Page 13 of Get Me to the Starting Line

Looks like I missed one hell of a planning session during my nap, because a lot has been decided and agreed upon. We’re going to Vegas. I hate Vegas. But apparently Paige loves the cliché aspect of it all. And as I skim through all the activities, it seems as though we’re doing a weekend based solely on stereotypes from a ’90s rom-com movie.

Strip clubs, brunch, and all the kitschy tourist things. I hate all of it.

What the hell? Is this some kind of joke? With so many people around, there’s no way I’m going to have fun. Not that this is about me. I don’t know Leah well at all, but I’d venture to guess she wouldn’t plan something her sister would hate.

But here’s one thing that’s not on the itinerary that absolutely should be. I take a deep breath and start typing.

Julien: We should fit a race in here somewhere.

Almost immediately, a cursor moves over to highlight my text. Leah. A comment appears within a few seconds.

Leah: I don’t think it’s a good idea

Leah: We don’t want to be worried about anything that might affect a race, or be too tired to enjoy the rest of the weekend

Julien: Not everyone has to do it

Leah: It’s a group weekend and some of us are not runners

Isabel: I’m with Leah, there’s no way you’re getting me to run

Simon: I think Adam and Paige would love that

Julien: That’s why I suggested it

The comments are suddenly gone, including my text in the document. What the—she deleted it?

Oh, it’s on. My competitive nature strikes and for some reason, this woman is bringing out the worst in me. I search for Leah’s colour. Red. How fitting. She’s suggested a few things others have liked. I scroll through and find what looks like her favourite suggestion.

Dessert sampling

Alright, that does sound good. She’s even written down a bunch of dessert places and food trucks to stop at. I have to say, it’s all meticulously thought out—completely mapped out and planned.

Before she can react, I highlight it all and delete it.

There’safreakingbombdetonating in my body right now. He fucking deleted one of my plans without saying anything. All that work, gone.

Jackass.

He underestimates me if he thinks it’ll be that easy. I pull up my backup document and highlight the part he deleted, copying and pasting it back into the shared document. Within seconds it’s being highlighted by his cursor and it’s gone again.

Screaming would be a bit of an overexaggeration, so I grunt in irritation instead. I am not doing this with him. I’m the one who created the document, so I click on the share button and remove Julien’s access. Then, since I’m not the asshole here, I invite him to be a commenter instead of an editor. That way, he can still contribute but he can’t delete anything. I paste my dessert tasting info back into the file.

Someone highlights the text again, but it’s Isabel.

Isabel: Did the program glitch? This was gone a couple times.

Leah: Someone was taking liberties with the planning so they got removed

Isabel: What? Who would delete a dessert trek?!

Leah: Julien

Simon: To be fair, you deleted his race idea.

Before I know it, Simon has retyped Julien’s race idea for Sunday morning. That’s the worst time. We’re going to have to go to sleep so early on Saturday, not to mention dealing with nerves on Friday. I watch as the comments roll in, a sick feeling brewing in my stomach. I know I’m not going to win this fight.

Julien: thank you for standing up to the overlord, Simon

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