‘We all know you were just joking around. Puft! No one ever means what they say in here anyway. They just think they do.’
‘Yeah, bro. Totally like yeah,’ he says looking bewildered. ‘And like no. You know?’
Nope.
‘Totally.’ I scuttle away from him to find the Tree House for a quick breather. At the last second, I risk a quick visit to the blind spot, desperate to hear what Cam has made of my performance in the mocktail challenge and also, to see what he thinks ofthis amazing bikini I am wearing, but a runner approaches, as I hurry along.
‘If you’re off to the toilets, can you not wipe any of the mocktail off your hair, face or bikini, please? It’s for continuity. And Porscha says don’t sit down or touch anything because if you stain it, she will…erm, she will…’ The runner looks down to her clipboard at some imaginary notes. She flips a page up and down searching for ways to say Porscha has threatened to karate-kick me in the throat, kill me or worse.
I stop walking. ‘It’s okay. I understand. I’ll go back to the outdoor kitchen.’
‘And just one other thing?’ she says, staring down at her notes and back up to me. ‘You say you don’t like pineapple. Is that an allergy thing because I’m pretty sure almost everyone put some in their mocktails… but also…’ she looks back down, flicks a page over scans the text. ‘Didn’t we see you with a bottle of pineapple juice yesterday?’
Fudge.
‘Erm, yes. Yes, you did. Because I do like it. But today, I’m just not feeling the vibe. You know?’
What complete and utter bollocks. She will never buy it.
‘Okay. Cool.’
She walks away as though our entire conversation made sense.
After the tasting round, which got very, very messy, most of the islanders hurry back to the villa to take showers and get ready for the evening’s firepit visit from Destiny. I hang back in the outdoor kitchen in the hopes that Cam might try to contact me in some way, even though I am sticky with mocktails. I’m just about to give up when I see a downcast Mimi walking out of the PANTRY. She glances at me and looks quickly away.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask her quietly. ‘Did you get pulled by a producer for a chat?’
She looks warily around, whispering, ‘Yeah. She had the cheek to say I’m being too needy towards Giovanni.’ Her voice is almost inaudible. ‘She wants me to make him jealous. But how can I? Now that he’s in love with you?’
‘No, he isn’t. He was just messing about. Probably trying to make you jealous. I’m sure he’d love it if you pulled him for a chat.’
‘Really?’ Mimi cheers up a bit. ‘In IRL I never usually have a problem with guys. But in here, everyone is so damn gorgeous, that I feel like if we all act like divas, it can’t possibly work. There’s no… what do you call it?’
‘There’s no hierarchy,’ I say, warming to the subject. It’s just like being back in the classroom.
‘Yeah. It’s like we are all the popular kids so none of us are the popular kids, if you know what I mean?’
She has a valid point. ‘I do, Mimi. You all have such an unreasonably high sense of self-importance, requiring constant and excessive adoration that it’s hard for any of you to stand out sufficiently.’
Mimi nods in agreement. ‘Yes, that’s it.’
‘And, thanks to delusional parenting, you all feel that you deserve privileges and special treatment.’ I give her a sympathetic look. ‘So, of course, you’re all going to be easily upset at the slightest criticism or knock back.’
‘Like me with Giovanni,’ Mimi says.
‘You might feel your self-worth plummet like a lead balloon just because he looks at someone else. I see it in class, all the time. My students are incredibly needy for attention. It makes them very hard to be around.’
Mimi is making soothing, understanding noises. ‘They sound like high maintenance bitches.’
‘They can be,’ I say.
‘How old are they? These students you teach?’
‘Eight years old.’
She looks surprised. ‘They start young these days, huh?’
‘By the way, you can’t say in IRL. It’s either in real life or just IRL.’ I might as well help her with sentence structure and basic semantics.
