Olympian Challenger © 2018 by Astrid Arditi
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Cover Design by Cover Reveal
Editing by Jessica Nelson
ISBN 9780998311630
To my mother,
Who taught me you’re never too old to dream...
Chapter 1
As I step inside the kitchen, my mother holds up a silver notecard as a morning greeting. “This came for you, Hope.”
I hike my backpack higher on my shoulder and drop a kiss on her cheek, tugging on the missive. She doesn’t let go immediately, her brow furrowed as she stares down at the paper.
“It’s strange. I thought for a second I saw more, but now there’s just one line—You’re cordially invited...” She lets go of the notecard and rubs her eyes. Her smile is sheepish as she looks at me. “I didn’t sleep well yesterday.”
I drop the invitation on the ceramic kitchen counter.
“You should go back to bed, Mom. I don’t need you to make breakfast for me.” I open the cupboards and take out a cereal bar. “Besides, I’m running late.”
My mother’s amber eyes bore into my identical ones.
“Nonsense. You need real food. And I can go back to sleep when you’re gone. Other than tired, I feel great.” She gestures to the two rattan chairs at our small kitchen table. “Sit.”
I drop my backpack on the tiled floor. Even with everything going on, my mother insists on waking up at ungodly hours to make me breakfast before practice. She’s too stubborn for her own good.
Her small frame hovers over the stove as she scrambles eggs and feeds the toaster a bagel. Her waist-length, raven-black hair is woven with gray and she’s lost weight, but this morning she exudes her usual energy, this phenomenal strength that allowed her to raise a daughter on her own while working the night shift as a midwife for nearly twenty years.
She drops in the chair across from me. “Eat.”
The breakfast tastes like my mother’s love. I eat slowly, prolonging the moment of precious comfort before my day starts. I have two tests today, and I’m prepared but I can’t make myself care how well I do. I’d rather stay here to soak in my mother’s radiant smiles.
“Go. I’ll take care of the dishes.” She shoos me out of my chair.
I hug her frail shoulders tight, inhaling her sweet scent of chamomile and jasmine.
“I’ll be back as soon as school’s over.”
“Take your time. I won’t be alone all day.” A little crease appears between her eyes as she fakes a certainty she doesn’t have.
“Yes. Camille is coming over at four.”
“See? I’ll be fine. Have fun today.”
I grab my down jacket from the hook by the door, then return to lift my backpack. The silver invitation on the counter catches my eye, so I pick it up before waving goodbye to my mother.
“Love you.”
“Me too, Hope.”
The front door closes with a loud creak behind me.
While I wait for the elevator, I stare at the silvery note in my hand. The paper is thick, the kind you’d expect from an expensive wedding invitation. Like my mom said, there’s only one line: You’re cordially invited…
I turn the card around as I step into the elevator, but this face is blank as well. I flip it again, bringing the note under the ceiling’s neon lights in case the message is written in invisible ink. I grab the rail as the rusty old cabin groans. Worrying the skin on my thumb with my teeth, I wait breathlessly as it descends the seven floors to the ground floor. Next time I’ll use the stairs. The knuckles on my right hand are white from clutching the note. My grip loosens when at last the doors open and I step out of the death trap.
Camille, our neighbor and my personal savior, is waiting in the lobby. Her Pomeranian, Gigi, is nestled between her large feet.
“How’s Teresa this morning?” Camille’s smile illuminates the dreary hallway.
I kneel in front of Gigi and pat her between the ears. “Good. A little tired…”
“I’ll check up on her at lunchtime. Make sure she eats.”
“You’re the best.”
Her wrinkled face turns into a treasure map every time she grins. She squeezes my shoulder affectionately. “Better get going.”
I push through the grimy revolving door into the slow, pre-dawn foot traffic. It is night still, and the holiday decorations hanging in the street aren’t enough to offset the drab mood of the city. Three days until Christmas, but Manhattan hasn’t received the memo. The temperature is mild for December, in the low fifties. The buildings’ facades reflect the somber sky. The mist making my long, dark hair frizz at the temples is equally depressing. I bring up the hood of my jacket and speed walk toward school before the drizzle turns into a downpour.
I’m still holding the puzzling invitation. I stare again at the engraved words at the top.
You’re cordially invited…
To what? A shadow forms under the words, like a smudge of ink. I squint at it, wondering if it was there earlier. Maybe the rain is making the ink run. Wrong. Before my incredulous eyes, the smudge flickers into lines, then words.
To embark on a singular journey.
If your heart is true,
And your soul heroic,
Dare to face your fears,
And your most precious wish will be granted.
When a man hits me square in the back, I realize I’ve stopped dead in the middle of the sidewalk.
“Watch where you’re going,” he grumbles while sidestepping me.
I gawk at his receding silhouette, the invitation hanging from my limp fingers. I glimpse at it again, wondering if I’ve hallucinated. But the words are still there. In fact, when I flip the note to the other side, new words have appeared as well.
If these words you can read,
Don’t breathe them to a soul,
The punishment would be severe;
That confidant may disappear.
In a font larger than the rest, one line stands out at the bottom.
You have until midnight.
If this is a prank, it’s not funny. The warning rings in my ears as I set off at a jog. I can’t afford to be late to practice. With every stride, I try to forget the magical invitation and its cryptic text.
As I near the school, I stash the notecard in my backpack and switch it for my ID. Saint Andrew’s friendliest Cerberus, a middle-aged man named Bob, lets me through the gate with a friendly wave. My lips strain to return his smile.
With one final stroke, my right hand slams against the wall. I grip the edge of the pool and pull myself out of the water swiftly, landing at Coach Swindon’s feet. She clutches the timer in her fist.
“Guess we have a new school record.” She smiles, extending a hand to help me up. “Keep it up and we’ll crush the Sea Lions on Saturday.”
I fiddle with my goggles to avoid my coach’s sharp blue gaze, shrinking under the weight of her expectations. Sometimes I wish swimming didn’t always come down to a competition. But the competition is what keeps me in prestigious Saint Andrew—that, and near-perfect grades.
Someone splutters behind me. Lily, my best friend, bobs in the water.
She shakes her head, sending droplets flying. “You looked like a torpedo down there. Rushing to a big date?”
I chuckle as I kneel on the heated floor to help her out. “If you partied less, maybe you’d be less winded,” I whisper so Coach Swindon doesn’t hear me.
“The classic dilemma.” L
ily grunts as she scrambles to her feet. She removes her swimming cap, freeing her blond pixie cut. “To party, or to perform?”
“It isn’t difficult to know where you stand on the question.”
She winks. “Neither is figuring out your answer.”
I press a hand against my chest in mock outrage. “Me? But I’m the life of the party!”
“Stop chatting, girls,” Coach interrupts. “Showers. Stat.”
Lily gives a mock salute before dragging me toward the locker room. My teeth have begun chattering—the hot shower can’t come too soon.
The locker room is silent, since the other girls on our team haven’t emerged from the pool yet. I grab a towel from a neatly stacked pile and swing into a private shower stall. Lily claims the one to my left.
I get a half-second of peace under the scorching spray before Lily begins blabbering away.
“The party yesterday was wicked. I wish you’d come.” She’s being nice. I’m quite the mood-killer these days. “On another note, I received the strangest invitation this morning. Didn’t even know they delivered mail this early in the morning.”
“An invitation?” I brace my hand on the wall, trying to conceal the tremor in my voice. I beat my own record this morning because I was trying to forget the puzzling invitation. But the world is conspiring to remind me.
“It’s so weird. I don’t know what to make of it.” Lily sounds oblivious to my inner turmoil. “It just says: You’re cordially invited. No date or venue. No sender.”
“Anything else?” I turn off the water that has become unbearably hot. This can’t be a coincidence.
“Just the one sentence. You’re done showering already?”
“Yeah. I don’t want to be late to class.”
“We have thirty minutes left,” she points out. A ruckus erupts in her stall. “Where’s the frigging soap?”
The blue soap is sliding out from under the stall, so I kick it back with my foot.
“Thanks!” Lily exclaims before cursing as she scrambles to catch it.
I shake my head, a large grin on my face. My best friend is a mess. As I wheel toward my locker, Mary’s shoulder bumps against mine.
My teammate doesn’t bother to mask her scorn as she glares at me. “You’re not the only one using the locker room, Miss Perfect.”
I bite back a retort and open my locker. There’s no winning where Mary is concerned. She’ll always find a way to throw my words back at me.
I dry my fingers thoroughly while waiting to hear Tammy, the last senior girl in our team, turn on the shower. Once I’m sure the coast is clear, I take out the invitation from my bag.
You’re cordially invited…
To embark on a singular journey.
If your heart is true,
And your soul heroic,
Dare to face your fears,
And your most precious wish will be granted.
If these words you can read,
Don’t breathe them to a soul,
The punishment would be severe,
That confidant may disappear.
You have until midnight.
And here I hoped I’d imagined the words.
Chapter 2
Lily opens the locker next to mine. “What’s wrong?”
I wave the invitation in my hand.
She claps her hands eagerly. “You got one too?”
“Lower your voice,” I hiss. If I’m going crazy, I don’t need the mean girls to hear about it.
“Why aren’t you more excited?” Lily whispers, a concerned expression on her elfish face.
“Why would I be? We don’t even know what it’s for.”
I barely have time to shove the invitation inside my bag before Tammy and Mary come dripping out of their shower stalls.
Mary presses her fists against her wide hips. “What are you two scheming about?”
“Nothing,” Lily replies with a saccharine smile.
“Yeah, right.” Mary snorts while rummaging through her stuff. Still wrapped in her damp towel, she checks her cellphone.
“Still hoping Tod will ask you out?” Lily teases. “I’ve been told he doesn’t date witches.”
“I don’t give a damn about Tod.” Her thin lips lift into an enigmatic smile. “I’ve been invited to a very exclusive party.”
Lily whips out her own silver invitation. “You mean this one?”
Mary frowns. “So I guess it’s from someone at school.”
“I got one too,” Tammy chirps—not that anyone cares.
Lily looks at her phone as well. “Check out Instagram. Everyone’s talking about it!”
Mary gasps as she scrolls through her feed. “They invited every single twelfth grader in New York! There’s even a hashtag: #PartyoftheCentury. They think it’s a scavenger hunt.”
My worry ebbs slightly. Out of that many people, I can’t be the only one seeing things.
Lily passes me her phone. It isn’t 8 am yet, but thousands of posts clog her feed. Do people have nothing better to do? I look for hints about magical words appearing but come up empty handed. Everyone’s decided that You’re cordially invited is the first clue, with more coming later today. Maybe there was a mishap on mine and I got the full riddle—although the clues don’t make any sense.
“Now we’re going to be late.” I hand Lily back her phone.
“Who cares about class? We should prepare for this party. It’s going to be wicked!”
I roll my eyes at my whimsical friend. Of course she would embrace this insane would-be party. Anything remotely extraordinary catches her fancy.
“You can wait for imaginary clues in class. Let’s go before Mr. Donovan fails us.”
For once, I win the battle. Lily sighs as she takes her clothes out of her locker. I dress swiftly and drag Lily out of the locker room before the pests catch up with us. I won’t be able to focus in class so long as my question remains unanswered.
While we walk toward the stairs, I take out my invitation. “What do you read?”
Lily scrunches her nose as she squints at the silver vellum. “You’re cordially invited.”
“And?”
“And nothing. What else should I read?”
I bite my lower lip. I can’t tell her the truth—if I’m not hallucinating, the warning forbids me to speak. And either way, she’ll just assume I’m losing my mind.
Like my mother is.
“Nothing. Why isn’t James waiting for you today?”
The diversion works like a charm, as usual. Lily’s cheeks take on a rosy hue. “He had to prepare for a test. Why am I surrounded exclusively with nerds?”
“We can’t all be artists.”
Lily sticks her tongue out. “Don’t be jealous of my immense talent.”
I chuckle. “Too bad you can’t paint your way out of calculus.”
“I wish.”
I rush out of English Lit, my last class of the day, as soon as the bell rings, leaving my classmates and their gossip behind. The invitation is the only thing on everyone’s lips today, so much so that Dean DiNunzio had to call at least half a dozen students to his office for disturbing class.
But, no matter how fast I dash across corridors, there’s no escaping it. The silver vellum is everywhere—sticking out of backpacks, brandished like a trophy, littering the hardwood floor. And yet no one has mentioned a single other line of text throughout the day. I must be losing it.
I spy John, my rival for Valedictorian, leaning against a wall with a bemused expression on his usually serious face. He holds the invitation in his left hand.
“I bet you can’t wait for this party,” I tease. John is as much of a social recluse as I am.
He chortles. “There’s no party. Just a prank played on gullible teenagers.”
I look at the ceiling to hide my disappointment. “I heard a theory that the clues were written in invisible ink.”
“No way. I’ve tested this thing a thousand times since dawn—black light,
X-rays—you name it, I tried it. This—” he crumples the vellum and aims at the nearest garbage can “—is just a waste of perfectly good paper.”
The invitation falls into the can without making a sound. My hopes for my sanity go down with it.
I wave goodbye and scurry outside, but Lily and James are waiting for me on the sidewalk along with more than half of the senior class. Lily leans against James’s chest, his arm draped over her shoulders.
“What took you so long? We have to search for clues.”
“I have to go home,” I snap.
James darts confused glances between his girlfriend and me. “Did I miss something? Are you two fighting?”
“Not that I’m aware of,” Lily replies flatly. “Why are you being so rude, Hope?”
“I’m fed up with this alleged party.”
Lily shrugs off James’s embrace and grabs me by the arm, leading me out of earshot.
“What’s wrong with you today?” she hisses. “You’re acting even weirder than usual.”
“Sorry my life is so messed up. I don’t want to put a damper on your fun.”
Lily releases her hold on my arm. “That’s not what I meant. You know I’d never…”
Guilt washes over me. I’m being unfair to my best friend, and she doesn’t even know why. “Forget about it. I’m cranky today. Sorry for taking it out on you.”
“You know what you need?” She smiles mischievously. “A party.”
I laugh as I shake my head no. All the women in my life are stubborn.
“Well, it was worth a try at least.” Lily pouts. “Seriously though. You need to let out some steam eventually. I’m worried about you.”
“I’m fine.” I squeeze her hand. “I’ll head home and hang out with my mom. And whatever this invitation is, don’t do anything reckless, ok?”
Lily rolls her eyes. “I’ll be with James and our entire grade. What could happen to me?”
With her, anything could happen. But instead of arguing, I hug her goodbye. As soon as she’s out of sight, my panic returns. I’m worried about my hallucination. After all, dementia is hereditary.
Olympian Challenger Page 1
