Sparks was floating so high that he might as well have been in orbit. Not only did I take the crown for OO, but Hanson defended his title in HI (only five people walked out) and Taryn and Milo won in duo. Three State Champions. Logan and Anesh had already qualified for Nationals, even though they didn’t even final at State. All six of us were going on.
It was the most successful year in Sparks’s illustrious career.
The story of my dad had only managed to bolster his legend. I felt sick.
Because of rules, Lakshmi wasn’t allowed to give me a ride home. Everyone else’s parents were there. Everyone else got a ride home. I had to take the bus back to the school. By the time the awards ceremony was over, it was nearly midnight, and I sat by myself, holding the huge trophy I’d won, staring out the window at the passing streetlights.
Sparks settled into the seat across the aisle from me.
“I caught your performance in the final round.” He smoothed out his pants.
Luckily, the trophy took up the seat next to me on the bus, so he couldn’t move too close. I didn’t say anything.
“Nice work.”
I suppressed the urge to tell him to go fuck himself.
“That’s why I push you, you know. To get that out of you.”
“I’m actually pretty tired,” I said, trying to get him away from me.
“Mm-hm. Tough day.”
“Yeah.”
“I wish you would’ve shown that to me earlier. We could’ve cleaned some things up.”
“Cleaned some things up?”
“You think it’s perfect?”
“Well, I just won State, so.”
“So you think that will win Nationals?”
I sighed and looked out the window. “I’m not really concerned about winning right now, honestly.”
“Sure,” he said, nodding. “But you should be.”
“Man, you never stop.”
“We’ve got two weeks until Nationals—you think there aren’t other sob stories there? Kids who were homeless. Kids with terminal diseases. It’s more than just crying and cracking a few jokes and telling a good story. You have to be exceptional.”
“Can you just maybe give me a moment before starting in on this?”
“Why?”
“’Cause it’s a decent, humane thing to do? Give me a minute.”
“You think those other State Champions are resting? They’re training right now.”
“Oh my God, it’s not Hunger Games, give me a second.”
“No. Sydney. You have a chance to win. You were really good tonight, but you weren’t great. I’ve never had someone win OO at Nats. Not once. I’ve only had one person final ever. You think this was tough? Imagine sixteen rounds. Over three days. Four hundred kids competing. You won’t win if you don’t push yourself.”
“You keep telling me I can’t win, and yet…” I held up the trophy, which was actually kind of difficult because it was so heavy.
“Your mom didn’t come tonight, did she?”
I looked down at my hands.
“You didn’t want her to see what you can do. I get it. It’s painful. Sometimes it’s easier to share pain with a roomful of strangers than the people we love.”
“She had to work tonight.”
“Right.” He smoothed out his hair. “I want you to work with me on that piece.”
I blinked away tears. The last thing I wanted to do was spend hours opening my heart about my father to the guy who was responsible for him going to prison.
“I think I can do fine on my own, actually—”
“You think I give this opportunity to everyone? Give that much of my time? You could be the exception. You could win.”
“That’s all it’s ever about with you, isn’t it?”
“Why wouldn’t it be? Do you know what you get for winning Nationals?”
“I don’t know… I live, and all the other tributes are murdered?”
“It’s a full-ride scholarship. Institution of your choice. You could write your ticket anywhere.” I didn’t say anything. “You know I looked at your grades from your last school. Edina?”
I focused on my reflection in the dark window.
“Pretty bad. Not the kind of thing a college is likely to overlook. But you know that. You would have to have a pretty exceptional accomplishment to get into a decent school with grades like that. Probably have to do more than just qualify for Nationals; you’d probably have to do really well there.”
A little crack opened in my mind. A door I had already closed. Sure, there were careers you didn’t need to go to college for, and maybe with a little luck and good grades my senior year I could apply to a community college. Maybe save up enough money to pay for a year, maybe take out a loan. Maybe it would turn out okay.
Maybe.
Or maybe something would go wrong; somebody would get sick, my mom could lose her job, I could fail a class, I could make a mistake somewhere along the way… and it would all fall apart. And I’d be struggling to keep my head above water every day of my life, and just like my mom I’d wake up at forty-four years old and be worth negative money. Maybe there was a better way.
What if I could get that scholarship? What if I could get into a good school? What if that would change my whole life?
“Work with me for two weeks. Let me help you. Let’s try to win Nationals together.”
He extended his hand.
I took it.