Chapter 18
MISSY
I lie in my bunk bed, staring up at the bars above me that hold up Colton and his thin mattress.
I can’t help the smile that blossoms on my face.
Despite a throbbing ankle, I had fun today.
After today’s Mayday Challenge, everyone seemed to be in high spirits.
Well, with the exception of Legend and Silver, who’d lost an ally when Team Ruby was eliminated from the game.
Not only did Tearjerker and Heartbreaker end up coming in last in the paintball battle, but they were also ranked lowest in America’s votes, which meant there was no Black Box Elimination tonight.
I didn’t know I could feel so relieved watching someone be eliminated from the game as I had Tearjerker and the stupid wink he sent me before stepping off the platform.
My body trembles at the thought. Never did I imagine I could be played so hard by someone in this game, but then again, that is sort of the theme of my life. Trusting only to be trampled on.
I shake my head. Those are thoughts for another time.
Tonight, I want to focus on the day’s wins.
Like how Colton and Tyrone taught me, Joseph, Bill, and Maria how to play a game they learned at summer camp called “bunny bunny” that had us all in fits of laughter, or the way Maria stood guard over me during Mayday Challenge Three like an avenging angel, ready to protect me at all costs, or how Colton and I came in second in America’s votes tonight, or how Bill and Maria got the much-deserved win today by having the least amount of paintball splatters on their clothes, allowing them to choose an upgrade in the form of a time advantage for the next Mayday Challenge.
With happy thoughts to warm my insides, I pull my blanket up to my neck, attempting to warm my outsides against the island’s trade winds.
After tonight’s Black Box Meeting, a few of us had gone and washed off the day’s grime in the ocean before heading to bed.
Now, with damp hair and a partially dried swimsuit, I am regretting that decision with every tropical gust that feels like icy winds against my body.
By the sounds of rustling plastic mattresses from the neighboring bunk beds, I’m not the only one struggling to get comfortable.
“Oh man.” Tyrone moans from his bottom bunk.
“What’s wrong?” I hear Maria’s concerned voice through the darkness.
“It’s the pizza,” Tyrone says with a dazed voice. “It was just so good.”
All at once, boos and groans erupt from the rest of the airplane. Apparently, we’ve all been awake.
“The gooey cheese!” Tyrone yells through the grumbling voices.
I see a shadow of something soar from a top bunk bed and land squarely on Tyrone’s face.
“Aw, Bill, I was just thinking I needed an extra pillow. Mmm, it even smells like you,” Tyrone says.
I can’t help but chuckle.
“But you know what else smelled good?” Tyrone adds.
“No!” multiple people say in protest.
“That warm bread. Mmm, so tasty.”
“Son?” It’s Joseph’s voice. “Shut up.”
Everyone in the airplane starts laughing. I even hear Silver giggling.
“Yes, Dad,” Tyrone submits.
A half hour or so later, the noise in the airplane has faded, replaced with soft, steady breathing from my bunkmates.
But despite the exhaustion of the day, I find myself with a case of the zoomies.
My body is restless, and my mind is filled with thoughts of my waking dream—the one where Colton and I win this thing and I can finally start my nonprofit and Colton won’t be subject to his dad for five long years.
Colton and I only have a handful of Reward Challenges left and one more Mayday Challenge to go before the fifth and last Mayday Challenge where the final three teams will compete for the prize money. With only four teams remaining, I feel as if victory is just an arm’s length away.
I hear, more than see, the bed above me shift before the sound of Colton’s feet padding lightly down the bunk bed ladder catches my attention. Just when I think he’s probably off to visit the restroom or get water, he comes to the side of my bed, crouching in front of me.
“Missy Jean?” he whispers.
I blink him into focus but see little more than his shadow and the cute little bits of hair sticking up from his cowlick.
I nearly move my hand to brush them but realize it’s the dead of night and we’re not being filmed by drones or the lapel cam that’s faced away from me on the opposite side of my bed.
Touching him now just feels outside the bounds of our fake relationship.
“You’re awake,” he says, a statement instead of a question.
My eyebrows scrunch together. “How’d you know?”
“You weren’t snoring like a jackhammer.”
I punch him in the arm. He cups a hand over his biceps and chuckles quietly.
A slight breeze enters the cabin, making the whole plane creak. I pull my blanket closer to me. Just then, Colton leans in, his face so close to mine that his breath skims over my bandaged cheek.
I try to quell the silly little butterflies flapping in my stomach.
“Missy?”
I can barely hear my name coming from his lips, likely because he doesn’t want the mic on the side of my bed picking anything up.
“Mm-hmm.”
“You want to get out of here?” he asks, ever closer.
I nod, a smile lifting my cheeks. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
Several minutes later, I pull my jacket close and fake a trip to the bathroom, leaving my lapel camera and mic behind before hobbling around the backside of the plane with my booted foot.
I wait for Colton several paces into the jungle, just beyond the reach of the floodlights that shine from the exterior of the plane.
It only takes Colton a minute to find me.
“Where to?” I whisper, knowing we’re still in proximity of the plane and other contestants.
Instead of heading into the jungle like our other secret rendezvous, Colton gestures to the less frequented side of the beach that can’t be seen by those inside the plane.
I follow him and his bulging backpack. What could he have possibly put in there?
I nearly ask but opt for silence as we continue our slow walk farther down the beach.
When we finally stop, I can just barely make out the lights coming from the plane. And like the last time we took an unsanctioned getaway, I let out a big breath, relieved to be away from the nonstop cameras and mics.
“That’s something I won’t miss,” Colton says.
“What’s that?” I say, happy to no longer whisper.
“Being filmed twenty-four seven.” Colton slides his backpack off, kneels, and starts unzipping his bag.
I nod in agreement. “It’s one thing to be filmed walking across the stage in an evening gown or interviewed at a charity event, but to have people watching your every move, every moment of the day, it’s like I’m in a zoo.
” I gently shake the sand from my boot before plopping down in front of the ocean and wrapping my arms around my legs as a buffer from the breeze.
“Exactly. Being asked by a reporter what my views are on global warming is nothing compared to getting a wedgie on camera.”
I laugh. Ah, how true that is.
I watch as Colton starts pulling something big from his backpack.
A blanket. That was smart of him. I should have brought my …
I’m halfway through the thought when Colton stands and drapes his blanket over my shoulders.
His blanket. The one he not only sleeps with, but the one he cannot just toss in a washer after I use it.
I stare at him with my mouth open, wondering if he realizes that my germs are getting on his blanket.
But of course he knows. He wears hoodies to movie theaters so he won’t get lice and washed his high school backpack on a weekly basis.
And yet, he put his blanket around my shoulders.
I finger its soft edges and pull it closer to me. “Thanks.”
“Sure,” he says, taking a seat next to me in the sand.
For several moments, Colton and I watch the small white caps roll onto the shore in a steady cadence.
The intensity of Sunsets and Sabotage—the game, the strategy, the anxiety—all melts away under the luminescent moon, the soft churn of soothing waves, and Colton and his steady presence sitting next to me.
Who would have ever thought I’d find so much peace during such a stressful and chaotic game?
A rush of salty ocean wind brushes across my nose and cheeks.
Colton pulls his legs up, folding his arms around them.
He doesn’t complain about the breeze despite having been in the ocean alongside me not too long ago, but I can only imagine he still feels the chill like I do.
I try not to overthink things, and instead, unwrap the side of Colton’s blanket that’s closest to him.
“Here,” I say, adjusting the blanket so that there’s enough to go around our shoulders.
“Oh, uh, thanks.”
We both wiggle a little as we reposition ourselves, scooting closer to maximize the blanket’s coverage. I try to ignore the fact that his solid arm is pressed against my own and instead train my focus on the stars.
There’s a hint of an awkward silence, but Colton is swift to bury it.
“So, I have a serious question for you,” he says.
I look at him, observing his expression.
“If all of a sudden a bottle washed onto shore, and there was a genie inside ready to grant you one wish … what would you wish for?”
I smile. I don’t know what I thought he’d say, but this “serious” question catches me off guard in the best way. “Can I ask to win the game?”
“Errr.” He mimics the sound of a buzzer. “Nope, he can’t win the game for you, and he can’t take you off the island.”
“Is he a genie in training? Why so limited?”
Colton whips his head toward me. “Missy Jean, will you just answer the dang question?”
I laugh. “Okay, okay, I would wish for a heaping platter of steaming, salty steak fries, with a side of ranch. Wait, no, not a side, an entire cup of ranch.”