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Mush0gChapter Five
Marion
Today is the day. The day of the competition. I must face it, despite a pit resting in my stomach. Getting out of bed, I take off my pajamas and fold them neatly before putting them in my bag. How do I feel today? A girl. Words come out from my mumbling, things like you have to do this and for them, but it doesn’t make it any worse, especially since Caleb’s grunting while doing his push-ups.
“Caleb, you need to shut up. I’m trying to comfort myself.”
He finishes his set and looks at me with light brown eyes that would’ve been dreamy if he wasn’t my teammate, “You can do this, Marion. Keep distracting yourself with me grunting.
We’re weird like that. But we’re not friends. Not when we can die, and then what would we be? Alone, heartbroken, and guilty. Since we’re similar in this mindset, we’ve agreed to not, under any circumstances, get close to or save each other. I have a short shower to thoroughly wash my body, get out, and change into a yellow button-down and black cargo pants. It’s required that we wear our team colors, and of course my team is yellow, which is great because I have those smiley face boots that I bought but never wore. Over the untucked button-down, I shove a black sweater past my head, placing the yellow collar and cuffs on top. Looking at myself in the mirror, I’m thinking that this is what you call fashion.
Upon walking out, Caleb takes my place in the washroom while I make sure I have everything. An extra sweater, a beanie in the front pouch with Steph’s bandana, two pairs of socks with the beanie, a binder, my pajamas, and a camera. Not much for now, but my backpack will be full of things once we get to the Yellow safehouse, or find a loot box along the way. Caleb comes out as I’m tying my black mini mullet back with my sunny yellow bandana. Thank goodness the monsters suck at sight, else Team Yellow would be the first ones dead. Glancing at my reflection I do a little flexing, my poor small muscles barely making a bump in the thick layers.
Instead, I count my freckles when Caleb draws my attention from it to him. He’s wearing a yellow sweater and white sweatpants, not really going for the stylish look I have. He runs a scarred hand through his hair before stopping at the point he tied it. He closes his eyes, seeming to steady himself. He’s a little moody, brooding and just being quiet, which is unnerving. I take a deep breath myself when a voice comes over the intercom.
“All team members, please report to the main room. Again, all team members, please report to the main room for the beginning of the competition. Thank you.”
Caleb opens his eyes and suits up, putting on his own bandana and outdoor clothing as I tie my boots. Taking out my camera, I start recording and sling my backpack over my shoulder. When Caleb finishes getting ready, we walk into the hall. I flash the camera around our old room.
“So, yeah. The competition’s beginning. Bye, room, we’ll miss you.”
“We will not.”
I roll my eyes as we walk with the other team members. Once in the main room, we take our place on the yellow mat, waiting for the organizers. Media have taken up the back of the wall, their cameras facing us and preparing for questions. A few have begun reporting, and I offer some waves. Caleb begins talking with a guy from Orange, while I scan the room, looking at each team member carefully. A few look nervous, a few look like they want to throw up, and a few have a pretty good poker face.
“Yeah, so she’s recording everything,” Caleb loudly says.
I flick him a look. Orange Guy snickers, “Excuse me. At least I’m not brooding like a medieval knight.”
Orange Guy full-on laughs. Caleb and I glare at each other when the door opens. All noises of conversation hush, until the room is deathly silent, and attention is turned to the Black woman. She’s wearing a very nice dress, white and covered in sequence so it looks like it’s a shimmery rainbow. Everyone claps as she stands on the podium. She waits, reviling in the attention until everyone ceases the clapping.
“Thank you, everyone, for being here today. The start of the competition is one we all treasure. When you die in this competition, you will be remembered. Same thing if you win. This competition lets no one, absolutely no one, be forgotten,” She pauses, emphasizing that point, “Now, I will let the media question both me and the competitors.”
The reporters all clamour. It’s noisy, and I clamp my hands over my ears. She notices this and seems to gesture for everyone to calm down. She holds power over everyone, radiating it. It’s like a political press conference, everyone going blah blah blah and us answering questions. I only pay attention when the words “yellow” and “Marion” reach my ears, otherwise I’m looking at the balcony rich people sit on.
An entire section of it is filled with people who look like they’re a family. Same blonde hair, facial features. They don’t seem happy. Three boys, two looking relatively the same age and one way younger than them, whisper to each other as a girl who looks to be their sister shuffles nervously on the mat for Team Pink. The parents just cross their arms and roll their eyes.
My first thought is they suck. Their kid is about to risk their life and they’re like, ok, whatever. Who does that? Then I think hol’ up, is that the queen? Turns out, it is, rolling her eyes along with her family. My gosh, this family really does suck. A billion voices in my head overlap, some getting over the fact the queen is here, others thinking that she’s a jerk. Caleb elbows me and I look up. Everyone is staring at me.
“Are you with us, little, uh, girl?” The rainbow dress woman asks, confused as to what to call me.
Well, I’m not a girl, but I answer anyway, “What were you saying?”
“Why are you in the competition?”
I swallow, hard, “I’m non-binary, she/he pronouns. I guess I’m closer to the definition of genderfluid, but I identify as non-binary. Um, there’s not a lot of transgender people like me that have role models, so I want to show other trans youth and teens that they can do anything.”
A journalist raises their hand, and I nod for them to talk, “Adrianna Petergail, Rainbow News. If you do win this competition, how would you feel being the first openly transgender and/or non-binary winner of this competition?”
Adrianna Petergail. Rainbow News. My favourite journalist and news company. I mull the question over, making people wait anxiously for my response. I’ve thought of answering this question several times over, but now I have no idea what to say. A word comes to mind, and it’s perfect. Looking up, I answer confidently with one word.
“Empowering.”
Recording Transcript
Date: January 11th
Start Time: 18:34:16
Marion Jackson: This thing recording? Oh yeah, there’s a red dot. Caleb, say hi.
[camera points to a boy on a bed with a book on his lap]
Caleb Durag: Hi. Why do you even have that?
M. Jackson: Cause I can.
[camera turns to face colored teen with his brows furrowed]
M. Jackson: If I die, tell ‘em to post this to their website. I want other trans kids to watch this.
C. Durag: What, watch you die?
M. Jackson: Exactly.
C. Durag: You’re weird.
[Jackson grins devilishly]
M. Jackson: I am.
[camera shakes as Jackson walks to his bed and flops onto it]
M. Jackson: 3 days before the competition begins. I have just fully…
[Jackson looks at Durag in a pointed way]
M. Jackson: …met my teammate, Caleb Durag. This camera is for the sole purpose of documenting my time in the competition. If someone other than me or Caleb is watching this, then I guess it means I died. Remember me. My goal is to show other trans kids that yeah, life’s tough, but push through it and you’ll get to your goal. You are strong.
[end of recording]
End Time: 18:35:10
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