CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The thing no one tells you about the games is that 90 percent of it is waiting around. Waiting for your chance to compete. Waiting for the next event to start.
Waiting to see how Dad does in the long jump.
“¡Vamos!” Dad shouts, letting out a battle cry before lunging as far as he can across the sand pit.
We wince at the hard thump of his landing. He’s steady, but doubled over, muttering a string of carajos under his breath. One of the few rules of the games is keeping things family friendly—aka no swearing. But there’s no rule about cursing in Spanish.
Maya and I hold our breath as a volunteer scribbles down Dad’s score. Six feet exactly, putting us firmly in the lead.
“Not bad, viejo,” Isabel praises when Dad hobbles over to us, clutching his lower back.
“I’m getting too old for this.” He slowly straightens, his spine audibly cracking.
Andy shudders. “Gross.”
“That’s middle age for you, bud,” Dad replies with a wince.
With Dad upright again, we set our sights on the last contestant of the round—Mr. Cooke. He plays it calmer and cooler than Dad did, bouncing on the balls of his feet and exhaling sharply before he takes off. His leap through the air is smoother, more athletic.
The landing, though? Not so polished.
His ankle buckles under his weight before he’s fully hit the ground, sending him flying face-first into the sand.
Fighting the urge to laugh at the sight of him absolutely eating shit is the real challenge.
“Guess I’m out of practice,” Mr. Cooke announces once he’s pulled himself onto his knees, his striped polo covered in sand.
Henry and Julian come to his aid, Henry hoisting him up while Julian wipes off his sunglasses. As entertaining as it was watching Mr. Cooke tumble like a five-year-old, all that matters is his score.
“Five feet eight inches,” the volunteer announces. “Point goes to Team Five, the Báezes.”
“I know that’s right!” Maya shouts, and launches herself into Dad’s arms.
We indulge in a round of hugs, pats on the back, and sips of water before hustling over to the next event. First place waits for no one.
We’re off to a strong start, nabbing first place in both the logic puzzle challenge and the memorization code-breaking challenge. Starting with our specialty gives us an early lead, but our winning streak falters when it comes to the physical. The Seo-Cookes blow us out of the water, literally, during the kayak race. They’re so far ahead of us that by the time Andy crosses the finish line, they are already downing Gatorades.
As expected, the newcomers don’t take the competition nearly as seriously as we do. They laugh and giggle while hopping across the grass for the three-legged race, not even bothering to get up when they inevitably stumble. Most of them are satisfied with sitting out and watching us battle instead.
And then there’s Liam.
Even without formal training, he’s a force to be reckoned with. His team isn’t half bad either. Whatever he’s bribing his employee teammates with—PTO or straight-up cash—it’s working. They land a few first- and second-place wins, narrowly edging us out of second place in the egg toss. We try not to psyche ourselves out too soon, focusing on doing our best without checking the scores.
Dad lets out a mighty cheer as the referee declares Andy the winner of the marshmallow-eating competition, with a record-setting total of eighteen marshmallows in two minutes. “Let’s go! That’s my boy!”
“For once your bottomless-pit stomach comes in handy.” Maya shakes Andy’s shoulder before heading off to the bulletin board where the schedule is posted to figure out where we need to head next.
“I don’t feel so good,” Andy mumbles, bracing himself on the emergency vomit bucket.
Isabel grimaces, kneeling down beside him and pressing her water bottle to his forehead. Andy’s turning an unfortunate shade of green that makes my stomach churn too. If he’s down for the count this close to the end of the day, we might be screwed.
Suddenly, Maya reappears beside us, dripping sweat and heaving for breath. “So, I don’t want to freak anyone out.” She pauses to brace her hands on her knees and take deep gulps of air. “But we need to win this next event.”
I hand her my water bottle once she starts fanning herself. “Wasn’t that always the goal?”
“No, we have to win.” She kneels down beside Andy, holding up her phone. “I know I said we wouldn’t check, but I couldn’t help it….”
It’s a photo of the leaderboard. My curiosity gets the better of me, despite my gut instinct to look away. The Seo-Cookes are in first, with us and Liam’s team tied for second. But the Seo-Cookes’ lead is slim, just two points separating them from us.
“If we get anything less than first, we’re done for. But if we do, and they get second—”
“We’ll be tied,” I finish for her, my stomach sinking as it slowly dawns on me that the 5K is the one thing standing between us and losing our cabin. And our fastest runner is turning green.
Across the field, Stella and Julian stand shoulder to shoulder, whispering intently, their expressions unreadable but borderline upset. Before I can pretend not to notice them, Julian’s eyes meet mine. My cheeks burn as I quickly turn back around, ashamed of breaking the composure I’d been so proud of maintaining. It’s easy to avoid Julian in the midst of a competition, but resisting the chance to sneak peeks during downtime is harder.
“You okay?” Maya asks while I stretch my arms out over my head to shake off any lingering thoughts of Julian.
She’s asked me that same question dozens of times since I came home in tears yesterday. The answer remains the same, but it holds a different weight on my tongue.
“Yeah.”
Even though it’s not true, it feels less like a lie and more like a promise.
When we’d first signed up for the Winter Games, having me run the last leg of the 5K seemed like a good plan. With Andy up first, followed by Maya, they’d be able to secure us a solid enough lead that even slowpokes like me and Dad should be able to clinch us a win. Now that we’re here, I’m not so sure.
A handful of contestants must have dropped out after the last event, given the thinner crowd waiting at our designated mark in the woods just outside the park. Less competition is ideal, but having Stella positioned right beside me definitely isn’t.
I start a fresh round of stretches while we wait, working some life back into my muscles. As nervous as I’m feeling, we don’t have room for negativity. We have to win this, or we can kiss first place goodbye. No pressure. I’m totally calm and definitely not freaking out.
“Hey,” Stella says as she approaches me.
Okay maybe I’m freaking out a little.
“Uh. Hi.” I give her a once-over for weapons. It doesn’t look like she has anything on her, but I brace myself for an attack anyway.
She doesn’t respond at first, fidgeting uncomfortably and glancing at the other competitors. Three of them are chatting about their dinner plans and the other two, including Liam’s teammate, are on their phones.
“I know this is probably a weird time to say this.” She pauses, closing her eyes for a moment. “But I’m sorry.”
Okay, they’re definitely up to something. I check over my shoulder for any sign of Julian or Henry lingering in the trees. When I turn around, Stella’s cheeks are dusted pink, her eyes downcast. I’ve never seen her look so…shy before.
“After Julian told us to call off our plans for the games, we freaked out. We’d just found that expired salami, and we had this great idea to plant a stink bomb under your porch, but it flopped at the last second. Bowing to you at the games felt like the last straw. We thought the chowder thing would be funny. Like old times. And we laughed at first, but then your sister started crying…. It doesn’t feel the same now that we know about all the stuff Dad did.”
“If you’re so sorry, why aren’t you apologizing to her?”
Her shoulders hunch as she shrinks in on herself, rubbing her hands along her arms. “Because I didn’t think she’d let me.”
She’s right. Maya wouldn’t let Stella get within five feet of her after everything that’s happened. I’m not inclined to believe her, but there’s something unusual about this quasi-apology. Not in a suspicious way, though. In a…genuine way. Stella’s actually being expressive. She’s got three inches of height on me but somehow seems so much smaller, her usual confidence dulled. Like Maya, she’s never been afraid of using her piercing gaze to tear someone down. But now she can’t even meet my eye.
“Julian told us about the robot. The one Dad took from you guys…We really didn’t know. About that, or the bet he made either.” Her tone is almost shameful, as if she’s apologizing on her dad’s behalf. “Dad’s…a lot sometimes. All of the time.” A hitch of her breath, and suddenly she’s looking at me. “I’m sorry.”
There are countless things she could be apologizing for, but it doesn’t feel like I’m the one who should accept them.
“Julian is sorry too,” she adds when I don’t respond, looking down and kicking one of the rocks at her feet. “If having you around all the time when you were fake dating was annoying, it was nothing compared to you two actually together. He never shuts up about you.”
The best thing to do would be to ignore Stella and focus on breathing exercises until Dad comes around the bend and hands me the baton. But…
“Really?” The minute the word comes out, I wince, wishing I could take it back.
She picks her head up, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Yeah, it’s super gross.” For once, I don’t detect a bite behind her voice. It’s just a regular sarcastic joke, not a barbed insult or backhanded compliment. “This was the first time he’s ever come to me about dating advice. I guess the Liam thing spooked him.”
“He…what?”
“He wrote down all these things about you. Honestly, I thought it was kind of creepy until he told me about how Liam dumped him over stupid, petty stuff like not knowing his favorite snack. Still, Julian was pretty hopeless before he came to me, so you’re welcome.” Her smile widens, blossoming into a grin. “Except making you that cake. That was his idea.”
My stomach flutters with a glimmer of hope. That maybe it was all a misunderstanding—that Julian really did stop scheming. But I hesitate, squashing that hope before it can grow into something dangerous. Maybe there was room for genuine interest in me somewhere in between the lies, but the list, the plotting against me. That was all Julian too. I was naïve enough to fall for a façade once. I can’t afford to do it again.
“He really wants to talk to you,” she adds.
My already sour mood worsens.
I shift my attention back to the race, stretching my leg out in front of me. “Well, I don’t want to talk to him.”
“I figured you’d say that.” She stands in front of me, arms crossed. “I know I’m the last person you’ll probably listen to, but can you please consider hearing him out?”
The audacity of this family never ceases to amaze me. “You’re in my way.”
A scream startles us before she can respond.
“They tripped me!” a voice cries out somewhere far behind us. The knot in the pit of my stomach tightens. It’s Liam. “Those assholes freaking tripped me!”
I’ve done my best to push away the memory of Julian’s scribbled list of ways to sabotage me, but the first entry comes rushing back.
Trip them during the 5K.
They’re still doing it. They’re still cheating.
A smirk tugs at the edge of Stella’s lips. Like she’s proud of what they’ve done.
Am I next?
Through the trees, I can make out a shock of red, followed closely by a blur of blue. Dad and Julian. My body tenses, every muscle pulled taut as Dad comes into view, his shirt completely drenched. He has a narrow lead, but Julian is quickly gaining on him and who knows what they might have in store for us. For a split second, I lock eyes with Julian. Stella holds her ground beside me, not preparing to run. Preparing to block me. They’re going to try and corner me, tackle me, or something. But I can’t lose. I can’t let Julian distract me again.
I hold my arm out as far as I can, taking off the second the baton touches my hand.
“¡Muévete, mijo! Go, go!” Dad shouts as I push right past Stella toward the finish line.
All at once, the world falls away. The trees blend into a blur of greens and browns, low-hanging branches and leaves whipping at my cheeks. My chest tightens, feeling impossibly small as my heart and lungs heave with every labored breath. The corners of my vision blur until the only thing I can make out is the path. Every inch of me burns, aches, begs me to give in. Flashes of practicing our smiles with Mami keeps me moving. Her scowl whenever we took anything less than first place pushes me through those last few feet.
We have to win.
I don’t even realize I’ve crossed the finish line until I almost run into a table stacked with cups of Gatorade. Maya rushes to my side before I collide with the table, wrapping her arms around my waist.
“You did it, Dev!” she shouts directly into my ear.
Oh my God. Holy shit. I did it.
The minute she lets go of me, I fall to my knees, my arms barely keeping me upright. She quickly kneels beside me, trying to get me to sip Gatorade in between dry heaves. If I could, I’d lie down on the ground and fall asleep right there, letting the sun burn me to a crisp. But we still have one fight left and I have none in me. They still need me if we want to pull this off—we’re close, but not out of the woods yet.
“Dude!” Andy exclaims, coming to join our huddle on the ground. He grips me by the shoulders, holding me up better than my own arms can. “That was so epic. I’ve never seen you run that fast before.”
I open my mouth to reply, “Neither have I,” but the minute I do, my body takes over. And I throw up.