“Please,” Hina scoffs. She pulls her luggage over her bed and aggressively unzips it. “I was about to tell them I’d room with you and before I could, she went on a stupid monologue about how she needsthe room for her job.” She rips out a shirt from the bag, crumpling it in her hand. “She thinks she’s better than us.”
She might be.
“Maybe over time it’ll get better,” I shrug. “She might be nervous.” I’m never myself around people the first time either.
Hina looks unimpressed. “Yes, I’m sure by the end of this we’ll have sleepovers and do each other’s makeup.”
An uncomfortable smile. I’ve never been a fan of gossiping. “You know the cameras are catching this, right?”
She throws the shirt back in the suitcase. “Let them, I don’t really care.”
Sunny would love Hina.
“Well,” she perches her hands on her hips. “Did anyone catch your attention?”
Dean, right?
Yes—no, absolutelynot. Rhys is a good option. Thebestone there is. I know him, he knows me, we had a bit of chemistry. I think. Plus, if we’re together enough there’s a chance Irene and Austin will script some kind of romantic vibe that the outside world would love.
I need to win this damn thing, because if I don’t… I can kiss my flowers, my happiness, and my migraine medication goodbye. Any normal, functioning human being would want the money for their dreams—I simply want them to get through the day without pulling my hair out. We are not the same. Similar, but different enough for one to be considered human and the other (me) to be considered an unidentified species.
The second Nadine finds out the truth, she’s locking me in her house for the rest of my days while providing me with everything I’ll need, and the thought of being cared for is burdening.
“It’s too early to say,” I answer. “But Rhys seems cool.”
“Knock, knock.” Shaan says at the same time as he enters our room. “Sorry to interrupt, but they’re calling us downstairs.”
He lingers on Hina for a moment longer.
When he dips out, I look at her. “He has a thing for you.”
Hina’s smile says she’s used to it and that’s all I need to know.
There’s something profound about being here. Katarina and Hina are used to getting attention from people and to be real, that’s never been my priority. I’ve been busy finding ways to camouflage into the background, but I can feel it. The slow wonder of what it would be like for someone to see me too.
“The first challenge of the evening is in an envelope in the letterbox outside the front door,” Irene needs to get a case for her iPad. “It’s simple and there’s no right or wrong when it comes to playing this game.” Every game has rights or wrongs, this one might just be hiding behind the atrocious shades of sticky rules. It’s a good thing I used to be the kid scraping dried glue off the walls of our home with my nails. Rosa used to pretend barf when I did, and Nadine had to spend hours cleaning each germ-infested finger.
Irene analyzes each of us and for the first time, I feel bathed, suffocated under the gaze. It’s the expectation to do well enough for someone here—other than Dean, of course—to like me. How can someone get under my skin so easily? Actually, scratch that. He’s getting into the skin of my finger like an ingrown nail that needs to be surgically removed. Except I can’t do that and now I’m horrifically, painfully aware of it digging into me.
Is he malfunctioning? Are those shiny greens meant to indicate thathey, I’m glitching and I need to be rebooted? If so, I can do it. I’m a professional at putting people in their place.
Lie.
A jab pounces into my eyelid.
And the increasing thud bumping against my top hood. The lights are too bright, and my brain is troubleshooting. Lips are moving, sound is muted, and I want to find a dark room to hide in for the rest of the coming evening.
I could go take a pill right now, but I have—maybe three Ajovy pills and six Naproxen’s left—which means that my broke butt has to take them sparingly.
Suffer and survive. Or let everyone know that I am hobbled.
They’re listening to Irene with their perfectly-abled faces and bodies. That should tell me to pay attention, but I don’t.Suffer and survive, it is.
Why are the lights so frigging bright? It’s triggering a smoke alarm in my belly. Burnt brownies mixed with undercooked banana bread that’s about to explode in… I give it an hour.Max. If my body loves me, that is.
“…After that, you’ll be teamed up for grocery shopping to make your own food. Teams will be decided based on who wins.” Irene completes whatever she’s saying by handing her laptop to the purple-streaked girl. She reminds me of theourplememe. The one that’s likeandwhy he ourple? “Any questions?”
Yes, what are we doing? But no one’s opening their mouth and I’ve said enough for one day.
