Page 65 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

Relief and disappointment surge through me as the cameras circle Firefly and Bacon like vultures. I wanted that twenty thousand dollars. But I’m still in the game, and I still have a chance to compete. I grab Daniel’s hand and squeeze it.

He squeezes back and tilts his mouth toward my ear. When he speaks, his breath rustles my hair. “Good thing we made that deal not to betray each otherbeforethis challenge happened?”

I pull back. “Don’t tell me it didn’t cross your mind.”

He turns more fully toward me, his gaze serious. “No, never. We’re teammates, Alice.”

Now it’s guilt that’s flooding my system. If Daniel is telling the truth, then he didn’t betray me—not the way I did, after we literally made apact to support each other in this fake relationship.

But we’re not the same as Firefly and Bacon. After this, we don’t have a life to go back to together. Plus, I remind myself, it’s entirely possible that Daniel’s lying, and what happened was that he filled the red bucket and just didn’t beat Bacon’s time. But going by our past together, I can’t recall a time Daniel’s lied to me.

For a second, I contemplate coming clean to Daniel. But when I picture the look on his face, the hurt and the judgment—well. Maybe I’ll tell him later, when this is all in our rearview mirror and we can laugh about it. And anyway, he doesn’t have the full picture of what I’m dealing with. He wouldn’t understand.

“Now, for our winners today, the fastest to fill the blue bucket was—can you guess who?” Dawn Taylor waits a beat before announcing, “Dominic!”

“Fuck yeah!” Dominic roars. He lifts Zya on his shoulders, and they’re racing down the beach together.

“As for the rest of you,” Dawn Taylor says, facing us, “you’ve survived to descend into the next circle of hell. The stakes are higher than ever, so you’d better get ready. The inferno is only going to get hotter.”

The end of her speech is punctuated by a blast. Fireworks explode behind her once again. This time, there’s more than just a burst of sparks—this is an entire show. I clap my hands over my ears as the fireworks keep erupting, growing louder and brighter.

Then everything goes wrong. One of the fireworks zooms right past Dawn Taylor and explodes on the sand in front of us.

Dawn Taylor screams, and then we all scream.

A dozen more fireworks roar to life, whizzing straight for us. The smoke is thick in the air now, and I’m frozen. It’s too much like the day I found my mom on the floor, flames licking up the wall behind her stove. I have to move, but I can’t seem to summon the will. Despite the heat of the sun, I’m cold again, and time seems to slow to a trickle.

Dawn Taylor ducks for cover behind a cameraperson. Everyone, crew and cast, is scrambling to get out of the way. Someone shovespast me, and I go sprawling face-first in the sand. I’m pushing to my feet when I see it. One of the fireworks is headed for me.

Then Daniel tackles me, and I’m being slammed into the sand again. It feels like I’ve been punched as we both go down. But that’s the last coherent thought I have before a firework explodes next to us, spraying us with sand. For a moment, I can’t move. There’s sand in my mouth and a faint ringing in my ears.

Then I realize why I can’t move. There’s a weight on top of me, a body. It’s Daniel.

Daniel, who tackled me.

Daniel, who shielded me.

Daniel, face down, the outline of a burn on his side.

“Daniel!”

Chapter Thirteen

Hell Is Your Academic Rival Saving Your Life

Turns out, it doesn’t matter whether you’re sitting on a stackable chair in a dimly lit room that reeks of antiseptic or a cushioned rattan chair in a tropical villa—waiting for someone you care about sucks.

Not that I care about Daniel.

I mean, I need him functional to continue the competition, of course, and I would never wish him harm—I’m notevil.(“You think you’re lawful good, but you’re secretly chaotic good” is how Tara once put it.)

And he threw himself into the firework’s path to protect me. He saved me. He’s hurt because of me.

I can’t quite wrap my head around this new reality where Daniel Cho, the guy I spent my high school years locked in academic combat with, would take a firework blast to his side just for me.Maybe he just has a hero complex, I tell myself. But I know that’s not it.

In the aftermath, Peter Dixon took charge, directing the crew to call our on-site medics. A very harassed-looking medical team arrived shortly after and whisked Daniel back to the villa, where they created a makeshift hospital room for everyone who suffered burns or cuts or bruises.

I’ve spent far too much time this year in waiting rooms. I jiggle my knee, trying to get some of my nervous energy out, but it doesn’t help. I need to know if Daniel’s okay.

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