AllFreeNovel
Share Us
An impeccably dressed blonde not-so-subtly scans me from head to toe with a disgusted look on her face.
Suddenly I feel like I’m back in high school. Except this time, I don’t have Danielle, with her charm and knack for befriending anyone and everyone, by my side.
The cheerleaders were nice to Danielle, but always had a passive aggressive comment to throw at me. She never noticed, or maybe she did but didn’t want to acknowledge it because they were her friends.
It felt like one big catty circle of girls that pretended to like each other but were just competing to have the hottest car, clothes and boy.
It was exhausting to watch, let alone participate in, which is why I didn’t mind blending into the shadows; hopefully that’s what I can do here.
It doesn’t help that I’ve always been somewhat awkward around guys. Charming a guy on television is the definition ofnot my comfort zone, but I’m hoping I can fake it till I make it.
In high school, the football guys were only nice to me to get to Danielle, which didn’t exactly boost my self-esteem. I onceoverheard them saying I was ‘bang-able’ but too shy and ‘a bit of a dork’.
I could say that it didn’t bother me, that I wasn’t all that interested in boys anyway. My go-to line is that I wanted to get into a good college, which meant I was more focused on my grades. The reality is that I threw myself into my grades because I felt unwanted by guys.
I found a lot of strength in myself when my mom got sick — I learned to speak up and advocate for her, and it made me better at befriending people and talking to men — but I feel like you never lose that feeling of awkwardness.
I shake myself out of my thoughts and take a moment to get my bearings.
The room is large and airy, with floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the ocean. Women chat among themselves, sipping on what looks like champagne. I feel very much not in their league.
I remind myself of the participation fee, and from the brief scan of the room it doesn’t look like any of them need it.
My head spins as voices loudly overlap. It doesn’t help that I didn’t eat on the plane.
As I look around the large white room, I notice the groups that have already formed among the contestants.
There’s the well-dressed designer-clad women, who are most likely successful in whatever field they’re in. Not to be confused with the influencers, who you know wish they were the designer women, and have an air of entitlement about them. They literally look like replicas of each other. It’s bizarre.
Then there’s the Southern sweethearts, with their cute accents and charisma. I watch as they politely compliment each other. I wonder if it’s just a front, and they’re secretly mean. That would be very high school of them.
There’s the group you can’t help but look at because they’re so loud. The wild-child troublemakers. The ones here to make a splash, to be the villain, to use this platform to launch their media career.
I have no idea where I fit in among all the chaos and categories. Hopefully I’ll be the one that stays under the radar, gets paid, and leaves.
“I can’t believe they didn’t have my flavored water on the flight. You call that first-class? Ridiculous.” One of the influencers runs her ridiculously long nails through her platinum blond hair. “Like, they wanted the shoutout to my followers, but they couldn’t even cater to me.” She sighs and bats her eyelashes.
“Didn’t you brag about your followers to try and get an upgrade, but it wasn’t until you mentioned the show that they upgraded you and said they didn’t care if you posted?” a pretty brunette chimes in. “You forget, a lot of us were on the same flight.” She continues tapping on her phone, barely acknowledging the mortified blonde staring daggers at her.
“Not all of us had daddy’s money funding our trip,” the blonde fires back.
“I didn’t need his money. Unlike you, my reputation is worth something.” The brunette rolls her eyes and walks away.
I try my best not to laugh. Wow, the petty sniping has already begun.
I stand there, shifting my weight back and forth to get my circulation going.
I wonder if it’s better to have the passive-aggressivebless your heartfrom a Southern belle, or a straight-up insult. Either way, I hope I’m just an observer to all the chaos.
A tall, somewhat disheveled woman steps up onto a table in the corner and loudly clears her throat. “Ladies, welcome.”
That must be Kelly.
I can feel the energy shift. Everyone stops talking and stands a little straighter.
“This show is going to be different from any other.”
It takes everything in me not to scoff and roll my eyes. From the group they’ve assembled, it looks like the cast of every other reality TV show.
