“I’ve never been more scared than when I was hanging off that cliff. That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life, but it was worth it, because we’re still in this.”
“What would it have meant to lose your shot at the two million?” Aliona asks, tilting her head curiously. I shift in my seat, cutting in before Yumi can answer. “It would have been disappointing to get sent home, but I keep trying to remind myself that the money isn’t ours. We aren’t losing the two million, we are trying to win it. Those are different things. You can’t drop something you aren’t holding.”
Aliona turns on me, like a security camera detecting movement. “But for you specifically, Noelle, what does it mean foryouto stay in the game?”
The bait dangles before me:Tell us the story. Talk. You know you want to. You want people to respect you, to understand, to commiserate, don’t you? The fandom could like you. They could pity you, help you. All you have to do is tell them.
And maybe under other different circumstances, I would. Not right now, though. “It means that we get to stay in the game,” I say, flipping her question over like it’s a lock screen notification that I’ve decided to deal with later. “That’s everything for two people who loveThe Adventureverseas much as we do.”
“Thirteen seconds is a razor-thin margin, isn’t it, Yumi?”
One look at the guilt on Yumi’s face, and I jump in to answer before she can. “Thirteen seconds is a razor-thin margin. It’s scary to realize we came that close to elimination.”
“It must be heartbreaking for the team that came in last,” Yumi says softly, and it makes me want to pull her in, tell her that it is not our problem. It was them or us.
“It was,” Aliona says.
Again, I feel that I am looking through the facade of the show to the scaffolding that production has cultivated so carefully, the leading questions that funnel me through the illusion of choice, straight into whatever corral they’ve already designated to me. A strong magnetic pull draws me to ask who went home. Whose dream did Yumi and I crush? That very same setup answers the question for me.
I try not to picture the next page in Yumi’s logbook, but I can already seeMATT AND MORGANwith a red line striking through the heart of their names like a fatal wound.
Aliona stares a moment longer, then realizes that the fish aren’t biting. “Especially since you were so friendly with Morgan and Matt.”
Yumi squeezes her eyes shut.
How many times can I explain how much I love and understandThe Adventureverse? As a watcher, a superfan, I know a story needs to be woven. Seasons without high emotion, good storylines, and vulnerable characters are, frankly, boring. I have no interest in being a boring team on a boring season with no rewatchability. I came on this show knowing what it would ask of me. But, God, it does kind of suck to live through.
I want to do justice to the canon, but Ineedto do justice to Yumi first. Even though we didn’t lose, mentally this is a lose-losesituation for my partner. I know how this sort of illogical thinking sinks into the psyche—fault, blame, survivor’s guilt. It’s not a burden worth carrying for the next sixty years.
“It’s sad to see Matt and Morgan go,” I start, taking Yumi’s hands between mine. “They were tough competitors, and good friends. But at the end of the day, only one team can cross that finish line first. The fact is, they went home, and that means we didn’t. This is the time to lock in, not let our emotions get the best of us.”
“Last question, how does it feel to be in the final five?”
Of all the questions, this one unseats me. My emotions ricochet—defensive to surprised to excited to embarrassed to annoyed to thrilled. The emotional whiplash is exhausting.
Fighting my brain fog, I say, “It’s a dream come true.”
“I never thought we’d actually be here,” Yumi agrees, smiling softly. “I won’t believe it until I see it on TV.”
“All right.” Aliona stands, stretching. “We’re good, girls. Go get some sleep. You’ll be leaving last tomorrow. Your crew will be waiting at eight with instructions. Congrats, and welcome to the final five.”
I take a deep breath as I pull my blue windbreaker off and hand it back to Aliona. Two more eliminations stand between us and the chance at two million dollars. I spin my necklace. We’re so close. No matter what I told Aliona, itdoesfeel like we’re already holding that two million, and I refuse to drop it now.
Chapter 36
Crash
The adrenaline crash hits methe second I squeeze past her and into the room.
I sling my pack off my shoulder and onto the floor, collapsing against the bathroom doorjamb. The light is off, but I—the human-sized lump blocking the switch panel—make no move to change that. I’m fully willing to pass out onto the first surface I come into contact with, even if it is a wall.
Sensing my indifference to everything but losing consciousness, Yumi reaches around me, flipping the switch herself.
“I can’t believe you’re so tired.” She takes the window bed. Good. Less walking for me.
“You’ve been sleeping on the flights,” I mumble, face down against the slightly stiff white comforter. Oh. It seems that I lay down at some point. Interesting.
“You could sleep on the flights, too,” she points out, her voice drifting from different places in the room as she walks around for whatever reason.
