This Book Sucks Blood

Chapter 5: Joke =(

Song Selection: Ain't It Fun—Paramore

This had to be a joke. This had to be a joke or Naomi would have a panic attack on the set of...what was this show? The Shimmer Shit? The Glamor Games. Super original. Super...ugh.

There was one analog clock on the back wall. Her eyes followed its hands as the judges went through their spiel and Kitty, the tiny girl beside her, picked absently at the pins in her one-piece. The vampire stuff had honestly flown right over her head. A rating hoax. What else would she expect? This was a show that was both the most official thing she'd ever done and the most sleazy. Queen Lauriel had died last month, and here she was, being paraded in front of the emperor like she was whatever Harrison's animal was called. A horse.

So of course, they'd make up some shit about how one of the contestants was a vampire, another thing to put them all on edge, another stressor they didn't need. Most of the other accusations, bullshit too, she was sure. But what the hell, right? This is how you initiate a bunch of different people into the entertainment business, and fast. So it wasn't that she was bothered by. Her brain had left the room after Mystique mentioned the words 'pool party' and 'masquerade.' She was thinking of Pauline at home, who was probably at work now. It had been so fast. In the noon, recording, and then a quick lunch of chips and a granola bar in the coach, and now, this.

The staff would be back at 7:00 to take them to the pool. That was one hour from now. No more information was given. Robots and nameless servants pushed out luggage and deposited racks of clothes in front of the desks. Naomi had collapsed on the floor, sitting criss-cross apple sauce, staring at that clock as she tried to gather herself.

The room itself had split like they were schoolchildren. She and Kitty shared a table, with Elody and a girl she couldn't remember the name of sitting behind them. It was weird, for sure. Being so close to someone Pauline watched so religiously, now seeing that poised person tearing through the garment racks like a starved woman searching for something to eat. The other girl paced the back of the room, her long black hair bouncing with each step. And then there were the men at the other desks. Griffin, beautiful Griffin Antonia, whispering at a cowboy who dwarfed him in size. A wrestler throwing pieces of clothes at them, demanding attention. And an angry woman glaring in their direction. I'll trade, Naomi wanted to offer, feeling surrounded by Paulines on all sides.

Painting, making sharp strokes, feeling out colors, that was a language to her. She spoke to her canvas, whatever it was, and the canvas spoke back. Always.

But this?

"Are you okay?" Kitty asked.

"I can't swim." She'd never visited the Leisure District, not once. It just seemed depressing; she would be trapped in the smothering heat forever, her hands gnarled from the factory. A week's wage could go to a single shirt bought in the Leisure District. It was a trap. Why willingly climb into the snapping jaws of Astoria?

"It's really not that hard." Kitty brushed hair out of her face that didn't exist. This close, Naomi could see the bright orange shimmering in the soft recessed ceiling lights and how it contrasted the natural light hair. The woman herself, aside from her hair and outfit, looked soft. Babyfaced.

Naomi tried a smile. "I know. I know. I'll be fine. Don't you need to check out the racks?"

Kitty shook her head. "If they think my clothes are 'meager,' well, they can go suck blood. I'm wearing this. It's a swimsuit. But you?"

Naomi winced, pointing to the cord running down her chest, to which Kitty only shrugged. That was the other thing; a swimsuit. She knew that this competition would push her past her comfort zone, it was obvious from the premise alone. But she'd hardly had any time to let that sit with her before being shoved into the coach and then coming here.