Shit.
"He started it," I blurted, and wiped filling from the corner of my eye.
"She's lying," Owen said. I looked over at him and was pleased to see him smeared with custard, pumpkin, and frosting. He looked like a big drippy snowman that was in the process of melting. I gave him a smug look.
The producer said nothing, simply looked at us and wiped his brow. He was flecked with dessert and dip too, I noticed. Oops. He must have gotten into the way of our war. "Didn't you guys see the sign?"
"I even read it aloud to Luna," Owen said. "She still decided to throw a cupcake on me."
I stuck my tongue out at him.
"The way I saw it, both of you were throwing equally," the producer said, and shook his head. "God. Now I have to get catering to come back out here." He sighed, then glared at us. "You two. Go get cleaned up and then I want you to clean this shit up. Right now, or you're both going home and forfeiting your prize money."
I scowled and crossed my arms. That prize money was five grand just for being on the show. "Fine." I shot one last glare at Owen and then stomped upstairs.
"Not so fast," Owen said. "There's only one shower and I want it first--"
I ran up the stairs.
"Goddamn it," Owen said, and I heard him stomp after me.
I managed to get up the stairs and slide into the bathroom and locked it before he made it to the door. I heard him thud against it, and then he cursed. A moment later, he banged a fist on the door. "Don't use all the hot water!"
Oh, I'd make sure I would. With an evil smile, I turned the hot water up.
THE NEXT MORNING, THE LODGE was utterly quiet. I frowned, put on the coffee, and padded around the downstairs. There wasn't the sound of another person anywhere around here. I checked the clock, since they'd confiscated our phones before we came on the show. It was super early, which meant that the camera crew should have been around, just getting ready to leave.
There was no one at all.
Chewing on my lip, I got my coffee and noticed a tray of donuts had been left for us. A very small tray - not enough for a crew full of cameramen. Thoughtful, I grabbed one and headed into the living area of the lodge, plunking myself down on a couch. From here, I had a perfect vantage point of both stairs and lodge doors. If anyone came in or went out, I'd see them.
Of course, the next person I saw was Owen, emerging from his room. I made a face and sipped my coffee, staring out the lodge windows. The snowy ground outside was gorgeous, but looked bitterly cold. Once again, I was thankful I was inside and voted off instead of roughing the elements with nothing but that crinkly blanket thing. Upstairs, I had a real bed with thick quilts and there was a heater in the lodge that ran all day to keep it nice and toasty warm.
I liked the Loser Lodge.
Owen disappeared into the kitchen, and I heard the sound of coffee brewing. After a few minutes, he came into the living room and sat down across from me, legs casually spread as if he had not a care in the world. He wore pajamas, and another one of those cupcake shirts - this time in blue.
The man had a cupcake fetish apparently.
We drank our coffee in silence, avoiding looking at each other.
"Where is everyone?" Owen asked after a long minute.
"Do I look like the Cameraman Whisperer to you?"
He was silent.
I was silent, too.
The front door opened a few minutes later and I jumped to my feet, relieved. Someone else to talk to! An assistant entered—Kitty. I'd talked to her a few times before she'd admitted they weren't supposed to chat with us, but I liked her. She had a grocery bag in her arms, and she gave us a cheerful smile. "Hey guys. How are things?"
"Good," I said, heading in her direction. I took the bag from her so she could remove her coat. "Where's everyone today?"
"Oh, there was a big meeting yesterday," Kitty said, grinning. "A big shakeup. They're deciding to do all kinds of things differently since this is the Christmas edition. They figured they can modify the rules for this particular show."
"Really? Like how?" I headed into the kitchen area with the grocery bag.
"Well, the producers aren't very happy with you guys," she said, frowning. "That food fight cost the catering allowance an extra three grand."
"Three grand?" Owen snorted from his vantage point on the couches. "For that stale garbage? You guys are getting ripped off."
Kitty shrugged. "Regardless, the executive producer is kinda cheap and he doesn't like to waste money like that. He's really not happy with you two." She hesitated, and I noticed she wasn't taking her coat off, just playing with the zipper over and over again.
"So what is it?" I asked, setting the bag down on the counter and looking at her. "Are we being punished? Is that why everyone's gone?"
"Yes and no," she said. "So here's the thing. It's kind of a punishment for you two and kind of a great twist in the game."
My stomach lurched. "Oh?"
"Yep!" Her voice had a happy note. "They've decided to do a final five."
My eyes widened. "A final five?"
"Why?" Owen blurted. He got up from the couch and moved to the other side of the counter from me, watching Kitty with wary eyes. "What's the point of a final five? The vote's going to be split all different ways."
"Not really," Kitty said. "The producers wanted a prime number for jury members, and they thought...eleven would be perfect." Zip zip zip...she moved her coat zipper up and down in an agitated fashion.