Chapter 23
COLTON
“The show’s definitely doing everything it can to live up to its name.” Missy grunts as she trudges through the knee-high pit of mud with a short paddle in hand.
“Heavy on the sabotage.” I reach dry ground and toss my paddle onto the dirt before running my hand down my arm like it’s a shower squeegee. A cup’s worth of mud slinks off my skin and plops on the ground. I extend my hand to Missy as she navigates the muddy steps leading out of the pit.
“Why, thank you, sir.” Her slimy hand slips into mine as she accepts my dirty offering with all the grace and poise of a princess despite having just swum in mud.
Like we have been this entire game, Missy and I are a matching set.
Our bodies and clothes are slathered with a layer of thick mud that clings to us from our shoulders down to our shoes.
A streak of mud cuts across Missy’s face, and with the red slash left from Missy’s healing cheek, she looks fierce and unbelievably striking all at once.
When Missy joins me on dry ground, she fetches our map from her backpack, unrolls it, and with a muddied finger, places a brown check mark over the picture of a paddle. “Two items successfully retrieved, one to go.”
I hike my backpack farther up my shoulders before feeling for the coil of rope inside, ensuring it’s still there. Then Missy and I grab our paddles and start making our way toward the next item on our map: the saw.
“If we’re fast, we can probably catch up to Legend and Silver and Bill and Maria.” Missy increases her pace, her mud-tipped ponytail swinging behind her.
I nod and follow her lead, lengthening my stride.
This afternoon, Niall handed each of the final three teams a map of the jungle with rudimentary directions on where to find three items: a coil of rope, a set of paddles, and a saw.
All of which we need to collect and bring to today’s finish line.
And depending on when we cross the finish line with all our items, we’ll be given one of three accommodations for the night based on whether our team comes in first, second, or third.
The first across the finish line will get the best accommodations, while the last will get the worst.
As Missy and I run toward our next destination, avoiding the many roots and rocks on the jungle floor, I get lost in thoughts of yesterday, remembering the moment Missy had let me in, the way her soft lips felt on mine, the way I’d held her so close.
It had taken all my willpower to let her go, resigning myself to finding more time with Missy later on.
But after our meal with Team Amber last night, we’d both conked out in our bunk beds, dead tired from the day.
But sleep hadn’t lasted long. Everyone had been woken up this morning by a team of coral-clad staff members who ushered all of us to the Black Box Meeting set for our last interviews on Sabotage Island, as was tradition before the two-day finale.
Missy and I hardly had a chance to say good morning to each other, let alone talk about our kiss last night. And now, as I run just behind her through the jungle, I’m left wondering what she’s thinking. I can only hope that the walls that had come down last night haven’t been rebuilt since then.
Suddenly, Missy banks left, rounding a large rock formation in our path, and I follow, increasing my speed until I’m striding next to her. Both of us are nearly sprinting as we attempt to close the gap between us and Teams Amber and Fuchsia, making up for lost time.
Earlier today, Missy and I had been in the lead. The show had revealed America’s votes before starting day one of the final Mayday Challenge, and to our surprise, our team came in first, which earned me and Missy a ten-minute head start. No doubt thanks to a certain kiss on the beach.
We’d been the first to retrieve our coil of rope by scaling an uncomfortably tall tree, then we’d booked it to find the next item—the paddles—and that’s when everything changed.
Following the map’s instructions to the top of a hill, we’d found three mud pits waiting for us, each with a flag of one of the remaining teams’ colors.
We’d wasted no time diving into the mud, feeling out every crevice for any signs of our paddles.
But by the time we’d finally found one of ours, Bill and Maria, as well as Legend and Silver, had caught up to us, found their team’s paddles, and had taken off for their last remaining item.
As far as we knew, Bill and Maria were in first place with Silver and Legend just behind them.
A stitch pinches my side, making every step more painful.
My body isn’t used to exercising with a good helping of food in my stomach, but I don’t regret indulging in our reward meal one bit.
Last night, my taste buds became newly minted fans of steak fries and ranch.
That, along with a basket of breaded chicken, made for one of the most delicious meals of my life.
I can already imagine me and Missy going to Dave’s grill on a Saturday night, picking up a large bag of salted steak fries, and curling up on the couch to watch a movie.
“What is that?” Missy’s hand catches my arm just as we reach flat ground.
I stop in my tracks, as does the drone above us, and I listen intently until I hear what she’s hearing—arguing. And not just any arguing, sibling arguing.
Missy’s eyes widen, and she points to a cluster of trees just ahead of us. “Legend and Silver.”
I squint, not quite believing my eyes. Team Fuchsia is hanging from a net that dangles from one of the trees, their paddles lying on the ground beneath them.
I blink, trying to wrap my head around the reality of what I see, when Silver spots us, and the arguing comes to a decided stop. Silver’s face instantly drops, her muddy features etched with worry. “Help! Help!”
While before this show I would have run to her aid with little thought, this is Silver. Conniving, vindictive Silver. But at the same time, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look as desperate and afraid as she does now.
“Legend’s hand is caught in the net. I think he broke it,” Silver yells.
No questions asked, Missy takes off running toward them, and so I follow her.
Missy and I stop next to where they sway in midair. The ropes of the net are pulled so taut that Silver and Legend are sandwiched together with very little wiggle room. Legend grimaces in pain.
“I can’t move my hand. It’s pinned behind my back,” he says.
“Hurry.” Silver readjusts her arm that’s angled awkwardly outside of one of the holes in the net and points to the nearest tree trunk. “The saw is right there. Can you cut us down, please?”
Silver saying please? Wow, her brother must really be hurt.
Missy and I both turn toward the trunk of the tree that has a fuchsia saw hanging from it.
It’s then that I spot a similar tree several yards away with a teal saw on it.
My heart lifts. It would be so easy to leave Silver and Legend here while we get our saw and make a run for today’s finish line.
But when Legend cries out in pain, I know I can’t leave them.
Missy and I drop our paddles and I step toward the fuchsia saw, only for my feet to get pulled from under me and my body to slam right against Missy’s. A gasp of surprise escapes her lips as we both get pulled straight up into the air in a net identical to Legend and Silver’s.
“Are you okay?” I look at Missy who’s squashed against me. Her hands are balled into fists and are pinned against my chest, while my arms are wrapped oddly around her backpack, welded in place by the net that molds around us. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” she says breathlessly, her face just an inch from my own. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I grunt as I try to remove my hands from between Missy’s backpack and the net, but I’m met with a sharp burn against my skin from the unyielding ropes that hold us together.
A mix of horror and frustration passes over Missy’s face.
“It wouldn’t be the final challenge—” I start to say.
“—without the show sabotaging us,” Missy finishes.
“Welcome to the party,” Silver says.
Missy and I whip our heads in Team Fuchsia’s direction.
Legend—how are we supposed to help him now?
But when I scan Legend for any sign of pain, there is none.
Legend tilts his head back as far as the net will allow and starts to whistle.
That’s when I notice Silver’s face, and the complete absence of worry. In fact, she looks bored.
“Are you serious?” Missy says, with all the spice of a southern mama. “Y’all played us. Oh, I’m gonna …”
“What? What are you gonna do, Missy? Sing to the birds? Ask them to peck you out of that net?” Silver taunts, still frozen in place as their net gently spins counterclockwise.
“No, I’m gonna win this. That’s what I’m gonna do.” Missy’s accent thickens with her frustration.
“Great, let me know how you’re going to make it out of that net, will you?”
“Ugh.” Missy’s hands clench the fabric of my shirt. “Why, I never. After this show, I don’t think I’ll ever believe someone when they tell me they’re hurt.”
“Oh, bless your heart, Missy,” Silver says, mimicking Missy’s Southern drawl.
Missy’s jaw drops, and I can almost see her pulling off her metaphorical earrings for a fight. “Now, you listen here, Silver. You keep it up, and I’m gonna snatch you bald-headed.”
“Whatever cranks your tractor, sweetheart,” Silver says.
“Oh, give me strength or give me bail money.” Missy’s face turns beet red beneath the streaks of dried mud across her face.
At the moment, I don’t know what I’m more distracted by, the plan I’m formulating in my head or the entertainment of Missy’s Southern insults.
“Missy,” I whisper, pulling her from her rare moment of anger. “How much can you move your hands?”