What’s going on? Is he carrying something?
Justin turned to see what had distracted me. One hand also went up to his forehead. “Is Abram—?”
“He’s carrying her,” Ed said from a few feet away. “Abram is carrying Birdie across the finish line.”
Abram walked toward us, dirt smeared across his face. Birdie lay in his arms. With her eyes shut, it looked like Abram cradled a large doll. She wasn’t moving. Abram’s lips moved as he trotted toward us, but I couldn’t make out his words. He might have been talking to Birdie or praying.
Tall and Curly Beard raced across the field toward them (probably to remind Birdie she agreed not to sue). I followed, but Overalls called me back.
“Let the professionals handle this.”
A couple of the paramedics who were always on the scene during challenges were already in motion. They’d get to Birdie and Abram before me, and they were trained. The paramedics whisked her away from Abram and put her into a waiting ambulance.
Ariana’s treachery was temporarily forgotten. We stood in shock, watching the ambulance take Birdie away. Silent tears streamed down my face. No one moved until the flashing lights disappeared around a corner, taking my friend away.
CHAPTER 20
More Scenes from the School Room, Week 6:
Abram: It was awful. We entered the course seconds apart. My legs are much longer than hers, so I was way ahead when I got to the logs. I’d made it to the top of the wall when she screamed.
No, I didn’t see what happened. Birdie lay on the ground, clutching her ankle. It was awful. She couldn’t walk. I picked her up and went to get help.
Elimination? It never entered my mind that I might be eliminated, but if it had, I still would’ve done it. If my competitors want to vote me out for helping someone in need, I’m not sure I want to be here. But I have faith in most of them.
After Birdie left, the producers fussed over the rest of us. We had to assure them we weren’t injured. Aside from some bumps and bruises, everyone else was fine. The whole thing shook us up, though. Instead of scattering into small groups like we usually did after challenges, the remaining contestants gathered in the kitchen to wait for news.
“What happened?” I asked Abram.
“She said she slipped on one of the logs in the first obstacle and twisted her ankle in the mud. She kept going. Then, at the big wall, she fell off the rope and landed on it again.”
“Is she going to be okay?”
“She’ll be fine. I’m no doctor, but I think her ankle’s broken. It swelled up as big as her head.”
A couple of hours later, everyone welcomed Birdie back into the house. When she entered the front hall, she showed off a bright pink walking cast on one ankle. We cheered. Birdie twirled clumsily on her good leg, then bowed deeply. Abram picked her up and carried her into the kitchen. Everyone except Ariana and Justin followed. I refused to speculate on whether they were together. Ariana was probably in the School Room bragging about how she “won” the challenge.
I took Birdie’s place behind the counter, chopping and assisting while Ed made dinner. Birdie sat at the bar with her ankle propped up on a stool.
“So #stupid!” Birdie moaned. “I should never have tried to keep up with the athletic kids.”
“It’s not one hundred percent your fault. When they advertised the show, they asked for smart people,” I said. “It didn’t mention running obstacle courses.”
“Wait a minute—what?” Rachel said. “That’s not the ad I saw. Mine was all, ‘Are you the life of the party? Do you get invited everywhere? Do people want you around to liven things up?’ Nothing about smart people.”
Huh.
It made sense the producers posted different ads, although I hadn’t considered it, even after realizing Ariana wasn’t the brightest crayon in the box. She lied about everything, so I’d assumed she lied during casting. It made more sense if she wasn’t expecting to meet anyone on the show with brains. She thought she’d get away with it.
“C’mon,” Ed said. “You can’t think Joshua responded to a ‘smartest person in the room’ ad and got cast on that basis. Dude is not smart. If he was, he could’ve been the bad guy without being a complete ass. And let’s not talk about someone else.”
I smiled.
“My ad wanted athletes who enjoy pushing themselves,” Abram added.
Ed thrust a serving dish into my hand and handed Rachel a bottle of wine. “Doesn’t matter now. Food’s ready. Someone go find Justin and Ariana?”
Rachel handed me the wine and headed into the living room. As I served, Abram picked Birdie up effortlessly. She giggled as he spun her around and deposited her at the head of the table. Was she drunk, or just enjoying the attention? Maybe both.
Even if he was married, it must be nice to have someone muscular, nice, and reasonably attractive carry you around all day. I didn’t blame Birdie for basking in the attention. Heck, a traitorous part of me wanted to “accidentally” break an ankle to see if I got the same treatment from Justin.
But I wouldn’t. Probably.
After dinner, I changed into my swimsuit and went to enjoy the hot tub in the setting sun. It was odd they hadn’t announced the results of the challenge yet, even though we all knew Ariana and Justin finished first and Abram and Birdie had been last. Would they penalize Abram for helping an injured player? Would Birdie be eliminated for getting injured? That didn’t seem fair.
The warm water soothed my aching muscles. Too bad it couldn’t do the same for my racing mind.
The water splashed as someone eased into the other side of the hot tub.
Please don’t be Ariana, I prayed before opening my eyes. Let it be Justin or Ed or Birdie—or one of the production assistants. Joshua. That guy from One Direction. Anyone but Ariana.
Whichever deity received these silent prayers apparently wasn’t listening. I cracked one eyelid enough to get a view of silky black hair, then slammed it shut.
“I saw that,” Ariana said. “You can’t pretend I’m not sitting here.”
“Just enjoying the quiet,” I mumbled. “It’s nothing personal.”
“You’re a terrible liar.”
I shrugged, but sat up and opened my eyes. “I was trying to be polite. You should look into it sometime. Did you need something?”
She smirked. “I heard you’re trying to get me eliminated.”
“I want to win. For me to win, I have to get everyone eliminated. As far as I know, you’re not up for elimination this week. You should be.”
“What? In case you didn’t notice, I won the challenge.”
“You finished first. You didn’t win.”
“Finishing first is winning. I thought you were supposed to be smart.”
“It wasn’t a regular race, or I’d have skipped the obstacles and run straight for the finish line. Unless you have different rules that don’t apply to anyone else?”
Ariana flipped her hair and smirked again. God, I wanted to slap that look off her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I’d had enough. I walked toward the stairs. “You do realize we’re being videoed, right? And other people saw you cheating?”
Without waiting for a reply, I climbed out of the tub. I found an empty lounge chair next to Birdie and flopped on to it, calling myself a thousand kinds of idiot for letting Ariana get to me. Again.
She nodded toward the hot tub. “What did the bitch want?”
“Nothing, really. To crow about winning the challenge. To pretend she didn’t cheat. To remind me why I hate her, maybe.”
Birdie raised an eyebrow. “Were you likely to forget?”
“Nope.”
We both laughed. Then, Birdie’s expression changed. All traces of laughter vanished.
“Listen, Jen, I need to ask you a favor. Vote for me this week. Send me home. Tell the others.”
“What? Why?”
&nb
sp; “Half the show is based on physical challenges. I’ve got a broken ankle. I can’t even participate. Even if the show doesn't send me home this week, I’ll be out as soon as there's another physical challenge.”
“We don’t know what the remaining challenges are.”
“Doesn’t matter. Really, the show should send me home.”
“Will you even be up for elimination if you were injured?”
“I already talked to the producers. They promised. But no matter what, I’m leaving.”
“Oh, Birdie! No!”
“It’s fine. Listen, I’m the least athletic of those of us left. Most of the challenges require some physical ability. I’m not the most likable person here. I like to think I’m kooky, but let’s face it, I’m an odd duck.”
“You’re quirky!” I protested. “Also, sweet, funny—”
“No, I’m weird. It’s fine. I like who I am. But America doesn’t like weird. Abe’s a nice guy, and he has a better shot at the grand prize. Vote for me. I had a good run, but I’m ready to go home.”
She’d never spoken that much without throwing in a hashtag. For a moment, I wondered if she lost her mind due to Twitter withdrawal. But, deep down, I knew the things she said made sense.
“You’re absolutely sure? You’ve made it so far!”
“I only joined the show in the first place because I was pissed. My ex broke up with me for spending too much time online. She swore I’d lose my mind if I lost Wi-Fi for a day. A friend told me about the show, and we agreed if I won I’d use the money to write ‘Suck it, Tara’ in the sky above her house.”
I burst out laughing. More than once, I’d wondered what she was doing here. The explanation was so simple, yet perfect: revenge.
“Okay, I’ll vote for you.” I pulled her into a hug, trying not to cry.
* * *
Something was up. No one gave us the challenge results. It was Monday morning before the producers called us into the living room.
“We have a bit of a wrinkle this week, my little Fishies.” Bella stood before us, beautiful as always in a gauzy light blue dress.
“One of you took it upon himself to quit the challenge to help a friend in need.” Everyone looked at Abram, who blushed and hung his head. “And one of you, unfortunately, did not fulfill the requirements of each station.”
Ariana tossed her head and glared around the room. Sometimes, I wished I had her “Go fuck yourself” attitude. Being able to make other people feel bad for noticing when I did something wrong was a good trick.
“As a result,” Bella said, “The producers granted Abram immunity. The two official losers of this week’s challenge are Birdie and Ariana. Both of you are up for elimination, along with the viewers’ choice.”
YES!
I wanted to jump up and down, screaming. My enthusiasm, however, was short-lived.
“I’m sorry, Jennifer, but the viewers voted for you again. You will also be up for elimination this week.”
My shoulders slumped. No matter what I did, it wasn’t good enough for the audience. Were they mad I mentioned that Ariana cheated? I hadn’t said anything until she brought it up. Were the only viewers her friends and family? Wouldn’t they at least miss watching the way she manipulated me if I left?
God, I hated her. I hated myself for letting her get to me, every time.
I bit my lip and looked down, blinking back tears of frustration.
Birdie leaned close and patted my knee. “Don’t worry, Jen. I’m going home, remember? You’re #safe. Everyone will vote for me.”
I lowered my voice. “Ariana won’t. She doesn’t care what you want. She’d rather send me home now and focus on you next week. But everyone else might.”
The glass walls closed in on me. I couldn’t stand to be in the room another moment. What a stupid, crappy situation. I got up and walked toward the stairs. Birdie pulled me back.
“Where are you going?”
“To change. I need to go burn some energy. I’m going to go for a run.”
Birdie hesitated, as if she wanted to say something else, but let me go. “Okay. Enjoy your run. Wish I could join you.” I smiled, because we both knew she would never have offered to run with me if she hadn’t broken her ankle.
“Thanks. I’ll be thinking of you.”
Later, I went looking for my friend. Suspecting I wasn’t the only one who wanted some time alone, I started in the laundry room. Sure enough, she sat in the hidden corner with her leg propped up on a stack of dirty towels.
“Do you need anything?”
She eyed me warily. “You’re not here to try to talk me out of leaving, are you?”
“Nope. Just here to hang out.”
“In that case, sit with me?”
I sat. For a long time, we said nothing. We knew this was one of the last times we’d get to hang out until after the show. Beyond that, there wasn’t much to say.
After a while, Ed found us. We filled him in on Birdie’s plan. The three of us stayed up late, sipping drinks by the pool. One by one, Rachel, Abram, and Justin stopped to chat. They all agreed to send Birdie home.
When Ariana slipped into the hot tub, Ed joined her. I couldn’t hear the conversation but presumed he filled her in. Part of me expected her to argue. But she cocked her head to one side, listening. Finally, she nodded.
A moment later, Ed sat on the edge of the pool, swinging his legs into the water. “She’s in. That’s everyone.”
There wasn’t much left to say.
“I’m going to miss you, Birdie.”
“I know, Jen, I’ll miss you, too. Come visit me. You, too, Ed.”
“Nashville in summer? Ha! You should both come to Boston before it’s cold and gross. We’ll visit Nashville later.”
“Well, I have nowhere to live. Be careful what you wish for. I may not leave.” My smile fell, and I hid a sniffle behind one hand.
Eventually, when the moon rose high in the sky and empty wine bottles littered the patio, I helped Birdie hobble up the stairs to bed.
On Tuesday morning, I voted with a heavy heart. As much as it killed me to vote for Birdie, I had to let her go. She couldn’t do the challenges, her ankle hurt, and she wanted to sacrifice herself.
I really wanted to dump some glitter in Ariana’s bowl, even if I knew it would be a wasted vote. It would’ve been so satisfying to watch that smug smile drop off her face when Bella announced that she had been eliminated. I desperately hoped that, when the moment eventually came, I would see it.
And not from Brandon’s living room.
As I turned to leave, some of my glitter sparkled where it had spilled on to the table. Absent-mindedly, I swiped at it with one hand, pushing most of it on to the floor. Then I paused thoughtfully, looking at the glittery emerald on my forefinger. After a moment’s consideration, I wiped my finger across Ariana’s smiling face, gloating from the front of her bowl.
Yes, I knew it wasn’t a vote against her. Still, I held my head higher when I strutted out of the room.
After dinner, Birdie and I went upstairs to pack her stuff. When Bella came with the results, she was ready. I carried the suitcase down to the entryway.
Even with all that preparation, I cried when Bella announced the results. One by one, Birdie said her good-byes, leaving me for last.
“Don’t cry,” Birdie said as she hugged me tightly. “I’m glad to be going. They’re taking me to a get some real painkillers! None of this Tylenol 3 garbage.”
She paused, pulled me closer, and lowered her voice. “Now, make a move on Justin already! Give me something to watch when I get home. #showmance.” I giggled.
“I’ll do my best,” I promised. “Bye, Birdie.”
CHAPTER 21
Jennifer in the School Room, Week 7:
Voting for Birdie was hard, but what else could I do? She can’t keep competing, and she wanted to go home.
I think the only reason she
wasn’t taken out when she got hurt is they didn’t plan to lose two people in one week. From what I’ve seen on other shows, if she left before the vote, they’d have to bring back the last eliminated player to take her place. Maybe they didn’t want to bring Mike back.
I’m so lucky to still be here. I wake up every morning grateful for this opportunity, and I’m glad to have another week on The Fishbowl. I can’t wait to see what happens next!
The Fishbowl felt much bigger without Birdie. She may have been small, but her presence took up a lot of space. Ed and I rattled around the kitchen. Even though Birdie’s elimination put me one step closer to the grand prize, I missed my friend.
While we were preparing breakfast, the producers called us into the living room.
“Good morning, Fish!” Bella greeted us. Our hostess stood before us in a bright yellow sundress and matching heels with a white shrug.
We blinked at her bleary-eyed. Several people grumbled in response. Most of us had been called out of bed, and the coffee hadn’t finished brewing yet. I counted two yawns for each mumbled word. Nearly everyone wore wrinkled pajamas. Only Ariana was bright-eyed, waving enthusiastically in her perfect makeup with her hair in braids.
“Good morning, Bella!” She wore a nightie, which looked like it had been ironed. Was there an ironing board in the house? Had she brought one? Did Ariana know how to iron? She couldn’t cook, clean, or do laundry.
She hadn’t been wearing a red satin slip that barely covered her important bits when we went to sleep. I still hadn’t caught her sneaking into the bathroom to put on makeup, then pretending to go back to sleep, but no way she woke up looking like that. In contrast, Abram had a streak of drool on his face, Rachel’s hair stuck straight up, and Ed wore thick glasses because he stopped for his contacts. Ariana stood out like a rose in a sea of dandelions.
The midweek challenge was pretty simple, at least in that I didn’t have to be tied to anyone or have any forced interactions. Until the end of the day, we were required to speak in rhyme.
America's Next Reality Star Page 21