Chapter
7
The heavy armor pushes me deep into the muddy moat. As I sink, the gunk seeps into my hair, my clothes, and under my socks. A set hand runs over and helps me out of the moat, then out of the armor. Even though the armor was covering me, I am dripping with mud. The set hand holds out a towel. “No thanks,” I say. “I need more than a towel.”
A few cameras swirl up to me, making sure to record evidence of my surprise failure. I try to wipe a patch of hair off my cheek but end up smearing mud on my face, making it worse.
The cameras leave and I finally have an exit path. All I want now is to get out of these clothes and into a shower before this gets any worse. But before I can take a step, Sarah appears with a big, smug grin on her face. “Come with me,” she says.
“Like this?”
“Just like that.” I can tell she’s enjoying my humiliation. She leads the way, and I follow reluctantly.
Sarah walks me past the buzzing audience. The announcer sighs, “Poor Fiona,” into the microphone as I pass. We leave the sound stage, walk down a hallway, and get into an elevator. Sarah pushes the top button. I search her expression for a hint of where we’re going, but she just gazes back at me with the same smug grin on her face. Maybe they’re finally kicking me off, I worry. Did I score so badly that the audience won’t miss me anymore?
“How did I do?” I ask, not sure I even want to hear the answer.
Sarah’s grin widens. “Pretty bad. You came in last. So much for unbeatable.”
I wish I hadn’t asked.
The elevator arrives on the top level and the doors open to a floor of sparkling marble. I step out after Sarah and it’s like we’ve entered another planet. Televisions line the walls. Facing each one is a thick, soft couch. I would do anything to flop onto one of those right now. But Sarah leads me past them, and we come to an office at the end of the hallway. “After you,” she says, waving me inside.
I walk through the door into a massive conference room. The wall on one side is made of floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the entire city of Los Angeles. The wall opposite it is filled with four screens, all displaying a different reality show. In the middle of the room is a large conference table. Seated at the table are a dozen men and women in very polished business suits.
“Welcome, Fiona,” says one of the suits. He’s shorter and older than the others, and he’s sitting at the head of the table. He’s also completely bald.
“What’s up?” I respond, making my voice sound as casual as I can. I’m nervous, but I don’t want them to see it.
Sarah closes the door behind her and takes a seat at the table with the suits. I can tell they’re trying to intimidate me—they’ve got me outnumbered and alone in a place I’ve never been. I’m suddenly grateful to be covered in mud. I shake off my arms, sending droplets into the plush white carpet. Their faces flinch in unison, as if the mud hit them directly. “Oops, sorry about that,” I say, pretending to look innocent. I’m so not sorry.
“You’re so good at making a mess, aren’t you Fiona?” the bald guy snaps.
“I’m good at a lot of things . . . Sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
“My name is Diego. I am the head producer of Warrior Zone, which means I’m everyone’s boss. Including yours.”
“I don’t work for you,” I retort. “I’m a contestant.”
“Right now, you’re a nuisance. I’m sorry being on this show hasn’t been what you thought it would be, but that’s your fault, not ours. This is how our show works—it’s not up to you. You have had two chances to change your behavior. We’re not giving you another.”
“So does that mean I’m fired, boss?” I don’t usually talk to anyone like this, but everything about this guy goes against everything I stand for. He is the ultimate cheater, the one who tells the others to make us cheat, the one who makes everyone here believe what they’re doing is okay when it really isn’t. If he wants to push me around, then I’m going to push back.
“You’re not fired,” he says to my surprise. “You were right about what you said to Sarah. The audience loves you. If we got rid of you, our ratings would suffer. But we don’t need to get rid of you to make you do what you’re told.”
I roll my eyes. “Why don’t you just say what you want to say so I can get out of here? I could really use a shower before the crud you put in that moat does permanent damage to my roots.” A few of the suits chuckle. Diego shoots them a sharp look and their smiles vanish.
“You were supposed to slip on the first stone today. You slipped on the third. Want to know why?”
“Uh, because it was a super hard challenge and no one is perfect, not even me?” I flash him a princess-worthy smile.
He smiles back. “No,” he says, mimicking my snarky tone. “You slipped because we made you slip. We assumed you wouldn’t obey Sarah, so we made sure you would slip on the third stone instead. We could have made you screw up on the fourth or fifth stone, but we chose the third. And that’s where you fell. My point is that we were in control the entire time. We have ways of making sure you do what we want, whether you wish to cooperate or not. We can grease any part of the course we choose. We can wipe away the evidence before the next warrior takes their turn. And we can do this without a single person noticing. We did it today, while everyone watched. If I want you to lose, you will lose.”
Suddenly a sense of calm washes over me. All I want is to get back to my room so I can figure out a plan, so I can wipe that self-satisfied smirk off Diego’s face. “Do you enjoy being a filthy cheater, Diego? Or do you convince yourself that what you’re doing is fair?” I say, straightening up.
“I don’t have to play fair. It’s my show, my rules.”
“Okay, boss. Now what?”
“There is one course left. Paul will win. We will give you instructions on where to fall. If you obey, you will receive your compensation. In fact, we will pretend you obeyed the whole time and pay you the entire forty thousand we promised.”
“If you think I’m here for the money, you must not know many true athletes.”
“We figured you’d say something like that. So here’s the deal. If you don’t listen to us and you try to win anyway, we will use our methods and make sure you fall. You won’t know how or where on the course we’ll do it, but we will make sure you go down. If it comes to this, you will lose—and neither you nor your friend Ravi will receive any compensation.”
“What?” I say, tensing.
“Yes, Fiona. If you don’t follow our rules, both you and Ravi will be punished. Or you can just play nice and everybody wins.”
I glare at them. These adults in their suits act like they rule the world. But their abuse of power is actually ruining it.
“You can leave, Fiona. Get that shower before you suffer permanent damage.”
I smirk at him, then I bow my head and flip my hair onto my back. Flecks of mud from my hair spray at the table, sprinkling the producers’ perfectly tailored suits with black, muddy water. They all flinch and jump back from the table.
“I’ll show myself out,” I say. I make sure to wipe the mud off my shoes and into the carpet before I walk out the door.
Chapter
8
It takes me half an hour to wash all of the sludge away. I’m in pajamas wrapping my hair in a towel when someone knocks on my door. I peek through the peephole. It’s Ravi. My stomach turns to ice and the anger I felt on the course flares up again. He lied to me. He betrayed me. And now everything is worse—for both of us. I should just ignore him, I think.
Ravi knocks again. “Fiona? I know you’re in there. Can we talk?”
My best friend Cici and I met in gymnastics class when we were five. Over the years, we became as close as sisters. The day my parents found out my coach was corrupt, they learned Cici’s parents had been paying him side money the whole time.
“Fi, please. Just open the door. I need you to know I’m sorry.”
/> After I found out, I texted Cici a few times, asking how long she had known and why she hadn’t told me. I asked if we could just talk, but she never texted back. She never said anything. She was my best friend and then, poof, she disappeared from my life.
This last thought makes me open the door. Ravi’s been a bad friend, but at least he’s still here.
I let him in and we sit on the couch in silence for a few seconds. “I’m really sorry,” he finally says. “I panicked when Paul did so well. I was a coward. I betrayed you.”
“And you cheated.”
“Yes. I was afraid if I didn’t cheat I’d still lose, and then I wouldn’t have the money or the points. I should have known you had my back. Instead, I chickened out and didn’t have yours. I’m disgusted with myself. I promise you, I’ll never flake like that again.”
“What do you mean again?”
“I mean let’s win this together, no cheating. There’s one more round. We can still do this.”
I shake my head. So much has happened that he doesn’t know about yet. He thinks there’s still a chance. I have to break it to him. “It’s not that simple anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Because we can’t win. I fell today because the producers made me. They have some way of making the course slippery wherever and whenever they want.”
“What? That’s impossible,” Ravi says, stunned.
“They did it to me today—my feet slipped from under me. Then Sarah took me upstairs to meet her boss. He’s a jerk, by the way. He told me they could do this slipperiness thing wherever they want, and that they can even wipe everything clean so it doesn’t affect the next contestant. He said he’s going to use it to make sure I lose.”
Ravi paces around the room, taking this all in, while I stretch out on the couch, exhausted. Then he freezes in the middle of the room. “They specifically said the word ‘wipe’?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Because I saw . . .” He trails off, lost in a thought.
“You saw what?”
“You know the set hands? They all have towels. They handed me one after I fell in that crud. I’ve also seen them wiping down the course between runs.”
“Wait, you don’t think . . .”
“There are dozens of set hands all over the place. No one is paying any attention to them. They could easily squirt an oil or gel on the course when the audience and cameras are focused on something else and then literally wipe it off with their towels after the contestant slips.”
I sit up so fast, the towel falls off my head. “I bet you’re right—it’s just the set hands! And I bet, if we pay attention, we can catch them in the act again . . .”
“And then we can just avoid that part of the course!” Ravi practically yells, finishing my thought. We’re both starting to get excited, but then I remember something that makes me stop.
Ravi sees my expression change. “What’s wrong?”
“It doesn’t matter if we know where they slick the course. The producers warned me if I don’t fall where I’m told, I don’t get any money. And neither do you.”
Ravi shrugs this away. “Then forget the losing money. One of us is going to have to come in first. The winner gets a huge check right away, during the awards ceremony. It’s part of the show. They have to give it to us no matter what. The entire audience is expecting it. They may not have to pay us for losing, but there’s no way they can avoid paying us for winning.”
“And if neither of us wins?”
“Then we don’t deserve any money. That’s playing fair.”
“I can’t argue with that! So we’re doing this?” I ask, barely believing it.
Ravi nods, grinning. “We are. For real this time.”
I’m so happy that I start jumping in circles. Only then do I notice him. Leaning in the doorway, listening to our every word, is Paul.
Chapter
9
“Cheaters,” Paul calls us, spitting out the word.
Ravi grabs Paul by the arm and pulls him inside my room. I shut the door behind them. It must not have closed all the way when I let Ravi in.
“Were you spying on us?” I ask Paul, creeped out.
“We’re not cheaters,” Ravi says at the same time, his hand still holding Paul’s arm.
“Let him go,” I tell Ravi.
“I don’t want him running to the producers.”
“You can’t stop me,” Paul says, struggling to free himself from Ravi’s hold. Frustrated, he gives up, then says threateningly, “I’m going to tell them you’re cheating.”
“WE’RE NOT CHEATING!” Ravi and I shout together.
“I heard you talking all the way down the hall!” Paul shouts back. “You said ‘We’re doing this.’ I heard it. You’re planning something.”
Ravi lets Paul go, but I lock the door and stand in front of it. Paul doesn’t understand what he heard, and I’m not letting him go until he does.
“Listen, Paul,” I say, “Ravi and I don’t want to cheat. The producers want us to. We were planning a way to avoid cheating.”
Paul looks from me to Ravi in disbelief. He’s not buying it.
“We’re serious, Paul. They want us to lose on purpose. Didn’t they tell you? You’re the one they want to win.”
I can see that Paul’s thinking fast. When he hears this last part, his face darkens. “You’re liars. You’re just making this up so I don’t tell the producers.”
I groan in frustration. Ravi thrusts his arms in the air. How can we get through to him?
An idea hits me. I step away from the door. “Go ahead, Paul. You’re free to go.” Both Ravi and Paul stare at me in surprise. “Go tell the producers that Ravi and I are going to cheat. I promise you nothing would make them happier. And if we’re lying, then we’ll get in trouble anyway. You can’t lose.”
Paul glares coldly at me like he did this morning. “Is this another mind trick?” he asks. “Like earlier when you wished me luck to throw me off my game?”
Now it’s my turn to be surprised. No wonder he gave me that look. He thought I was trying to hurt him. “That wasn’t a trick, Paul. I meant it.”
“Yeah right,” he says, shaking head. “I know what you two think of me. You hate me.”
“That’s because you’re a jerk to us,” Ravi responds.
I shoot Ravi a look. “Not helping.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not here to make friends,” says Paul. “I’m here to win. For my brother.”
“Your brother?” Ravi asks.
“He’s the reason I got into climbing to begin with. He’s the reason I still do it today. He died. In the car accident.”
Ravi looks at me with wide eyes, not sure what to do. Paul stares at the ground, not moving. “I’m so sorry, Paul. We never knew . . . You didn’t say anything about him in your interview. That’s . . . awful.” I reach out and lay a hand on Paul’s shoulder. It rests there for a second, then he pulls away.
“And he’s the reason I’m not going to let two cheaters keep me from winning,” Paul spits out in disgust.
Before Ravi and I can say another word, Paul opens the door and slams it shut behind him as he leaves. Ravi bangs his head against the wall. “He’s probably going straight to the producers to sell us out,” he says.
“Maybe. I guess we’ll know tomorrow.”
“This is probably the only game in the world where we get in trouble for not cheating,” Ravi says. That makes me laugh so hard I have to lie down.
After Ravi leaves, I try to sleep. I don’t manage to get much rest.
The next morning, I try to eat but I’m too nervous. Because Paul may rat us out. Because this course will be the hardest we’ve ever faced. Because this course will also be slicked with oil. Because I’ve made it so close to finally winning something, winning fairly, for the first time in my life.
Someone sits down next to me at breakfast. I’m hoping it’s Ravi, but I look up to see Sarah. Only now do I realize she did
n’t called me earlier with today’s cheating routine. My heart pounds fast. If Paul went to her, I’m about to find out.
But Sarah only has four words for me: “Fall from the chains.” Then she leaves.
I sigh a long exhale, relieved to know Paul didn’t tell on us. Did he believe us after all?
Paul, Ravi, and I gather in the start zone. The three of us are silent as we gape up at the monstrous final course standing before us. They’re calling it Frankenstein. It’s a blend of the hardest obstacles we’ve faced so far in the finals.
First is the climbing wall we faced in the Ninja. Today we must climb it blindfolded instead of in the dark. Next are the chain ropes from the Gladiator’s Colosseum—this is where Sarah wants me to fall. Then, the Knight’s sword in the stone is mounted on its spinning platform. And finally, there is a long tunnel at the end of the course. It’s unclear what we will face inside it, but we must make it through to the other end and drop down into the finish zone.
Right now, I am in first place with eight hundred and forty points. Paul is in second with seven hundred and thirteen. Ravi is in last place with six hundred and twelve. Because this is the last and hardest course, every obstacle is worth forty points. And instead of first place earning three hundred points, this time it’s worth eight hundred, which means all three of us still have a chance to win.
Instead of going in order, we flip a coin to determine who goes first. Paul doesn’t make eye contact with me or Ravi the entire time. The coin determines that Ravi will go first, I’ll go next, and Paul will go last.
Ravi and I look at each other, a silent signal to start looking for the oil. We study the course, watching the set hands as they roam around. They all look like they’re doing their normal job of setting the course and making sure it’s safe. Ravi taps me on the shoulder and points to the sword in the stone. A set hand is kneeling on the platform. We both walk a few feet closer for a better look. The set hand stands up and hops down. A few moments later she hits a button under the platform and it begins to spin. We follow her as she walks away from the course, and then we see it—she tucks a bottle into her pocket. The bottle looked small, but it definitely looked like something you could use to squirt oil from. She just oiled the spinning platform!
Warrior Zone Page 4
