Partner Games
Page 13
“What?” My shriek rang through the quiet camp, followed by my twin’s evil giggle.
Chapter Eight
“I almost wish we hadn’t gotten first place on round one. We got the Ace, and now we can ‘save’ a team. Except I’m not so sure I want to save anyone. We’re all competing, right?” — Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races
A production assistant with a stopwatch handed us our clue token. “You can’t flip that over until instructed,” she told us, and glanced at the stopwatch again.
“Gotcha.” I looked over at Georgie, who was stifling a yawn. “You ready to do this?”
“Ready,” she said and smacked her lips.
We were the last team to leave Aguas Calientas. Swift and Plate had been the first to leave, and we’d waved them off, then gone back to sleep for another nap. We’d caught the Red Hat grandmas on their way out, and then sat around for a few more hours, waiting for our turn.
Longest four hours ever.
Georgie was in a good mood, though. Dinner with Plate and Swift had restored her cheery humor and she bounced on her feet next to me as we waited for the stopwatch to go off. Nearby, a cameraman hovered, filming us, and the microphone pack strapped to the back of my shirt itched.
Beep beep beep.
It was time. The production assistant pointed at us, and we flipped our clue.
“Make your way to the ruins of Tikal in Guatemala,” Georgie and I read in sync, our voices sounding as one. There, you will find your next clue.” We exchanged a look.
Time to go.
~~ * * * ~~
We traveled back to Cuzco on the train and took the next flight to Guatemala. Or rather, we took several flights and eventually headed to Guatemala. The ride from Cuzco to Flores was a nightmare of layovers and wait times, but at least the race had paid for it.
By the time we made our way to Flores itself, it was near dark the next day. We hadn’t seen a single other team in our three connecting flights, so I could only hope that others had been stuck with the frustratingly long layovers as well. From Georgie’s conversations with the airline flight attendants, it was the norm.
“It’s going to be fine,” Georgie assured me. “We’ll catch up. Don’t you worry. I bet we’re right on their tails.”
We caught a taxi out to Tikal, parceling out a few precious dollars for a bite to eat at the airport as we left.
By the time we got to Tikal, it was dark. We got to the visitor’s center and my heart dropped. “They close at six.” I looked at a nearby clock. “It’s eight. Shit. Georgie, we’re too late!”
She put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay, Clemmy. We’ll stay in a hotel overnight and catch up. It’s no big deal. We’ve got this.”
~~ * * * ~~
Yeah. We didn’t have it, after all. We didn’t catch up.
The next morning, we were at the gates of Tikal at six a.m. to get our clue. It turned out that the team challenge for this round was to climb the ruins and find the ‘correct’ clue. Fakes were stationed everywhere, but only one would be the legit clue. With a lot of huffing and puffing and stair climbing, we managed to find our clue in about an hour, and raced off to the next destination, Flores.
There, we split up. Georgie took the food challenge this time, and I took the other. My challenge was to drive a tuktuk on a course and make it under a certain time limit. Georgie’s challenge was to run a street-food vendor cart and make a hundred quetzals before receiving her clue.
Georgie did utterly spectacularly. She was a people person, and it didn’t matter if she made people the shittiest tacos possible. She smiled and flirted her way to the money in a matter of minutes.
Me? I had to run the course three times before I could beat the time limit, my tuktuk flying around orange cones and obstacles.
We had our clues and we’d finished before noon. The final destination for Flores was at Hotel Isla de Flores, near the beach. When we arrived at the mat on the sand, sweaty and exhausted, we had to wait for the production crew to reassemble the other teams, because we were ten hours behind them.
Ten freaking hours.
It didn’t matter how fast we’d run through our challenges in Guatemala. We were so far behind that we’d never catch up. I gritted my teeth as the sleepy teams assembled, watching us with sympathy in their eyes. In the lead again were Plate and Swift, and they whispered at each other while Georgie and I stood on the mat, defeated.
“Is everyone here?” Chip asked, running a comb through his hair. “Yes? Good. Okay, let’s start filming, then.” He assumed a somber expression and turned to me and Georgie. “Red team, you are the last to arrive.”
“We know,” Georgie said, giving me a squeeze on the shoulders. “It’s okay.”
Oh sure, Georgie was going to pick now to hold herself together? Meanwhile, I was tearing up. Second to last? Were we really going to go out so early? I sniffed. “It was fun,” I said in a wobbly voice. “We enjoyed meeting everyone.”
“I’m sorry to say that your race ends here,” Chip said in a saccharine voice. “Unless a team chooses to use their Ace now.” He looked over at the black team. “An Ace can save a team about to be eliminated, but it has unforeseen consequences.”
I watched Swift and Plate exchange a look. We knew what the ‘consequences’ were. In every other season of The World Races that had an Ace, the teams had been mixed. It would mean Plate and Swift would split up, and so would Georgie and I. But would that be better than leaving? It wasn’t our choice to make, either way.
I didn’t look at the guys, because I didn’t want to influence them. I wanted them to decide on their own. I knew Swift wanted to win, and I knew that if we were out now, it would sting, but we’d get over it.
“We’re going to use our Ace to save the girls, Chuck,” Plate said, stepping forward.
“It’s Chip,” the host snapped, annoyed. He held his hand out for the gigantic playing card-decorated envelope that acted as the Ace. “Give me that.”
Plate handed it to him and winked at Georgie and me. Swift looked less happy, but when I met his gaze, he gave me a small nod, letting me know he was okay with things.
I gave him a small smile of gratitude. I wouldn’t forget this. I squeezed Georgie’s hand. It seemed like my twin and I were about to be split up, but we’d still be in the race. We could do this.
Chip ripped open the top part of the Ace envelope and pulled out the contents. He read the instructions aloud. “Teams playing the Ace will be switched, but not in the way you think. This time, teams will only switch places in the race, not team members.” Chip looked over at the black team. “Boys, you are now last. The ladies are in first place.”
Georgie and I gasped as one.
Swift looked as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Plate mouthed oh fuck.
Chip seemed amused at our reactions. “Let’s get the black team on the mat so we can talk to them.” He gestured for Georgie and I to move aside.
We did, and Georgie squeezed my hand tightly. “We’ve got to do something. This is so not cool.”
Chapter Eight
“I almost wish we hadn’t gotten first place on round one. We got the Ace, and now we can ‘save’ a team. Except I’m not so sure I want to save anyone. We’re all competing, right?” — Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races
A production assistant with a stopwatch handed us our clue token. “You can’t flip that over until instructed,” she told us, and glanced at the stopwatch again.
“Gotcha.” I looked over at Georgie, who was stifling a yawn. “You ready to do this?”
“Ready,” she said and smacked her lips.
We were the last team to leave Aguas Calientas. Swift and Plate had been the first to leave, and we’d waved them off, then gone back to sleep for another nap. We’d caught the Red Hat grandmas on their way out, and then sat around for a few more hours, waiting for our turn.
Longest four hours ever.
Georgie was in a good mood, though. Dinner with Plate and Swift had restored her cheery humor and she bounced on her feet next to me as we waited for the stopwatch to go off. Nearby, a cameraman hovered, filming us, and the microphone pack strapped to the back of my shirt itched.
Beep beep beep.
It was time. The production assistant pointed at us, and we flipped our clue.
“Make your way to the ruins of Tikal in Guatemala,” Georgie and I read in sync, our voices sounding as one. There, you will find your next clue.” We exchanged a look.
Time to go.
~~ * * * ~~
We traveled back to Cuzco on the train and took the next flight to Guatemala. Or rather, we took several flights and eventually headed to Guatemala. The ride from Cuzco to Flores was a nightmare of layovers and wait times, but at least the race had paid for it.
By the time we made our way to Flores itself, it was near dark the next day. We hadn’t seen a single other team in our three connecting flights, so I could only hope that others had been stuck with the frustratingly long layovers as well. From Georgie’s conversations with the airline flight attendants, it was the norm.
“It’s going to be fine,” Georgie assured me. “We’ll catch up. Don’t you worry. I bet we’re right on their tails.”
We caught a taxi out to Tikal, parceling out a few precious dollars for a bite to eat at the airport as we left.
By the time we got to Tikal, it was dark. We got to the visitor’s center and my heart dropped. “They close at six.” I looked at a nearby clock. “It’s eight. Shit. Georgie, we’re too late!”
She put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s okay, Clemmy. We’ll stay in a hotel overnight and catch up. It’s no big deal. We’ve got this.”
~~ * * * ~~
Yeah. We didn’t have it, after all. We didn’t catch up.
The next morning, we were at the gates of Tikal at six a.m. to get our clue. It turned out that the team challenge for this round was to climb the ruins and find the ‘correct’ clue. Fakes were stationed everywhere, but only one would be the legit clue. With a lot of huffing and puffing and stair climbing, we managed to find our clue in about an hour, and raced off to the next destination, Flores.
There, we split up. Georgie took the food challenge this time, and I took the other. My challenge was to drive a tuktuk on a course and make it under a certain time limit. Georgie’s challenge was to run a street-food vendor cart and make a hundred quetzals before receiving her clue.
Georgie did utterly spectacularly. She was a people person, and it didn’t matter if she made people the shittiest tacos possible. She smiled and flirted her way to the money in a matter of minutes.
Me? I had to run the course three times before I could beat the time limit, my tuktuk flying around orange cones and obstacles.
We had our clues and we’d finished before noon. The final destination for Flores was at Hotel Isla de Flores, near the beach. When we arrived at the mat on the sand, sweaty and exhausted, we had to wait for the production crew to reassemble the other teams, because we were ten hours behind them.
Ten freaking hours.
It didn’t matter how fast we’d run through our challenges in Guatemala. We were so far behind that we’d never catch up. I gritted my teeth as the sleepy teams assembled, watching us with sympathy in their eyes. In the lead again were Plate and Swift, and they whispered at each other while Georgie and I stood on the mat, defeated.
“Is everyone here?” Chip asked, running a comb through his hair. “Yes? Good. Okay, let’s start filming, then.” He assumed a somber expression and turned to me and Georgie. “Red team, you are the last to arrive.”
“We know,” Georgie said, giving me a squeeze on the shoulders. “It’s okay.”
Oh sure, Georgie was going to pick now to hold herself together? Meanwhile, I was tearing up. Second to last? Were we really going to go out so early? I sniffed. “It was fun,” I said in a wobbly voice. “We enjoyed meeting everyone.”
“I’m sorry to say that your race ends here,” Chip said in a saccharine voice. “Unless a team chooses to use their Ace now.” He looked over at the black team. “An Ace can save a team about to be eliminated, but it has unforeseen consequences.”
I watched Swift and Plate exchange a look. We knew what the ‘consequences’ were. In every other season of The World Races that had an Ace, the teams had been mixed. It would mean Plate and Swift would split up, and so would Georgie and I. But would that be better than leaving? It wasn’t our choice to make, either way.
I didn’t look at the guys, because I didn’t want to influence them. I wanted them to decide on their own. I knew Swift wanted to win, and I knew that if we were out now, it would sting, but we’d get over it.
“We’re going to use our Ace to save the girls, Chuck,” Plate said, stepping forward.
“It’s Chip,” the host snapped, annoyed. He held his hand out for the gigantic playing card-decorated envelope that acted as the Ace. “Give me that.”
Plate handed it to him and winked at Georgie and me. Swift looked less happy, but when I met his gaze, he gave me a small nod, letting me know he was okay with things.
I gave him a small smile of gratitude. I wouldn’t forget this. I squeezed Georgie’s hand. It seemed like my twin and I were about to be split up, but we’d still be in the race. We could do this.
Chip ripped open the top part of the Ace envelope and pulled out the contents. He read the instructions aloud. “Teams playing the Ace will be switched, but not in the way you think. This time, teams will only switch places in the race, not team members.” Chip looked over at the black team. “Boys, you are now last. The ladies are in first place.”
Georgie and I gasped as one.
Swift looked as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Plate mouthed oh fuck.
Chip seemed amused at our reactions. “Let’s get the black team on the mat so we can talk to them.” He gestured for Georgie and I to move aside.
We did, and Georgie squeezed my hand tightly. “We’ve got to do something. This is so not cool.”
