Morgan watches us, stars in her eyes that remind me of my dad. And I swallow as it hits me that it’s the first time I’ve really thought about him since coming out here. My nose goes numb—pins and needles dripping down to my lips and spreading out to my ears. I shiver, and Yumi immediately seems to sense something is wrong. She shifts around in front of me, shielding me from everyone else as she pretends to brush something off my face.
You okay?she mouths.
I can’t make my gaze focus. And I know my mouth is in the wrong shape. It should be doing something, for the cameras, for the people around me, but I know it’s just settled into an unnerving straight line. I snap myself back into consciousness, making sure the smile reaches my eyes by exhaling a laugh through my nose. It’s a trick I taught myself as a kid, and it never fails to set teachers and friends at ease. They can breathe a sigh of relief, reassured that I’m just spacey, and I can go on with my day without being interrogated about what’s wrong with me. It’s a win-win.
“Sorry, just zoned,” I whisper, shaking my head.
Yumi doesn’t press me. She knows I’m lying, but she also knows it’s purposeful. She sees the moment for what it is, a leave-it-alone mask. So she leaves it alone. Which, of course, makes me want to tell her what I’m thinking. It’s some kind of reverse psychology witchcraft is what it is.
Lowering my voice to a whisper, I admit, “I haven’t thought about my dad since we’ve come on the show.”
She cocks her head, frowning. “What?”
“I know, I know,” I interrupt quickly. “It’s not my responsib—”
“No, not that. ‘What,’ like…like, yes, you have.”
I shake my head again. “No, I haven’t. That sucks, right?”
Eyes narrowed, she says, “Noelle, we literally talked about him in the airport. Youhavethought about him.”
When I realize she’s correct, I can’t help but laugh into my hand. “Oh shit. You’re right.”
Over the years, Yumi has managed to perfect this expression that I’ve never seen anyone else replicate. She flares her nostrils, lips parted on an amused sigh. Her eyebrows twitch, as if she can’t decide whether to furrow them or raise them. It makes me feel simultaneously ridiculous and seen. I hate it. And I missed it.
“Should we add amnesia to the diagnostic list?” she jokes.
“It’s probably just part of some other disorder soup going on up there.” I tap my temple.
Yumi rolls her lips, the edges quirking up. “They should study you.”
“They are.” My eyes shift pointedly toward the tripod-mounted cameras.
Her gaze doesn’t follow mine. It doesn’t need to. “Finally, reality TV used for good.”
After adjusting one more imaginary stray hair, she returns to the sleeping bag, and the absence of her warmth sends me crawling in as well. Like all the other couples, we’ve zipped our two sleeping bags together to form one mega bag. Butunlikeall the other couples, Yumi and I have the unspoken arrangement to sleep facing away from each other. Still, having her body heat nearby in the chilled, damp cave is a welcome comfort.
As soon as the other two teams—the Influencers and the High Elves—arrive, the lights flicker three times to warn us that we only have five more minutes of visibility.
“Creepy,” Morgan whispers to us, her smile wide as she nestles closer to Matt. “I’m so glad I’m not alone.”
He kisses her on the top of her head. “Never.”
Morgan squeaks happily, closes her eyes, and seemingly falls asleep immediately. I’m jealous, because I’m still awake when the lights go out.
Chapter 27
Survived
It happens suddenly, no flicker,no countdown. One moment I’m looking at Matt and Morgan’s orange sleeping bags, and then it’s dark—complete and enveloping, a darkness that feels solid against my skin.
“Oh my God,” someone whispers. Logan, of the High Elves, I think. He must be the one that production is doing this to.
“It’s okay,” Bee’s voice, calm and steady. “It’s just one night.”
There’s a shuffle, a soft thud, and then a single, chilling scream.
Cora’s voice cuts the air, panicked. “What was that? What’s happening?”
