My palms are sweating as I pace the parking lot, eyeing the path that leads to the beach and the crowds and maybe Apollo and definitely my fate. I shake out my hands. Just walk over shells in one particular direction. Run it. There it is, and I need to go or I’m going to miss the start of the race, and what if Apollo is there, waiting, as disappointed as I would be if he’s not there?
“So…shall I set up here?” Roxanne twirls her cream-colored parasol, her long dress and red hair floating on the gentle breeze. “Where we can stare at everyone headed to where you should be right now.”
I laugh and put my hands on my hips. It’s nice to have her back on Simona.
She steps beside me, giving my elbow a nudge. “No matter what, it’s going to be okay, Xia.”
“And if it’s not? If he’s not here? What if he already went home?”
“Then you win the Moss Monster Meet by yourself, fly to New York tomorrow to call him an ass for abandoning you, and then kiss him hard. That’s the plan, right?”
“That’s what we decided on.”
“You came up with all of it. I just agreed.” She knocks into me with her hip. “Go forth, warrior woman. I can’t take this step for you.”
So I do. I move forward on shaky legs with Roxanne beside me. A few people who didn’t set up early walk with their chairs, making lines in the sand with their dragged coolers. They pause to wish me well. I grow a little stronger with each greeting and wave. The Harpers’ toddler runs and grabs my hand in both of her teeny ones, jumping up and down saying “motts botts” over and over until her dad scoops her up and over his shoulder and tells me that she’s asked every day for a month if it was Mossy day. He’s glad it’s finally here, for sanity’s sake. My sore soul fills up like a balloon.
I love this island and these invasive, wonderful people. And I love Apollo so much. I can’t imagine leaving Simona for good, but if there’s a chance for us, I don’t want a life without Apollo. But that’s a problem for tomorrow. I only have today.
The bullhorn calling the racers has me kicking off into a sprint. I’m going to win this, so I shouldn’t start out losing.
“Go get ’em!” Roxanne yells after me.
The starting line is hidden behind a couple of hundred onlookers settled into beach chairs, shaded under umbrellas, and sitting on coolers filled with snacks and booze. Blue, cream, or green marks their resort allegiance, and many hold posters, hand fans, and little flags. On the tables twenty feet from the starting line, attendants load silver platters with a variety of different barware, each filled to the top with blue, red, and peach liquids. If they make the trip, the attendees get to enjoy even more drinks.
Down the beach, twenty kayaks face the ocean. People mill about on the decks of three boats floating past the crest line. Our “victims” for the Wave Rescue event are ready to be saved. Recycled streamers strung along poles stuck in the sand disappear around the corner. That’s where everyone starts separating. I bet as soon as we hit the forest, the guides for the Lost Tourist Jungle Hunt will give us clues to where we can find our specific missing person, and once we locate them, we’ll travel to the waterfall for the Ring Retrieval. Once completed, we’ll hop in our fully loaded cart and speed back to the beach, where we have to park and sprint a half-mile to the finish line. That makes the most sense.
The crowd cheers when I jog into the contestant funnel. I grin and slap outstretched hands. The familiar squeal of Jose makes me pause. Walt holds up a neon poster that says Xia is the Boss of the Moss in thick, perfect script. I backtrack to hug them over the orange construction fencing, then move to get to the starting line.
The first people I see when I turn the corner are the adventure twins doing synchronized windmills, making their identical hair flop the same way. The sour catering manager glares. “Oh good. She made it.”
“Try to sound a little more thrilled, Frank.” Monique grins wide. “I am so glad to see you.”
I tilt my head. “That’s terrible smack talk.”
She rubs her hands together. “I’m just getting warmed up.”
I bite my lip and try to find the only face I need in this crowd.
“Oh, hon,” Monique says, making my heart sink. Her eyebrows are angled in pity, lips tight. Days ago, I would have smiled, said I was fine, showed that I can do this on my own, but I can’t.
“He’s not here, is he?”
Crossing her arms, she cocks her hip. “Of course, he is. You think he wouldn’t show if there was a chance you’d be here? Please. Nah, I was wondering if you’re okay. Heard about your clinic visit.”
I go on tiptoes and look around. “It’s fine. Like, really fine. I wasn’t taking care of myself.”
“That’s not like you.”
I grin. “Well, I was distracted by—”
Apollo steps from around the corner, eyes wide, as if in shock that I’m here, and my heart skitters off in a sprint. We both move toward each other quickly, but he stops short, head pivoting to glance at the crowd, who have grown suspiciously quiet.
He takes a small step back, gripping his neck. “I...” His voice is a tired rumble. “How’s the leg?”
I have no idea what to say to him either. Well, I do, but not here and he seems uncomfortable. Probably because I’m uncomfortable. “Um, all better.”
He opens his mouth, and the horn sounds for lineup. I’m not ready. We dive into action—him jogging back to the registration table to get the grease pen, and me throwing my bag in the runner’s cubby and sliding my goggles in place on my head. He grips my arm, making my skin tingle and heat, and draws on a number. I read the numbers to distract myself from his touch. “Eighteen-A, huh? Out of twenty teams.”
“Someone waited to ask me,” he says, focused on his work. “Wasn’t sure you’d be here today.”
I bite my lip. “I wasn’t sure you’d be here either.”
Beside Bodhi, who’s looking a bit green like most first-timers, Indigo flexes her barely-there muscles. “Get out of the kitchen, because you all are losing to The Heat.” Her mini fan club chants a round of “Turn up the Heat” for her, and both Apollo and I catch each other’s amused eyes. My mouth dries up, and I want to kiss him now, hard and forever.
Mama jogs over to hug me. “Has he told you yet?” she whispers in my ear.
I sneak a glance at Apollo, but he’s shifting on his feet, arms crossed.
“Told me what?”
Reaching out to pat his arm, she huffs, then grips my chin, studying my eyes. “Run well and fast. This is what you want, hija, you take it.” She gives a sharp nod and leaves us standing alone in this uncomfortable bubble of unknown. The crowd’s chanting and murmurs come to a quick halt when she steps to the line. “Teams get into place.”
I glance at Apollo. “Did you hear that?”
Apollo stretches his arms. “Get into place? Yeah, caught that.” He’s not going to make this easy, is he?
“No. What Mama said?”
“Wishing you good luck?” Apollo says with a smirk. “I caught that too.”
In front of the starting line, Mama whistles and then claps her hands five times in rhythm. The crowd claps back twice to say she has their attention.
“Welcome to the thirty-eighth annual Moss Monster Meet!”
The crowd roars, and I’m unable to ask about this thing Apollo hasn’t told me yet.
Mama claps again. “The rules are the same, except this year there are partners. Both runners must be over the finish line for the time to be counted. Are you all ready?”
Apollo leans closer. “There is no doubt that you inherited your announcer voice from your mother.”
She walks out of the path and picks up the flare gun. Apollo and I drop in starter positions.
“You remember how we do this?” he asks.
“No, I completely forgot over the last three days. Of course, I do.”
“How would I know that since you don’t talk to me?” His eyes are forward and narrowed, jaw so tight I’m tempted to bite it. “Be careful, Xi. Someone may see you staring at me and start a rumor that we’re involved.”
“That’s not fair, nor is it relevant anymore.”
The loud pop and hiss of the flare jolts my muscles into action, and I tear off the line with Apollo right beside me.
“Not relevant?” He picks up the tray at the first table and takes three careful steps to the exchange line. I’m in front of him, and we shift, both turning at the same time to stabilize the drinks. He gently drops his hand away once I’m facing forward. “You really know how to rub it in, don’t you?”
“Rub what in?” I move forward, heel toe, heel toe, don’t drop the tray, keep it even, don’t think about Apollo.
He snatches the tray’s edge as I sidestep. “Focus, Xi.”
“I was,” I say. Then mumble, “Just on the wrong thing.” I push the tray over my head. The clink of glassware makes me remember to relax into motion. Easy. I speed walk with steady steps and balanced breath.
The twins jog by, too close, drinks sloshing. Refusing to take the bait to move away or faster, I continue the pace that will earn me the most points. I’m the fastest on the island, besides Apollo. I’ll catch up.
Apollo switches sides, blocking the twins from moving closer. “Good. That’s it.”
I ignore a crash of glasses and a female curse behind me, zone out the crowd cheers, shouts, and gasps. But I have to pay attention when Alani, my favorite teenager, yells, “Team two, six points,” as the careless turbo twins sprint for the kayaks. That’s the lowest score without wrecking the entire tray. “They’re going for speed,” I say with an even breath.
“And they will lose because of that.”
Five more steps to the switch line and we shift again, load up Apollo, rotate.
Now I can think. “What am I rubbing in?”
He sets the drink tray on the unload table, and we slap hands without thinking as the crowd cheers because those are some full glasses. Barely a drop spilled. He starts toward the open beach and kayaks. “That being involved is irrelevant. That’s what you said.”
I kick off into a sprint as Alani yells, “Team eighteen, nineteen points!”
“Well, it is, right?”
Apollo yells, “Should have kept the points!” when we sprint past the twins. “If you don’t want a relationship with me. Which you obviously don’t since you’re too embarrassed to be seen with me.”
“That’s not why I act that way, and you know it.”
“I do, but that doesn’t make it hurt less.”
Shit. We get to the first kayak and grab the handles and sprint into the waves. “I’m sorry!” I yell.
“Me too.”
I jerk the kayak, and Apollo turns to look at me.
“I am sorry,” I say again. “It wasn’t about you. I just needed to get over some things.”
“And did you?” A wave hits us, sending us backward a few steps, and Monique and Farid sprint past, high-stepping through the surf. Apollo growls and tugs us forward. “Come on.”
We pass the break, and our eyes meet as we silently count, then pull ourselves onto the kayak in perfect sync. I roll into the back seat and slam the paddle into the water, aiming for the boats and floating victims.
“Going right,” Apollo directs from the front.
I peek around him to see that he’s aiming for Camila. “Can we not?” I ask.
Apollo sighs, giving us a hard boost forward with an extra-deep plunge of the paddle. “She’s closest and the tide—”
“I know. It was just wishful thinking.” I angle my paddle to turn us so we’ll arrive on her right because Apollo is stronger getting back in the kayak on the left. Monique and Farid are in the water along with the twins. Three others are lining up.
“Oh, great,” Camila says as we approach. “Is this going to be a problem for the two of you?”
My cheeks heat. “We’re fine.” That was a reflex. We’ll win this thing, and everything will be fine.
“Truly looks like it, Nena.”
I swoop in beside her, slamming the paddle with force it doesn’t need to halt the kayak, but it sends a wave over her.
She smacks water back at me. “Rude.”
Apollo checks his goggles and slips off the deck. When he wraps an arm around her, she goes slack.
“Just for that...” Wicked intention is all over her face. “I’m going to enjoy this. Nice arms, Apollo.”
“Not right now.” He’s breathing heavy as he drags her toward the kayak.
Keeping the kayak on course is difficult, but we’re still making good time. I send a glare to smirking Camila. “That was uncalled for.”
“Says the woman who’s kept Apollo on a leash forever. I thought he’d get over you in New York, but no. Just let the poor man down already so one of the hundred swooning women can have a chance.”
“I am literally right here, pushing you into the kayak.” Apollo lifts her toward me, and I help drag her in, move to steady us as he pulls himself up, then get my paddle going.
Quiet is not a fun trait on Apollo, and that sends guilt through me because this is what he must experience when I hide how I feel from him. Maybe he’s done. I’ve missed my chance again.
I brace myself as we crash against sand. “I’m not dragging him along. I’m in love with him.” Stepping out of the kayak, I push my goggles up and take off for the tree line in squishy triathlon shoes, not bothering to listen to the score.