Ariana: Hi, America! Can I tell you a secret? I don’t want the others to know, but my little girl is really sick. That’s why I’m here. I need to win the money for her treatment to save her life. Please vote for me so I can help her!
Maria: Okay, y’all, what is going on with that Joshua? He’s so rude! Why is he walking around calling us all fat ’n’ugly? Does he want us to send him home? And Ariana? I hate to be un-Christian, but dear Lord, she is so stupid, it hurts to try to have a chat, y’all.
The girls went upstairs to unpack. I hurried to claim some space on the bathroom counter before it exploded with makeup and hair care products.
Standing in front of the sink, Skye examined an invisible pimple in the mirror. She’d changed her hair since our first meeting. Now short brown locks with pink tips stood gelled into rows of various-length spikes. She wore heavy black biker boots laced up to her knees, a short plaid skirt with a chain belt, and torn fishnets. She also wore a stud in her nose and a ring in her right eyebrow. Suddenly, I felt boring.
After I put my clothes away in the trunk next to my bed, Birdie, Skye, and I decided to check out the swimming pool. We’d heard the boys splashing outside while we unpacked, and it sounded like fun. I changed quickly into my most flattering new suit, a navy two-piece padded to give me some nice curves without being porny. The three of us headed downstairs while the other women figured out where to store all their extra clothes. Score one for my limited budget requiring me to pack light.
To get outside, we had to walk through the kitchen. Leanna had gestured toward it during her tour but hadn’t taken the time to bring us into the room. When I got my first glimpse, I stopped so fast Skye nearly walked into me.
“Dude, watch where you’re going.” She brushed against me and continued outside.
“Sorry,” I murmured absently.
Skye muttered something else as she walked away. It didn’t sound polite.
Stainless steel appliances shone against the far wall, from the enormous refrigerator to the double ovens to the dual sinks. The gleaming countertops were made of glass etched into waves, as were the cabinets and the large table set off to the side. A matching glass island sat in the center of the room, next to a row of bar stools. The stools and chairs, thankfully, didn’t appear to be made of glass. The tops of the bar stools were shaped like fish, though.
“Jennifer? Hello? You okay?” Birdie waved one hand in front of my face.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s just so beautiful. If they’d asked me to design my dream kitchen, this would be it. Well, I mean, it’s my dream kitchen for eating in after I order takeout. I love it!”
“I’m not denying it’s nice.” She tugged my left hand. “But let’s check out the #pool!”
She headed through the open door. I followed, squinting into the bright sunlight. Suddenly, a mountain stepped in front of me, blocking the path.
“Oh, I’m sorry!” I stopped short and looked up at the person I had nearly walked into. Then looked up some more. And a little more. The brick wall before me was only averagely good-looking, but those—wow. I’d ever met anyone with muscles that big. His forearm had to be as big as my head.
Note to self: do not make this guy angry.
Walking into him would’ve felt about as good as colliding with one of those glass walls.
“You’re. . .” I’d missed his introduction earlier. “Abraham, right?”
“Abram.” He smiled and held out his right hand. “I’m a contractor from Salt Lake City. And you’re Jennifer.”
“My friends call me Jen.” His hand swallowed mine in a firm, warm grip. He met my eyes as he spoke. “Sorry I nearly walked into you.”
“Don’t be. I didn’t see you coming, and I stepped right into your path. It’s entirely my fault.”
“Oooh, Jen, it’s sooooooo nice to meet you!” An unnaturally deep voice came from beyond the patio doors. Joshua stood near the pool, staring at us. “Oh, Abram.” He continued, now in a terrible falsetto. “I’m so excited to meet you, too! You’re so big and strong. Let’s get married and have a thousand babies!” Kissing noises followed.
The rest of us stared at him with a mixture of disgust and horror. Only the cheerleader—Rachel, I think—giggled.
“That’s so bizarre,” Ed commented. “Here I thought they only cast adults for this show. Guess a tall child managed to sneak in.”
“What are you, peanut butter and jealous?” Joshua sneered. “Maybe you wanted Abram to yourself?”
Why was he so nasty?
“Nope. I prefer my men a little less butch. And a lot more gay. But, congratulations! You’ve managed to establish yourself as a complete jerk-wad, and we’ve only been in the house about five minutes. It’s a new reality show record. Way to make enemies immediately.”
“Well, aren’t you funny?” Joshua glared at him. “Want me to leave your new beard alone? Sí, sí, gringo! Let’s go get a taco, eh?”
Instead of looking at Joshua, Ed directed his comment to me. “Do you think he knows that Brazil and Mexico are two different countries?”
Joshua’s face turned purple.
I shrugged. “I wouldn’t put money on it.”
If possible, Joshua looked even angrier. He’d laid the bait, but no one bit. When he opened his mouth, I expected him to breathe fire. Abram’s words cut him off.
“No offense,” he told me, “but I think my wife would be powerfully angry if I had a thousand babies with you. I’ll have to pass.”
“That’s a relief,” I laughed. “I only wanted to have eight hundred ninety-two babies. A full thousand would be a real handful.”
At that moment, Rachel stepped through the glass doors on to the patio, carrying a tall, frosted glass in each hand. “Joshua! There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere! You look thirsty. I brought some iced tea to help cool you off.” She handed him a glass and pulled him away from the rest of us.
The conflict momentarily defused, I examined the pool where I planned to spend large amounts of time over the next few weeks: a typical large, kidney-bean shaped pool stretched across the backyard, almost seven feet deep in the far end and closer to three or four feet deep near the steps. Sadly, the pool did not include a diving board. Connected to the shallow end via a low wall was a large, round hot tub.
On this warm June day, the pool called to me. Several of the others were already there. I jumped up, touched my toes, then dove into the deep end, away from everyone else. Mentally, I congratulated myself on not splashing when I broke the surface.
With a gasp, I broke the surface. “That’s cold!”
“Of course it’s cold,” Skye said from her position floating in a tube. “You think they’d heat the pool?” She snorted and turned away from me.
“Just a bit of a shock,” I said. “It’s such a warm day, I hadn’t thought about the water temperature.”
I wrinkled my nose at her back, wondering if she treated everyone like that or if I’d somehow rubbed her the wrong way.
“Nice dive,” Raj said.
“Thanks,” I said. “I dove a bit in school.” For seven years of high school and college.
After swimming to the nearest empty raft, I pulled myself out of the water. As I shifted into a comfortable position, I caught Rachel looking at me. She tilted her head at Joshua, then Ed, and winked. I smiled and winked back.
* * *
“So, do any of y’all have kids?” Maria posed the question at a group gathered in the living room after our first dinner. “I’ve got a two-year-old boy. He’s staying with his daddy for the summer.”
From my perch at the top of the giant green couch tower, I surveyed the room, trying to figure out who was missing. Ed and Raj lounged on two of the lower levels of this massive green thing. I still wasn’t sure exactly what it was, but it cradled my back and gave me room to stretch out my legs. Some kind of sofa installation art or something.
Skye, Ma
ria, and Abram sprawled on the sectional, and Justin sat nearby on a large green and brown shaggy rug, idly twisting the strands with his fingers. Joshua wasn’t there, and neither was Mike. They never returned after being called into the School Room. Rachel was confessing now; the producers were giving us each a turn to introduce ourselves. I waited nervously to be called.
Skye made a rude noise as she shook her head emphatically. “No, thank you! I want to be able to enjoy my life. I have nieces and nephews, and they’re great, but my favorite part of hanging out with them is handing them back over to their parents at the end of the night. Kids aren’t for me.”
No one knew what to say to that. After a moment, Abram raised his hand. “I do. My wife and I have four boys.”
Really? He was so young!
Even though it was rude to ask, I leaned forward. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. We got married right after high school. Our oldest is five. We also have three-year-old twins and a baby. I’m hoping to win money for their college educations.”
Ariana spoke up. “I have a seven-year-old daughter. I trusted the wrong person when I was younger, and he took advantage of me.” She paused for dramatic effect, wiped her eyes, and continued. “It wasn’t something I wanted to happen. But she’s wonderful, and I’m blessed to have her.”
Maria patted her hand. “How awful. I’m sorry that happened. You’re so brave to share it with everyone.”
As everyone murmured in agreement, Ariana waved one hand. “It’s fine. I’m over it.”
Did anyone else get skid marks from that one-eighty? I wanted to ask, but didn’t.
Her abrupt attitude shift made it seem like she’d practiced the speech but hadn’t anticipated our reactions to it. I remembered my earlier conversation with Birdie. Maybe Ariana was pandering to the viewers already.
An awkward silence fell. No one else seemed to know what to say. Finally, Justin spoke. “What about you, Jen? Any kids?”
I shook my head. “None yet. I’m too young. Maybe someday, when I meet Mr. Right.”
Ariana rolled her eyes. “You don’t think you need to meet ‘Mr. Right,’ do you? You know how babies are made?”
What was the appropriate response when one adult asks another if she understands sex? “Yeah, I’ve had the birds and the bees talk. Thanks.” For a long moment, I just gaped at her.
Thankfully, Rachel entered, breaking the tension. “You’re up, Jen. They want to see you in the School Room.”
“Thanks. I’ll be back.” I eased myself to the ground and headed for the stairs, narrowly avoiding the edge of a glass wall.
I’d seen enough reality shows to know the rooms reserved for talking to the cameras were pretty small. Still, when I got my first glimpse of the School Room, I checked behind the door to see if something more lay on the other side. It wasn’t a room so much as a broom closet, about a foot wide and not much deeper.
Leanna had said we could bring someone else in here with us to talk to the cameras, but I didn’t think it would be physically possible to put more than one person in the room at a time unless we gave each other lap dances while interviewing. My traitorous mind went again to Justin, and again I shook the thought away.
Thick red curtains covered the walls. I’d expected to find someone to talk to, but only a folding chair facing one wall awaited me. A large mirror covered the top half of the wall. A camera presumably lurked behind it. Speakers hung in the ceiling next to an overhead camera. I wondered why they skipped the ocean theme in this room only.
Once I settled into the chair, a voice came out of those speakers. “Hi, Jennifer.”
I addressed the ceiling. “Hello? Please, call me Jen.”
“Don’t look up. Talk to the screen.”
It felt odd to talk to myself in the mirror, knowing others listened. “Okay, sorry. What should I say?”
From my limited experience watching reality shows, the contestants went into the interview room and said whatever was on their minds. That wasn’t true. The producers directed the conversation carefully. They asked pointed questions about the house, the other contestants, and my first day. It wasn’t until the end that they asked if I had anything else to add or if I wanted to share anything with the viewers.
“Hi, America! Thanks for watching. I hope you like what you see! I can’t wait to let you all see what I have to offer over the next few weeks. We’re going to have a great time. This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
* * *
Wham!
The next morning, something hard slammed into my left shoulder. Ow.
A glass wall jumped right out in front of me. That was going to leave a bruise. That’s what I got for stumbling into the bathroom before I woke up.
Another bang and a yell sounded from the vicinity of the boys’ room. At least I wouldn’t be the only one covered in bruises. Getting used to living in a house made of glass took time.
After only one day in the Fishbowl, I already missed modern technology. I must’ve reached for my phone fifty times during the first day, wanting to check my e-mail, look something up, or post to Instagram—only to find my fingertips skimming empty pockets. I couldn’t remember the last time I didn’t have all the world’s knowledge at my fingertips. Poor Birdie suffered from Twitter withdrawal. She’d kept wiggling her fingers when she spoke, as if typing.
Now, I rubbed the dull ache in my shoulder, considering the wall that leapt out at me. The idea of living in a glass house was pretty cool. But it would be better if we could see the walls somehow and avoid them.
My thoughts raced during my quick shower in the solo stall. Why was the water so cold? Steam rose off the other shower as someone moved around inside. The dark legs poking out the bottom belonged to Mike.
Was it not possible to use both showers at once? That’s some pretty poor plumbing for a house a dozen people shared.
Hmm. . .this shower is tucked away; it’s more private. The other is right in front of the cameras—and it holds two. Would the producers direct all the hot water to that shower?
Why wouldn’t they? They’d set us up to bounce off invisible walls all summer.
This train of thought continued while I dressed and blow-dried my hair. I rummaged through my makeup bag when an idea hit me: What if I marked all the walls? Bright red lipstick would be visible from a couple of feet away
Twenty minutes after I finished my makeup, every wall on the second and third floor bore a red “X” in the upper right-hand corner. With the lipstick in my pocket, I skipped down the stairs to get some coffee and mark the remaining walls. Maybe there was a way to avoid bruises, after all.
Later that night, I won my bet. Birdie, Justin, and Ariana sat around the edge of the pool, feet trailing in the water, sipping drinks and chatting. Some of the other Fish lazed around on rafts. Abram and Mike had gone inside to play pool. Everyone else had scattered.
All of a sudden, a faint shriek filled the air, followed by muffled banging. The sounds originated from the second floor.
Those of us surrounding the pool rose to see what happened. Skye, lying on her raft, grunted and rolled over, unconcerned. After a shared glance with Justin, the two of us walked toward the changing rooms. Birdie went to check the first floor, but Ariana followed us upstairs.
As I walked up the stairs, the muffled shouts became more clear. “Hello? Who turned out the lights? Let us out!”
Joshua’s voice. The shrieking sounded suspiciously like Rachel.
Our hunch turned out to be correct. When I set foot on the second floor landing, the shouts clearly stemmed from the area where I’d changed into my swimsuit earlier. I walked down the hall to see light spilling through the open door of one of the changing rooms. Darkness peeked out the bottom of the other closed door. Justin reached to open it, but nothing happened when he turned the knob.
Ariana’s face turned white. “They weren’t kidding about the doors lockin
g? I’ll go find someone.”
She darted down the stairs. No need to hurry. America would find this pretty hilarious, and the cameras captured everything. The producers wouldn’t be in a rush to drop everything and come unlock the door at what had to be after midnight.
I could practically hear the commercial.
This week on The Fishbowl: Danger lurks around every corner! Who can you trust? And who will be trapped in the dark? (With sounds of Rachel screaming, of course.) Find out Sunday on The Fishbowl!
Maybe I’d been watching too much TV.
“Joshua! Can you hear me?” Justin pressed his head against the door. “It’s Justin. Tell Rachel to be quiet for a second.”
Mercifully, the high-pitched squeals beyond the door stopped.
“We’re trying to get you guys out, but the door’s locked. Ariana went for help. Just hang out and stay calm. Can you do that?”
The door muffled Rachel’s response, but Joshua’s voice came through clear enough. “We’ll try. Thanks, man.”
The other contestants disbanded—probably to talk about Rachel and Joshua.
As Justin moved away from the changing room door, I held out my hand. “Five dollars, please!”
He grinned. “You won, fair and square. I even tried to water down their drinks to buy a few days.”
“You didn’t! That’s cheating!” Mock-horror filled my voice.
“Okay, I didn’t, but I thought about it. Sadly, though, I don’t have five bucks on me. They took our wallets when we got here, remember? I’ll have to owe you.”
“I charge interest. You have to pay me $5.03 when this is all over.”
He gasped. “How ever will I manage that? I am but a poor law school student!”
“Tough luck, buddy. You should’ve thought about that before making the bet.”
Justin tilted his head and caught my eyes. “You know, Ariana invited me in there earlier.”
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