Linda slaps a hand over her mouth. “Whoopsie! No more about that! But you’ll have supplies to choose from every morning.”
“What about when we have to pee?” Rebecca continues. “Will there be breaks during the day?”
Linda clears her throat. “As I said, there will be supplies. Jars with lids included.”
“Sucks to be a girl.” Jaden and Logan fist-bump and laugh.
“We really can’t take bathroom breaks?” Rosiee asks, nervously twisting her silver bracelet. She has a history of UTIs and has no desire to do anything that might trigger another one.
“I’m afraid from dawn until dusk the game is active. If you are found for any reason—medical emergency, bathroom emergency, food run, anything—that’s that. No exceptions.”
Mack tries not to smile as the majority of the room shifts nervously, whispering to each other. The careful blonde from the shelter was right. Mack’s practically been training for this for years now. She’s never been lucky—or she’s the luckiest unlucky girl alive, depending on your viewpoint—but maybe, just maybe, that’s changed.
“Mackenzie Black?” The muscled guy looks up, searching the room. Mack doesn’t respond. Her plate is nearly empty. “Why do I know that name?”
She should have read the back of the packet. All their names are listed. Shit. She doesn’t need this complication.
The toothpaste commercial stands up. Linda is outside, making final arrangements with a couple of men and a supply truck. Gary, thankfully, is back in the kitchen. “We should do introductions! I didn’t get to talk to everyone while we were waiting yesterday. I’m Rebecca Andrews. I’m an actress. I like long walks on the beach and ridiculous competitions. Though I’ll admit I’m disappointed that we don’t have more diversity in the group to reflect our beautiful country’s”—she reaches for a word, but ends up repeating—“uh, diversity.” She’s obviously disappointed in herself for not being more eloquent.
Ava and Rosiee, the only people in the room who aren’t white or white-passing, share a long-suffering look, but neither engages. Mack doesn’t blame them. It’s not like Rebecca would give up her spot here so someone “diverse” could have a chance.
A guy stands up next, wearing a polo shirt with an embroidered company logo and khaki pants. He looks like he should be holding a clipboard. “Christian Berry. Solar panel salesman, so let me know if you have a house and I’ll hook you up.” He watches the room hopefully, but no one speaks up.
It goes down the line. Some try to add a clever line or two like the toothpaste commercial. Some give only their first and last name. A slouchy guy with a beanie and a hoodie on despite the heat gives a single name.
“Atrius like the insurance?” the clipboard guy asks.
“No, like the—” He sighs. “Yeah. I named myself after health insurance. It’s social commentary. I can’t get insurance, so I became insurance.”
Ava laughs. Atrius looks at her gratefully.
A sallow guy with deep-set eyes—Mack remembers he spent the whole afternoon huddled over a notebook but didn’t seem to write anything—scowls, folding his arms. “I don’t know what the point of this is. We aren’t friends. We’re all here to beat each other. I don’t care what any of your names are, or what you do, or your hopes and dreams.”
“Aw, Ian, don’t be like that.” Brandon smiles. “This can be fun, too, right?”
“I’m with Ian.” Ava shrugs. “I wish y’all the best, but I also hope you lose. I’m Ava, by the way.”
“The other Ava,” beautiful Ava corrects. “I’m Ava, and—”
The guy with the muscles leans back, folding his arms. “I’m Jaden Harrell—”
“Like that dickhead Brent Harrell?” Ava interrupts.
“Who is that?” Jaden frowns, biceps twitching.
“The Supreme Court justice? The one who assaulted women in college and makes decisions for the whole country now?”
Jaden shrugs, obviously annoyed at Ava for interrupting and also for knowing something he didn’t. He tenses, the equivalent of a rooster puffing up his feathers to look bigger in the face of a threat. “Who the fuck cares? Anyway, yeah, I’m Jaden. But who is Mackenzie Black?”
“Mack?” Beautiful Ava looks at her. “That’s you, right?”
Mack’s food is gone. She stands and walks out of the diner. The heat greets her like an old friend, wrapping her in its embrace. Linda waves brightly but doesn’t come over. She’s checking things off a list from her folder. Mack’s duffel is a reassuring weight dragging on her shoulder.