Page 31 of The Most Dangerous Games

“And that bothers you?” Alek asks.

“It should bother all of us,” Jimmy replies. “This is supposed to be about methodically finding the right candidate. If they rushed the first part, what do you think they’ll do when it gets hard?”

Nobody answers that.

“Who told you it would take longer?” Alek asks.

“There have been a few intermediaries who reached out to me about how they might shape this competition,” he says. “Now I’m wondering if they ever really cared about what I thought.”

“But you’re still going to play this out along with the rest of us?” Jack asks.

Jimmy nods. “I—”

The Host returns like he’s been listening in, because he has.

“Someone once said that all of life is a game,” The Host says, “just with a new field every day.” The Host lets it sit. “You will have plenty of time to worry about the game starting tomorrow. Tonight, just enjoy this fine meal.” He pauses. “If you can.”

Conversation resumes in pockets.

Alek is as interested in the conversations around her as she is in the meal. Jack spends most of his time chatting with Elena. He feels a sense of ease talking to her. Wyatt leans toward Hannah. At some point he says he goes to NYU like it’s a badge. Hannah says she’s almost done with MIT like it’s a passing fact. Wyatt laughs, but there’s real respect in it.

Tipton keeps to himself, head down, focused mainly on the steak he’s chosen for dinner. He eats like he’s fueling up for something.

Alek finds herself watching the room the way she watched a new shelter—who guards the doors, who sits with their back to a wall. But maybe The Host was right. She can relax. Just this once.

In an odd way, this mess hall reminds Alek of her first freshman gathering during her short-lived time at National University, at one of the few places she and her mother tried to settle in. Except that most of the hundred in this room—with a handful of exceptions—are adults.

She has had moments where she feels more at home with older people than her newfound friends closer to her age. Living through war—surviving war, at least so far—has made Alek feel much older than her years.

Elena pulls Alek out of her head when she asks, “If you get a choice tomorrow—where do you want to go?”

“Antarctica,” Alek says. “As soon as I heard Snake Mountain, I was begging not to be sent there. Cold doesn’t bother me as much as things that crawl or slither. Snakes especially.”

“Snakes?” Hannah asks, making a face.

Alek nods. “Snakes.”

Dessert is finally served, the most popular selection being ice cream with chocolate sauce. As Alek digs in, she says to the others at her table, “Wherever we end up, and whomever we travel with tomorrow, the truth is we all get further if we support each other, no matter what.”

Tipton makes a snorting sound. “That’s adorable.”

Elena turns her head slowly. “Say that again.”

“I said it’s adorable,” Tipton replies. Then: “Maybe before we disperse this evening, we should all join hands and sing ‘Kumbaya,’ too.”

“Tell me the truth. What does being a jerk get you?” Elena asks.

“You all keep talking about ‘truth.’ Truth doesn’t win things. I win things. Just stay out of my way until you go home like the loser you are.”

Jack’s chair scrapes the floor—just once. Not a lunge. A warning. “Shut up, Tipton. Now.”

Tipton’s eyes flick to him. “You getting worked up, Tex?” Jack’s voice stays low. “You’re not going to talk to her like that.”

The room goes quieter around them. Aware of the rising tension.

“Or what?” Ant says.

Jack is around the table before Tipton can get out of his own chair.