”
“Always? You promise?” I say, with all the trust in the world.
“Promise.” But in that moment, Mama’s eyes dart away from mine, sadness tugging at her tired features.
I should have known then, but it wasn’t until I watched her through the back of my aunt’s car, tears streaming down my face, that I knew why Mama had looked away that day. She’d had no intention of us being an “always.”
As my aunt and I passed the neighboring mobile home of the Lowreys with their four wild kids, and grumpy Jim, who was forever sitting on his broken-down wicker chair, I’d called for Mama again and again, not caring what my neighbors or aunt thought of me.
I just wanted her. Mama. But she never looked at me.
Not once. Her face was a stone mask as she kicked the small mound of dirt that was once a patch of petunias outside our single-wide.
Then she opened the screeching front door and disappeared inside.
A pathetic whimper breaks loose, bringing me back to the present. I don’t know if it’s the pain-filled memory or the pain in my foot that causes me to tremble, but the wooden block beneath me starts to teeter. I nearly cry out with how much it hurts.
I’d seen challenges like this on Sunsets and Sabotage before. More often than not, I’d sit on my couch and remark on how simple the challenges seemed or how the losing contestant could have held on a little bit longer or that the pain they were feeling couldn’t be that bad, but boy, is it bad.
I stabilize once again. But my breaths thin into short, shallow gasps. I want so badly to give up on everything, just like I did when Mama sent me away.
In a panic, I look up and make eye contact with Maria, who’s sitting next to Bill in her amber-colored seat. She gives me a small thumbs-up as she mouths the words Season Nineteen.
Season Nineteen? I think back, recalling the season that consisted solely of sets of twins.
In my brain, I sort through all the important events and people during that season and come up with a name.
The Channing twins. Or more importantly, Charlie Channing.
He’d been part of a Black Box Elimination in which he’d had to balance both of his feet on two ropes until he or his opponent fell.
The challenge was long, and it was clear from both the contestants’ strained faces that it was also painful.
However, Charlie had used an interesting method to keep his mind off of the challenge.
He told jokes, refocusing his attention to things of a lighter nature rather than getting trapped in the pain of it all. That’s how he won.
Paige’s laughter fills my mind. I remember us sitting on her bed as we watched that episode, laughing until tears streamed down our faces. It was a brilliant strategy. But what can I do? I can’t tell jokes. I can’t tell stories.
I think of what Paige would do in this situation, and the answer comes easy. Paige would sing, so that’s what I do. I sing, loudly and wildly off-key.
Dolly Parton’s “Jolene” streams from my mouth, whitewashing the gentle rustle of trees and the hum of jungle insects.
One glance around the half circle of contestants tells me that I’m better off keeping my gaze fixed on Maria, whose mouth parts open excitedly as she scoots to the edge of her seat.
I imagine a little Pomeranian tail wagging happily behind her for all the joy she exudes.
A rush of adrenaline courses through me, making the pain in my foot fade into the background. Juliet from Team Violet breaks her concentration and looks in my direction, her face scrunched in confusion as she wobbles ever so slightly.
And then I hear it, the voice of a male tenor sounding from behind me.
I don’t have to turn around to know that it’s Colton’s voice joining in on the chorus.
Our voices sound like a pair of dying donkeys, but they are quickly joined by Maria, then Bill.
Soon, Joseph starts clapping along and Tyrone beatboxes, adding a little oomph to this nearly unrecognizable rendition of Dolly’s classic.
I can see Sunsets and Sabotage staff members chuckle behind cameras, unable to contain their laughter. Even Heartbreaker and Tearjerker manage to smirk and bob their heads along to the beat. And Team Fuchsia, well, they’re Team Fuchsia. They’d only be smiling at me if they had me in a chokehold.
To my surprise, Juliet begins to sway. All singing stops as everybody homes in on the contestant from Team Violet. And before I know it, Juliet’s feet hit the ground.
Niall’s voice swoops in the moment she touches the wood platform. “Team Violet is eliminated. And Team Teal lives to see another sunset!”
I immediately hop off the block of wood and flex my foot, feeling my indented skin scream out in agony. But it’s over.
Without losing momentum, the Black Box Meeting rolls forward.
I feel torn as I watch Team Violet exit the stage, never again to set foot on Sunsets and Sabotage.
They are so sweet. But the show leaves no time to mourn their loss.
Quickly, Colton and I are motioned to our teal seats, where we are one of only five teams remaining—Amber, Lime, Ruby, Fuchsia, and us.
Soon after, we watch as Team Ruby chooses their reward for coming in first in the Mayday Challenge today.
They take their time deciding whether they want a team upgrade in the form of food or to sabotage another team for the next Mayday Challenge.
For a moment, their eyes scan the remaining teams, and I grip the armrest, not knowing if Colton and I can survive another organized sabotage like the bungee cuffs.
But to my great relief, Team Ruby chooses the upgrade, allowing them to get a day’s worth of airplane meals.