Mack feels more at ease now. With so many people there—several of whom are desperate to establish dominance and be noticed, talking and laughing loudly—she barely registers. Except to buzzed Ava, who brazenly stares at her and winks whenever caught.
When the last van pulls away, everyone looks down the road, waiting.
* * *
—
Five hours later and the mood has shifted considerably. Everyone is sweaty. There’s nowhere to sit but the ground. No phones work. No one has any food or water—though one expertly muscled man increases monetary offers for food by the hour. One of the women, a brunette who looks like a toothpaste commercial with her dazzlingly white smile, cries. Several vow to leave scathing reviews of the experience online. A couple of the men suggest walking down the road to find the nearest town, but the fear of missing the competition keeps them in place. Everyone is short-tempered and angry. Except LeGrand, who stays at a distance, looking utterly lost, buzzed Ava, who is taking a nap with her arms for a pillow, and Mack, who knows she’s two full days from being too hungry to function. A ghost of a smile haunts her face.
She can win this.
As the gentle bruise of evening spreads, a bus arrives. Apologies are delivered with water bottles and sandwiches. Their hostess, a woman well past middle age with a jewel-toned pantsuit and hair that exists in defiance of gravity, is so genuinely excited to greet them it’s hard to hold the scheduling mix-up against her. A p.m. where an a.m. should have been, missed emails, no service, a litany of excuses made softer by calories and hydration…though several of the women will never forgive her for the indignity of having to pee in the woods.
Everything will be explained, the woman promises. But they have a long drive ahead of them, and if they could file into the bus quickly quickly quickly, so much to discuss, so much to prep, such a thrilling week ahead of them!
Water is gulped, food devoured, jokes exchanged. The bus toilet is gratefully and extensively taken advantage of. Seats are claimed, already sorting the contestants. LeGrand sits alone. Beautiful Ava no longer sees Mack, focused on those more on her level. Buzzed Ava follows Mack to the middle of the bus and sits next to her without asking. It’s a problem. Mack wants to be invisible, wants to be underestimated, wants to be unseen. It’s a hide-and-seek competition, after all.
Night arrives. The bus starts. Fourteen heat-exhausted and rehydrated heads bob in near unison.
No instructions are delivered. Everyone is already asleep.
* * *
—
While they sleep, a tour.
Buzzed Ava’s dog tags fall free of her tank top. One set her own. One set not. Her head falls onto Mack’s shoulder. Mack’s head rests against the soft fuzz of Ava’s. It’s the most human contact either of them has had in years. They sleep through it.
Beautiful Ava, aspiring Instagram model, has found beautiful Jaden, aspiring CrossFit gym owner. She has no sponsors and he has no gym, but they are lovely with hope and promise. Beautiful Ava’s head rests against the window. She snores. She would be mortified to know she did it in public, but no one except the driver and their hostess is awake to hear. The driver keeps his eyes on the road with aggressive determination. He wields the steering wheel like a shield. The hostess wanders the aisle, touching each forehead with feather-soft fingers, like a blessing or a benediction.
The benediction misses LeGrand, tucked in the back, lost and alone even surrounded by people. This is not his world, and he doesn’t know how to exist in it. Nothing, nothing makes sense. He dreams of digging for vegetables, his fingers hurting, digging deeper and deeper and finding nothing, knowing he should find something, should be looking for something, but all he can do is keep digging in the dark and the dirt. He’s not looking for vegetables. He’s digging a grave, and it hurts, and he hurts, and he’s terrified he knows whose grave it is.
Ian has a notebook on his lap. His pen, the most expensive thing he owns, has fallen on the floor. He won’t realize it until they’re off the bus and he’s already lost it. How can he write without it? He doesn’t manage to write anything with it, either, but he’ll be convinced it’s the lack of pen holding him back. He came for inspiration. Also for money. A little bit of money, a little bit of security, and he could write the great American novel.
Brandon looks pleasant even in his sleep. There’s something wholesome and helpful in the way he slumbers completely upright, as though ready to dive into service should someone need help. Regardless of what else happens, he’s already had a great time and will be happy with the results. Honestly, he doesn’t even know what he’d do with the money if he won. He can’t quite imagine beating everyone else. It feels petty to want to win, almost mean. Because him winning would mean thirteen people lose. This is an adventure. A vacation. He hasn’t taken a day off since he started working at the gas station at fourteen. But Grammy isn’t waiting for him anymore. He’s been a little lost since she died. An adventure is all he can ask for.