“Noted. But do you see how this works? You’re playing right into their hands. But getting back to secrets, I know for a fact that at least one person is here incognito.”
My heart sank. Me, he was talking about me. He had to be.
I swallowed, getting ready for it. I’d been stupid to think I could be anonymous here.
7
I braced myself, but Rohan pointed to Sean. “Anything you want to confess?” Rohan asked.
Sean looked as startled as I felt.
“Yeah. I’ve seen your videos,” Rohan told him. “You’re the guy who sets himself on fire on YouTube. You just got owned.”
Sean’s surprise turned to embarrassment, and rightfully so, since Rohan had been able to call him out in all of three seconds. “Used to be Vine, but yeah, now mostly YouTube. And I only set myself on fire once. That was a mistake.”
“I knew it!” Maddie blurted out, as if she’d been waiting a long time to let it out. “You’re Sean, right? Boom_Sean_alaka Sean?”
Sean nodded proudly.
“Your videos are so great,” Maddie said earnestly. Was she really a senior? Maybe she skipped a grade. “Well, not the one where you get set on fire, of course.”
My relief at not being identified slipped away when I noticed Rohan was watching me.
“It’s the quiet ones who need watching. They’ve always got something to prove,” he said.
I swallowed hard. If I’d been nervous before, that feeling had just quadrupled. One of the cameras moved in on me to catch my reaction. No wonder the cameramen all wore black from head to toe. They were basically vultures.
“Not me,” I said. “Just like Chloe, I’m a normal, boring girl.”
“Says the girl who not too long ago manipulated things so that we’d be in her debt,” Rohan pointed out.
Everyone stepped away as if I were toxic, suddenly remembering how Maren and I had “stolen” their bags. Great. Thus far, this show was going to be everything my parents predicted. I was here reinforcing all the old stereotypes, not changing them. My bad reputation was only going to intensify at this rate.
Time to play the question game.
My life: regular teenage tragedy or the eighth circle of Hell?
The hostile looks I was getting were a good indication of the answer. Hell. Definitely Hell.
We went back to camp even more fractured than we’d been on the walk there.
On the beach, Willa and Justin were putting up a volleyball net. For a second I was torn—everyone was headed there, and the beach activities looked like fun. I shook it off. I had business to attend to; I needed to try out the satellite to make sure it was going to work.
I had some excuses ready—I was getting my bathing suit, I had to use the bathroom—but I didn’t run into anyone on my way to the cabin. Lots of volleyball fans, apparently. Luckily it didn’t appear that there were individual cameras assigned to each of us, because I’d made my exit without any of them trying to follow me. They must just go wherever the action was.
It made me perversely happy that my high-tech satellite hadn’t come from my father. He had no idea it existed, but then why would he? He’d barely paid attention to me lately, having allocated far too much of his valuable time to me already. Like Miles, I wasn’t producing gold for him, so he had cut me loose and moved on.
Instead, I’d gotten the satellite from Katie, my English tutor. She had a part-time job writing product reviews for a technology magazine and she was always carrying around a few of the gadgets she’d been hired to cover. I didn’t quite understand how the satellite worked—all I knew was that it had been commissioned by the government for spying, and its invisible sorcery somehow captured signals even in the most remote places. Since it just so happened I was heading to one, I’d begged Katie to let me borrow the satellite, something she only agreed to if I got a B- on my next paper.
If there was a perfect illustration as to how far I’d fallen this year, that was it. A B- had become aspirational. In any case, our trade had been a success—I had my super-stealth satellite, and Katie was pleased with my B.
I couldn’t wait to test it now that I was here, although I was half-scared, half-excited. What if it didn’t work? I was so nervous that I flubbed my first two attempts to open the safe.
“Making sure no one stole any of your jewelry?”
The voice startled me. Maren was in the cabin doorway.
“I didn’t bring any jewelry here,” I told her, leaning back on my heels.
Maren sauntered in, taking her time. “Really? A rich girl like you?”
“What? I’m not—”
“Rich? Sure you are. Look at your clothes. Everything new, everything brand name. Even your shoes probably haven’t been worn before. Your mommy run out and buy it all for you from safari trips dot com when she signed you up for this thing? I’ll bet she did.”
I frowned. That actually wasn’t a completely inaccurate description, not that I was going to admit to it.
“Well, thanks for sharing that opinion,” I told her. “But feel free to leave now.”
“Whoa, calm down.” Instead of departing, Maren sat down on the nearest bottom bunk. I couldn’t remember if it was hers or not, but she was acting like it was. “We don’t have to talk about the La Perla underwear I saw in your bag if you don’t want to. I came in here to say I don’t know why you didn’t tell everyone I was the one who’d taken their stuff, but . . .”
I waited. It didn’t seem like she was going to add anything else.
“Is thanks the word you’re looking for? I can’t tell, because you just walked in here insulting me, which is kind of a strange way to say thank you.”
“I’m a strange girl, what can I say.”
I sighed. “Yeah, I’m getting that idea.”
She leaned back onto the mattress. She still wasn’t showing any signs of leaving.
I needed to see AJ’s notes, and to do that, I needed Maren. I wasn’t happy about it, but at this point, it was basically a fact that I was going to be stuck with this nutty girl. I might as well make the best of it.
“We should be partners,” I said finally. “Make a pact not to vote each other off.”
It was risky, and Maren was definitely not my first choice. Or my fifth, or tenth, or even nineteenth. But, in a way, I’d already partnered with her when I hadn’t denied the bag accusations.
“All right,” she said, a bit indifferently, which was offensive. She’d come in here looking for me, after all.
“I’d like to see the stuff you took from everyone else. Especially AJ. What else was in his bag besides the map and the Cipher? He said something about notes or a journal, didn’t he?”
“That’s on a need-to-know basis, and you definitely don’t need to know.”
“No? I was thinking that one of the benefits of a partnership would be that the partners are nice to each other,” I said.
“Please.” Maren rolled her eyes. “It’s not like we’re friends. We’re not. This is an arrangement. Totally different.”
I winced, but it must not have been noticeable or Maren would have commented. It bothered me that she’d taken friendship off the table. Why? Was it so unreasonable to think I might be someone she could like? More importantly, why was I hurt by her rejection? Maren was exactly the type of person I needed to avoid at all costs—sharp, a lightning rod for negative attention, and no doubt quick to look out for herself.
“Well then, partner, as part of our arrangement I’m going to need to see those things,” I said.
Maren left without saying goodbye, which now that I was getting to know her I interpreted as a yes. She’d have argued if the answer was no.
“Good talk,” I said to the empty doorway, but actually, this hadn’t been a terrible talk. I had a partner now. An angry, Goth, selfish partner, someone comp
letely the opposite of what I had hoped for. But really, did it matter? I was going to need the help. And she was the one who had AJ’s notes.
In the distance, the base camp gong sounded. I looked at my locked safe with regret. The satellite would have to wait.
8
Back on the beach, Phil was shouting that it was time to load into the two motorboats approaching the shore.
“One team per boat. Let’s go, people!”
Phil and the captain, another local man—now I was noticing them everywhere—held on to the stern of our boat while we loaded up.
“Get what you needed?” Joaquin asked me. I had to stop myself from frowning. Nothing was private, obviously. Did he have eyes on the back of his head? I didn’t like being watched all the time. I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. He didn’t follow up.
There was a lot of excited chatter as the boats zipped around the backside of Black Rock. We slid onto the sandbar of one of the small neighboring islands that had been visible from the helicopter. Everyone in our boat seemed to be using the Demons for scenery pics while Willa and her friends were mostly taking pictures of themselves.
Deb was waiting for us on the beach, clipboard in hand. I wondered if she ever put it down; the thing was omnipresent, and packed tightly with a solid inch of papers, all neatly color coded and annotated with crisp red handwriting.
“Everyone out!” Phil commanded.
There was definitely a team culture evolving already. The Huaca players were slow to disembark, moving forward in neat lines and jumping cleanly off two by two from the point of the bow. The Sol players were not so patient—nearly all of them vaulted off their boat simultaneously into the calf-deep water and splashed to shore in a crowd. Rohan was the exception, hanging back to say something to the boat captain in Portuguese. How was that allowed? I wondered. Deb had told us not to talk to the cameramen, which I had assumed extended to all the crew, but Rohan didn’t seem to be hiding it. He finished his conversation and leisurely hopped off the boat, nodding unhurriedly at me.
“Welcome to the staging area,” Deb told us. “If we were filming this show on a set, this would be what we call behind the scenes.”
Whatever problems she’d been summoned to deal with earlier weren’t noticeable. Everything looked perfectly in order. No broken cameras or smashed equipment, at least not that I could see.
We followed her up the beach toward the trees like a gaggle of ducklings. So far, today had felt like one long museum tour. So much stopping and starting; so many explanations.
There was nothing picturesque about the huts we passed on this beach, and everything had obviously been built for substance over style. Flat, square huts stuffed with giant lights and cameras barely hid a row of blue plastic portable toilets.
Lots of people were here, too. Some of them wore black shirts with the Reality Gold TV show logo, but most were dressed casually in regular shorts and T-shirts. A few waved and shouted greetings. Down at the far end, semi-hidden from sight, there was a group of people constructing something, and it occurred to me that I’d never even thought about how many people were actually needed to film these shows. On TV it always seemed so intimate, as if it were just the players there. In real life it was so different.
“Hey, everyone, meet our crew,” Deb said. “We call them the B-team. They’re the ones who build our sets, run through the test challenges, and drink beer all night in the crew village.”
“Sweet gig,” Murch said. “How do I get in on that?”
“Become an out-of-work actor, have a relative on the crew, be nice to me. Take your pick.”
“Done!” Murch saluted her, pleased, although I couldn’t imagine why. He was none of those things.
Deb led us up a path through some trees, past some rocky caves, to a large, open field constructed to look like an arena.
“Wow,” Porter said, adding a low whistle for good measure. “Hunger Games anyone?”
Silently I agreed. The arena was far more elaborate than our remote surroundings would have suggested. In the middle of the massive field there were two large rectangles of sand, each about the size of a basketball court. One had a yellow banner, the other one had green. Without being told, we split into teams and gathered under our respective banners.
Joaquin faced the two teams and gave an explanation of the challenge. It was hard to follow—something about using metal detectors to find four keys buried in the sand that would be used to unlock a series of nesting treasure chests. Inside the final chest was a khipu—an ancient Inca string code—that had to be deciphered.
Pay attention, Riley. Do NOT screw this up.
In addition to the keys, a special medallion was hidden in the sand. Gold, of course, and whoever found it would become the High Priest or Priestess for their team and was safe from being voted out.
“The medallion will be a part of every contest,” Joaquin said, “as a reminder of the important role luck plays in every treasure hunt.”
That got my attention. Miles was a big believer in Lady Luck. Most treasure hunters were, because a strike of the shovel an inch in the right or wrong direction could make all the difference. It seemed appropriate, then, that the winning team of our very first challenge wouldn’t have to be overly brave or strong or smart. Just lucky.
Katya and Phil gave each team a metal detector and a quick tutorial, and then we were directed to line up along the edge of the sand pit for what was essentially a relay race with a metal detector as the baton. I rubbed my necklace pendant and sent a silent prayer to Lady Luck. I needed a win, or enough help so that I didn’t make a fool of myself.
Others had more elaborate success rituals. Take Lucas—he was running through a series of complicated stretches that required both flexibility and a desire for attention.
“Wouldn’t want to tear a muscle on the first day,” Maren said with mock concern.
“For sure. I’m playing at Georgetown this fall.” Lucas mimed kicking a ball. “Soccer.”
“You guys, did you know Lucas was going to Georgetown?” Maren asked loudly. Lucas nodded proudly, obviously unaware she was making fun of him for mentioning it at least three times already.
Lucas had long hair for a soccer player. I wondered if he put it up in a man bun when he played. He had to—there was no way he could flip his hair to the side on the field as often as he was doing now and have a shot at playing in college. I lost a little bit of the kinship I’d felt for him after he hadn’t jumped from the helicopter. Man buns were the worst.
“You all set over there?” Joaquin called. After a thumbs-up from Lucas, Joaquin lifted his starting pistol. “Ready, set, go!”
The shot echoed around the arena.
Oscar was first on the Huaca team. We’d decided to take an orderly approach, assigning each player a specific square of the sandlot, so Oscar ran immediately for his assigned corner. The Sol team had settled on the opposite strategy. Their first player, Alex, was running around wildly in every direction, swinging her detector wide and fast.
“That’ll never work,” AJ said, at the exact second her metal detector beeped. He groaned. “Beginner’s luck.”
Their next player must have had some of that same beginner’s luck, and then the player after that, because within the first few minutes Sol managed to find three of their keys before we’d even found one. And if that wasn’t enough pressure already, just as I grabbed the detector to take my turn, a fresh bout of cheers indicated another discovery on the Sol side.
“The medallion,” Willa screamed in excitement. “I found it! I’m the High Priestess!”
We were getting crushed. This wasn’t even going to be a contest.
But then a miracle: I got a beep of my own. I dropped to my knees and began to frantically dig. Buried about three inches down was an ornate, old-fashioned key. It wasn’t a medallion to keep me safe from a vote, b
ut at least I’d contributed something to the team.
I held it up in triumph. “Got one!”
I ran back, passing the detector to Annika and the key to Maren. She unlocked the chest, flipped the lid back and pulled out a smaller one nestled inside.
“Three to go, team! Let’s do this,” AJ called.
But Annika wasn’t doing so well out on the field. She’d run out at full tilt keeping the head of the metal detector too close to the ground. When it hit a pile of sand and stopped short, her stomach ran right into the handle and she collapsed to the ground.
Next to me, Maren winced. “Are you kidding me? What kind of fool move was that?”
A fresh round of cheers from the Sol team told us they’d found their fourth and final key. Great. Now they were moving onto the second part of the challenge: the khipu. They were too far away for me to see what exactly deciphering it entailed, but it had to be hard because we were able to send a full rotation of our players into the arena without the Sol team solving its code.
AJ found the next key and Lucas our third. A minute later Maddie found the fourth, and just like that, we’d caught up to the Sol team.
The khipu was made up of rows of knotted, multicolored strings hanging from a rod. Joaquin had explained earlier that for the Inca, the khipu was a form of communication.
“Each color means something,” he’d told us. “Each knot means something else. Your job will be to find a pattern—a series of six numbers.”
AJ yanked the khipu out. “Stand back, unless one of you spent the last month the way I did, learning how to make one of these babies.”
“Wait, you seriously wasted—” Maren started to say something but pressed her lips together and decided against it, probably realizing it wasn’t a smart move to make fun of someone who might turn out to be the team savior. “Never mind.”
Under the khipu was a fifth chest, but where the keyhole should have been there was an electronic keypad instead, something resembling what an action hero might have to disassemble to stop a bomb from going off.
Reality Gold Page 7