Three Hundred Dollars and a Camera Crew

Chapter 3 Arrival

The flight was four hours. The show paid for it. I sat in economy class with a producer named Marcus across the aisle and a camera operator named Jill behind me. The cameras were off for the flight. That was the only break I got.

I ordered a ginger ale and drank it slowly. The flight attendant offered pretzels. I said yes. I ate the pretzels and tried not to look at Marcus, who was eating a chicken wrap that smelled like garlic and rosemary and everything good in the world.

We landed in a city called Bell Harbor. It was in another state, far enough south that the air was warmer and smelled like flowers and sunscreen. A car was waiting for us at the airport. A black SUV with tinted windows and leather seats and air conditioning that worked too well.

"This is where the Delacroix family lives," Marcus said as we drove. "They're one of our most requested host families. Very generous. Very involved in the show."

"The Delacroixs."

"Vivienne and Charles Delacroix. They have a daughter, Margot, who's about your age. She's the one going to your place."

I looked out the window. The city gave way to suburbs, then to long roads lined with palm trees, then to a gated community where every house looked like a hotel. The driveways were brick. The lawns were manicured. There were fountains.

The SUV stopped in front of a house that was three stories tall and had a porch with white columns. A woman was standing on the steps, waving. She had blonde hair pulled back in a knot and a smile so wide it looked like it had been rehearsed.

Vivienne Delacroix. She hugged me the moment I got out of the car.

"Caleb! Welcome! We are so happy to have you."

She smelled like expensive perfume. Her hands were soft. She held me at arm's length and looked me up and down.

"You're thinner than I expected," she said. "But don't worry. We'll fix that."

I did not know what to say, so I said, "Thank you for having me."

She beamed. The camera was already rolling. Jill was filming from the driveway. Marcus was taking notes on his phone.

Inside, the house was cool and quiet. There was a kitchen with an island the size of my entire apartment. There was a dining room with a table that could seat twelve. There was a refrigerator with a water dispenser and a freezer full of things I could not identify.

My room was on the second floor. It had a bed with white sheets so soft they felt like water. It had a private bathroom. It had a basket of snacks on the dresser: almonds, granola bars, dark chocolate, dried mango.

I set my bag on the floor and stared at that basket for a long time.

The first meal was lunch. Vivienne served it on the back patio, under an umbrella, next to a pool that was bigger than the apartment I shared with Derek. There was grilled chicken. There was a salad with avocados and goat cheese. There was fresh bread. There was lemonade.

I ate carefully. I ate the way you eat when you have forgotten what it feels like to be full. I ate the chicken first, because it was warm. I ate the salad second, because it was cold and bright and the cheese tasted like something from another planet. I ate two pieces of bread. I drank three glasses of lemonade.

Vivienne watched me. She had that camera-ready smile on her face.

"My, you have an appetite," she said.

I stopped chewing.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"No, no, eat. Please." She waved her hand. "We love a good eater. Margot never eats. She's always on some cleanse. It drives Charles crazy."

I ate the rest of the chicken. I ate another piece of bread. I wanted to eat more, but I could feel the cameras on me and I could feel Vivienne's eyes on me and I could feel the shape of the person I was supposed to be, the one with the bad attitude and the discipline problem, and I did not want to prove her right.

That night, I lay in the soft white bed and stared at the ceiling. The basket of snacks was still on the dresser. I had not opened it. I was saving it. For what, I did not know. There was a camera in the corner of the room. A small red light blinked.

I turned on my side and pulled the blanket up to my chin. The blanket was made of something so soft it felt like being held.

For the first time in months, I slept through the night.

The next morning, I woke up at six. The house was quiet. I went downstairs and found the kitchen empty. I opened the refrigerator. It was full. Eggs. Milk. Butter. Fruit. Cheese. Vegetables. Everything.

I stood there for a long time. The cold air on my face. The hum of the refrigerator. The quiet.

I made myself two eggs and toast. I ate them standing at the counter. I washed the plate. I put it back in the cabinet.

Then I went upstairs to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. I had gained a little weight already. My face looked fuller. My hands were steadier. I looked like a person who had slept and eaten.

I did not know what the show was going to do with this. I did not know what the point was supposed to be. I only knew that I was full for the first time in months, and I did not want to lose it.

But the cameras were watching. And the cameras would decide what to make of me.