7
By the time our group of eight contestants finally reached the resort lodge near noon, we were all exhausted. The lodge was huge,
with a hotel–style front and orchards and a small farm out back. The production team led us inside and promptly vanished, leaving
us to fend for ourselves for food and everything else.
Based on last season, this was the moment where the contestants were supposed to delegate chores.
Adam, ever the self–appointed leader, stood up with a warm, placating smile. “Zoe and I can handle the cooking. Kiki, could you and
your mom go pick some vegetables from the garden? And Rick, would you and your girlfriend mind washing the rice and prepping
the veggies?”
Everyone was slumped on the sofas, worn out from the hike up the mountain, and nobody looked eager to move. Kiki, a young
şinger terrified of being labeled “lazy” by the online mob, forced a pained smile. “Okay.” Rick, a veteran actor who knew the reality
show game, didn’t object either.
Finally, Adam’s gaze fell on my brother and me.
A was curled up on the sofa, completely engrossed in my phone. As a camera panned over, everyone clearly heard the crisp, femini-
ne voice from my game: “Mahjong! I win!”
My brother sat bolt upright beside me, like a first–grader on his first day of school. When he saw Adam looking at us, he nudged me.
“Aria, time to work.”
I was on a winning streak and ignored him. He sighed and stood up, asking Adam, “Is there anything we can help with?”
Adam’s expression softened slightly. “Could you two handle the dishes after lunch?”
“Yes! A perfect hand!” I cheered, slapping my knee. Hearing his question, I answered without looking up. “Nope.”
Adam’s brow furrowed. “Lunch is more meaningful when everyone contributes.”
“Are you for real?” I shifted on the sofa and started a new game. “You eat to fill your stomach. The only reason these people are going along with you is because there are cameras here. If you tried pulling this crap at home, your own mother would smack you.”
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