Inside Straight

Are there worse words in the universe to hear?

Sure. “You’ve got cancer” tops it, but the odds are low that I’ve got cancer at age nineteen. Right now, though, I’m a loser.

The Diamonds are losers. And we’re doing it on national television. Not to mention the coverage we’re getting on YouTube.com and every freaking blog in the universe.

And now we’re going to Discard. Again.

I hate Discard.

“This sucks.”

That was Tiffani, and her West Virginia accent got thicker when she was mad. She was changing out of her show clothes into her sweats. I tried not to sneak a look at her, but she wasn’t being shy about changing in front of me. And why would she be anyway? It was just us girls here. Her skin was the color of white oleanders, and she smelled like sweet sweat and musky roses.

“I am sick of losing challenges,” she said as she hooked her bra. “We would have won if Matryoshka had kept control of his copies.”

“Yeah, I hate losing, too.” I didn’t like the camera being on us as we changed, but there was nothing I could do about it. It was in the contract. The only time you could be alone was in the bathroom. And then you had to be alone. No one could come in with you unless there was a camera following. No wonder I felt like I was going crazy.

Of course, in my pre-wild-card life I’d been shot almost naked by some of the best photographers in the business. Not that any of them would recognize me now. I’m big as a house.

I grunted as I pulled on my pants. I was still pretty large, even after all the bubbling in the last challenge. There had been one last hard hit before we lost, and it had plumped me up.

There was a knock on the door. Ink stuck her head in the room. She was a tiny girl with spiky black hair and tattoos writhing across her body. “They’re set up and ready for the Discard ceremony,” she said.

Tiffani glanced in the mirror. She looked amazing—her cloud of fiery hair a sharp contrast to her milky skin.

I didn’t bother to look at myself. I knew I’d be disappointed.

~ ~ ~

Jetman and Matryoshka were sitting at the table when we arrived. Matryoshka had recombined himself, so he was at his full intellect. Not that his full intellect was any great shakes, but he was a nice guy, and he made great pierogi. Not as good as the late, lamented Second Avenue Deli in New York, but damn good nonetheless. We were the same age, but I always felt as if I were older than him. Like a big sister.

“Come along, children,” said the Harlem Hammer. He was the one judge I actually liked.

Tiffani and I took our seats. The Hammer had a deck of cards in front of him. The Discard deck. Blarg.

I glanced at Tiffani. Her mouth was pulled in a tight line. Losing that last challenge had been horrible. We all hated losing.

“I think we did okay, until the end,” said Matryoshka.

Tiff shot him a look that could have melted glass. “Well, it doesn’t matter how we did up until the part where we lost, does it?” she snapped.

Matryoshka looked at her like a wounded puppy. I felt bad for him.

“I think you’re being too harsh on Ivan,” Jetman said. He was slightly older than the rest of us and, because of his obsession with Jetboy, he tended to have old-fashioned notions about things. “He can’t help getting kind of, well, er, uhm…”

“Stupid?” I said and immediately hated myself. It was true, but…

“I’m sorry, Ivan.”

Matryoshka shrugged. He was stoic, I’ll say that for him. The Harlem Hammer tried to get us talking about the challenge, but we weren’t much help. We’d lost every one thus far. Our team was pretty much decimated. And now we had to throw another person under the bus.

The cards were dealt and I slowly picked up my hand. Tiffani, Jetman, Matryoshka, and my own face stared back at me. Tiffani had plucked her card out, and it was already lying facedown on the table. She looked calm and cool, and I wished I felt as certain about whom to choose.

I doubted I would be chosen. I was the only one who had performed well on all the challenges. I figured, if the Diamonds ever hoped to win one, they needed to keep me.

Jetman had a way with gadgets and he always managed to come up with the right gizmo during challenges. And he could fly with his jetpack, which came in handy. Oh, and his guns were good, too. One shot sleeping gas and the other a net.

I fiddled with the edge of Matryoshka’s card. Despite the fact that his Mini-Me’s got dumber and dumber as he divided, they could be effective at overwhelming opponents. I looked at Tiffani’s card. There was a slight smile on her face in the photo. It made the corners of her aquamarine eyes crinkle. She was pretty much impervious to harm, and that was great except… well, she sucked in a fight.

I pushed that thought away. It wasn’t really fair. She didn’t choose to have a power with no real offensive capabilities. And Tiffani and I had been together since the Atlanta tryouts. We were the only two who had made the show from Atlanta. She’d never voted against me, and I’d never voted against her. I guess we had a sort of unspoken alliance.