Page 78 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
“¡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.
Wehaveto 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 wassoepic. 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.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It’s a miracle I’m allowed to stay in the competition after vomiting all over the hydration station. Maybe it helped that everyone went absolutely wild after I crossed the finish line.
Well, almost everyone.
“They’re cheating,” Liam shouts the second he crosses the finish line, pointing at where I’m dry heaving over a trashcan.
“We are not!” Maya takes charge of defending our honor, standing between me and Liam.
“Search their bags—you’ll find something,” Liam says to Old Bob. “Fishing wire. That’s what they used to trip me.”
A heave gets stuck in my throat. There may not be fishing wire in my bag, but there’s definitely something else that’ll get us kicked out of the competition.
Old Bob glances at us warily. “That doesn’t seem necessary. Mr. All—”
“Itisnecessary,” Liam sneers, getting so far up in Old Bob’s face it makes my blood boil.
Old Bob looks torn, biting his lip, when another voice cuts through the crowd.
“That’s rich coming from you,” Stella calls out, arms crossed defiantly. “Why don’t you checkhisbag?” she taunts with a raised brow.
The crowd breaks out into murmurs as the rest of us hold our breath. Whatever the Seo-Cookes have up their sleeves is more convoluted than ever.
“What’re you—” Liam cuts off when Old Bob tentatively reaches for the Versace backpack slung across his shoulder. “Don’t listen to her!” he snaps, the contents of his bag spilling out onto the grass as he wrenches it away from Old Bob.
Batons. Dozens of them.
The crowd gasps, and it takes everything in me not to join them.
“Those aren’t mine!” Liam dives to pick up as many batons as he can, scanning them for something. Proof of his claim. “Someone put these in my bag, I swear!”
“Bro,” Henry says, stepping up to join Stella with a look of disappointment. “Not cool.”
I’m not saying I condone them cheating, but I’ve gotta say, it feels good as hell not to be a target for once.
Whatever Liam says next is drowned out by Old Bob blowing the whistle around his neck. “Mr. Allegheny, being in possession of spare batons is a clear violation of the rules of the games.”
Liam’s protests are ignored as two volunteers wearing staff shirts loop their arms through his. The remainingmembers of his team share confused looks before shrugging and walking off to a corn dog stand.
Watching Liam get escorted out of his own water park is the purest form of karma.
