52. Olivia
DAY THIRTEEN OF THE 2024 OLYMPICS
When Olivia was eight years old, she’d run a tactical campaign to become class president. With the strategy of someone way beyond her years, she’d written out a list of the most influential people in each friendship group, starting with the girl who ran the lunchtime book club and the goalie of the KS2 football club. She’d subtly befriended them all over the course of the two months before the vote, told them about all the things she wanted to change at their school, alluding to campaign promises with the strategy of a seasoned politician. It would be a piece of cake to get the librarian to order some 13+ novels for the book club girls. And, of course, the football boys should be allowed to play whatever they wanted during PE. She’d whispered and promised, charmed and calculated her way to the ballot paper, and won the presidential election by a landslide. Olivia could take any situation and make it work in her favor. She knew exactly how to get what she wanted.
So, when she walked into the Village that morning, she did so with clear-eyed focus. She had a goal, and nothing was going to get in her way. First she had to find Noah—the weaselly head of HR—and, as she told Arlo, “Make him bend to my will.” Because, you see, Olivia was that girl. She’d just temporarily lost sight of it.
She and Arlo walked past Olympic prison, and Olivia made what she hoped was intimidating eye contact with the security guards who had detained her on that first day. But they didn’t seem to notice. Then they walked into the offices, using the security clearance that Arlo had somehow acquired by being friends with virtually everybody in the Village.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Olivia said as she walked up the stairs, her nerves threatening to get the better of her.
“Olivia, I’ve seen you coordinate an eight-hundred-goodie-bag-drop operation and single-handedly convince a team of burly, kind of intimidating but also really hot Australian rugby players to take their postmatch celebration back into their apartment. I’ve seen you persuade the canteen chefs to bake a birthday cake for the Holland House receptionist, and I’ve witnessed you find a way to transport eighteen bales of hay across the Village by yourself. Olivia, you can do anything.”
“You’re right, I can,” she said, summoning up every possible drop of confidence in her body. She went up to Noah’s office and knocked on the door.
“Come in,” said Noah.
Olivia slowly turned the handle and walked in. Noah was on his laptop, typing with a pen in his mouth. As he looked up, she could feel his instant recognition.
“Olivia, it’s nice to see you again,” he said, looking panicked. She hadn’t forgotten her Olympic prison detainment and, from the expression on his face, he hadn’t either.
“Hello, Noah, may I take a seat?” she asked calmly.
He looked alarmed but put his hand out to say yes. “How have you been getting on? I wanted to apologize again for the—” he began, the guilt pouring out of him, but Olivia didn’t have time to console him.
“I’ve moved on from my unnecessary detainment,” she said plainly, and then, more pointedly, “I’ve also moved on from the fact that my internship was quite clearly given to someone whose family has strong affiliations with the organization.” Noah squirmed. She sat back in her chair and took up more space as she realized that, for maybe the first time in her life, she was the one with leverage. She liked it.
“I know that the OOC has made a pledge toward diversity, inclusion, and representation in and out of the stadiums. And I know how much the Olympic Organizing Commission stands against corruption.” She paused to let the words sink in, looking directly at Noah. He flinched, calculating the scandal Olivia could cause if she started speaking to the press.
“And I know how much you care about the future of the Games and the next generation of Games Makers,” she said with a small smile. “Right?”
“Right,” Noah said, too smart to say anything that she could later use against him.
“Which is why I wanted to ask if you could help me with something.”
When she left the office and closed the door, Arlo was outside, waiting to hear what had happened. She shook her head, and they headed down the corridor. They walked down the stairs and then out of the office building. Down the path past Olympic prison, until they were far enough into a neutral area of the Village that Olivia could grin at Arlo and tell him what had gone down.
“You are looking at a girl who just landed a job at the United Nations,” she said.
“No way!” said Arlo in disbelief.
“Yep. I was only planning on asking him for tips on how to apply for the autumn internship. But then he looked so terrified that I had to see how far I could take it,” she said, before explaining it all.
A deep stalking session with Aditi the night before had revealed that Noah was only working at the Olympic Organizing Commission on a temporary attachment for the year. His main job was overseeing graduate jobs at the United Nations. So, Olivia pulled her CV out of her bag, slid it over to Noah, and told him all the reasons she was qualified—if not overqualified—for a job listing that she’d seen go up on their website a few days before. It was a graduate position in the UN office of Sport for Development and Peace that consisted of working with sports organizations around the world to make recreational and professional sports more accessible to children from different backgrounds. She immediately knew that it was the job for her.
So, she’d spent a day running around the Village trying to convince every senior volunteer and department manager she’d helped since she’d arrived in Athens to write her a glowing recommendation. The head of transportation for the Village gave her a rave review, listing all the compliments he’d heard from athletes she’d buggied around the Village. The head of facilities sent her a two-page-long reference detailing all the crises she’d helped them avert. And the equestrian stable master wrote a letter praising how she was “always willing to get stuck in, even if that meant scooping up horse poo.” Noah had read every reference she’d handed over to him and then left the room to make a call.
When he returned, he’d told her that he’d made the call because he genuinely believed she was perfect for the role. And then he’d told her, in no uncertain terms, that if she ever tried to blackmail him again, he would find a way to put a permanent Olympics life ban on her.
She’d smiled and said that if she ever suspected he was trying to blackball her, she’d find a way to slowly but effectively leak every salacious piece of OOC gossip she’d heard to the press.
Noah had laughed, shaken her hand, and said she would make a great politician one day. Olivia said she’d see him when she got to the top. Then she left the room, triumphant that she’d got the job, uneasy about all the compromises she could already see in her future, but at peace in the knowledge that at least now she was brave enough to negotiate for what she wanted and deserved.
At some point, she’d taught herself to stop actively wanting things. To work hard but never want it too much. Girls weren’t supposed to want power too much; Black girls weren’t supposed to actively, shamelessly fight for it. But Olivia wanted it, and so she’d finally allowed herself to reach out and get it. She knew that guys like Lars had no qualms about making calls and asking for favors, so why should she? Of course, at some point, someone would use it against her; call her power-hungry or “difficult.” But smoothing down her edges only made her feel like she was losing herself. Olivia was hungry and wanted it all. It was who she was, and there was no need to deny herself anymore. There were already enough glass ceilings—she wasn’t going to allow her own thoughts to be another.
“Olivia, I always knew you had a Machiavellian streak.” Arlo grinned.
“I’ve just been waiting for the right opportunity to use it.” She shrugged with a wicked smile.
“I’m ninety percent sure this is going to become your Villain Origin Story… but I’m so here for it.” He laughed. “So, when do you start? Where do you start?”
“October in Geneva,” said Olivia excitedly, realizing that for the first time in her life she had a whole month of unplanned time. Usually not knowing what she was doing the next day filled her with dread. But as she thought about all the activities she and Aditi could tick off their checklist, all the places Arlo had recommended, and all the adventures she’d begun to dream up with Zeke, she felt a wave of joy. For once she could make the summer stretch out.
“And how are you going to celebrate?” Arlo asked, excited for her.
“Well, nothing can top the volunteer bar opening ceremony watch party,” she began, recalling the day she’d first met Arlo. “But do you want to go to the second-best watch party in town?” she asked, as she took two VIP tickets out of her pocket.
An hour later they were outside the gates to the stadium. At long last, it was the day of Zeke’s 100m final.