AN: Guess where I am…that's right, Chicago! Okay…no one cares…you're all thinking, 'I wish she would shut her trap and get on with the story'…but a few notes first. I stopped at a library for like two seconds to check my reviews so I would be able to respond.

First of all, I'm sooooooo sorry if I offended any Christians out there. I'm just going by the general consensus that Christians think homosexuality is wrong- I don't mean to stereotype at all. I know some Christians out there don't mind or even are homosexual themselves, and to all of you, kudos- fine by me. I'm sorry to say you're outnumbered, and that's what I'm going by. Again, I'm sorry if I offended anyone.

And thank you to all the first time reviewers- and first time slash readers (Wahoo! Look, I'm converting people!)…I really appreciate your reviews, because sometimes I have to beat myself with a large stick to sit down and write because I'm a lazy bum, and your reviews are really pushing me forward! Thank you all!

Okay, enough babble. It's the beginning of week three, and time for the head of household and food competitions. I'm stealing a contest from the newest big brother season just because I thought it was absolutely hilarious, so don't shoot me for copying!

                                                                                                                                               

Itey

            I really was wondering if Racetrack had somehow caused Skittery's fall. I know it's probably childish to think that way, but everyone knew that those two were at each other's throats. But then again, wouldn't the cameras have caught it? They would've kicked Racetrack out if he did anything like that, right?

            It was just weird, you know, how they were the only ones in the room when it happened. And how guilty Race acted when we first ran in. But Skittery didn't seem concerned.

            "Skittery?"

            No answer. I walked into the darkened room, noting that he was fast asleep, and covered in a sheen of sweat. He stirred but didn't wake up as I entered, and I set a glass of water down on his nightstand. He'd insisted that no one- including Mush- was to do anything more than check on him for fear of getting the whole house sick. And everyone in that bedroom had temporarily moved to evicted house guest's beds.

            I was about to leave, but even in the dim light, I noticed something odd. I brushed Skittery's hair back- it was always hanging in his face- and I noticed a long scar running across his forehead and down the side of his face, just below the hairline. I shuddered as I wondered what possibly could've caused that.

            I studied him carefully and turned his arm over so that it was wrist up- and for the first time, I saw the scars all over his wrists and arms. Most of them very strategically placed.

            I may be considered the 'kid' of the house, but even I knew what that meant. But I'd never even thought of him as the suicidal type.

            I wondered what the other scars were from, the ones not on his wrist and not so easily self inflicted. Were they from drug buys gone bad? Fights while he was high?

            Abuse?

            I backed away from the bed and swallowed hard as he shifted again, and then I practically leaped out of the room. I had to tell someone.

            Would he want me to tell anyone?

            I lingered in the hallway, breathing hard and not quite sure what to do. If I told, there was a good chance Skittery would get mad. Very mad. And from what I understood, you didn't want to make him mad. Besides, what good would it do to tell? He was already a not-so-trusted member of the household, and I would completely alienate him if anyone else knew. I couldn't do that to him.

            "Itey? Are you okay?"

            I spun around in a panic and came face to face with Spot, and I let out a huge breath, realizing that I'd been holding it for who knows how long. Spot studied me carefully, his eyes narrowing.

            "I'm fine." I muttered, turning away from him.

            "Now, I ain't falling for that again. You look like you saw a ghost in there. What's wrong?"

            "I…can't tell you."

            His expression turned deadly serious. "Did he threaten you? Did he hurt you? I swear, I'll-"

            "NO!" I lowered my voice, having scared him to death. "No…I just…well, come on."

            I took one last glance around the hallway to make sure no one was around, and then I grabbed Spot's arm and dragged him into the room where Skittery was still fitfully sleeping. If I didn't tell Spot, he was going to get very suspicious very fast. And he had a temper not to be tampered with, just like Skittery.

            I led him to the bed and pointed at Skittery's arm, still laying just as I had left it on the bed. Spot tilted the lamp to get a better look, and I saw him shake his head.

            "No one knows about this. And that's the way it's gonna stay." He hissed after a moment of thought, and then he put an arm around my shoulders and led me further from the bed, looking me in the eye. "We don't know how old those scars are, and therefore we don't have the right to make assumptions, right?"

            I nodded, and he patted me on the back. "Let's just do him a big favor and keep this our little secret. He's already in bad enough shape as it is."

Bumlets

            "Hello, house guests."

            "Hi Sarah."

            "Are you ready for this week's food and head of household competition?"

            We all said yes, but nobody really was. That week had been exhausting, and looking at a chair set up on a platform and two tables twenty feet away with a tray and champagne glass on one didn't help the mood- this was going to be interesting.

            "I suppose you want an explanation of the set-up in front of you. For one, the chair is very special. Once you sit down and are seatbelted in tightly, it will begin to spin…very fast."

            The chair began to spin, and everyone groaned at the idea of sitting in it while it was moving that fast- I, however, could already see my advantage forming. I was a dancer. I knew how to spin like that without getting dizzy.

            "After thirty seconds, the chair will stop. You will then be timed as you stand up, walk to table number one, pick up the tray with the full glass of champagne on it, and carry the tray over to table two without the champagne glass falling over."

            Wow. Skittery would probably end up glad he got to sit this one out. He was already sick enough without spinning in that chair for thirty seconds.

            Sarah continued the explanation. "If four out of the nine of you get it to the other table without pitching the glass over, you win the food competition. The person with the fastest successful time will be head of household. Specs, go ahead and strap yourself in."

            Specs sighed and sat down in the morbid looking chair, snapping the belt and tightening it. He obviously wasn't a dancer in any way, because he decided that the best thing to do was squeeze his eyes shut as tight as he could. When the thirty seconds came to an end, he could barely stand, let alone walk in a straight line. And the glass fell on the first step he took.

            As a dancer, you learned that when you spin you pick one thing to concentrate on, and that should be the first and last thing you see in the spin. It requires whipping your head around very fast, like you'll see any ice skaters do in their spins.

            Blink had limited dance experience, but since his concentration wasn't ballet, he didn't quite have it perfected. But he managed to make it, getting the champagne to table two without it falling over. His time ended up being 15.45 seconds.

            Itey obviously didn't grasp the concept. The poor kid went down, tray and all.

            I was surprised with Mush. I'm not really sure how he did it, but even without using a dancer's technique he was surprisingly sure-footed coming off the platform. He was like a pro and managed to succeed in a startling 11.56 seconds.

            But that's where our luck ended. Spot went next, and he dropped the tray just three feet from table two.

            And Dutchy? I felt sorry for him.

            He came off the platform, and instead of heading toward table one, he took one shaky step and then he fell over backward in a dead faint. He was out like a light. He had to be carried out of the way so everyone else could finish up, and Specs sat by him, keeping a close eye on him and waiting for him to come to.

            Then Race and Snitch both tipped the glass. We had lost the food portion of the competition already- PB + J for the next week. But I still had a chance to win head of household.

            I wasn't a bit dizzy as I stepped down from the chair, and I broke into a sprint and got the champagne to table 2 in 8.34 seconds.

            "Congratulations, Bumlets. You are the new head of household. But I'm sorry to say that it's PB + J for the next week for the entire house." Sarah said.

            Talk about a bittersweet victory…

                                                                                                                                               

AN: Funness! Spinning newsies until they pass out is more fun than it looks. I hope everyone else enjoyed it too. I know the chapter started out morbid, but I hope the spinning newsies made up for it. Next chapter- nominations and veto competition! Prepare to be shocked!

Also, if this chapter actually gets posted, I'm the luckiest girl in the world. Don't be surprised if my updates are a bit spurratic (?) for the next few days, cause I'm having major computer issues here. I'm just glad to get ONE chapter up- getting on the internet at all takes hours. So I'm not sure how much updating I'll be doing until this all gets resolved, which SHOULD be pretty soon. I guess that kills the uber-update idea……oh well……please review!