The Theory of Second Best (Cake #2)

by J. Bengtsson

  “A couple of different bird species but, um… yep, that’s all.”

  “Oh, really? Huh. I never would have guessed you were such an expert.”

  I nodded. “Very… very big bird watcher.”

  “That’s hella cool, Kyle. What were the names of the species you found?” she asked casually, not letting me off the hook.

  “Uh… we saw pigeonitis and, um… pelicaucus.”

  “Wow, those sound like diseases. You wouldn’t be making up species, now, would you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Come on, Kyle. I know you were looking for an idol. Let me in on this. We’re allies.”

  I flicked my eyes over Kenzie. “What’s in it for me?”

  She offered up a skeptical smile. Her teeth were as white as her skin. “What do you want?”

  I raised my eyebrows at her question. Normally I’d respond with something totally sexist and inappropriate, but that probably wasn’t a good idea, seeing as cameras were filming our every move and my mom would be watching. Besides, this girl was one of my only allies in this game. I needed to control my natural instinct to offend.

  Changing the subject, I asked, “Is pasty white your natural skin tone?”

  Kenzie glared at me, looking insulted. Oops! I’d already failed in my attempt to be less offensive. “As a matter of fact, it is.”

  “So, like, you don’t tan at all?”

  She shrugged. “I just don’t see the sun very often.”

  I must have had a clueless look on my face because Kenzie felt the need to clarify. “If you must know, it rains a lot where I live and I work all day.”

  “In a sweatshop?”

  “No,” she laughed. “My dad and I run a rental business. You know, party supplies, tools, equipment, pretty much anything.”

  “That sounds fun,” I replied, trying hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.

  “It pays the bills. Something tells me you’re not a nine-to-five kind of guy.”

  “Definitely not,” I replied. “So, back to your lack of a tan…”

  “You’re really fascinated by that, aren’t you?” She smiled.

  “I am. So, okay, just for arguments sake, do you think that if your skin saw the light of day, it might actually turn brown?”

  I wasn’t asking this to be an ass. I genuinely wanted an answer to my question.

  Kenzie sighed when she realized I wasn’t going to stop. “I imagine I’d just turn a darker shade of white, or bright red. I guess we’ll see by tomorrow.”

  “Is it weird that I’m excited for tomorrow to come?”

  “Yeah, it’s weird.”

  TV Confessional

  “With that snowy skin, Kenzie’s an SPF100 girl all the way.”

  —Kyle

  14

  Kenzie: The Sleep Train

  The first night on the island was just a matter of surviving. No water. No fire. No food. Minimal shelter. And bugs, at times so thick in numbers it felt as if I were swiping my hand through water. Yes, misery was in full swing in our no-frills camp, and that was before the rain started.

  Because there were no blankets or pillows, or any items of comfort at all, it was necessary to use each other for warmth. Gene’s Fab Five had the section of the shelter with the sturdiest flooring and the least amount of dripping water. Although certainly not comfortable, they were clearly drier and warmer than the four of us.

  As we huddled together to ward off hypothermia, our little group of oddballs bonded. Dale, a married father of three in his mid-forties, was a curious fellow. He seemed in a perpetual state of paranoia, his eyes constantly scanning the area. What he was looking for I wasn’t sure, but I wondered how a guy could maneuver his way through life with that amount of anxiety. A self-described computer geek with a love of pop culture, Dale owned a software company. For years he’d been running algorithms on the show, crunching numbers and tallying statistics in an attempt to predict the winners and losers. When the opportunity arose to put his theories to work by competing himself, he reluctantly agreed. Obviously, this was a guy who preferred to live vicariously through others. One look at Dale and you could tell his brilliant mind was always working, always scheming. I realized straightaway that I was lucky to have him on my side. There might be more to the bundle of nerves than met the eye. Dale certainly wasn’t the worst ally to have in this game.

  And Marsha. What to say about Marsha? She was in her mid-fifties, and without a doubt, the most eccentric person I’d ever met. Although she was in respectable physical shape and seemed strong and fit, I seriously questioned her mental state. Was she one of those contestants that the producers threw in to bring the crazy? And was she actually crazy, or was it her way of flying under the radar? Yet everything I’d seen of her smacked of authenticity. She really was certifiable.

  What was interesting about Marsha was she seemed to know a little about everything, but her considerable knowledge came out at the most unusual times. It was hard not to react to her antics. Kyle didn’t even try. He openly laughed at the odd things she said, and Marsha loved it.

  As for my first ally, Kyle had settled himself nicely within the group. Clearly he was the most well-liked. We all fed off his energy. My initial attraction from earlier in the day was only growing, though, and that worried me. Distractions like that could derail my whole game. I had to remember what was important. The money. My family. My future. This was hardly the time or place to become emotionally invested in a guy who had no investment in me.

  That pesky self-doubt I’d been struggling with all day again reared its ugly head. Since arriving on the island I’d been studying my tribe mates, trying to figure out what made them tick. And what I had discovered was that everyone here seemed to have some label that set them apart and made them fascinating characters to follow: crazy, beautiful, funny, smart. And then there was me. What was my claim to fame? While all my teammates had legitimate reasons for being here, I was feeling like a pale, frizzy-haired fraud.

  At some point late into the evening, with thunder crackling through the night sky and lightning piercing the darkness, we were huddled in a freezing little mass. Moments earlier, we’d taken advantage of the rain dumping down on us. Lying on our backs, our mouths open like baby birds, we accepted every drop that made it into our dehydrated bodies. But it wasn’t until Dale came up with the idea to use a rolled leaf to funnel the water that we actually managed to quench our thirst.

  Unfortunately, the prolonged time in the rain drenched us, and we were shivering fiercely when Dale came to the rescue once again.

  “I think to stay warm we should try a choo-choo train style sleeping position.”

  “Are you talking about spooning?” Kyle replied conversationally.

  “Is that what spooning means?” Dale asked in surprise. “I had no idea.”

  “I think it’s a great idea,” Marsha piped up, and then turned her gaze on Kyle. “I call spooning you.”

  He laughed, only encouraging her further. In the past few hours, the two of them had been trading subtle innuendos back and forth. Clearly Kyle was joking. I wasn’t so sure about her.

  “So, aside from Marsha, who else wants to do this?” Dale asked.

  “I’m in,” Kyle quipped. “But I think we should have some boundaries. I mean, it goes without saying that spooning is all backdoor stuff, so we don’t need to worry about any dick-to-dick action, but I think it should also be clear that we are talking guy/girl spooning. I’m not sure about you, Dale, but I don’t want your dick anywhere near my ass.”

  Poor Dale. Even in the dark I could tell he was blushing something fierce. The man was exceedingly uncomfortable with sex talk of any kind, and Kyle seemed to have a keen knack of endowing every conversation with something to embarrass Dale.

  “Stop,” I laughed, poking Kyle. “You’re making him uncomfortable. Don’t listen to him, Dale. I think it’s a good idea. At least we won’t freeze to death.”

  We held off on the sleep train as l
ong as possible, but once the rain started pounding down onto our shelter and seeping through the palm leaf roof, all pride washed away and we assumed the position. We took turns on who got to be in the coveted middle section of our double-stuffed Oreo cookie configuration. Currently it was as follows: Dale, Marsha, Kyle, and me.

  “So what are the rules here, Dale?” Kyle asked. “Where do our arms go?”

  “Wrap them around the person in front of you, I guess. I don’t know,” Dale answered. “I thought you were the expert.”

  “Me? I try to avoid spooning at all costs.”

  “Why?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “It gives a chick hope that I’ll stick around longer than necessary.”

  “Oh, okay. I get it. You’re one of those guys,” I laughed, pushing on his wet body. “And here I thought you were the strong, sensitive type.”

  “What in the world gave you that impression?” he replied, with an amused chuckle.

  I cringed. I’d had no logical reason to come to that conclusion and he knew it. Would he think I’d been giving him more thought than necessary?

  “Speaking of chicks, did you know that there are more chickens on earth than people?” Marsha piped in.

  “I did not know that. Thank you for that valuable piece of information, Marsha,” Kyle answered in mock seriousness, and then added, “You know I wasn’t talking about spooning actual chickens, right?”

  Marsha cackled in such a way that I wasn’t sure what was going through her mind. I nudged Kyle and he turned to me with a wide-eyed look of bewilderment, as if he were saying, Is this woman for real?

  “We need to get a few hours of shut-eye, people,” Dale whispered, like a father to his children. “Or we’ll be worthless in the morning.”

  We lay there in silence for several minutes, trying to heed Dale’s sensible advice, but the explosive thunder made it impossible to actually fall asleep.

  After one ear-busting blast, Marsha’s increasingly grating narrative came out in a tiny squeak, “Lightning strikes are actually more common than you might think. They hit the earth about eight million times a day.”

  “Oh, goodie,” Dale answered cynically. “We only have about 7,988,000 more to go.”

  “Um, Marsha?” Kyle questioned in a hushed voice.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but your hand is on my ass.”

  “Yes. I’m aware.”

  Uncontained giggles burst forth from each and every one of us. The misery of our situation had given way to near hysterics.

  “Okay, then, well… enjoy.”

  “I already am,” Marsha replied.

  The four of us shook with laughter. The more we tried to be quiet, the louder we got. Even Dale had given up on being practical.

  “Do you want to hear a joke?” he whispered, tittering.

  “Is it a techie joke?” Kyle asked.

  “Sort of.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Okay, go.”

  “What is Forrest Gump’s computer password?”

  “123456,” Marsha answered without skipping a beat.

  “What?” Dale asked, astonished. “No. It’s a joke, Marsha. And, just so you know, that’s literally the worst password ever. You realize every hacker in the world tries that one first, right?”

  “That’s my password for everything.”

  “Somehow I’m not surprised.”

  “Dale,” I blurted out. “The suspense is killing me. What is Forrest Gump’s password?”

  “1forrest1.”

  None of us responded right away, possibly processing the genius of the joke, but then the floodgates opened and we all dissolved into hysterical fits of laughter.

  “Would you please be quiet!” Gene blasted over the thunder. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

  “That would be the ‘some of us’ who don’t have water dripping on their heads,” Dale mumbled, for only us to hear.

  “I don’t know about you guys, but tomorrow morning I’m going to have some serious words with the roofer,” Marsha declared.

  When I awoke the next morning, Marsha and I were in the middle of the spoon train. Kyle was sound asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around my body and his head tucked into the crook my neck. I had to smile at the intimacy as well as the pure innocence of our embrace. Instead of pulling out of his hold, I snuggled a little tighter into him. Why not? He was warm, and honestly, it had been way too long since I’d had strong, masculine arms draped around me.

  My last boyfriend had been three long years ago, the son of the couple who owned the one-screen movie theater in town. I’d known him all my life. Four years older than me, Greg and I had only been dating for a few months when he’d asked me to marry him. I was twenty-one and not ready for the life he was offering. And although Greg was a nice guy, we just didn’t have the spark needed to maintain a long and successful marriage. We broke up and, six months later, he married the pharmacist’s daughter. I’d been single ever since.

  As I lay there listening to Kyle’s rhythmic breathing, I smiled despite myself. Last night had been hell. The storm that passed through was fierce. Most of the night we’d lain awake as our senses were assaulted by the wrath of Mother Nature. I might have slept a few hours at most. But strangely, I was wide awake now and excited for the game to really begin. It was one whole month, maybe even longer if I played my cards right. One month with no work, no schedules, no day-to-day stress. I breathed in happily. For the first time since this whole adventure began, I was feeling beyond lucky. I’d spent so many years putting others first to the detriment of my own happiness. Somewhere along the line, I’d given up on my own ambitions to boost the dreams of others. I always told myself that someday, when the triplets were older and on their own, it would be my turn. But the older I got, the further away that seemed. This money, if I could manage to win it, could buy me a new future.

  Kyle nap-jerked, pulling me back into the present. I was surprised at how relaxed I was with him. Kyle made me laugh, which was something I’d been lacking lately. Life always tended to get in the way of a good time. Kyle shifted as he woke from his slumber, and I waited as he yawned and stretched his long legs.

  “Good morning, Sunshine. Was last night as good for you as it was for me?” he asked in a sleepy voice.

  “Better,” I smiled. “You were amazing.”

  I could feel Kyle’s lips form into a smile on my neck. Oh, lord, he was pretty awesome. He kept his arms around me. I could definitely get used to this sleep position.

  “Check it out,” he said, pointing toward Marsha and Dale. Her wayward boobs were squished up against his back and her leg was straddling his. I could only imagine Dale’s horror when he woke up to that reality. Attempting to stifle a giggle, I failed miserably. My enjoyment was short-lived, though, when I caught sight of a camera guy and a sound tech coming our way.

  “Oh, my god,” I said burying my head in his arm.

  “What?”

  “Camera, four o’clock.”

  “You’re on a reality show, Kenzie. Get used to it. They’re everywhere.”

  And just as he said that, another pair of cameramen made their way over.

  “We must be the only ones awake.”

  “I have to look just terrible,” I said as I attempted to tame my wild hair.

  “You look fine. Don’t worry about it.”

  Ahh…he was such a sweet guy.

  “Although you smell like wet dog.”

  I gasped in surprise and then elbowed him in the chest. “And here I was thinking how sweet you were,” I said as I wrestled out of his arms and sat up. Immediately I lifted my arms to smell myself.

  “Relax. I was kidding,” he replied, and sat up himself. “We all stink. Don’t think you’re so special.”

  Oh, right, because smelling like a wet dog qualifies me as ordinary in my new world. Slipping on his shoes, Kyle scooted himself off the platform and onto his feet.

  “I’ve
got to take a piss. You want to come?”

  Did I want to take a hike in the woods and squat over a dirt hole with a hot guy I’d just met? No, not really. But this was my life for as many days as I lasted, so I’d better get used to the lack of privacy, not to mention the decimation of my vanity.

  “Yeah, I’m coming,” I huffed.

  TV Confessional

  “Last night sucked. But the morning was quite nice.”

  —Kenzie

  15

  Kyle: The Blue Lagoon

  Kenzie made me laugh. She was so clearly out of her element but was trying hard to hide it. Trudging through the tropical brush, my spooning buddy walked head on into a spider web. Of course her first instinct was to panic. Hell, that would have been my first reaction too. Then she proceeded to do the whole customary creepy-crawly dance, frantically attempting to remove the sticky substance from her hair and face. Her expression transformed into that of a sour old man as she pawed at her skin. Once Kenzie realized I was watching her entire entertaining spectacle, she forced herself to calm down. Adopting a façade of indifference, she brushed off the remaining web and marched on with determination etched upon her pretty face.

  We found our way to the designated bathroom area. It wasn’t an actual bathroom, since we were expected to just go wherever the land or sea allowed. But yesterday as a tribe we’d found a spot off the beaten path that was surprisingly private and collectively deemed it ‘the poophole.’ The thick barrage of tropical foliage separating the area made a perfect, secluded division into a ‘his’ and ‘hers’ section.

  As we took off for our individual spaces, I called to her, “I’ll meet you back here in a few.”

  “You don’t have to wait,” she said, looking down at her shoes as she rolled a strand of hair through her fingers.

  “I don’t mind.”

  “It might take awhile.”

  “Oh,” I said getting the mental picture. “Geez, Kenzie. Too much info.”

  She looked up, confused, and then understanding dawned on her. “What? No. I’m not going number two. I just have issues peeing outside.”