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The list is distributed, along with photos. Everyone is expected to memorize it. Few do. The competitors are tacked onto the wall at Ray’s diner one by one. No one is supposed to bet on the outcome—it’s strictly against the rules—but it doesn’t stop them from ranking, making predictions, picking a favorite. The competitors can be divided into two groups.

Those who are best described as aspiring:

A social media fitness model

A graffiti artist

A YouTube prank-show host

An app developer-slash-house sitter

A jewelry designer-slash-dog walker

A zealous CrossFit instructor

An actress with severe food allergies



Those who are best described as stalled:

A writer with severe people allergies

A boy equal parts banished and lost

The kindest gas station attendant in Pocatello, Idaho

A veteran

A solar panel salesman

An eternal intern

And Mack, who is nobody, if she has her way





* * *



—

Seventeen hours on a bus to another bus to a third bus to a glorified minivan, and finally Mack is delivered to the middle of the middle of nowhere. She often wonders which is more anonymous: a big city with so many people to notice that no one notices anyone, or the empty countryside where no one lives. Stepping off the van into a swirl of dust, greeted by no one, she suspects the former. She can see for what feels like miles in either direction down the road. Which means she can be seen, as well.

If she doesn’t win, will they give her a bus ticket back? Or will she be stuck here? She doesn’t even know where here is, unsure what state she’s in. It’s green, wildly so, with huge trees and droning insects. It seems flat, but she can’t see beyond the road or the trees.

She sits on the side of the road, clutching the Ox Extreme Sports duffel bag she was given. It contains seven shirts and four pairs of pants. They’re all a weary shade of black. New but already faded, somehow. They feel familiar.

There’s also a toiletries kit, which feels like a tender mercy. There were several granola bars and a bottle of water, but those disappeared a few hours into the seventeen she spent getting here. Hungry is hungry. No point in stretching out what she has when she can have the luxury of a full stomach once.

After an hour, her unease sharpens, pulling ever tighter. No one has come. The trees loom at her back. The road stretches, empty.

Has the game already begun? Has she already lost?

It could be worse. She’s endless miles from where she knows, but she has clothes. Toothpaste, a toothbrush, deodorant, a comb. A sturdy bag. She’s technically ahead of where she was before.

The protest of a much-abused automobile suspension greets her long before another van pulls up. She’s resigned. It’s here either to pick her up—found!—or to deliver her to the actual game.

It spews out three people and then unceremoniously continues along the infinite road. Two women and a man. A boy, really, Mack gets the sense. He can’t be much younger than she is, and he’s far taller, but something—the boyish part in his hair, the round face, the long-sleeved white button-up worn tucked into ill-fitting, cheap navy slacks—suggests he was dressed by someone else.

One of the women is put together with an artist’s attention to detail. She is as much makeup and hair product as she is person, and Mack is dazzled by the visual perfection. It’s almost hard to look at her. The other woman wears a black tank top over baggy cargo pants. She limps slightly as she shifts off the road and next to Mack.

The limping woman, her buzzed head emphasizing her large dark eyes, regards Mack without shame. The beautiful woman doesn’t regard Mack at all. She scowls at her phone, holding it ever higher as though reception could be found that way. And the boy looks everywhere but at the women he is with. A fine sheen of sweat is on his forehead, wet spots at his armpits. He looks ready to flee.

Someone here is more terrified than Mack. It’s comforting.

“Fucking kill me, there’s really no reception,” the beautiful woman finally says, still clutching her phone as some sort of talisman. “Lighting is too harsh, anyway.” For the first time, she looks at Mack, who has shifted farther back from the road, almost to the tree line. “Did they tell you anything?”

Mack shakes her head. When the van picked her up at the bus station, the driver had only said, “Oxen Free?” He even asked her what it was, but she mumbled an answer and pretended to fall asleep.

“Ava,” the woman with the buzzed head says.

“What?” the beautiful woman snaps.

“Ava.”

The beautiful woman throws both hands in the air. “What?”

The buzzed woman lifts an eyebrow, patience wearing thin. “We didn’t talk in the van, so I’m introducing myself. I’m Ava. And you are…”

Finally, the beautiful woman relaxes, snorting a laugh. “God, sorry, I’m such a bitch when I’m hungry. I’m Ava, too. That’s why I was confused.”

“May the best Ava win, Ava Two.” Buzzed Ava’s wry smile shows dimples deep enough to get lost in.

“I intend to.” Beautiful Ava’s tone is more playful than vicious. She retreats into the trees, snapping several selfies. Buzzed Ava turns to Mack expectantly.