The Holdout

by Laurel Osterkamp

  “Castaways, please take your place behind each of these four plates.”

  We followed his instructions. I stood between Henry and Klemi, with Grant on the end.

  Joe’s smile gleamed with anticipation. “Today, for your final immunity challenge, you will be experiencing some of the finer delicacies of this region. There will be three rounds, three delicacies. And in each case, the delicacies are still alive.”

  So that’s what they meant by the ability to kill. We’ll be killing our food as we eat it. Okay, I thought. With a million dollars at stake, I could eat some disgusting, living, thing. It couldn’t be that different from eating Pop Rocks and I used to do that for free.

  Joe continued to explain. “Now, because they’re unfamiliar, you may have trouble enjoying these dishes as much as the natives do. So the last person to swallow down their food for each round will be out. And the first person to finish the final round will win immunity, and a guaranteed chance to sit before the jury and argue why they deserve the million dollars and the title of the holdout. Worth playing for?”

  We all nodded. As if there was a chance any of us would say no.

  “You can uncover your first dish.”

  I lifted the lid. Underneath was a rolling, squirmy bug with a ton of tiny little legs. It was brown and white, and it crept and crawled around the plate. And I was going to eat it.

  I gulped down my fear and observed my competitors. Klemi looked unimpressed, like she was trying to stifle a yawn. But she always looked like that. Past her Grant’s head was down, and his mop of brown curls hid his face. What wouldn’t I have given to know what was running through his mind right about then? That information would have almost been worth a million dollars. Almost, but not quite.

  Next to me, Henry was nothing but transparent. There were already beads of sweat on his forehead, and underneath his sunburn his skin was slightly green.

  I caught his eye. “Stay strong,” I whispered. “One of us has to win this.”

  He made an affirming fist in response but I wasn’t convinced.

  “You okay, Henry?” Joe asked.

  “I’m excited, actually.” Henry smiled through his apprehension. “At Princeton we used to eat our lab experiments for fun, so this is nothing to me.”

  Joe laughed and spoke to all four of us. “Well, your first dish is beetle larvae. Remember you must get all of it down. If any portion of it is spit-out, then you are eliminated. Show me your clean tongue when you’ve finished. With a million dollars on the line, you may begin.”

  I popped the larvae into my mouth. I could feel it crawling around, so I gritted my teeth and forced myself to chew. My mouth and throat were competing to see who could gag faster, but I kept chomping down until it was soft enough to swallow. Then, just when I thought I could show Joe my tongue, my stomach revolted and some of it came back up. So I had to fight my gagging response once more, only this time I wasn’t swallowing live beetle larvae, I was swallowing dead, purified beetle larvae with a side of bile mixed in. And believe me, it tasted nothing like Pop Rocks.

  But I got it down and showed Joe my tongue. “Robin is in!” Joe shouted. And in the next moment, Klemi stuck her tongue out as well. “Klemi’s in! This is now between Henry and Grant!”

  I turned and watched Henry with my fists clenched. His chest was convulsing like a swan’s neck, and if I thought he looked green before, now he resembled Shrek’s skinny, nerdy cousin. But through pure determination he managed to swallow the last of it, and he stuck out his tongue for Joe to see.

  “Henry is in! That means Grant is out. Grant, I’m sorry, but have a seat.”

  Grant spit out the last of his beetle larvae, shrugged his shoulders, and sat on the bench opposite of us. “I’ve always been a picky eater,” he said, grinning as if he just betrayed yet another charming tendency. Before I realized what I was doing, I responded to his boyish magnetism, and smiled at him. He smiled back.

  I told myself that was okay. We’re both just acting.

  Our next dish was brought out and Henry, Klemi, and I each uncovered it.

  “Shipworms,” stated Joe. “They’re a member of the clam family.”

  Just looking at it made me want to puke. A super long, super wide, super-alive gray noodle was slithering around my plate, leaving shiny slime in its wake. I’ve always been disgusted by slugs, and this thing was like five slugs on steroids.

  Joe gave us the go-ahead. I picked up the shipworm between my fingers, and brought it to my mouth. My brain was telling my lips to part, but my teeth rebelled by staying clamped shut, which caused my jaw to tighten and tremble.

  Open your mouth! I yelled silently to myself. You think a seagull pooping on your head is a funny story? Being unable to stomach a shipworm is something you’ll never live down!

  The shipworm was twitching in my hand, angling itself towards and away from my face. Finally I closed my eyes and released my jaw. I shoved the shipworm in all at once, and it tasted like a mold, grapes, and sour cottage cheese. Only it was slithering around my mouth. I tried to just swallow it down without chewing, but that only made me gag, and then I was puking up everything, including the beetle larvae from the last round.

  I knew it was over. I kept my face down, hiding my burning tears of frustration. I heard Joe yell, “Klemi’s in! Henry’s in! Robin, you’re out. Have a seat on the bench.”

  I wiped my eyes, rinsed my mouth with the water they had mercifully supplied, and sat down on the bench next to Grant. I kept a respectable distance between the two of us, but Grant scooted an inch closer to me. It was just enough for him to reach his sneaker out to touch my own. When our sneakers met so did our eyes, and his face was a warm invitation to respond.

  As if.

  I mean, yes. Our kiss from an hour ago was sizzling in my memory and I could feel the corners of my mouth turn up. I could also feel my pulse quicken and my skin temperature rise, but not by much. But it was all only because I’m such a good actress. And I’m sure Grant was acting too; he doesn’t know how to do anything else.

  The final plates were placed down in front of Klemi and Henry, and the lids were raised. This time an egg was revealed. From where I was sitting I could see feathers and the beginning of a beak sticking out. The rest of it was marbled brown and white, almost pretty if it was something else.

  “Your final dish is duck embryos.” Joe beamed, knowing he didn’t have to eat it himself. All he had to do was stand there like a God in a blue safari shirt and commentate.

  “You can do it, Henry!” I shouted. I looked at Grant, daring him with my eyes to offer Klemi similar encouragement, but he said nothing.

  Henry danced in place, punching the air like Rocky. “I got this!” he shouted.

  Joe laughed. “I’m impressed with your confidence. You both may begin.”

  Klemi calmly placed the egg in her mouth. She may as well have been chewing gum. She was slow and steady, bored even, but she never wavered. Maybe this challenge was made for her. I bet Klemi has been in a lot of situations where she had to swallow foreign, living substances.

  Henry, on the other hand, ate with the same sort of frenzied resolve that he most likely used while presenting his master’s thesis on wormholes in 2 + 1 dimensions. He’d swallow, start to stick out his tongue, then he’d heave forward, clamp his mouth shut, and start again.

  This all took place in the space of two to three seconds. I was sure that Klemi was going to win, when all of a sudden she yelled out, “Eww! I bit down on its beak.” She heaved as she said this, and whitish, brownish, feathered mush came spilling out of her mouth like lava from a volcano. Meanwhile, Henry made his final, brave swallow and stuck out his tongue.

  “And Henry wins immunity!” Joe yelled. I jumped up, leaped over to Henry, and gave him a double high five. I knew I was probably over-doing it with my enthusiasm, especially after my declaration that I was done with strategy and playing the game. But I couldn’t help myself.

  Joe placed the immunity
necklace around Henry’s narrow neck. “Henry, you’re safe tonight at Island Assembly. As for the rest of you, I have nothing for you. I’ll see you tonight.”

  Now, on the edited television version, the tribal music begins and we all start moving in slow motion. The camera zooms in on Henry, glowing in triumph, Klemi pouting and wiping her mouth, and Grant’s face, fallen, as he watches me link arms with Henry and walk away. It’s probably just sweat, but it almost looks like a tear is falling from Grant’s eye.

  I had no idea that happened. But it doesn’t change anything now.

  The show cuts to commercial. Right on cue, my phone vibrates with another text from Ian.

  “Which is more disgusting, a shipworm in your mouth or seagull poop in your hair?”

  “I’m now ignoring you for the rest of the show,” I text back.

  “LOL, Robbie. Have a sense of humor.”

  I push the phone away. If any living witness to my seagull poop incident doesn’t send me a mocking text for puking up a shipworm, it’s because they’re not watching the show tonight. So on second thought, I sit up, grab my phone, and turn it off.

  When the show comes back from commercial, they show a series of interactions and testimonials.

  Klemi was wading waist-deep in the ocean. Henry, with his arms protectively shielding his bare, pink chest, approached her.

  “Have you thought about who you’re voting for?” he asked.

  “Robin,” she said, without even looking in his direction. Then she must have stepped on something sharp. “Ay!” she said, and she leaned over to pick it off her foot. In the process she revealed some major cleavage, and Henry’s jaw dropped, his eyes widening as he stared. When she stood up straight, his head snapped back.

  “Umm…” he stuttered. “You should vote for Grant. Robin won’t tell us who she’s voting for and there’s no way to know if Grant is lying. Either of them could be voting for you.”

  Klemi sucked on her bottom lip as she thought. “Why do you care?”

  “I want Grant out. He’d win against any of us. But if we vote him out tonight, it’s anyone’s game.”

  Klemi nodded and turned away. “I’ll think about it.” She waved her hand at him dismissively and Henry took his cue and walked off.

  Then there’s a testimonial by Grant. He was leaning against a boulder, wistfully looking off into the distance. “I have no idea what Robin was pulling this morning with that kiss. She’s probably trying to play me. But nothing that she says or does is going to change how I feel or how I vote. If she still wants to talk to me after the game is over…” he shook his head and sighed. “This game is screwed up. I never thought Henry would win the final immunity. Now I have to choose between Robin and Klemi.” He shrugged. “Oh well. She’s just one girl. There are more people like her in the world. And I’m here to win a million dollars, not to fall in love.”

  Cut to Grant and Klemi walking along the shore, holding hands. “Tell me the truth,” she said. “Are you using me to win this game?”

  “Yes,” said Grant. There were no lines of conflict or tension on his face; apparently telling Klemi the truth came easy for him.

  Klemi stopped, released his hand, and gave him the evil eye.

  “What?” he demanded. “You’re doing it too. I like you, okay? And I hope you like me. But we’re both using each other. I thought you understood that.”

  Klemi crossed her arms across her chest, but Grant reached out and clasped her waist, pulling her towards him. “Come on,” he said. “We’re having fun. And…” he kissed her lightly on the lips, “…one of us is going to win a million dollars.”

  Klemi relented with a smile and kissed him back.

  Fade to Robin the enigma, facing the camera for a testimonial. My hair was pulled back as neatly as could be, and I had washed up in the ocean earlier that day. Even my hoodie was cleaner than normal, and I almost looked like a Noxzema commercial. I was holding my torch, ready to go to the final Island Assembly.

  “I’ve had a lot of time to sit and think today. And this is what occurred to me: you can steal love and you can steal justice, but neither will be worth anything if they’re not given to you willingly.” I raised my eyebrows and smirked. “Ironically, learning this lesson has only made me more likely to try and steal both.” Cut to a long shot of our foursome setting out, shadows with torches, as the sun sets behind us. My testimonial continues, only as a voice-over.

  “This game has changed me in ways I didn’t expect. I thought I was coming here for a fun adventure and a chance to win a million dollars. But being on The Holdout has finally taught me how to fight. Maybe I’m getting voted out tonight and it will be my turn to go. But I’m not going down without a struggle.”

  Such brave words. Too bad I didn’t live by them sooner. I glance over at my lifeless phone. Who is texting me now, ridiculing my bravado? What tweets will be sent and how much fury will they contain? Are people going to accuse me of being a whore for trying to convince Grant I was still into him, or will they indict me for being an idiot and not seeing through him sooner? Eventually I’ll turn my phone back on and find out.

  On TV we walk into the penultimate Island Assembly.

  “Welcome, castaways,” said Joe Pine.

  We sat on our bench and the jury entered. The fire burned with enthusiasm in its pit, making me feel like my skin could blister just from being nearby. Joe perched on his stool like the Thinker statue and commenced with the necessary dialogue. I could only focus with half my attention span. Between my ears there was ringing and I said little to nothing as Joe interviewed us. Only Henry was happy to answer Joe’s questions.

  “Henry, any idea who will be going home tonight?”

  “Well, it’s obviously going to be Robin, Klemi, or Grant. I could say any of them and I’d have a 33% chance of being right.”

  “That’s it? You can’t do better than a one in three projection?”

  Henry blinked several times, keeping the rest of his face still. “I could,” he said finally, “but I’d hate to ruin the surprise.”

  Joe cocked his head and smiled with his lips pressed together. “Okay, well I for one am anxious to find out. Let’s vote.” He gestured for Henry to go first. One by one, we each walked to the ballot basket. When it was my turn I scrawled “Grant” in huge letters, making them take up all the space on the paper. Then I went back and took a seat on the bench, keeping my eyes down as I did.

  “I’ll tally the votes,” said Joe. He brought out the basket, and lifted out the first ballot. “First vote, Grant.” Joe held up my ballot. “Second vote, Grant.” Joe showed us Henry’s ballot. By now I could recognize everyone’s handwriting. “Third vote, Robin.” The ballot Joe displayed was in Klemi’s loopy scrawl, with a frowny face dotting the i. “Two votes Grant, one vote Robin, one vote left.”

  My heart was pounding in my ears and the ringing grew so loud that I looked around to see if other people could hear it too. Unintentionally I glanced at Grant and he gazed back at me. He didn’t smile and in his eyes I saw defiance. That’s when I knew for sure. When it came time for him to choose between Klemi and me, it was barely a choice at all.

  “Fourth vote, Robin,” said Joe. “We have a tie.”

  Chapter 13

  “But until we clarify the first item we can’t proceed. I think we need to send the judge a written message with our questions. Also, we need a projector. That way I can show the list up on the screen, and we can check off each item as a group.” Four grabs a sheet of paper and a pen. “Does anyone mind if I compose the note to the judge?”

  We all nod our heads, and murmur things like “That’s fine,” or “Sure, knock yourself out,” and Four starts writing. I rub at my temples and the joint in my jaw. There’s a dull pain behind each.

  “Okay!” says Four, and she reads off what she wrote. We’ve been at this for three hours already today and we haven’t gotten anywhere. When we all approve the letter, Four steps outside and hands it to the sec
urity guard.

  Eleven is fidgeting in his seat. “Does anyone mind if we take a break while we wait for the judge to reply? I could use a cigarette.”

  If Eleven is going outside to smoke then we all have to go outside with him. There’s no such thing as alone time anymore.

  “I would love to take a break,” says Six. “Some fresh air would be lovely.”

  The group collectively looks over at One, our foreman. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.”

  So the security guard chaperones us onto a service elevator. We load, ride down, and unload like we’re in a tedious clown car, and he guides us down a back hallway to a door that is normally locked. Stepping outside onto a tiny patch of grass, adjacent to the street, we all collectively inhale the cool November breeze, except for Eleven, who inhales poisoned air instead. I pretend to be interested in hearing Twelve tell Four, Six, and Two about her honeymoon plans, but I subtly look around for Nick. He’s over talking to Five, and as I approach I hear snippets of their sports conversation. But they both turn to me when they notice my presence.

  “Hey!” I say.

  At least Five smiles when he sees me. “Hi! I watched your show last night. I’d never seen it before, but since I know somebody who’s on it now I thought I’d take a look. It was intense!”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  He gives me a thumbs up. “You were great! Eating that bug. Wow.”

  “Yeah, it was pretty disgusting.”

  I glance down at my shoe and scuff in it the soft dirt. There’s a stretched out moment when I wait for Nick to acknowledge me or give some sign that he doesn’t suddenly, inexplicably hate me. All he has to do is say something.

  “I watched it too.”

  My eyes shift from my foot to his face. “What did you think?”

  Nick shoves his hands in his pockets and scrunches up his shoulders. Then, in a soft, nearly intimate pitch, he says, “I think your life is pretty complicated.”

  Oh. So that’s what this is about. Sure, it had occurred to me that having my baggage aired on national television might scare off potential suitors, but I was hoping it was something else. Something easier to fix. “Everyone’s life is pretty complicated,” I reply. “And anyway, you knew that before.”