Kayla
Why Reality TV Shows are Rigged
March 16th
3:00pm
"And if you turn the 6th card in the deck over, it will be a 7 of hearts. Simon? Am I right?"
The bright lights shined in my face as a tense audience stared back at me. Simon Cowell's waxy face stared into my eyes as he slowly flipped a card over. The big screens flashed as Simon's fingers flipped over a 7 of hearts. The crowd went wild and I flashed a big smile. I stood on the stage, a humble-looking smile plastered on my face as the judges complimented and criticized me. I said my thank-you's and walked backstage, plopping myself down on the couch, surrounded by congrats from other contestants. My dad sat next to me and tried to reach his arm around me. I stiffened at his touch, but knowing I would face consequences later, I let it happen and awkwardly leaned into him. As all the other acts came and went, I began to feel dizzy. This was all wrong. I didn't deserve to be here.
"Will all contestants come down to the stage in 5 minutes?" The producer had come into our lounge, clipboard and earpiece in hand. I frowned, taken aback at the time that had passed. My dad looked at me, his eyes crinkled in a smile, sparkling with a dangerous glare. I took a deep breath and walked out on the stage. The lights twinkled with an orangey brightness. The other contestants stood next to me, some fidgeting nervously and some looking confident. I could tell by the dark sign in the back of the theater and the lack of audience (they get sent out when the judges deliberate, to avoid spoilers) that we weren't filming yet, so I tried to make some small talk with the singer next to me.
"So… what're you going to do with the prize money?"
"I'm probably going to just pay off my student loans, maybe get a dog or something." I smiled at him, about to open my mouth, when I spotted my father in the wings of the stage. He cocked his head at me as he cracked his fingers. I swallowed, feeling nothing come down my throat. I sighed and walked down to the judges and shook their hands, one by one. I talked with them for a while, giving them my thanks for the "opportunities". I was down at their stand for a solid 20 minutes while the other contestants got their hair and makeup redone. I looked around and took a deep breath as I felt a warmth spread on my pinky finger.
"I wanna do one last trick for you guys. I'll be able to tell exactly what you guys thought about my performance, just by touching your hands."
I reached out my hands and touched all of them at once, trying to focus on their hippocampus, where all their short term memory is stored. Voices filled my head.
She was okay, bit boring. Very funny but not as good as any of the singers. Why is she still on this show? We had a magician win last year, and the producers don't like her. I took a deep breath and let it out, slowly. I tried to transmit my thoughts back to the judges. This whole situation was ridiculous. I was going to try to mind control the judges. I was fucking insane.
I'm pretty sure it was a really good performance. Miles better than everyone else. Don't you guys remember that? My pinky became cold as I looked up.
"You guys all thought that my performance was pretty good, right?" The judges all muttered in agreement.
"I just want to thank you guys for the opportunity on this show. I really hope you guys continue doing this job, because it's really amazing to have you guys judge me." I smiled hopefully as I walked back up to the stage.
After a minute, the audience filtered back in and the cameras were turned on to air. They turned on the dramatic red lights and eliminated my fellow contestants one by one. I could hear faint crying of the younger contestants in the wings as I looked at the remaining people on stage. It was only me, the "Playful Poodle Performing Company" and a singer. I tried to plaster on my best I'm just happy to be here smile. I seemed to space out for a minute.
This wasn't the first time my father and I had been in this position. When I was 9, I he made me enter an art competition. When I was 10, he forced me into a local talent show to be on the local news. When I was 11, I had to participate in a beauty pageant, despite being a newcomer to the pageant scene. The one thing that these had in common was that they all had a large cash prize. And that I won all of them. America's Got Talent was just another escapade.
"Kayla Fracker. Congratulations. You've won AGT!" I widened my eyes and gasped, trying to force happy tears out of my eyes. My dad rushed onto the stage and hugged me, as I tried hard to not freeze out of fear.
I'd remember this weird, weird bittersweet moment forever. That wasn't surprising, of course, because I had a photographic memory.
The whole event was over almost instantly. I said a few words to the press, and I talked with the judges and runner up, Playful Poodle Performing Company. The audience slowly emptied and the lights of the stage shut off. The producers Venmo'd the winning cash to us, and me and dad hopped in the car, $1,000,000 richer. My dad's winning smile quickly faded as we hopped in the car.
"Kayla, I think you could've done better with your winning smile. It won't look good for the press."
My dad looked at me in the rearview mirror, his hazelnut eyes sparkling dangerously. "You're lucky I forgot to bring belts on this trip, eh? Lucky I got me trusty loafers. Heh." I avoided his gaze. "Dad, I won the whole thing. Can we just have a normal night tonight? You- you can go out with Cheryl and I'll wash up all your clothes. And practice what you want me to do." I stared at the granola bar wrapper on the floor as I braced for a lecture.
"Eh, I'll think about it. You're practicing regardless. Use one of the bellboys this time, not a maid, kay? They'll be more gullible anyway." I was shocked that he didn't erupt like he usually did. There was an awkward silence for a minute, the sound of the engine consuming our ears. "C'mon, out of the car now." Dad grabbed my shoulder as he pulled me out of the car and pushed me towards our hotel.
"I'll meet you up there, I'm gonna get a few drinks in the lobby. Well, actually, come with me. I don't have my ID on me, I'll need ya to take care of me." He briskly walked towards me and grabbed my wrist. My hands began to shake as my arm was yanked. My mind raced. Someone could catch us, this had to be illegal. I had just come off of a win and I didn't want to end my day like this.
I stuck out my left pinky finger as my aquamarine ring swung loosely on my finger. I pointed it at my dad's forehead as the ring began to shimmer and glow. An intense pulling feeling manifested in my finger. My dad began to turn around.
"Kayla, what in fuck's name are you doing?" I closed my eyes and began to focus. I heard my dad slump to the ground of the parking lot. The outside world began to fade away as I found myself in a field, filled with mist. I began to walk forward, my hand outstretched, hoping to hit something. Clunk. A door. I turned the knob, walking into a loud pub. Men all chugged beer, and my dad was watching football at a table, surrounded by others. I walked through the wall of the pub, and saw a baby, alone in a car. I had a gut feeling it was me, probably around 1, before I was in the foster system. I began to approach the car, and a wave of dizziness hit me. Dad. He's waking up. I flung open the car door and grabbed the baby carrier. I brought it up to the front with me as I climbed into the driver's seat, keys still there. The car roared to life as I threw up in my mouth. I was running out of time. I swerved the car into the open traffic. I pulled the handle of the car and jumped out right before a driver hit the car. I winced as I saw blood hit the window. The world flickered out of view.
My ring glowed as I doubled over, puking all over the parking lot in the real world, my dad laying on the ground. I ran into the bushes, my eyes heavy from the effort. I watched as my dad picked himself up and continued walking as normal. I'd done it. I made my dad forget I existed.