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Before I knew it, my entire body was exhausted, and I was back in the room where I’d started. There was a surprising amount of standing around involved with all day filming, apparently, which gave me a reprieve.
No matter how long the break lasted, it wasn’t long enough.
At one point I snuck off to the bathroom and made a quick call to my dad on his home phone. He should be at work, so I didn’t expect him to answer, which was good because I couldn’t get involved in conversation when I was supposed to be on a quick pee break. I left him a message with the network and time of the show, then hurried back out to the group.
As soon as I returned, the cameras started rolling.
Then a very orange man walked onto the set. He wasn’t orange in the same way Chester was. He had black eyebrows and black hair. It was his skin that was reminiscent of a Valencia, like a spray tan done in marigold instead of a normal, human skin tone. Everyone but me seemed to know exactly who he was, and they were quite excited about his appearance.
“Welcome toWhat the What?—the only game show where the challenges get wilder and stakes get bigger with every episode,” the orange man said.
I was pretty sure that’s what all game shows were like. Was that what this was? A game show?
“And our contestants haveno ideawhat we’re going to throw at them,” he said.
A cheer track played, like there was an audience here. Why hadn’t they added that in post?
“The best part—it’s all happening live. I’m your host Waylen Archer. Now let’s start off with a bang.” He whipped out a gun—what looked like an oversized, yellow revolver.
He swung the barrel all around.
I ducked down behind the table, my heart racing.
A booming sound rang out. I covered my ears.
It took me a moment to remind myself that I was probably not in mortal danger. Then I peeked out, and saw a little flag sticking out of the end of the gun.
Confetti rained down from the ceiling.
The assaults came from every direction, giving my fried nerves zero chance to recover before the next attack. Shock value was the commodity for sale here—my humiliation, my shock, my horror. All in the name of entertainment.
I didn’t think it was possible, but I realized then that this was going to be worse than anything I’d experienced at Delymo.
Everyone else was racing around, intense yet excited expressions on their faces. I was stunned, stuck motionless where I crouched. I had no idea what everyone was even doing. The ringing in my ears and pounding in my chest made it impossible to think straight.
People with giant cameras swarmed the room, chasing the contestants as they scooped the confetti off the floor. One guy lifted a velvet-covered chair over his head and ran across the room. Two of the others were pulling on the ends of a rubber chicken like the weirdest game of tug of war ever.
Noise boomed all around me—voices, feet, carnage.
It was absolute chaos, and I was frozen in place.
“You have to move!” Layana dropped down beside me, and as she looked me over, her smile fell. “Are you all right?”
“What’s happening?”
“I have no idea, except what Waylen said,” she told me. “You heard what he said, right?”
I shook my head.
She shoved a fistful of sparkling paper scraps into my hand. “Grab everything you can.”
“For what?” I asked.
She shrugged and ran off, scooping up confetti and ripping apart the room like everyone else.
It only took me a moment to get myself together and jump into the insanity.
I grabbed everything I could that wasn’t nailed down—a plastic cup, a string of lights, golden wrapping paper, something wet and fuzzy that I immediately regretted touching but also clung to like my life depended on it.
