The other women were all in the living room, arrayed in a semicircle. In the centre was Heather, arms folded, standing directly in front of one of the shotgun mics. ‘You got me eliminated today, didn’t you?’ she said. ‘You bitch.’
Of course. I should have guessed.
‘You got yourself eliminated,’ I said, trying to keep my voice as calm and steady as possible. ‘I had nothing to do with it.’
‘They told me,’ Heather snarled. ‘About how you’re always whispering in his ear.’
‘We’re friends.’
One of the other women made a scoffing sound. I dug my fingernails into my palm even harder.
‘I know you were the one watching us all,’ Heather said. ‘What did you tell him about me?’
‘Just what I saw on the monitors,’ I said. ‘His decisions are his decisions.’
Heather stalked towards me. She was so close I could feel her breath against my face.
‘What,’ she said, ‘did you tell him?’
I met her gaze. ‘Just,’ I replied, ‘what you said.’
‘Which was what, exactly?’ Samantha asked. ‘Because it would have to be pretty terrible for him to just eliminate her out of the blue like that.’
All of them were glaring at me. Everything in me was screaming to back away. Six on one were terrible odds for a fight.
But sometimes you had to take them.
‘You really want me to tell them?’ I said to Heather. ‘Are you sure?’
‘You can tell them whatever you want,’ she said. ‘I have nothing to hide.’
‘Fine,’ I said, my fingernails digging so hard into my palm that one of them broke the skin. ‘It was all that racist shit you said about Naya.’
Heather slapped me. I stumbled back, hand pressed to my cheek.
‘How dare you?’ she exclaimed. ‘I don’t have a racist bone in my body!’
‘Hey, hey, hey,’ Rani said, getting between us. ‘Let’s calm down for a second, all right? Let’s breathe. Cece, are you all right?’
I moved my jaw gingerly from side to side. ‘Yes.’
‘Heather,’ Rani said, ‘what did you say about Naya?’
‘Nothing!’ Heather said. ‘I don’t like her, fine, but it’s not because she’s Black. I don’t even see colour.’
‘I mean, you should,’ Rani said. ‘You think the fact I’m Indian doesn’t fundamentally shape who I am? Or that Naya’s Black? Or that Dylan’s Sri Lankan? Or that you’re white?’
Heather folded her arms. ‘I don’t care if people are Black or white or purple with green polka dots,’ she said. ‘I just see people.’
Her attention refocused on me. ‘And I sure as shit didn’t say anything racist about Naya!’
‘You said she was an uppity bitch who was always trying to bully you.’
‘Because she is!’
‘Then you went on about “someone like her” talking the way she did to “someone like you”.’ I made scare quotes with my fingers.
‘Fuck, Heather,’ Jess K said, shaking her head. ‘Really?’
