by Lianne Oelke
A middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and a cozy sweater vest motions for Jane to lie down on the sofa. He takes a seat on his overstuffed leather armchair and crosses his legs like a girl.
THE DOCTOR
Hello, Ms. Sinner.
JS
Hi.
THE DOCTOR
Where should we begin?
JS
Don’t ask me. That’s your job.
THE DOCTOR
Please don’t be getting sassy with me, Ms. Sinner. This won’t work if we don’t maintain a certain level of seriousness.
JS
Understood.
THE DOCTOR
It’s interesting that you imagined me as a middle-aged man.
JS
Well, I assumed you’d be in a sweater vest. We both know men look better in sweater vests.
THE DOCTOR
That is a good point. Tell me about your childhood.
JS
Whoa there, Doc. Buy me a drink first.
The doctor lowers his clipboard and scolds Jane with his eyes.
JS
Please forgive me. What I meant was, I’m not comfortable with this sort of thing. I need some time to get to know you.
THE DOCTOR
Ironic, isn’t it?
JS
Yes.
THE DOCTOR
You don’t trust therapists? Not even therapists who exist solely in your imagination?
JS
Especially not therapists who exist solely in my imagination.
THE DOCTOR
Well, we’ll have to work on this issue of trust.
JS
I guess.
THE DOCTOR
Where would you like to start, Ms. Sinner?
JS
Please, call me Jane.
THE DOCTOR
See, we’re getting there already.
ThuMar31
I dreamed I was walking somewhere and tripped, and I woke up right before my face hit the ground with my heart in my throat and a brilliant idea in my brain. I don’t know how these things were related, but so it is. Perhaps Freud can help me one day. The psychology experiment I am most familiar with is Pavlov’s dog. Classical conditioning. The association of a response (salivating) with a stimulus (a bell ringing). I thought to myself, as the sidewalk rushed toward my face, what if that response was fear? And what if I could use that fear to not only establish my authority early on in the game but also protect my food? I need to go grocery shopping again.
I bought chocolate milk and sugary yogurt and Coke and discount trifle and eggs. I won’t have any more money until the rest of my student loans come in, but I’m considering this another investment. I made sure to unload the groceries at 6 p.m.—during designated home time as well as most people’s suppertime. So they would see. I’m assuming the sense of entitlement associated with Fridays will stretch out across the week and across fridges, if it hasn’t already. Especially with the boys. It’s common sense not to trust boys with your food.
I sat down in the living room next to the stereo, just within view of the kitchen. I made sure the stereo was off, turned the volume knob to max, pretended to read my history textbook, and waited. It didn’t take long.
Within an hour, Raj walked into the kitchen with his dirty dishes. After placing them in the dishwasher he casually walked over to my mini-fridge. He glanced up at me to see if I was watching, and I wasn’t—not directly—because I was looking at the stereo.
Raj opened the fridge. I pressed Power.
The blast of noise scared even me, and I was expecting it. Poor Raj might have shat his pants. I lowered the volume and turned to Raj, meeting his eyes.
JS
Sorry!
RAJ
[breathing deeply]
Yeah . . . it’s okay.
Raj turned around and walked back to his room.
I smiled.
APRIL
FreeForAllFridayFridgeApr1
Tonight is the first challenge. No one knows what to expect, just that we have to be home at eight. I came home after Bio to chat with Bonnie on FB and keep an eye on the fridge situation. Nothing was taken and only Holly is home right now.
Holly went into the kitchen, so I got up to get myself a glass of water, following her. As she turned her back to me and bent down and opened my fridge, I dropped my glass. It didn’t shatter on the linoleum, but it landed with a heavy thump and crack. Holly jumped up and water splashed everywhere.
JS
Sorry about that.
HOLLY
It’s okay.
I grabbed a towel to clean up the water. Holly helped, and I almost felt bad.
As soon as we had all gathered in the living room, AP herded us outside. It was still light. Cool but sunny. The air smelled faintly of cow shit. The big field across the street was empty except for a few HOOcaps, tripods, and a plastic bin. AP placed us in a neat row and dragged a line across the dead grass with his foot. We stood there for a few minutes while AP talked with a HOOcap. With his thick-rimmed glasses, pink T-shirt, and expensive-looking blazer, AP looked like a producer. Like someone who knew exactly how to make an impression, someone who always wore just the right amount of cologne. I wondered what he thought of us. Out of all the contestants, I think Chaunt’Elle looks the most like she belongs on TV. Maybe Marc too, if Jersey Shore still counts. Holly is too down-to-earth to stand out, even in that clever shirt (OBEY GRAVITY: IT’S THE LAW!). Raj might pull off a one-line role in a crime show or legal drama. Robbie, with his tight pants, knitted sweater, and scruffy facial hair, is like an indie dream boy.
Holly shivered, fidgeting and giggling with Chaunt’Elle, as we waited for AP. Raj stood with his arms folded. So did Marc, but he wasn’t wearing a jacket. He wasn’t even wearing sleeves. I suppose he expects the ladies at home to swoon at the sight of his well-muscled arms. Thankfully I am no lady.
When AP finally turned to face us, he pointed to the soccer post at the far end of the field. “Run,” he said.
We all looked at each other. AP looked at his watch.
AP
Three. Two. One.
An air horn screeched. We jumped. Marc took off first, arms pumping. The rest of us followed. I ran hard. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing to a guy who wears tank tops that are too small just to show off his muscles. I lost anyway. I finished just after Raj, but third place is a waste.
Raj was hunched over, his hand on the post. I stood gasping. Marc lay on the grass, clutching his side.
MARC
Uhhhhhhhhh . . .
RAJ / JS
[breathing heavily]
MARC
Why did I eat six burritos?
Everyone had made it by then. I think Chaunt’Elle would have been red and sweaty like the rest of us if her skin wasn’t smothered in makeup.
MARC
My thighs. Five would have been enough. Why did I eat six? It’s all going straight to my thighs.
RAJ
Guess you’re not as young as you used to be, eh, bro?
MARC
Shut up.
Eventually AP made his way over, calm as ever. Marc rolled over to face him.
MARC
So, man. What did I win?
AP
Nothing. That was a warm-up.
MARC
Are you kidding me?
AP
Okay, good effort, everyone! I’m dividing you up into teams. You three over here, you three over there.
Raj, Robbie, and I walked over to the other side of the goal post. Marc sulked on the grass for another minute before Chaunt’Elle and Holly pulled him up.
AP
Here’s the challenge. This container is full of balloons. Some of the balloons are filled with water. Some are filled with Kool-Aid. You’ll stand in two lines, the first person in each line facing the other line, and on the count of three, you’ll throw a balloon at the person opposite you. At their feet, prefera
bly. If the balloon you throw sprays your opponent with water, or doesn’t explode at all, you go to the back of the line. The first person to hit their opponent with Kool-Aid wins.
Raj laughed. Chaunt’Elle and Robbie paled.
CHAUNT’ELLE
But won’t that . . . you know . . . stain our clothes?
AP
Probably.
CHAUNT’ELLE
But what if . . . you know . . . our clothes get stained?
AP
Then . . . your clothes are stained. Who wants to go first?
I didn’t really care about stains because I prefer to remain emotionally unattached to my clothing, but Raj beat me to the front of the line. Robbie didn’t move.
JS
You coming?
ROBBIE
No.
I would have tried to convince him, but AP was already counting down. Raj and Holly didn’t waste any time hurling their balloons. Holly took one in the chest. To her credit, she didn’t shriek. Neither did I, when Marc hit me in the stomach five minutes later. Unfortunately the balloon was filled with lime Kool-Aid. Marc danced around the field like a douchebag while AP explained that he won a twenty-dollar gift card to a restaurant down the street. If I had known we were playing for FOOD MONEY, I would have . . . I don’t know what else I could have done. Elbowed Raj out of the way? Doesn’t matter now. I’m going to go make myself a pathetic sandwich to eat by myself in my room.
It’s not just food money on the line. There’s no point being here if I’m not in it to win it. No more goody-one-shoe act, no siree. By the time my old life catches up with this show, I’ll be a new person. My confidence will be blinding.
I’m going to pretend I didn’t just write “no siree.”
Relevant text from Bonnie: I miss you
JS: I miss you too. I wished you were here with me today
BONNIE: Haha april fools
I’m sure what she meant to say is “I’m so lucky to have someone like you in my life and I will cherish our friendship always.” Damn autocorrect.
SatApr2
Mom emailed me twice today, sent me three texts, and left one voicemail message. She says she hopes I’m doing okay, and that God wants her to pray for me today. She doesn’t understand why I don’t always reply, because she still doesn’t understand that I flinch every time her pity touches me. She offered to take me shopping for shoes tomorrow. It’s a nice gesture but not a selfless one. To her, buying shoes for me is a symbiotic activity. Unfortunately for my mother, I am not like my sister. With Carol, you get what you put into her.
new shoes +
“You can do anything because you’re our special girl!”
+ $20 per A =
undying thanks + visibly boosted self-esteem + tail wagging
I think my parents appreciate Carol’s enthusiasm, especially since I don’t always respond to external motivation. I don’t need shoes right now, and if I did, I’d buy them myself. But I know that’s not what she means.
Robbie and I talked tonight. I’m glad he spoke first, because I was about to call him out for being such a lame contestant last night. It turns out he doesn’t like getting dirty. It’s not just that—he can’t deal with being dirty. He can’t deal with dirt in general. He came to a house full of other people because he wants to work on this, but a Kool-Aid bomb to the torso would have been too much too quickly. The Unqualified Psychologist in me wants to diagnose him and perform a series of experiments (using desensitization? the placebo effect? classical conditioning to associate germs with benign ambivalence?). Probably I won’t do this. I think I would rather be his friend than his shrink. Or at least his ally.
SunApr3
I met the parents for lunch today at a crowded Chinese buffet close to home. Close to their home, I mean. They’re average-looking people, but too self-aware to blend into crowds. They had just come from church, and I could smell Dad’s hair gel and soap and cologne the moment I saw him from across the restaurant. They asked me how I liked my classes, and how I liked being on my own, and if there was anything they could do to help. I told them the truth—that I liked classes so far and I liked being on my own and no, there wasn’t anything they could do to help—but I didn’t mention House of Orange. I probably won’t until I have concrete evidence of my ability to look after myself. I don’t want them to worry more than they have to. I think they trust me. At least, they want to. It’s too bad that one Event is enough to wipe out years of accumulated Good Kid credit. And I was a Good Kid. I never had any adventures or did anything unexpected (in their eyes, at least). Until New Year’s Eve.
Carol was at a basketball game today, so their undivided attention was on me the entire time. I’m still not used to that.
DAD
You have enough to eat? Enough clothes? Do you need a refill on your prescription?
MOM
Sometimes I look down and see that everything I’m wearing came from Sears.
Fortune cookie: The smart thing to do is start trusting your intuition.
(in bed)
Robbie is from Saskatchewan, but I don’t hold that against him. His parents live in Saskatoon—his dad is an electrician and his mom is a hairstylist. They both emigrated from India twenty years ago. Usually around 9 p.m. I hear Robbie in his room talking softly in Punjabi for a minute or two. I assumed he had a girlfriend or something like that, but it turns out he talks to his mother almost every day. I don’t know what he has to say beyond hello and good night, but I almost find it sweet.
MonApr4
Robbie, Chaunt’Elle, and I have officially formed the Basement Alliance. Robbie texted us to meet him in the food court this afternoon so we wouldn’t be overheard by the HOOcaps. That’s the tricky thing about strategizing—we’ll be watching the episodes as we play the game, so we don’t know what Alexander Park will choose to show or when he’ll choose to show it. Robbie’s reasons for teaming up make sense. Our rooms are close together, we want to counteract Holly and Raj’s friendship, and no one really wants to be responsible for Marc (except perhaps Chaunt’Elle, but she won’t admit it). I don’t particularly want be responsible for Chaunt’Elle either, but nonthreatening people are the best ones to have with you at the end. Seems pretty straightforward to me. It’s amusing how seriously Chaunt’Elle took the alliance—she wanted to sign contracts and swear oaths and spit in handshakes. Robbie and I looked at each other. All we want is to be the last (wo)man standing. Or at least the last two standing. That’s what his eyes told me, anyway, but I suppose there is room for error in the interpretation.
Almost all the food I put in my mini-fridge last week is gone, and I am 95 percent sure Raj and Marc have been eating it. Everyone else seems content to stick to Fridays. I applied the stereo technique to Marc, but I haven’t been able to catch Raj at it again. I need access to the footage of the kitchen.
I found Alexander Park in the garage this evening. The garage is HOO’s headquarters; most of the cameras and several computers are stored there. Underneath the desks lies a collection of beat-up rugs, and several lava lamps are scattered across the room. There’s a fridge, heater, coffeemaker, and couch on one side. AP said there is almost always a HOOcap in there, monitoring the GoPros and ready to bring in a proper camera when necessary. The couch had several blankets lying on it, so I doubt there is someone actually watching all the time. I suppose he wants someone in there to be accountable for all that equipment. AP showed us the security system once. It’s pretty complicated.
AP was sitting at a desk with headphones on and his back to the door when I walked in. I thought I was being quiet, but he turned around as I closed the door behind me.