Page 95 of Bend
“Definitely,” I say.
Bexley points at all of us. “You’re horrible.”
“But accurate,” Lena says.
“What about Wolfe?” Cece asks.
“He’d befriend the wildlife,” I say without hesitation. “By day three, he’d have a bird on his shoulder and some terrifying jungle cat following him around like a puppy.”
“And he’d forage,” Bexley adds. “He’d be the only one who actually knows which plants won’t kill them.”
Lena nods thoughtfully. “Draygon would hunt.”
“Oh, absolutely,” I say. “He’d disappear into the trees with a knife and come back an hour later dragging dinner behind him without saying a word.”
Cece shudders. “Hot.”
“Concerning,” Bexley corrects.
“Both can be true.”
Lena glances toward Thorne. “Would he survive?”
I picture it for half a second and immediately start laughing. “Thorne would survive purely because the rest of them need entertainment.”
Cece’s already grinning. “Oh God.”
“He’d be frolicking across the beach in a loincloth, singing nineties hits at the top of his lungs while everyone else tries to build a signal fire.”
Bexley nearly chokes on her drink.
Lena folds forward, laughing so hard she can barely breathe. “A loincloth?”
“A tiny one,” Cece says between laughs. “And he’d act like he was headlining a concert.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Full choreography. Probably using a spear as a microphone.”
By the time we calm down, my stomach hurts.
Then Cece points toward Revel, who is still losing a fight with the folding chair.
“And him?”
We all watch as the chair collapses for what has to be the third time.
“Eaten first,” I say.
“Immediately,” Bexley agrees.
Lena wipes beneath her eyes. “By an animal?”
Cece takes a slow sip of her drink. “No. By the others.”
That sends us right back into hysterics.
Lena eventually passes me the sunscreen. “Can you get my shoulders?”
I squeeze some into my palm and start rubbing it over her back while the conversation turns into a very serious debate over which one of them would suggest eating Revel first and who would pretend to object before asking for seconds.
