Chapter 39
The shaking doesn’t stop when we’re back in the Bay, my hands rattling as I try to unscrew the top armor to replace the layer underneath, cut through by the blade. I’m moving on.
“Deep breaths, Peanut,” my dad says. Ava’s hand rubs soothingly over my back. Jacob looks at me with concern as he replaces a wheel that was punctured by shrapnel on the arena floor.
“I’m okay; I’m okay,” I tell them, but after a minute of trying to get the drill in place, Jacob gently takes it out of my hands.
“We’ve got you.” His words are a quiet reminder as our hands brush. You don’t have to do this alone.
“Looks like Ankylosaurus is your next match,” my dad says as he points to one of the TV screens where the team is named victorious.
“Oof,” Ava says, and I agree. The bot is a unique design.
There’s a horizontal spinning bar on the back of the triangle-shaped bot.
It swings around, using the momentum of its body along with its weapon like an Ankylosaurus’s tail.
It’s a weapon and wheel-destroying robot with a talented team behind it.
I’m surprised it even ended up in the Trot.
We rush to get Zeta ready in the three hours we have until the next fight. The new armor plate shines through the gouge in the bot’s top.
There are no full fixes in the Last Shot Bot Trot, only patching repairs. It’s part of what makes it challenging for both the team and the bots. By the third fight, you’re never at your best.
I say a prayer that the batteries will hold enough charge. Not running my weapon until the end of the quick fight helped the strain on them.
Even through the rush, the work I need to do is easier on me now.
The table is at the right height for my dad and me to reach without straining or standing.
Our assigned checklists with timeframes make it so we can work on our items independently but still be done together at the right time.
It’s stressful, and it’s still a lot of work, but it’s less daunting, and even though I’m fueled by nerves and excitement, I can tell it’s less hard on me.
Jacob and Ava take the bot for weigh-in while my dad makes me eat a snack before the fight.
“Mar, I don’t want to get involved in your personal relationships,” he says, like he’s fully about to.
“I know he hurt you more than you let on. I don’t know the full extent of what happened, but I know what you were like when he came back home,” he says, eating his own snack.
“But he seems like he’s trying very hard to make up for it.
” He studies my reaction with a trained eye.
“He is,” I confirm. “I’m worried it’ll all fall to shit like it always does, though.” I’ve been trying to ignore the snake of worry nestled in my gut. Everything is going so well. I’m happy. That definitely means something is about to go horribly wrong.
He shrugs and smiles at me, gentle and full of optimism. “Or maybe this time it works out.”
“What are you guys talking about?” Ava says as they return.
“Nothing. I’m going to get some air,” I say, checking my watch. We have fifteen minutes until they come to collect us for the next fight. I go to the employee rest area Jacob showed me, letting the chilly spring air fill my lungs as I sit on a bench and close my eyes.
“Are you okay?” Jacob’s warm body presses against my side. His arm wraps around my shoulders. I rest my head on his shoulder.
“I needed a minute.”
“I can go,” he offers.
He is a lightning rod to the chaos of my thunderstorm. He grounds me, even if I’m still scared. “Please don’t.”
He pulls me closer and presses a kiss to the top of my head.
I look at the table where we sat just a couple weeks ago and hashed out a new beginning.
It seems like yesterday and a lifetime ago.
I’ve been at Circuit Smack for a little over three weeks, and my life has changed in a million different ways.
It’s hard to breathe when I list them all.
“We have to go,” Jacob murmurs, soothing voice rumbling through him and into my side. When I lift my head from his shoulder, he kisses me, and we head wordlessly into the next battle.
“Dad and I were watching Anklo recaps,” Ava says as we walk to the arena. “Stay on their left side. It seems like they have more trouble swinging that way.” Years of watching the bot flood back to me as we enter the fray.
It’s nothing less than a minor miracle when one of my hits knocks my opponent backward, and their weapon gets wedged between two pieces of the arena side wall.
The second time today this has happened.
Their wheels spin in place, trying to unstick themselves as the referee counts for a knockout, but they are wedged too deeply.
With less than thirty seconds on the fight clock, the fact that I have two and a half wheels left, and that last hit taking out my weapon motor, perhaps it’s a major miracle.
I hold my breath as the ref keeps counting.
“Breathe,” Jacob whispers in my ear. His image behind me is a ghost in the plexiglass. Breathing becomes much easier when I’m laughing in disbelief as the ref calls a knockout. It becomes difficult again when Ava squeezes me so hard I think my ribs move, but it’s worth it.
The lasers bounce triumphantly around the arena. “Team ZetaMax is off to the Last Shot Bot Trot final!”
I’m one fight away from $50,000. I’m one fight away from the championship and a chance at $250,000.
Celia appears like a hair-sprayed and perfumed apparition. “Mari!”
“Celia!”
“Mari, you are on your way to the Last Shot Bot Trot finals after a rough qualifying season. How are you feeling?”
“Excited, nervous, and tired,” I admit, incredulous laughter bubbling through me. “But unstoppable.”
“Well, there you have it, folks. Unstoppable Mari Williams and ZetaMax!”
The trip back to the Bay is a blur of congratulations and cheers. The excitement and fear are now equal participants in my bloodstream. The adrenaline replaces any pain I have. I will crash hard later, but I don’t care right now. I’m so close.
“How long until the next fight?” my dad asks as he hands me a water bottle and orders me to drink.
“A little more time: four hours,” Jacob tells him. “Why don’t you and Ava go grab some food? Mari and I can triage Zeta.” They head off in search of something to eat, promising to bring us back a bounty.
Already ahead of him, I’m steadier this time as I remove panels to check for internal damage and grab the battery packs to throw on the charger. “We’ll need every minute of it for the batteries,” I fret.
“Hey,” he says as we lean over the bot. When I look up, he kisses me square on the lips. “Proud of you.”
“Thank you.” I blush at the adoration in his eyes, suddenly aware of how it might have been there longer than I recognized.
It also makes me hot around the collar. Do I have a praise kink?
I think I might have a praise kink. Especially when the praise is coming from him.
I change the subject to the matter at hand.
There’s a lot of work to be done. “Do you know where my screwdriver is?”
“Table behind you,” he says.
As I turn and take a step to get my screwdriver, the unsteady nature of my body reminds me that no matter how careful I am, it will always win. Pain explodes from my knee, and I crumple to the ground with a cry.