They keep walking and she wants to ask again when they’ll get there. It’s definitely dawn. They should have been settled in a spot thirty minutes ago. But if she asks, she’ll sound like a nag, and nothing turns guys off faster than a nag. A nag who is definitely starting her period right now. And she’s not even wearing jeans, she’s wearing a cute, sporty skirt. God. This is the worst, it’s all the worst.
If she doesn’t win, what will she do? She’s lost a week of posting, a week of content. And yeah, she has no momentum, no sponsors, hardly anyone liking her photos and videos, but it’s important to be consistent. It’s going to be expensive to redo her now-ruined nails, though. And she’ll have to get her hair done, too. She knows there’s been damage from the cheap shampoo and conditioner here, and from having to pull it back into ponytails.
Maybe she should quit trying. Get a real job. But any “real” job she could get wouldn’t pay enough to live on. Her chance—her only chance—is to somehow hit it big. To find a windfall, to claw money from the world around her, however she can.
Maybe things will actually work out with Jaden, and she can be in charge of the social media for his gym. It’s a nice thought.
Who is she kidding, it’s an awful thought. But what else is she going to do? Work for twelve dollars an hour for the rest of her life? Go back to school and get into debt she’ll have to work off for the rest of her life? Or attach herself to Jaden and hope one of them manages to get lucky?
She’s obviously already chosen the final option.
At last, the sky almost fully bright, Jaden stops at their destination. On this long, curving section of the path, there’s nothing but the horrible overgrown bushes around them, no other structures she can see, nowhere else to hide. But she can’t understand how he thinks they can hide here. It must have been one of those big swing rides, back in the day, where a central pole holds up bars that extend out, swings hanging on the ends, spinning in circles so the people go in wider and wider arcs. She always loved these types of rides, loved the thrill in her stomach without the jarring drops and turns of roller coasters.
But it’s not a swing ride anymore. The chains for the swings hang down like strands of unwashed hair, clumped together in some parts, broken short in others. A few of the chains still have swings at the bottom, or what’s left of the swings, anyway. The thick central pole seems stable enough, rising straight up to where the system of swing arms extend out. The whole thing is stark and depressing, like a giant denuded umbrella.
“Where are we supposed to hide here?” Ava asks, genuinely baffled. The platform is open, the central pole solid. She can’t see anywhere obvious—or even unobvious—to hide.
Jaden looks over his shoulder at her, flashes her a grin. “We aren’t supposed to hide anywhere. Good luck, Ava.” He jumps, catching one of the swing chains, and climbs hand over hand straight up, disappearing onto the top of the central pole. Whether it’s hollow inside or has enough space that he can settle in the center without being seen from the ground, it doesn’t matter.
What matters is Jaden’s hidden, and Ava’s not, and it’s fully daylight.
She thinks about screaming at him. But that would give away her location. Her shock and anger deflate, leaving her flush with shame. The others had known when they looked at Jaden. They had seen it. And she had seen it, too, and she had picked him anyway because the optics were better. And then she had doubled down rather than admit her mistake.
She’s not surprised, not really. But she’s disappointed. Ever since the other Ava introduced herself, Ava was worried about being the afterthought. And now she will be, because she’s getting out today.
It should be a relief, in a way. An ending to all this shit, a return to all the shit she knows and is comfortable with.
But as she looks around, morning breaking without a cloud or a breeze, the air heavy and expectant, she can’t stop thinking about that dark pool in the middle of the camp, the smears trailing away from it.
Without Jaden by her side sneeringly insistent that it’s all a game, it’s much easier to wonder if maybe, just maybe, it’s not.
Ava turns and runs. She can find a spot. She has to.
As though summoned by her fears of blood, she feels a hot gush between her legs, soaking through her cute underwear and running down her skin. At least Jaden betrayed her early. At least she doesn’t have to sit next to him, soaked in her humiliation. And at least she knows that period aversion is so strong in America that they’ll never air this footage, even if it is a mean competition, even if it is a manipulative horror reality show.