Chapter 30
I rush to my hotel room and pull out my laptop. Cashing out my meager retirement account wouldn’t get me far enough to justify it. I’m not touching my even more meager emergency savings because that definitely won’t get me far enough either.
My car keys are as shiny as coins in the lamplight on the bedside table.
I hesitate. Can I do this, or am I doomed to fail like I have with everything else?
It’s a long shot, but there’s a chance. I know what I’m doing.
I finally understand Zeta. If she’s mine, I can build her to my standards. I can drive her the way I need to.
I open the search engine. My car is the only thing I have that’s worth anything.
“My dad was so proud of this,” he said when he handed me the keys. “He said it was the car that made all his dreams come true. He gave it to me, and shortly after, I met your mother. She made my dreams come true with you and Ava. Drive it all the way to your dreams, Peanut.”
The memory makes my eyes sting. It’s the only thing that would give me enough to buy Zeta.
It would even give me a small amount for repairs if I include my money from Joel.
I’ll have to get really creative in that aspect.
I might be able to get some parts off outgoing teams if anyone is feeling generous.
I can’t pay anyone on my team, either. Since they’re mostly here for the money, I don’t really expect them to stick around nor blame them if they don’t.
That’s a lot of work for only a chance at a paycheck.
I’ll be alone, and I’m already pushing myself beyond my limits.
If I win the Trot, I’ll breaking even. Even better, though, I’ll have a shot at the prize money for the Championship.
And I won’t have to split it with anyone.
$250,000, all to myself. Even after taxes, that will change everything.
I can pay off the rest of Dad’s medical bills.
I can pay for all of Ava’s schooling, plus pay off my student loans.
I’d even have enough to enter Circuit Smack again next year, especially with the sponsors I’d likely get.
But is it worth the risk?
I decide that this time, I’ll ask for help. It’s not my strong suit, but maybe I should start. I’m tired of figuring things out alone. I call my Dad.
“Hey, Peanut, how did the fight go? They aired your third fight last night. What a doozy.” His voice is muffled by the way his phone is tucked between his ear and shoulder as he goes between rooms.
I’m glad he can’t see my wobbly expression through the phone. “Hey, Dad. We lost the fight, unfortunately.” I'm too frazzled to care about the NDA right now.
“Ahh, I’m sorry, honey. These things happen.” His voice is a reassuring pat on the back. “What about the Trot?”
“Joel said no,” I sigh. My heart is crawling up my throat as I consider my next words. “But I have the chance to buy the robot.”
Dad whistles. “Wow. That’s gotta cost a pretty penny. You’ve always wanted to have a heavyweight, though.”
My exhalation is a derisive chuckle. “I can do it if I sell the car.” I wince, a mirror of the expression I can only assume he’s sporting based on the tiny sharp inhale I hear. “I’ll still barely have enough money to fix it. I can’t pay the team. Zeta isn’t even a solid bot.”
“But? I know a ‘but’ when I hear it.”
“But I might never have another chance, and that shitty bot is reminding me what I’ve loved about combat robotics. This was my dream, Dad. I’m finally here, living it.” I hiccup as the tears start to fall. “And I’m about to lose it all. Even if it’s not what I thought it would be, I want it.”
“Mar,” he breathes.
“I came here for the money. I can’t believe I’m even considering this.
What if I lose? What if I can’t do it?” I’m glad I’m alone so he can only hear my pathetic sniffling instead of seeing me wipe my nose gracelessly on my sleeve.
“I’ll be trying to take the bus home with a 250-pound hunk of scrap.
I won’t even have the money I came here for. ”
He hums. “And if you come home tomorrow with your money, how will you feel?”
“Relieved we can pay for at least a couple of things,” I say.
“Okay, and how will you feel about your robots?”
I still love my small bots. I still want to fight. But giving up a seat at the Circuit Smack table will hurt, and all I want to do is get back here. Leaving the heavyweights like this isn’t how I want to go out, even if I didn’t realize until this moment how much I really wanted to be here.
“Listen, Mari,” he says carefully, after a lengthy silence in place of my answer. “You’ve given up too much for me and Ava.”
“I wanted to.” They are my world. Even when things weren’t great with my dad, I knew the father he was before my mom left. I wanted Ava to get that, too. I didn’t mind picking up the slack to help him get back to that.
“It doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, Peanut. You shouldn’t have had to. You’ve carried this family too long. It’s time to do something for yourself.”
“The bills keep piling up, and Ava’s about to go to school, Dad. I can’t just stop everything.”
“Let me worry about that for once,” he says.
“I know between your mom leaving, Grammie dying, and my accident, I was pretty useless there for a few years. I’m back on my wheels.
You’re not the keeper of the family anymore.
You never should have had to do that in the first place. We’re in it together, Mari.”
My head bobs even though he can’t see me. To his credit, he has been working hard to make up for lost time with Ava. Since he got his wheelchair he’s been able to do a lot more. He recently applied for a grant to make his workshop accessible.
“Do you think you can win?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
He chuckles, a familiar and comforting sound. “You wouldn’t be thinking about buying the bot if you didn’t think so.”
I do. I really think I can win if I have the right opportunity.
It’s one I have to make for myself, one with high costs, both financial and physical.
“I’m already so tired and sore,” I say. “I don’t want to push myself to an injury I can’t recover from.
” I glance at my plastic splints, flexing my hands and feeling their already familiar embrace.
“Pushing through it like this isn’t sustainable. ”
“Can you make it sustainable?”
I’ve already started using my cane consistently, even when I think I don’t need it.
With Joel gone, I can sit during fights.
The plastic splints are helping. It’ll be hard without a team, but I can also do things my way, in the order that works best for me and gives me breaks when I need them.
Make modifications like adjusting the worktable to the right height to sit and work, versus standing.
Plus, I know Zeta inside and out. I’m no longer learning how it works, smashing my fingers, and using all my brain power to connect the dots. “Maybe.”
“I know you. You’ll find a way.”
“The only way I can buy the bot is if I sell the car,” I remind him.
“It’s your car. You can do whatever you want with it. You drove it to your dream fight, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.” The word is a wobbly newborn deer.
“Then it’s served its purpose. If you want to buy that bot, you buy that bot.
” When I’m quiet for a few moments, he continues, his serious dad-tone softened by my hesitation.
“No matter what you do, I’m proud of you, Peanut.
Come home tomorrow, come home next week, or come home a champ. I’ll be proud all the same.”
I sniffle. “Really? The same as if I win Circuit Smack?”
He laughs. “Yes, because you did what’s right for you. But I will expect you to buy dinner if you win.”
I’m laughing with him now. “Okay.” Still, all the numbers wallpaper my fears. “Unless I win the Trot, it’s going to be a monumental loss. It’ll put us way behind.”
“You won’t lose the Trot. And you let me worry about the bills.”
Endless optimism is helpful unless you’re trying to balance a checkbook. “But what if I do?”
He hums in thought. “Could you resell the bot?”
Joel did already have a buyer. There’s a chance he was bluffing but maybe not. “Maybe. If I win, I’ll break even on the robot. I won’t have a car, though.”
“Good thing there’s a bus line straight to your work, isn’t it?”
“Dad,” I sigh.
“Mar, when was the last time you did something selfish?”
“I lied to work about coming here,” I tell him.
I can practically hear his eye roll. “I meant actually selfish. Reckless, even.”
I’m not going to tell him about the series of one-night stands over the last couple of years, so I stay quiet. I can’t think of anything else.
“Do something selfish, Mari. Do something reckless.” There’s not a hint of sarcasm in his voice, though I keep desperately hoping there will be. “Take a leap of faith, Peanut. Don’t worry about the money. Let me worry about that. I’ve got it under control this time. Okay?”
I can’t imagine not worrying, but I say, “Okay,” to appease him.
“I’m serious, Mari. Do something selfish for once. Ava and I love you. We’re rooting for you.”
“I love you too, Dad.”
After we say our goodbyes, my laptop screen repeats all the numbers to me, the same as before.
I need to get out of this hotel room before it drives me wild, even if it’s only to the vending machines.
The hotel halls are quiet at this time of night. A door to my left opens as I begin making my way down the long hall to the alcove of vending machines. Jacob slips out of it.
“Mari? Hey,” he says breathlessly. I know his room is on a different floor. He must be with someone. Biblically. Why else would he look so flushed and breathless right now? Why does that make me want to crawl out of my skin and back to my room to hide for an eternity?
“Hi,” I say as I pass him. I pray I come off politely neutral, not at all confoundingly annoyed.
“Wait up,” he says. He barely has to walk any faster than his long legs would normally carry him before he falls in step beside me. “I heard you offered to buy ZetaMax.”
“Yeah,” I confirm. “But I’m not sure if I can afford it.
Or a team. I’m not sure I can handle a solo venture,” I admit.
The vending machines stand like beacons of comforting sugar as I close in on them.
When I get in range, I stop and stare at them like they’re filled with dirt.
The decisions seem overwhelmingly endless.
Do I get Reese’s or Snickers? Do I buy a robot or do I go home with my initial paycheck? Do I risk it all, or do I play it safe? Which will I regret the most? Take the $10,000 and run, or take the shot at $50,000 and maybe $250,000? Do I ignore Jacob or spill my guts to him? Chips or pretzels?
He steps in front of me, unavoidable, just like he always is. Distracting me from my task, just like he always does. His deep gray eyes search me as I peer up at him, facing off just like we always do lately. I am in the vacuum of space as I look into them. “What do you need to buy it? How much?”
I blink rapidly at his words. “I’m not taking your money.” I’m too exhausted to be insulted, and besides, I’m mostly confused. That’s a lot to offer anyone, let alone former-friends-turned-rivals-turned-whatever. Friends? Are we friends again? He doesn’t even know the cost.
“What else do you need?” There’s a strange urgency in his eyes. They make me feel like I’ve gotten off a tilt-a-whirl and I’m trying to get my bearings again. Maybe I’m still on it, trying to figure out where I am at all.
“I don’t know,” I admit. The fear and doubt crush me again. “I don’t have a team. I don’t have the money. I barely have a working robot.”
“Put me on your team.” The hum of the vending machines nearly drowns out his low voice, even as he steps closer. “You don’t have to do this alone.”
What? WHAT?
Every warning light in my brain flashes, every error code scrolls before my eyes, every circuit in my body explodes. “I figured you’d be going home during the break before the championship,” I answer meekly, shock rendering me useless.
He’s so close now that I can see each individual whisker of his stubble. I think I want to be back in his arms again, even if the thought confuses me.
“I’d rather stay here.” I’m frozen under the spotlight of his attention. “Let me be on your team, Mari.” His voice rumbles through me, tingling along my skin.
“I ....” I don’t know. It’s all too much. I can’t ask that of him; it’s so much work. For free. And a nagging part of my brain won’t let a particular thought lie. What if he betrays me again? I close my eyes to give myself a break. When I reopen them, I still don’t know what to say.
He takes a step back and turns his back to me. He digs in his pocket and feeds a bill into the machine. A moment later, he’s handing me a pack of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, my favorite.
“I’ll be here,” he says before disappearing, leaving me stunned in the hallway.
When I finally shuffle back to the room, I stare at the candy a moment before eating it. Letting myself savor something simple in the chaos of everything.
When I fall asleep, I dream of gray eyes, warmth pressed against my back, a cheering crowd, and a controller in my hands.