CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
On New Year’s Day, Maya breaks out the megaphone again.
“Let’s go, maggots! It’s Lawgies time! ¡Levántate! ¡Levántate!” she shouts as she races through the cabin, banging on everyone’s doors.
“Watch it, nena,” Dad warns from the kitchen, plugging his ears when she turns on the megaphone’s siren.
The wakeup call does the trick. Everyone in the cabin is up and somewhat coherent before the sun has fully risen, a Báez family first. Even more unusual: I was up before all of them.
“See, someone has the right idea,” Maya praises once everyone piles into the kitchen, gesturing to where I’m already fully dressed and brewing coffee.
The dinner table is a mess of neon sweatbands, protein bars, and coffee-stained charts on our respective strengths and weaknesses. Once everyone is gathered and has a mug of coffee in hand, Maya pulls a box in from the living room, setting it down on the table with a clunk.
“I took the liberty of making us matching outfits.” She holds a bright red T-shirt and matching sweatband up to her chest with a proud grin, Badass Báez written across both in bold, block letters.
“A very nice touch,” Isabel praises, taking one of the shirts for herself.
“I thought the games don’t start until noon?” Andy complains, still blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “It’s not even eight. What’re we supposed to do until then?”
Maya throws a T-shirt at his head. “Practice. Duh.”
“But we’ve been practicing since we got here.”
Maya downs the last of her coffee in one gulp. “And today’s no exception.”
“Before we go full Rambo,” I begin, waiting until I have the room’s attention to continue. “I have something I want to show everyone.”
My heart flutters as I set my sketchbook down on the counter, flipped open to the finished portrait of Mami. “It’s for my mentorship application.” No one speaks up, most of them leaning in to get a better view. I hold my breath as they take it in, the first time I’ve ever shown them anything so personal.
It’s not the same portrait as the one Julian saw that afternoon, though it is very similar. It’s evolved into something much bigger—a complete scene instead of just a portrait. A combination of two ideas. Mami is still the focal point, wearing her favorite white sundress, orchids tucked into her curls. But instead of the ocean, she’s somewhere more familiar. The edge of her hidden pier, one arm around Dad, with me in his lap. The other around Maya. Our cabin in the distance, visible through the gaps in the trees.
As angry as I still am with Julian, this was one thing he was right about. This is who I am as an artist. It only took a couple half-finished sketches and some spilled milk to figure that out. With the piece scanned and sent with the rest of my application, and a confirmation email from Cardarelli’s assistant sitting in my inbox, I can finally breathe a little easier. I didn’t need to submit by today, but I need all my focus.
The games have never felt so important, and Mami has never felt as present as she does here, in this cabin we renovated to be everything she wanted it to be.
Maya’s hand finds mine, squeezing twice, an unspoken code we developed in middle school. I squeeze hers back when Dad scoops me up into a hug so tight it makes me cough. “It’s beautiful, mijo,” he whispers against my temple.
Today’s not a day for crying, but I can’t help the tears that well up when I wrap my arms around him.
“There’s one more thing,” I say before I can get too choked up to speak again. Pulling myself out of Dad’s arms, I cross the kitchen to grab a tray out of the fridge, setting it down beside my sketchbook.
“I thought we could start a new tradition.” My gaze flickers over to Isabel first, her hand over her mouth and her eyes glossy. “Tres leches cake on New Year’s Day.”
Dad barks out a laugh as he adjusts one of the cherries holding the smiling face together. Even Andy has cracked under the emotional pressure, two tears sliding down his cheeks. Isabel wipes her eyes before nodding.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
In comparison to our usual training routine, the morning is pretty tame. We can’t go too hard either way, unless we want to wind up puking the modest slices of tres leches cake we helped ourselves to for breakfast. We saved the majority of it for later, but that amount of dairy can work a number on even the most lactose-tolerant stomach.
We start with some warm-up stretches together in the backyard before heading out for a relaxed jog around the lake to get our blood pumping. Maya even praises my form as we stretch down to touch our toes. By noon, we’re energized with team spirit and two cups of coffee each.
Decked out in our matching T-shirts and sweatbands, we make our way to Allegheny Park to sign in and collect our team badges.
The park is as over the top as Liam’s personality. The waterslide I’d spotted during my night out with Julian is three times bigger in person, looming so high above us, it looks like it’s one with the clouds. There’s the usual theme park smell—deep-fried everything and chlorine—mixed with a surprisingly floral scent. As if the entire park were covered in Glade Plugins. There’s no way the Alleghenys will ever need Mr. Cooke and Spill-e; this place is immaculately clean all on its own.
“This is awesome,” Andy whispers as we step through the welcome gates and follow the path toward the check-in for the games.
Even Maya doesn’t have anything snarky to say, keeping her mouth shut as she stomps ahead of us. Through her tinted sunglasses I can see her peeking at the slides, her eyes widening at the sheer size of the attractions here. As Julian said, it does feel like the ultimate sandbox. Waterslides with nerve-racking turns. A lazy river with a breathtaking view of the lake. Food stands and trucks for every cuisine you can think of.
It’s magnificent and I hate it.
Much like at sign-ups, an unexpected crowd has already started to gather around.
Lake Andreas has come alive in the days leading up to the games. Literally. There are more people in town today than there have been all month. Old Bob’s store had a line out the door yesterday. A flurry of new faces bustled in and out with arms full of groceries and snacks. This morning, a bright yellow sign on the souvenir shop proudly announced that they’d sold out of I Got Crabs in Lake Andreas shirts. We even have a new set of neighbors—a family of four from Tampa who were more than happy with the deal they got on their mushroom cabin.
“Are all of these people competing?” Isabel asks as we struggle to stick together while navigating the crowd.
“They’d better not,” Maya snips, glaring at every unfamiliar face. “They don’t get to show up at the last minute and blow our chances.”
“Hey,” Dad warns. “Cuídate, nena.” He’s had to say that a lot during this trip.
We’re only halfway to the sign-in table when Old Bob spots us. “And the stars of the show have arrived!” The crowd parts for him, breaking out into hushed whispers as he ushers us up to the front of the line.
“Quite a turnout you got this year,” Dad says when a nearby woman starts taking pictures of us.
Old Bob beams while he hands us our entry badges. “We got a little creative with the marketing. My nephew’s been making these, uh…What’re they called, Janine?” he shouts over his shoulder to his wife, who’s organizing entry badges.
“TikToks,” she yells back.
“Right, TikToks,” he says with a snap of his fingers. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled poster. “Plus, we hung these up all over town. Folks ate ’em up.”
The poster is very different from the initial flyer Old Bob had shown us. It’s an illustration, depicting two teams, one red and one blue, competing in an intense game of tug-of-war. Front and center, between the two feuding families, are two boys. One red, one blue, holding hands. Beneath it, written in elegant script reads, Lake Andreas: Where Anything Can Happen.
Son of a bitch. They stole my face for a poster.
“Uh, very nice,” Dad replies diplomatically.
“Is that us?” Andy points to the hulking strongman on the blue team, clearly a depiction of Henry.
Maya shakes her head, pointing to the tall boy on the red team. “No, that’s us.”
Andy pouts. “My arms are bigger than that.”
Old Bob cackles as he takes the poster back, tucking it into his breast pocket. “Turns out the TikTok folks love a good rivalry.” He nudges my arm with his elbow. “And a little star-crossed-lover action never hurts either.”
Great, our family rivalry and my fake romance has an audience.
“That’s very exciting, but we should go get ready for the first event.” Dad grabs the last of our badges and pulls us away. While I haven’t told anyone besides Maya about my fallout with Julian, it didn’t take long for everyone to draw their own conclusions.
“Best of luck!” Old Bob calls out, waving his cane in the air. “Make us proud!”
The crowd gawks in awe as Dad bustles us toward the roped off parking lot where most of the events are being held, more of them whipping out their phones to snap photos of us. Going from seeing basically no one for three weeks to becoming a local celebrity overnight isn’t helping our pre-games jitters. We keep our eyes forward, following Dad until a shoulder knocks roughly into mine. I’m prepared to brush it off when a familiar flash of sandy-blond hair catches my eye. I turn on my heels, hoping that I was just seeing things, but no. The reality is as horrifying as my imagination.
“Good luck out there,” Liam says with a sneer, an entry badge pinned to his T-shirt.
Of course Liam entered the games. As loose as the rules are, this seriously feels like cheating. How can the son of this year’s sponsor be allowed to compete?
Behind Liam are three very confused-looking water park employees pinning entry badges to their shirts. Nothing in the rules ever said teams had to be made up of family members. Paying off his dad’s employees must be Liam’s way of getting around any potential conflicts of interest. Though this still seems like a serious violation.
Then again, I’m not surprised that Liam thinks he can be an exception.
“Don’t need it, but thanks,” I reply before rushing to catch up with the others. Liam winning could potentially work in our favor. The bet only said Mr. Cooke would get the cabin if they won. But I can’t stomach the possibility of admitting defeat to someone like him.
It’s probably a bad sign that I’m even entertaining the notion of losing.
After I catch up, Dad guides us behind a grilled cheese food truck, away from prying eyes.
“Well, that was unexpected,” he says once we’re out of earshot.
Maya takes a pack of safety pins from her backpack, handing one to each of us before working on pinning her badge to her T-shirt. “So long as they don’t get in our way, they can take all the pictures they want.”
The sound of a familiar cackle travels over to our hiding spot. Mr. Cooke slaps a hand on Liam’s shoulder, too wrapped up with pleasantries to notice our presence. But the others do. All three of them—Henry, Stella, and Julian—freeze at the sight of us.
I tell myself I’m not going to look at Julian, and shocker, I don’t listen.
It would hurt less if he wasn’t looking at me, too, if his eyes weren’t twice as stunning as I remembered. If I didn’t have the tools to take him down sitting at the bottom of my backpack.
Julian takes a step toward me, but I’m tugged away before he can make it any farther.
With a scowl at the Seo-Cookes, Dad ushers us off in the opposite direction, but not before Maya can flip them off while Dad isn’t watching. Andy quickly joins in, throwing in a stuck-out tongue for good measure. If my stomach wasn’t trying to come out through my mouth, I might have joined them.
The worst part is that Julian still haunts my thoughts. I ripped the lazy doodles of him out of my sketchbook and buried them beneath the banana peels and rotten vegetables in the kitchen garbage can. New Nostalgia is wiped from my Spotify. My nose piercing isn’t infected anymore, so the tea tree oil joined the sketches in the trash. I’ve severed everything that ties me to Julian, and yet I still don’t feel any better.
Just because the proof of what we had is gone doesn’t mean I’m ready to forget.
“All right, listen up,” Dad announces, clapping his hands together to get our attention. “You guys have trained hard for this. And I’m very proud of all the work you’ve put in, regardless of what happens. But you’ll have to make sure you stay alert.” He stares pointedly at me. “We know they’ve played dirty before. Don’t let any of them hurt you.”
An unsettling burn trickles down my neck, between my shoulder blades. Eyes boring into me. I check to see if Julian is still there, waiting for me to face him, but they’re gone. Even after all my efforts to forget him, I’m still searching for him in the crowd.
My jaw locks as I refocus, answering for the whole family.
“We won’t.”
I won’t. Never again.