Three hours? I can’t. I just can’t. I slump down onto a fallen log and let my body go limp. Tears fill my eyes and I shake my head with what’s left of my energy. “Okay, forget it. I’m not meant for this. I give up. Just call the helicopter and have them come get me. I don't want to do this anymore. I thought I wanted a great adventure, but this is not what I had in mind. You win. My brother wins. My father wins.”
I let one arm flail out to the side. “The entire staff at the palace—they all win. I am just a sheltered, spoiled, soft princess who has no business being out here whatsoever. I'm sorry I wasted your time and the time of the network, and I sincerely apologize to the People for Animals Society for losing the funding, but please, I must leave now.”
He holds his hand out to me and for the briefest second, I think he’s going to say something kind, but he doesn’t. Instead he barks, “Get off that log. You’re about to be attacked by a colony of fire ants.”
Something pinches my wrist. “Ouch! Shit!”
When I look down, I see an army of enormous red ants, who are marching three by three toward me.
I jump up, screaming. “Get them off me! Get them off me!!!!” while I run to Will.
He stops me with both hands, then brushes the ant off me while I continue to scream.
“It's okay. It’s gone now.”
“No, it's not okay,” I say, shaking my head wildly. “Just call them. Call them and get me out of here now! This is over. You were right. I was wrong. I can admit it, okay. I’ll go home and go back to giving tours to those hateful nonagenarians. It’s not that bad.”
He stares down at me, his face softening. “This is the worst moment. I promise it gets better from here.”
“No, it won’t.” I hear the sound of loud sobs and it takes a moment before I realize they're coming from me. Taking a deep breath, I say, “I thought this was like Survivor—if something goes wrong, they always have people nearby to rescue them.”
“Survivor’s a game show. Have you not watched The Wild World?”
“I assumed you didn’t show the safety people,” I say, sniffling in a most undignified way.
“That’s because there aren't any safety people,” he says, shaking his head. “What did you think the danger bonus was for?”
“I don’t know, to make the whole thing more dramatic?” Desperation overtakes me. I close my eyes and start clicking my hiking boots together at the heels, saying, “There's no place like home. There's no place like home.”
After a few moments, I open my left eye first, only to find Will staring at me, his mouth agape.
“Oh, dear,” he says, his expression somewhere between pity and fear.
“I'm sorry I did this. I never should've applied. I think maybe I’m having some sort of quarter-life crisis or something,” I say as I pace back and forth in front of him. “I’ve just turned twenty-nine … which would mean I’m planning to live to be almost one-hundred and twenty. Maybe it’s a third-life crisis. Is that a thing?”
“Not sure, but the math sounds solid.”
“Okay, at least that’s something, right? The thing is, I’m under a tremendous amount of pressure to find a husband before I turn thirty. Only all the men I know are complete wankers and I could never be attracted to any of them. They want to set me up with the future Earl of Wimberly, and do you know what his nickname is? Hal, as in halitosis! Yeah, imagine kissing that until death do us part. No, thank you.
“Then I drank too much champagne at your sister’s stupid wedding. Who has a champagne fountain? I mean really! How irresponsible can you be?! After my third glass, I met you and I thought, ‘Yes!’”
His eyes grow wide and I realize what he thinks I just said.
“No, not like that. I don’t want to marry you. God, no. You’re a total prick. I wanted your life for a while. The way you were bragging about it, you made it sound so free and easy and wonderful—all lies, by the way—but I thought to myself, ‘If I could just be him, even for a few short days, it will all be okay.’
“I just needed a break from constantly being told what to do and how to do it and what to wear and what I can't wear and what to eat and what I can't eat. Did you know we’re not even allowed to eat garlic if we’re going to see the Queen of England any time in the next month?” I ask, stopping and nodding my head. “Yeah, no garlic! And I'm not allowed to wear heels taller than two inches or miniskirts. In fact, I can't even wear anything that cuts off above the knee, as if my bare knees are so scandalous. I’ve had to dress like I'm some woman in late menopause since I was … well … born, I guess. And honestly, that makes it really hard to attract a man.”
I step closer to him and put my hands on his upper arms. Oh, God, those are muscly. Never mind that. “You know when I got to wear those shorts earlier? That is probably the most free I've felt in my entire life. But then you said I had to change, and it was over, like that.” I snap my fingers in his face. “And now, here we are. I’m in my baggy, ugly communist-chic outfit, and I'm going to get us both killed. I am, Will. We are going to die out here. Possibly today, maybe tomorrow, but most certainly before the end of the week. I'm not going to see my niece and nephew grow up. I mean, they're so cute and cuddly, and they adore their Auntie Arabella.” I start to cry, my voice going up two octaves as I start to pace again. “And what about Gran? She seems as tough as nails, but honestly, she's been through so much and now with her heart condition. I don't think she could take if something happened to me. I'm her favorite person.”
I stop pacing and stand in front of him, then burst into uncontrollable sobs until tears are pouring down my cheeks. I cover my face with my hands and cry into my palms, feeling like Anne of Green Gables when she’s in the depths of despair. I feel Will’s arms wrap around me and he shushes me while holding the back of my head gently.
“And I've had to use the loo for hours now and I'm afraid to ask how that even works because I hate you so much and I just know it's going to be horrifyingly embarrassing and likely you'll have to stand guard while I squat somewhere only to end up wiping my arse with some sort of plant that will cause a horrible rash!” I sob into his shirt. “An itchy, painful rash. And I’m not allowed to scratch anything, let alone my bottom. It’s going to be excruciating!”
“Oh, wow,” Will says, letting out a long breath. “When you fall apart, you really go for it.”
I nod, pulling back a little, then my face crumples and I wail, “I’m not allowed to fall apart!”
“Okay, Arabella,” he says, lowering his face to mine and maintaining direct eye contact. “Let’s deal with one problem at a time. Using the loo is pretty simple, really. I'll find some moss for you, then dig a little hole near a log—one without fire ants—then I’ll walk away to give you some privacy. You do what you need to do, then you cover the hole and we don't ever have to talk about it again.”
I nod and sniffle. “That sounds dreadful.”
“It’s not all bad. Once we’ve dealt with that, I’ll set up the camp and feed you. I promise, you’ll feel a thousand times better once we do those things, okay?”