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.

"I want to do something great, and I can't understand when people look at all this like it's a joke. When I see someone like Earth Witch and what she can do—what she could do if she put her mind to it, but she isn't doing anything—it makes me crazy."

Finally, Downs and his crew left, leaving the remainder of Team Hearts alone—with the cameras, of course.

"It just doesn't seem right," Curveball said, flopping onto the sofa. "Kicking him off like that."

"That's the game. Some poor bastard had to go," Hardhat said.

"It's kind of mean."

"Come on," DB said. "You hated the guy."

"I didn't hate him. I was pissed off at him, yeah. But that's different."

Wild Fox said, "Watch, next week we're going to have a challenge that'll be perfect for a thousand little flying bugs, and he won't be here."

DB said, "Or maybe we'll need someone to star in a cartoon and Fox Boy here will actually be useful."

"Hey, I'm useful!"

"Oh yeah?" the drummer said.

A room-sized Godzilla appeared behind the sofa, complete with ear-splitting squeals and flames shooting out of its toothy mouth. Everyone jumped. It didn't matter that Ana's rational brain told her it was just another one of his illusions. She dove behind a chair to hide. Kate screamed and fell off the sofa.

Wild Fox laughed, and Godzilla disappeared. This was going to confuse the TV audiences so much . . . they couldn't see the illusions, only people's reaction to them. Maybe that was enough.

DB crossed all six arms. "Great. When we come up against Mothra, we'll call you."

"Would you guys stop fighting?" Kate said, picking herself up off the floor. "We just have to do better next time. Then nobody gets voted off."

Hardhat raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "You know what? Next time, just boot me the fuck off. Then I can get the fuck away from you fucking losers and get back to my real job. Fuck it. I'm going to bed." He stalked out of the room.

Funny, Ana had been thinking exactly the same thing.

Ana couldn't sleep. She and Kate shared a room, and she kept waiting for her to come in and turn on the light.

She'd had trouble sleeping the whole time she'd been here, and it was more than nerves. This place didn't have the right sounds—the desert wind against the siding of the trailer, the coyotes in the distance. This place was silent, sheltered from the sounds of the freeway, well-insulated. Cocooned, she thought. And she felt like ripping out of it. What would they do if she left the house and took a walk?

Was it even safe, walking after dark in this neighborhood? All she knew about L.A. was its reputation, and that didn't say anything good about walking by herself after dark.

Maybe she'd just get a glass of water.

She turned on her small bedside lamp. Kate's bed was still empty. She and DB had once again retreated to the back porch to talk long into the night. It figured—not only was Ana the shy one, she was going to end up being the only one of the group who didn't party.

Creeping out of the room, she stopped when she heard voices.

"You're going to win this thing." The bass voice belonged to Drummer Boy.