Deprivation House (7 page)

Turned out everyone had. But I was pretty sure someone in the room was lying. One person didn't
get a letter. One person was the one who had sent the letters to the rest of the contestants.

“It's a psych-out. An attempt at a psych-out,” Olivia insisted.

“Pathetic,” James said. “Anybody who'd launch an attack with strawberry Jell-O and spooky little elementary-school kind of notes isn't anybody to worry about.”

“Where did you go to elementary school?” Mikey joked.

“So we just ignore it?” asked Kit. She took a swig of coffee.

“Yeah,” Hal answered. He seemed to be ignoring the situation already. He was working away on a schematic of his planet's core.

“It gives me some cool blogging material,” Bobby T said. “Except maybe in the blog, I'll say the showerhead was filled with, like, animal blood. That would be more exciting. I wish I'd gotten some photos of one of you all blood-smeared,” he added to Joe and Olivia. “I guess you wouldn't want to re-create?”

“Uh, no,” Joe said.

“Forget it,” Olivia told him.

“Maybe I can Photoshop a picture of me as an illustration.” Bobby T closed his eyes as he tried to picture it.

The bathroom door opened. “Here you guys all are.” A guy with shaggy blond hair stepped inside. “I'm supposed to give you more towels. You're not all planning to take a bath together or something, are you? Because that would really get the ratings.”

“No cameras are allowed in the bathroom,” Brynn told him.

“Ah. Didn't know that,” he said. “I'm the new guy. Mitch. Just started this morning. I guess someone had to leave unexpectedly.”

Had to be Leo. Guess they hadn't wanted to tell the new guy the old guy died.

“So you all get this whole place to yourselves. That's pretty cool.” Mitch unloaded the towels into the cabinet.

“Some of the rooms are sealed. The really good ones,” Mikey told him. “And Veronica's quarters on the third floor are off-limits. Not that any of us wants to hang with her.”

“She does seem a little scary,” Mitch agreed. “Oops. Don't tell her I said that, okay?”

He started for the door. “Hey, a tip. No sandals today. And wear long pants.” He waved as he headed out of the bathroom.

“What was that about, you think?” Wilson asked.

“I don't know. But I don't trust him,” said Olivia.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because he works for the show. People who work for the show can never be trusted,” she answered. “No one can be trusted, really. Someone right in this room could be a plant.”

True. Joe and I were. But not in the way Olivia was thinking.

“So you think we shouldn't wear long pants and regular shoes?” Wilson said.

“You'll have to decide that for yourself.” She stood up and left the bathroom.

“Seventy-four percent of her statements reflect paranoia,” Rosemary observed.

“She's a freak,” said James. He stood up. The Silent Girl stood up too.

“So I guess this meeting's over.” Kit got to her feet. “I guess I'll go try to prepare for the competition. Which is impossible, since we don't know what it is. I'm just hoping it doesn't involve any dead bodies this time.”

A groan went up from the group.

“That's why it's called
Deprivation House
,” Veronica said with a smile. “All iPods in the bag, please. As I told you, luxuries will be taken away at least once a day.”

Mitch smiled—a sympathetic smile—as he walked around the dining room, holding out a velvet bag
for us to put our iPods in. Those of us who had them.

Veronica clapped her hands. “Now, it's time for our competition. As you know, the winner will select one of the luxuries to go. That means the winner will be able to pick something that he or she knows it's possible to live without.”

I checked out Veronica's outfit, trying to get an idea what she had in store for us. She had on her apron again. That gave me pretty much nothing. “Today I'm going to put you to work in the kitchen,” she announced.

“Unfair. I bet the Amish girl is great at cooking,” James burst out.

“She's not Amish. Mary has been home-schooled,” Veronica corrected. “And the competition has nothing to do with cooking. No one would want to cook a meal in our kitchen. Not in the state it's in.”

Uh-oh. Were we going to have to deal with more slime?

She nodded to Mitch, and he began handing out large glass jars with lids. “The kitchen has been infested with pests. Specifically, cockroaches,” Veronica explained. “It's your job to get each and every one of the insects out of there. Whoever collects the most roaches in their jar wins.”

“That is so repulsive,” Ripley said.

“There's always the option of dropping out. Fifty thousand dollars if you decide to quit—and no touching repulsive bugs,” Veronica answered.

Ripley shook her head.

“What are we supposed to use to catch the roaches?” asked Mikey.

“You may use whatever you find in the kitchen,” Veronica told him. “And you may start . . . now.”

The door to the kitchen was wide. But not wide enough to let fourteen people through at once. There was a lot of pushing and shoving and elbowing as we all charged into the room.

And stopped. Every surface was brown. Living, moving brown. There wasn't an inch that wasn't covered in roaches.

“I hope dead ones count,” James said. He stomped to the nearest cabinet, crushing dozens of the bugs as he went. He pulled out a frying pan and got to work.

I though a frying pan was too big. I figured James would lose a lot of the insects when he made the transfer from the pan to the jar. I wanted something smaller. I decided on a large coffee cup and a spatula.

I positioned the cup under the nearest counter, then started sweeping with the spatula.

“I need a new jar!” I heard Bobby T yell before my own jar was even half full.

I picked up my speed. I knew I wasn't here to win a million bucks. But I needed to look like I had a real chance of winning. I wanted to keep myself on the radar of whoever had made the death threats. That could give me and Joe a lot of info.

Plus, I don't really like to lose. Even dumb contests. So I kept my spatula moving. Pretty soon I needed a new jar too.

It took a while, but eventually the crunching and squishing noises petered down. We had to start chasing after the scurrying little bugs that were left.

“I think that might be it,” Hal finally said.

“All I want to do is take a shower,” Olivia announced. “I don't care if there's Jell-O in there again.”

Veronica opened the kitchen door. “It sounds as if you're finished. Use the showers in the pool cabanas like you did last night. You're all filthy. While you wash, we'll be tallying up your totals.”

I doubted very much that Veronica was getting anywhere near the jars of roaches. But when we all trooped back into the dining room, she had the results ready. “Congratulations, Bobby T. It seems you have a way with cockroaches,” Veronica announced. “You won by more than four hundred of them. Joe, you came in second. And Ripley third.”

Bobby T got some “all right's” and “way to go's”
and some applause. James and Olivia didn't join in.

“You'll need to start thinking about what luxury is going to go,” Veronica told him. “You don't have to let me know today, though.”

“It's not going to be the Internet. I'm sure about that,” Bobby T said.

“How do you feel about junk food?” asked Mikey. “And if you're not a fan, what can I do to make you change your mind?”

“Just so you all know, I am accepting bribes,” Bobby T announced loudly.

I don't know if he got any actual cash, but Bobby T got a lot of suggestions about luxuries that it would be easy to do without. Everyone had an opinion.

“I'm going to bed. That's the only place where I'll get some peace,” Bobby T finally said to everyone that night. Most of us were still hanging out in the great room.

“The next one, I'm going to cream you,” James told Bobby T as he left.

“Good night to you, too,” answered Bobby T over his shoulder.

Ripley stood up a few minutes later. “I'm going to bed too. I'm wiped out.”

“It's exhausting living without staff, isn't it, princess?” James asked.

Ripley's neck muscles tensed. Then she smiled. “Good night to you, too,” she said, using Bobby T's line.

I was pretty tired. But I wanted to hear whatever conversation came up. And Joe definitely wasn't going to be any help in that department. He and Brynn were out on the balcony again. They'd only known each other a couple of days, but they were already really tight.

At least I don't have to listen to him whine about how girls always like me more,
I thought.

“Help!” Ripley shouted from somewhere down the hall. “Help! Bobby's not breathing!”

F
rank and I got to Ripley and Bobby first. Just in time to see Ripley plunge a needle into Bobby's thigh.

“Wait ten seconds before you take it out,” I coached her.

Ripley nodded. “I had to do this to my little cousin once. She's allergic to bee stings.”

“I'll call 911,” Frank said. “Let's all back up and give Bobby some room,” he told the others. They'd all followed us into the bedroom.

Bobby drew in a ragged breath. Ripley pulled out the needle. She checked the side of the EpiPen. “I can see the plunger. That means he got a dose of the epinephrine.”

“I'm 'kay,” Bobby wheezed. “She got . . . in time.” He began massaging the injection site.

“Don't try to talk right now,” I told him.

“He didn't actually stop breathing,” Ripley explained. “I was heading to my room, and I heard this thump, and I ran in and he was on the floor by his bed, and I panicked. I thought he wasn't breathing, but it was just hard for him.”

“He would have stopped if you hadn't acted so fast,” I said. “You were awesome.”

“Definitely puttin' you in blog,” Bobby T gasped.

“Shhh,” Ripley said.

When the EMTs rushed into the room, I thought I recognized a couple of them from the night before. It was good to see them do their stuff on someone who was going to make it.

“See you soon, Bobby,” I called as they rolled him out of the room on a gurney. Face uncovered.

“That was intense.” Wilson dropped down on the floor. Olivia sat next to him and whispered something in his ear. Was he making progress in the girlfriend area? Or was something else going on? I'd have to bring it up with Frank.

“So do you still think the threats are elementary-school stuff?” Mikey asked James.

“What?” James raised his eyebrows.

“What do you mean what?” Mikey replied. “Bobby
T won the contest today. He was ahead yesterday before . . . you know. He was starting to look like a front-runner to win this thing. Then he almost stops breathing. You think that's a coincidence?”

“He has an allergy,” said Ripley. “That's why he carries the EpiPen. Because there's always the possibility something like this could happen.”

Mitch appeared in the doorway. “Hey, I wanted to see if you're all okay.”

“Pretty much,” I answered.

“Thanks for the fashion advice this morning,” Kit added. She clearly didn't want to get too specific on-camera. Which was smart. Veronica would probably fire Mitch for giving us a heads-up on the roach competition.

“Any time,” said Mitch. “There's the stuff for ice cream sundaes downstairs.” He winked. “Junk food is still available—for now—and I figured you guys would be too wound up to sleep for a while.”

“Want to go get some?” Brynn asked me.

“I'll be down there in a minute. I'm just going to hit the bathroom,” I told her.

Frank and I both hung back until the room had emptied out. Then I went into the bathroom. Frank followed me.

“I guess this is the only place to talk the situation
through without possibly ending up on-camera,” I said.

“Yeah. I guess it will seem kind of weird. If we were girls, it would make sense we were always hitting the bathroom together,” Frank pointed out.

I shrugged. “No choice. So how much time would it take between ingesting something with peanuts in it and an allergic reaction?”

“Bobby T seemed extremely sensitive,” Frank answered. “His skin and nail beds were bluish. And you heard him wheezing. He was in anaphylactic shock. I'd think a reaction that strong would have happened almost immediately after he swallowed the peanuts. Fragments of peanuts, more likely.”

“But dinner was more than two hours ago,” I said. “And no one was eating in the great room. Veronica doesn't like snacking in there.”

“Right,” Frank agreed. “So what did he eat to cause the reaction?”