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"Thank you, Layana," Gilbert said. "That was certainly...something."
Jerk.
"Chester, you're next!" Gilbert said.
Deep, opera-esque singing bellowed from the speakers.
Chester stepped forward wearing his signature cheese beard, plus a pink tutu, fairy wings, and no shirt. He belted out the Italian words to the song, apparently familiar enough with the piece to know every syllable. He threw his arms wide, puffed out his hairy chest, and captivated us all with his powerful song.
He glided his arms gently over his head and lifted to his toes.
Was this ballet? Did Chester know opera and ballet? He certainly seemed to be a master of both.
In graceful bounds he leapt across the space. His sparkly wings fluttered behind him in the hypnotic rhythm of his movements. As the ballad grew louder and more intense, Chester popped and locked his arms, seamlessly adding hip-hop to his graceful ballet routine.
His feet tapped across the floor. His arms snapped and swayed in the air, two slender, hairy snakes. Watching felt like being in a fever dream, where a hodgepodge of incomprehensible nonsense combined in such a way that it felt more real than it had any right to.
Finally, as the piece came to a crescendo, he undulated his stomach to vibrate his voice over the opera singer on the track. Then he dropped down in a deep bow.
Everyone cheered.
Chester deserved to win, no question. Layana deserved top three. Glitter should be safe. I just hoped I wasn’t going home.
With only nine of us left, the safe middle was shrinking smaller and smaller.
“Top three are as follows,” Gilbert announced. “George, Hannah, and Chester.”
My heart beat harder and faster in my chest.
Gilbert said, “At the bottom we have Glitter, Morgan, and Layana.”
Layana didn’t deserve this. Again, I wondered if this was retaliation for not cooperating in the skit.
“And the winner is…Chester!”
I put on a smile and clapped along with everyone else. But my pulse was pounding so hard in my ears, I could hardly hear.
It was clear who needed to go. I was the one who’d nosedived and splattered to the floor. I was the one who’d blinded Waylen. It wouldn’t be fair to either of the others for it to be them. It had to be me.
“This week’s loser is…Morgan!” Gilbert pushed his bottom lip out in the fakest pout to ever grace a television screen. “Morgan, we’re so sorry to see you go.”
It was over. I was getting kicked off the show.
A mix of relief and a fresh wave of anxiety hit me all at once.
My friends and fellow contestants encircled me in a group hug, shielding me from the prying cameras.
Being out meant I had nowhere to live, no way to survive. The first person I wanted to talk to,neededto talk to, was Oscar. And I had no idea where to find him.
* * *
Back at the hotel,as I worked on packing up my belongings, my mind was muddled. Layana had offered to help, but I needed a few minutes alone. I needed space to try and pull myself together.
As quickly as this whole adventure had started, it was over.
I knew from the start of the reality competition that there was only one way for this to end: with me getting kicked off and going right back to being homeless and penniless. But knowing that it had been inevitable didn’t make the impact any less devastating now that it was happening.
I’d also expected that when this all went down, Oscar would be here with me.
