Inside Straight

She didn’t want to make deals. She didn’t want to vote anyone off. She shouldn’t even be here.

Inside the house, in the no longer comfortable dining room, they gathered around the long table. Cameras watched them; all their expressions were somber, their shoulders tense. Hands clenched the backs of chairs, or tightened into fists.

Downs handed them each a thin pack of cards. Shuffling through them, Ana found only seven cards. Each one bore the photo of a teammate.

The judge explained. “Each of you will place the card of your choice face down on the table—”

Suddenly, a dozen small, furry creatures appeared on the table, jumping over each other, squeaking, dancing. Ana gasped, and everyone took a step back.

“What the hell!” Downs said.

“Hamsters,” Wild Fox said, grinning like he was pleased with himself. His tail gave a flick.

Next to him, Curveball huffed. “You would have to go pissing off the judge.”

Murderous looks glared at him across the table, and the hamsters popped out of existence. Wild Fox glared back, his tail drooping.

Downs sighed heavenward. “Let’s get this over with. Hearts, play your cards.”

Curveball only considered her cards a moment before drawing one and setting it face down on the table. Jaw set, she glanced around the table, confident, meeting everyone’s gaze. At least she wasn’t going to let this cow her.

So it went around the table. Drummer Boy and Hardhat quickly followed, then Wild Fox, Hive, and Gardener. Then they were all looking at Ana, waiting.

Ana studied the cards in her hand, the smiling faces so unlike the ones she saw around her now. Her teammates were waiting to learn their fates, and she was delaying. But she couldn’t decide.

She wondered what would happen if she put her own card on the table. After all, she never wanted to be here. She could leave just as quickly. Nobody would ever know that she’d discarded herself—unless all seven cards showed her face. That was a distinct possibility; as DB had said, she hadn’t done anything. If all seven cards showed her face, she’d have to explain to Roberto why she rigged her own downfall. So that wasn’t going to work.

She couldn’t think rationally. Everyone here had strengths. Everyone here would be useful, given the right situation. If they ever had to look for buried treasure, Ana would save the day. She couldn’t use that criterion to judge. If it was a matter of picking who she didn’t want to live with for the rest of the show, she’d have to say Wild Fox. Then again, maybe Drummer Boy had the right idea.

She put Hive’s card face down on the table.

Everyone slid the cards to Downs, who shuffled them, arranged them in his hand, and studied them. He gazed around the circle at the contestants, then back at the cards—then back at the contestants, pursing his lips studiously, narrowing his gaze. Curveball rolled her eyes, and DB crossed a pair of arms.

Finally, Downs spread the seven cards on the table. They all leaned forward, searching, desperate to see how it had turned out. The faces seemed to blur in Ana’s eyes.

Two of the cards showed Ana. Only two—Ana felt relief. One showed Wild Fox. And four showed Jonathan Hive.

“Four of a kind,” Downs said. “Hives.”

For all his commentary, Hive didn’t have a quip ready for this. He was still staring at the cards, and the four pictures of his own face looking back at him.

Downs gazed at him across the table. “Jonathan Hive, I’m afraid you’ve been discarded. It’s time for you to leave the house.”

They even made a production of that, though Ana would have liked nothing better than to hide in the bathroom, the only place off limits to the cameras. But no, they all had to watch Jonathan get his bag and trek to the front door. While the cameras watched, Hive shook hands with Wild Fox, Drummer Boy, and Hardhat, while they muttered things like “Good luck” and “Take it easy” to each other. Gardener and even Curveball offered awkward hugs. Ana was the last to shake his hand.

“Good luck,” he said, as he had to the others. He even managed a wink right at the end.

Ana thought she’d need the luck the most.

~ ~ ~

Curveball sets her expression, as if this is just another challenge, another task to be completed on the way to the prize. Her eyes gleaming, she looks at the unseen interviewer, sitting somewhere to the left of the camera, and speaks with such energy her ponytail dances.

“Hive, Bugsy, whatever—I think he didn’t take any of this seriously. All he could do was make jokes. He may be a reporter, but that doesn’t give him a right to stand there and make fun of everything.

“When I was little, I dreamed of winning a medal in the Olympics, or being the first girl to play major league baseball. Then my card turned, and well, so much for that. But now … I can do this thing that nobody else in the world can do. All of us can. And it isn’t a game. It shouldn’t be just a game.