The Theory of Second Best (Cake #2)

by J. Bengtsson

  He didn’t.

  It was then that I accepted that my less-than-dazzling island beauty would never sway Kyle. My chances of getting with a guy like him were about as low as snapping a selfie of me hugging it out with Sasquatch. It just wasn’t going to happen. Once I recognized that fact, I became a completely normal human being again. I allowed myself to relax and just enjoy Kyle’s company. And my god, was that boy entertaining! Kyle liked talking, and I welcomed it. He seemed to be able to find the fun in everything. The truth was, I’d always been attracted to guys with big personalities. They just never liked me back.

  Listening to him talk sent happy flutters dancing through me. It had been a long time since I’d felt the excitement of being around someone as engaging as Kyle. I found myself giggling at everything he said, which just egged him on. The more I laughed, the livelier he got. A guy like this was just the type I needed to pull myself out of my funk. I was a chameleon of sorts. Put me in a room full of dull, dreary people, and I’d morph into Kristen Stewart with ease. But let me mingle with some entertaining, outgoing characters, and I might actually have something clever to say.

  So wrapped up was I in my fantasy land that I didn’t realize Kyle had asked me a question.

  “Sorry, what?”

  “I asked if you’d noticed that the popular kids were already pairing up.”

  “Oh, yeah, I noticed it. Why aren’t you part of the clique?”

  “I wasn’t invited… maybe because I was covered in puke when they were picking the teams.”

  Shame immediately colored my cheeks. Kyle saw my horrified expression and backtracked. “I was kidding! Is it too soon to make throw up jokes?”

  “It will always be too soon,” I replied miserably.

  “If you’re going to hang around me, you’ll have to grow a backbone. In my family, you get a twenty-four hour reprieve from mortal embarrassment… after that, you better just own it because it’s going to be smeared in your face relentlessly.”

  “Charming.”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay, if that’s the rule, then you at least have to give me the twenty-four hours,” I bargained.

  “I can honor that.”

  We walked on. I had a smile on my face, and as I glanced over at him, his expression mirrored mine. Dang, he was a cutie.

  “Well, if it makes you feel any better,” I said. “I would have picked you first.”

  There was a pleased expression on his face before he scrunched his brows and said, “Liar. You would have picked Carl first, and you know it.”

  I laughed. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine. Guilty. But you would have been a close second.”

  Kyle studied me for a moment then asked with a sad, dopey look, “You want to be my friend?”

  Yes. Yes! You have no idea how much I want that. Easy, girl. Play it cool. He wants to be your buddy, not your voodoo doll boyfriend.

  “I don’t think we have a choice at this point. There aren’t many friendlies left.”

  “No doubt. Is it just me, or did we already drop to the bottom of the food chain?” he asked.

  “No. I noticed. We’re just above the plankton.”

  “And by plankton, you mean Marsha?”

  Oh lord. So witty. Breathe, Kenzie. Just breathe. You’re here to compete for a million dollars, and Kyle is the competition, pure and simple – cute, witty, funny competition, but competition nonetheless.

  Kyle and I carried the water buckets back to camp, and as predicted, we had no fire. It obviously wasn’t for lack of trying, as both Dale and Marsha were sweaty and covered in black soot.

  “How’s it going?” I asked, already anticipating the answer.

  “We got a small flame, but it died out right away.”

  “Bummer,” Kyle said. “Keep trying. You’ll get it.”

  We were about to walk away when Marsha stood up and blurted out, “Did you guys know that fire is a chemical reaction between oxygen and fuel?”

  I looked at Kyle, and we both shook our heads.

  “The fuel has to be heated to a high enough temperature for it to ignite. And when it does, you’ve got combustion.” Marsha illustrated her combustion by pretending to blow up.

  The two of us actually took a step back as if she were about to burst into flames herself.

  “Everyone knows that,” Dale countered, as if it were the most common knowledge a person could have.

  My eyes swept over Kyle’s dumbfounded expression, which undoubtedly reflected my own. I thought maybe Dale was giving us twenty-somethings too much credit.

  “Look at that face,” Marsha said speaking in baby talk as she puckered her lips and then grasped Kyle’s jaw in her fingers and shook it. “He hasn’t got a clue.”

  And she was right. Kyle looked totally confused as to why this strange woman was palming his face, and he was understandably rendered speechless. Dale and I dropped open our mouths in surprise. Certainly it was the last thing any of us expected. I wasn’t sure if Marsha was eccentric or psychotic, but her awkward attempt at comedy was a welcome relief from the stress and excitement of the day. The four of us collapsed into a fit of laughter.

  Gene heard our merriment, and decided it wasn’t allowed in camp. He hurried over to shush us as if we were kids laughing in church.

  “I think it’s best if you focus more of your collective energy on fire building and less on chit chat. I’m sure you’ll all agree that fire is vital for our survival.”

  “Sorry, Bossman.” Marsha saluted him.

  “Don’t do that,” Gene replied harshly, seemingly taken aback by her gesture.

  “Just teaching the young’uns here about fire-making. Are you familiar with the process yourself?” Marsha asked, and put her arm around Gene as she steered him away from our group. We could hear her chattering away, and by the looks of it, Gene was not amused. Several times he appeared to be trying to shake her off, but I had a feeling that Marsha was not easily ignored.

  “Wow, she’s…” I started, but wasn’t sure how to finish.

  “Yes, she is,” Dale solemnly completed my thought.

  Marsha’s endless ramblings put Gene on the defensive. As it turned out, the woman without a bra seemed to know something about everything, and she wasn’t shy about sharing her knowledge. Of course, Gene was the wrong person to pin into an educational corner. It was only a matter of time before he snapped. And when he did, it was spectacular.

  “Woman, please!” he bellowed. “Enough already. If I wanted hours of needless chitchat, I’d still be married. Now go make yourself useful.”

  Instantly the faces of every woman in camp turned hard and unforgiving. Eye daggers were shot at Gene from every direction. If there was one thing that drew women together, it was a demeaning male bully. The only one who didn’t appear offended by Gene’s insensitive comment was Marsha herself. She seemed blissfully unaware of her role in the drama.

  In an attempt to regain some control, Gene called to order our first of many meetings. With the help of Carl’s brawny strength, Summer had arranged logs in a triangle formation, and I had to admit, they were rather comfy. Gene’s chosen disciples sat on the two front logs, and the four of us squeezed onto the third and furthest away log.

  Sitting shoulder-to-shoulder and slicked with sweat, I scanned our row of eclectic characters. Clearly we were the leftovers-the kids picked last at recess; the sad sack band of misfit toys.

  My eyes lingered on Kyle sitting to my right, and I was surprised to find him smiling. This whole ridiculous situation seemed to amuse him. I wished I could muster the same carefree approach. I wondered if he truly appreciated the dangerous predicament we were in or if he just didn’t care. Was this merely a fun game to him?

  The meeting was called to order, and it became clear almost immediately that our tribe was no democracy. Gene was unmistakably in control, and for now, the others were willing to follow. He launched into a long-winded, pointless game day pep talk. To illustrate his points, he gave us all f
ootball positions. Although my town had always revolved around our high school football team and I’d been to pretty much every Friday night home game since birth, I still didn’t know all that much about football. It had always been more a social thing for me. But although I was no expert, I knew enough to know that Gene had given the power players in the tribe the more desirable positions, like pass rusher, left tackle, and wide receiver. He conveniently claimed quarterback for himself.

  Kyle, Marsha, Dale, and I got the crappier positions, like center, nose tackle, and punter. Gene pointed out that although some positions seemed more important and influential than others, a good team needed all players equally in order to win.

  About three quarters of the way through the speech, Kyle put his hand up in the air. Gene ignored him and continued on with his rallying cry. Not willing to give up so easily, Kyle waved his arm around, trying to catch the man’s attention. He had it, but Gene refused to engage him until he’d completed his pep talk.

  “Yes?” Gene finally asked, pointing to Kyle as if he were a student being called on in class.

  “Um… yeah,” Kyle began with a completely straight face. “I was just wondering, since the positions are all equal, can I be the quarterback?”

  I stifled a giggle, and several other tribe members snickered. I glanced over at Kyle, who caught my eye for a split second, mischievously curling his upper lip, before returning his full attention back to Gene. Damn, now I was going to have to add smartass to my list of desirable traits.

  “Is this funny to you?” Gene asked, irritably.

  “No. I just never get to play quarterback.”

  “That’s not surprising. Quarterbacks are leaders, son.”

  “How do you know I’m not a leader?”

  With a beady-eyed glare, Gene asked, “What’s your name again?”

  “Kyle.”

  “Well, Kyle, I’ve been coaching for forty-five years, and I think I know the difference between a winner and a loser.”

  “Oh, trust me, coach, so do I.”

  TV Confessional

  “I was just happy Gene didn’t make me a cheerleader.”

  —Kenzie

  13

  Kyle: Sunscreen and Disney Princesses

  I knew I shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds, but I couldn’t help myself. I was a pro at sensing weakness. People like Gene, who thought they had it all figured out, were the easiest to rattle. Most of the time I just left the poor saps alone with their insecurities, but some – like Gene – who put others down to further their own agendas… they were just too fun to pass up.

  Of course, now I’d royally screwed myself because the mob boss had it in for me. It had taken me all of four hours to put a giant target on my back. I nodded, impressed with myself. I’d held out longer than I’d imagined I would.

  Although I wasn’t real happy about being left out on the curb, the plus side was I got to hang with the other weirdos, who were infinitely more interesting than Gene’s crew.

  After the meeting, computer whiz Dale pulled me aside. “Meet me behind the rock cliff in ten minutes,” he whispered, as he looked around all pasty-faced and shifty-eyed. With his straight black bowl cut hairdo and Harry Potter glasses, Dale’s appearance screamed nerdy tech guy.

  “You don’t want to buy me a drink first?” I countered.

  Dale gaped at me. His round face blushed a bright red, and his alarmed eyes were magnified through the thick lenses of his spectacles. Dale obviously didn’t get that I was joking.

  “I… no… that’s not at all…. oh, no… you misunderstood me,” Dale stammered.

  Was this guy for real? I smiled, trying to relax him. “Kidding, Dale. Joke.”

  “Oh, good lord, okay. I thought you were serious, and I just… I just want you to know that I wasn’t suggesting sex of any kind… with you or, you know, with anyone. I’m married. I have kids, so you know that would just be….” Dale stopped talking when he saw me smiling. “You know what, just forget I said anything.”

  “No,” I grinned. “I’ll meet you behind the rocks in ten minutes. Just keep your damn hands to yourself.”

  Dale’s face was scrunched in confusion and worry. He was a little ball of tension. I burst into laughter and patted him on the shoulder. “Again. Joke.”

  Dale forced an uncomfortable laugh before returning to the fire. I saw him give me a sidelong glance filled with uncertainty. I waved. Dale turned another shade of crimson.

  Marooned Rule #2

  If found, a relic known as an ‘immunity idol’ may be kept and played during an elimination ceremony. If, after all votes have been cast, a player presents the idol, the votes placed against him or her will not count. Instead, the person with the second most votes will go home.

  I met Dale in his secret hiding spot. He was there waiting, darting his head around looking for spies. I felt it was a little early in the game for such antics, but what did I know? Dale seemed a hell of a lot smarter than me, and it couldn’t hurt to align myself with him, especially seeing as I didn’t really have any other options to speak of.

  “So what exactly are we doing?” I asked.

  “I have a plan. I need your height.”

  “Don’t you think Carl is more endowed in that area?” I asked, then, knowing how my brothers would take that rather innocent comment and turn it dirty, I figured I should probably clarify my question. “And when I say endowed, I mean height, not dick size… you know, just so we’re clear.”

  “No, I… yes… I understood your reference,” Dale answered, as if my remark were totally legitimate. “Anyway to answer your question, Carl is not on our side.”

  “And we’re on the same side?”

  “Oh… uh… I, uh… I just assumed we were on the same side. I mean, we were squeezed onto the loser log together. Was I being presumptuous?”

  “No. You’re spot on. I still can’t believe he wouldn’t let me be quarterback.”

  Dale nodded, “I know. For what it’s worth, I think you would have made a fine quarterback.”

  “Actually, I would have totally sucked.”

  “Yeah, I know. I was just being nice.”

  Was that a sense of humor I was detecting in Dale? If so, we were going to get along nicely. “So, what do you need my height for?” I asked.

  “I’ve made a mental map of all the areas where I think an immunity idol might exist. Starting with this rock formation. If you look up there” – he pointed up. “See that hole in the rock?”

  I nodded.

  “Can you reach?”

  “You think there’s an idol in there?” I asked, thoroughly impressed.

  “There’s a chance. And if we find it, we might survive the first vote.”

  “Why trust me?”

  Dale thought about my question for a moment and then said, “Why not?”

  “Can’t argue with that logic.”

  I scaled the rock formation and stuck my hand into the hole.

  “There’s something,” I said, as I grasped the object inside.

  Dale lit up with uncharacteristic joy. He actually smacked his hands together as if he were one of those monkey clappers. The sight of him made me chuckle. I pulled out a bird’s nest. The clapping stopped, and Dale deflated like a blow-up doll. Returning the nest to its home, I climbed back down.

  “All right. No problem,” he said, trying to mask his disappointment. “I have another spot we can try tomorrow. Are you in?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  Dale was just what I needed. He was going to be the smarts behind the entire operation. I planned to ride his coattails as far as they’d take me.

  The minute we returned to camp, Marsha approached holding a smoldering patch of brush. “There you are, Dale.” Her eyes were glazed over in crazy.

  “Oh, yeah, sorry I just went to the bathroom. Everything okay?”

  “My bush caught fire,” she announced proudly, her braless breasts flopping every which way under her white tank top.
/>
  I swallowed back the comment my dirty mind had conjured up and then glanced at Dale, who had turned all shades of embarrassment. Although I had somewhat gotten used to Marsha’s whole free boob movement, Dale clearly had not.

  “We need to work together. We’re close. I can feel it,” she said dramatically as she grabbed Dale’s arm and walked away. When her bespectacled partner wasn’t looking, Marsha turned and winked at me.

  My mouth dropped open. Was this lady only pretending to be crazy? Was that her angle? Or was she actually flirting with me? I wasn’t sure which option disturbed me more. I winked back.

  “Where did you and Dale take off to?” Kenzie asked, surprising me from behind. She’d taken on a determined stance, attempting to project herself as a tough, serious chick when her appearance was anything but. It was difficult to take her she-man persona seriously when she resembled a real-life Disney princess.

  I took in her exaggerated features in amusement. Kenzie’s petite oval face was framed by messy brown hair, and her delicate skin had a flawless, porcelain sheen to it. I imagined that creamy color frying up nicely in the steamy, tropical heat. Her over-sized light blue eyes pooled like glaciers against the backdrop of her pearly white skin. Pair that with her long, dark lashes and black makeup smudges, which had been circling her eyes earlier, and Kenzie resembled a beaten up Snow White. I hadn’t had the heart to point out her makeup malfunction-she’d already had a bad day. The last thing she needed was a stranger telling her she looked like she’d gone four rounds with a heavyweight boxer. Plus, I liked Kenzie. She had a quirky sense of humor and actually seemed to get my jokes. Most girls I met giggled at my sarcastic humor, but I could tell they didn’t really understand the joke.

  “Just a little nature walk?” I answered.

  “Fun,” she said in an overly exaggerated cheerful voice. “You find anything interesting?”