Chapter Sixteen
I successfully manage to stay alone during the entire drive to Olympia and the “checking into the hotel” process.
I’m assigned to share a room with Amalia again, which makes this easy.
We’re both so immersed in our projects that the only sound filling our hotel room is our respective typing—mine a slow pecking and hers an aggressive waterfall of key smashing.
So it’s not until the next morning, when we’re all filing off the bus and onto our tour of the site of the first Olympics, that I realize how much tension has permeated the entire cohort.
It’s definitely not just me having an intense time this trip.
Everyone is paired off or standing conspicuously alone.
Liam stands near Lucy but not close enough that they could have a conversation.
I wonder if they’ve had a fight too. Not knowing what’s going on with him gnaws at my insides.
The worst is Melanie, though. She’s hanging out by her mom, staring at the dust blowing around her sneakers.
Ms. Galanis starts the tour, explaining the history of the games as we walk past the ruined marble structures where the games were first held. The now-familiar sight of ancient columns line both sides of the grassy pathway we walk down, until we reach a long stretch of dirt carved into the ground.
“But, as I hope you’ve learned over the course of this trip,” Ms. Galanis says, “these stories are still very much alive around us. We still have the Olympics in our present world, obviously. And today we’ll be having our own.”
She gestures to the ancient racetrack in front of us, and we all exchange glances in spite of ourselves. What does she mean?
“We’re going to hold our very own Olympics right here, on the same land where ancient Greek athletes raced one another thousands of years ago,” Ms. Galanis says. “These Olympics are the last event in our decathlon.”
We all pointedly don’t exchange glances with one another. The last thing we need is to introduce more competitive edginess to our circle right now. Can our teachers really not read the room?
Or maybe they’re reading it too well and are somehow thinking of this as a team-building activity that’s going to save us all. In which case, they are sorely mistaken.
“Let’s start with shot put,” Ms. Barlowe says, pulling two bocce balls out of her massive purse. She hands one to Bodhi and one to Lucy.
They exchange glances as they file toward the line Ms. Galanis draws in the sand.
Bodhi is not, strictly speaking, involved in any of the drama, but he’s always tacitly disapproved of how willing Lucy is to throw herself into mixes she, too, is not technically part of. Lucy has always read this as high-horsey of him.
They both fling their bocce balls, and Bodhi wins handily.
An awkward shuffle passes through the group as we all shift our weight, looking at the columns and the dirt and the trees and everywhere but one another’s faces.
“All right, next up we have the long jump,” Ms. Galanis says, “with Amalia and George.”
She tells them that they’ll just be jumping as far as they can from the starting line, which seems ridiculous to me.
We’re here because we’re the nerdiest people alive.
Why make us lean into our athletic sides with made-up sports when no one is speaking and everyone just wants to hide behind their projects and work in silence?
George winks at Amalia as they line up next to each other. He jumps first, landing tragically close to where he started. Amalia jumps after him, landing exactly on top of him. They both topple to the ground.
We all freeze, and I wonder if the rest of the cohort is sharing my first thought—that Amalia has somehow decided to physically attack George in front of both our teachers.
But then we hear their laughter ringing from the cloud of dust that’s engulfed them. I breathe a sigh of relief, but it’s immediately replaced by confusion.
And then, as they’re getting up, Amalia kisses George on the cheek. In front of all of us.
Lucy screams, “Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. You guys are dating. Oh my god.”
We’re all frozen, staring at them in shock. After all the drama we’ve borne witness to, they’ve been secretly dating this whole time?
Amalia nods, lacing her fingers in George’s hand. I hold my breath, glancing at Lucy. She’s been so close to Amalia for so long, I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s furious. The cohort is about to explode in all new ways.
Lucy screams again, and I brace myself for the onslaught. But then she’s jumping up and down and running over to throw her arms around both of them.
“I’m so glad,” she says. I can tell from George’s vaguely purple expression that she’s squeezing his neck way too hard. “I always said you were made for each other.”
“Plagiarism aside,” Amalia says playfully.
“I literally never plagiarized, you slanderous liar,” George quips back.
Watching them joke about this feels like watching a dog do backflips. They’re still holding hands when they get back to the group, and it’s a sight I’ll never get used to.
But before any of us can press them for details, Ms. Barlowe waves me forward.
“Okay,” Ms. Galanis says, shaking her head. “Up next for a hopefully much less eventful footrace, we have Natalie versus Melanie.”
I want to crawl into a hole and lie there forever. In my worst nightmares, I’d never imagined they would do this to me.
I drag my feet to the starting line, dust clouding around my sneakers with every step I refuse to pick up off the ground. I reach the starting line eventually in spite of my best efforts. Melanie and I keep our eyes straight ahead, and the palpable tension between us feels like a slap.
At least I’m fast. This will be over quickly.
Ms. Barlowe counts us in, and I take off as soon as she says “Go.” For the first few seconds, all I can feel is the air rushing through my lungs, the pounding of my sneakers against the hard dirt. Running always clears my head like nothing else.
So maybe that’s why it takes right now for me to realize, truly, what I’ve put Melanie through this summer.
She’s easily become one of my favorite people. She’s met the ridiculous conditions I set at the beginning of the trip, the ones that were only in place because they were impossible. And all I’ve done is doubt her.
It’s so unfair. More than unfair. I owe her a million apologies.
And I owe myself more than what I’ve been giving too. A second chance at therapy, at love, at friendship—at the things I’ve withheld because I thought I failed when my first relationship ended when I was fourteen years old.
I take a deep breath and decide, just for this moment, to trust myself.
I slow my steps. Behind me, a cheer erupts from the group, and I recognize Lucy’s voice.
Of course she’s the first one to realize what I’m doing.
Her whooping lets the rest of the cohort in on it, and soon they’re all cheering and chanting as I screech from a sprint to a jog, letting Melanie take the lead. Take the race. Take the prize.
She wins, and I jog up behind her with a smile on my face.
She narrows her eyes at me. “You let that happen.”
“I did,” I admit.
“I don’t need your pity-race-throwing,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“That’s not—”
“I know,” she says with a smile. “Lucy told me about your stupid bet after you ended things.”
I shrug, a half smile playing on my lips. “I met someone who made me feel at home while showing me new places, and who made me feel like myself while pushing me to grow. I was never gonna meet someone who could beat me in a race without some help.”
Melanie meets my eyes, and I can see the questions hanging heavy around her irises.
“I’m so sorry for this summer,” I tell her. “I have a lot of reasons for why I’m like this, but no excuses. It was so wrong to drag you into my mess before I was ready to treat you with the care and consideration you deserve, and I’m really sorry.”
Melanie nods slowly. “I appreciate that a lot. And I’m sorry too. For letting my anxiety lead my way. I shouldn’t have tried to pressure you into a relationship you didn’t feel ready for. Friends?”
She holds out a hand, and it’s easy to take it.
“Friends,” I agree.
Friendship isn’t everything I want from her. I can see clearly enough that I realize that now, wholly and completely. But after everything we’ve been through this summer—all the mistakes I’ve made—I’m grateful that she’s offering it.
It’s not everything I want, but getting to keep her in my life—it’s enough.
—
“I saw what you did.”
I startle, looking up from my laptop screen. I’ve been so tuned into my designs for my museum exhibit that I didn’t even hear Liam slip through the door to our hotel room that Amalia had left ajar because she keeps losing her key.
I close my laptop and push it to the other side of my bed, making space for him to sit by me.
“Which part?” I ask.
“Letting Melanie win that race,” he says with a grin. “I’m assuming it means you’re sorting through things?”
I nod, staring down at the white detailing on the edge of the sheets. “Yeah. I’m really sorry about…everything this summer.”
“Me too,” he says. “Things got weird.”
“I made them weird,” I say with a little laugh.
He lowers himself onto the bed, crossing his legs underneath him.
“But I get what you meant about having reasons.”
“Not excuses, though,” I admit. “I was leaning on them too hard to justify my behavior to myself, and I’m really sorry.”
“Well, I’m sorry for not being more understanding,” Liam says.
“I know you were trying to help,” I tell him. “It just hit a nerve. The pressure to be in a relationship was part of why I found it so hard to be calm about the idea of one. And then I was getting all this scrutiny from the group, and it sort of made me hit the panic button.”
Liam nods. “I get that, and I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “I know everyone meant well.”
“But we should’ve heard you,” Liam says, and I nod quietly.