playing against her. Cleo’s Pursesnatcher Girl. Pop in, pop out. If I lose my cards, I’m hosed. Everyone knows it.
Sure, if this were for real, my team has bigger dangers—Johnny could toast my deck, Rachel could do the same with her dragon, or hey, they could skip the cards and just smoke me—but this is television and we’re playing nice. No hurting anyone, no trashing their special stuff. All the drama llamas keep forgetting that.
It’s a freaking game! If this were for real, half of everyone would be dead and the rest in the hospital. Even Stuntman, who’s the only one the producers told us we could hurt, but don’t go crazy. No ripping his head off or anything. Rusty could have done that a couple weeks ago, you know? Shoved it right up his butt. Or maybe just twisted it around backwards—Jamal would have got better from that, probably—but calling him a bad name? Ooh, sticks and stones. Pobrecito, you grew up in the hood and no one ever called you that? Yeah, right. And sayin’ it was Rusty? Anyone else, sure, but I never thought I’d meet anyone who said “Cripes” or “Golly” and mean it for real—and I sure didn’t expect it from a guy with a face like Mike Mulligan’s steam shovel—but who knows?
Of course I still voted against Rusty last week, and not just because everyone else was doing it. I’m covering my own ass here. Loteria decks aren’t exactly politically correct, and mine’s older than Lincoln. If you think Jamal flipped out at whatever crap Rusty did or didn’t say, wait till you see his reaction when I pull El Negrito. Or La Sandia.
And the cards, they don’t always go back in the deck right away, neither. Sometimes they like to, y’know, hang out awhile. Especially El Catrin, though the last time he did that, Johnny made a pass at him, and, uh, call me clueless, but I hadn’t realized until then that the Candle burns at both ends and, um, I’m talking too much, aren’t I?
Can we cut here? Really. I’d like to cut.
Uh, bye, America . . .
Confessional: Megan McKnee aka Tiffani
What?
Yeah, it’s just DB and me left in the Diamonds now and I’m betting there’s going to be a reshuffle. I mean, just the two of us isn’t exactly a team.
Can I keep him in my alliance? I don’t know. If we get split up I imagine that I can make another connection. Stuntman is hot, even if he did ram me off the road during the Scavenger Hunt. He wants to win, I can tell. And I think we’ve ogled each other at some of the press events. I don’t know about any of the girls. It’s more difficult with them . . .
Can I trust Drummer Boy? Much as you can trust anyone, I suppose . . .
And, no, I don’t feel good about this week’s Discard. Actually, I don’t think they should have had a Discard this week. I mean, it isn’t like it was a real competition. No one really won or lost. It was about making sure those people got fed.
Not that I’m all that impressed with either of my teammates this week. I know people probably think I’m shallow ’cause I worry so much about the way I look and about the money, but most people haven’t been as poor as I am. And I’ve only got so much to work with and only so much time to make it pay off. It isn’t like anyone’s going to send me through college. Not with my grades. Not some white trash girl whose wild card power makes her pretty to look at.
But I just couldn’t believe how DB and Jetman acted. They just couldn’t seem to get it that this challenge wasn’t about them.
I mean, what the hell was up with Jetman? Normally, he’s one of the good guys. He’s always trying to do the right thing. Living by some weird “code” he’s concocted from old comic books about Jetboy.
What the Sam Hill was wrong with him? He built some of his goofy contraptions and they were helpful in serving stuff. But he didn’t really talk to anyone. It wasn’t just about getting bellies full, know what I mean? And I know Howard’s not that dumb. At least I thought he wasn’t. The challenge had nothing to do with powers, but everything to do with caring about people.
And then he goes away and all of his