Wicked Games
Page 8

Dean added, “We don’t even have camp set up yet.”
“Don’t tell them that,” I snapped. “That’s no one’s business but ours.”
Dean just gave me a quelling look.
Chip seemed surprised. Okay, perhaps a little gleeful that we were self-destructing so abominably. “Did you two manage to get fire yet?”
“Haven’t tried,” Dean said.
“Food?”
“Nope,” I said, and turned to glare at Dean again. If he mentioned my peanut butter in front of the others, I’d kill him. It was my ace in the hole at the moment.
He remained silent.
“Is that why you threw paint on Dean, Abby?” He definitely sounded smug now.
I gave the host a bared-teeth smile. “He was yelling at me and being unhelpful, Chip. That’s why I threw paint on him.”
“She was asking too many questions,” Dean butted in. “She wouldn’t just shut up and paint—”
“How am I supposed to paint when I’m not getting instructions from my partner?”
“What did I tell you, Chip? Impossible.” Dean just gave me his winningest smile, as if that would warm me to his argument. “I try my best, but she doesn’t want to listen.”
Chip put his hands in the air. “Okay, okay, thank you, Team Eleven, but I think we’ve heard enough.”
Over in the audience, Shanna was casting meaningful looks at Dean. She wasn’t the only one, either. The other girls looked at him as if they wanted to save him from me. No one was giving me the same kind of look, of course. I was just an extra, an obstacle preventing them from having six weeks of unfettered bliss with good ol’ Dean. And I had no doubt that they’d take me out as soon as they could.
The host turned to the other team, Vera the gymnast and Sidney that I hadn’t had the chance to meet yet. Sidney seemed nice enough, with warm brown hair and a bright smile. Vera too. “So tell me,” Chip began, “Is your team having trouble like Team Eleven is?”
“Oh no,” Vera said hastily. “We’re doing just fine. Sid and I get along great.”
As if to prove this point, Sid nodded and put his hand on his partner’s shoulder to show their solidarity.
I made a face at that, and Dean snorted behind me.
“So why is it that you’re here for this round of eliminations?” Chip asked, trying to make his question as serious as possible. He even put his hand under his chin, as if considering a matter of grave importance.
Sid shrugged his shoulders and glanced down at Vera. “I think we just got unlucky. That’s all.”
“And how is life back at camp?”
“We’re doing good,” Sid continued, and his smile widened. “We have fire, and Vera was able to find us some coconuts last night. We’re doing all right.”
I rolled my eyes. Impossible to believe that everyone was getting along well except for myself and Dean. We were put into these kinds of situations deliberately to self-destruct, I imagined. No one was going to get along as blissfully as Vera and Sid were playing up.
Chip chatted with them for a moment more, then turned to the teams in the audience. “It’s now decision time. We’re going to have each team move to the voting booth and cast their ballot for the team that they wish to vote off Endurance Island.” He gestured at the far end of the row. “Team Number One, you’re up first.”
Shanna and Leon hopped to their feet, slate in hand, and disappeared into a small curtained-off booth in the background. I squinted at the sun, high overhead, and wondered how much longer this would take.
I mean, it was obvious that they’d be writing our number down. We were a complete and total train wreck of a team. There was no way Dean and I would get anywhere if we didn’t learn to get along, and so far, we weren’t learning.
A pair at a time, the others went up to vote until no one was left. Chip disappeared off to the side and returned with a box decorated to look as if it were a missing crate of supplies to go with the shipwreck theme. Very clever. He scanned us again—participants and people on the hot seat—and then pulled the lid off.
“First vote…”
I closed my eyes. My book deal, my job, everything. I could smell it going down the drain.
“Team Eleven.”
I clenched my gut and then took a breath in surprise. Wait, that was the other team. Why was someone voting for them? We were terrible.
Chip pulled out the next slate, then turned it around so we could all see it. “Team Eleven.”
It didn’t make sense… did it? I watched Shanna’s impassive face, Ginger’s, Jody’s… and they all wore the same inexpressive look.
“Team Eleven.”
Someone’s mouth curled up slightly, and it struck me. Of course. It was blindingly obvious now. They wanted to keep us here because we sucked. We couldn’t work together—which made us no threat. And Team Four, because they were marginally more competent than us, would go home.
“Team Eleven,” Chip continued, flipping over another slate, and then another. “Team Eleven. Team Eleven. Five out of nine votes… that’s enough.” He nodded at Team Four’s shocked faces and banged a gavel against a coconut. “Endurance Island has passed Judgment. Your time here is over.” He turned and glanced over at myself and Dean. “You are safe for one more round. Head back to camp.”
Stunned, I glanced over at Dean to see his expression. He seemed just as shocked as I was.
And here I’d thought we’d get voted out first because we were the worst team out there. The worst team possible. Just the opposite was true—we were going to be kept around as dead weight, as a safe bet.
Even though I wasn’t supposed to, I smiled a little. I’m pretty sure Dean did too.
 
 
Chapter Five
 
 
You know, if I didn’t want to wring her neck on a constant basis, I’d say Abby is a really cute girl. More of a Mary Ann than a Ginger, but I’ve always had a thing for Mary Ann.—Dean Woodall, Day 3
 
 
As soon as we got back to camp, Dean tossed his bag onto the sand. “I’m going to take a walk,” he said and turned away before I had a chance to answer.
I set down my bag and relaxed in the warm sand for a few minutes, wiggling my toes in the grains. I glanced backward at our small camp and my spirits deflated. We had a fire pit, but no fire. I had a makeshift platform for a bed, but no cover. We didn’t have anything to eat or drink.
Some paradise.
I found a couple of coconuts while trekking through the woods, but discovered that Dean had taken the axe with him. Stomach grumbling, throat dry, I realized I didn’t even know where the well was. With no way to eat the meager food, and not quite ready to delve into my peanut butter stash yet, I decided to work on my shelter.
All I really needed to make my small shelter complete was some sort of cover to protect it from the wind (and rain, if I should be so unlucky). I decided on a small A-frame, since that seemed the easiest to make, and set about creating it. The wood was easy enough to find, though I didn’t have anything to lash it together with… I ended up using my pink string bikini to hold the frame together. Like I was going to wear that. Shelter was far more important. I dove into my task with single-minded determination.