Page 57 of Alice Chen's Reality Check

When I turn back around, Daniel is releasing a breath slowly out through his mouth.

“Better?” I ask.

He winces. “Sort of. Should we go back? They technically haven’t cleared us to leave.”

“It’s fine. The challenge is over. I’m guessing Tarun and Kendall are probably going home,” I say. “And you look awful.”

Daniel chuckles. “Thanks, Slayer. You really know how to make a guy feel special.”

“You need to rest,” I say, taking his arm. “Everything else is secondary.”

We make our way back to the suite. Once inside, I push him toward the bed.

“Go lie down,” I say.

“Whatever you say,” he says, crawling into bed.

“It’s so weird that you’re just listening to me,” I say. “Maybe you should have food poisoning more often.”

Daniel just groans into the comforter. I try to think of what might help him recover, but I don’t have any of my usual go-to’s with me.Back home, I’d have peppermint tea or ginger candies on hand.

Chase liked to tease me whenever I popped a ginger candy. Unlike me, he never got stomachaches or had trouble with nausea. He can clear out leftovers from our fridge that have been hanging out in the back for over a month. I’ve seen him eat old gas station sushi and potato salad that’s been sitting out in the sun without a problem. He has an iron stomach. But somehow he’s the one throwing up and I’m the one who’s completely fine.

I take a seat on the bed beside Daniel. It’s strange to see him like this. I’m used to seeing him at his best—handsome, charming, and way too smug for my liking. But right now, he looks unguarded, vulnerable. His hair falls across his forehead, and without thinking, I brush it away gently.

I draw my hand back when he cracks one eye open at me. “Sorry,” I say.

“No, it’s nice. I like it,” he mumbles. “I was just surprised.”

“That I can be nice?”

“That you can be nice tome,” he clarifies. “I always got the impression you hated me.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t be dramatic. I don’t hate you.”

“Your exact words to me at District Finals were ‘I hate you,’ ” Daniel reminds me.

“I can’t be held accountable for the things I said as a teen,” I retort. “And don’t lie, you hated me, too.”

“No, I—” He closes his eyes, searching for the right word. “I never hated you. Sure, I was annoyed that I kept losing to you—”

“Damn right.”

“But I think, more than anything, I was in awe of you.” Daniel flips over to face me. “You rolled into Quiz Bowl like it was your job to take me out.”

Had I done that? I know I was going through some pretty bad times back then, and all I’d wanted to do was push my feelings down so far that they ceased to exist. And the way to do that was to focus oncompeting.

“So what?” I say. “That’s why I was there. To win.”

“It’s not like I wasn’t there to win,” Daniel says.

“You sure? Because you always seemed like you could take it or leave it. Like you could brush off any loss.”

“Maybe I just had a better poker face,” Daniel says. “Seriously, I want to know. Why did you hate me, specifically?”

He’s clearly not going to give up on this—and now that we’re on the same team, I feel like just maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to tell him the truth.

“It’s because I had to give up everything to win. I spent all my time studying. I didn’t go to school dances. I didn’t hang out with my friends after school. I didn’t have hobbies. All I had was Quiz Bowl, and Speech and Debate, and Mock Trial.”

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