Chapter 24
After talking with Ava and not staying up late working for once, I feel slightly less like I’m standing in a suspiciously large shadow while the sky is falling around me.
Travis scowls as I step into the elevator with him.
“Good morning, Travis,” I say with polite indifference.
He sniffs, turning up his nose at me. The elevator begins its snail’s pace descent, filled with chilly silence and the clicking of my rings on the handle of my cane.
When we reach the ground floor, he stomps away.
I make my way to the Bay, hoping I’ll run into Fatimah, Sonny, or Chris to see if they know what crawled up Travis’s ass. Instead, when I make it to our workstation, Joel is waiting there, scowling in an expression matching his henchman’s.
“You guys are so lucky it costs so much to break my contract,” he says when the remainder of the team arrives. “I wanted to pull out of this pointless show, but no, it’d cost twenty times more than it would to fix the damn bot for another fight and pay you cretins.”
“Whoa, that’s—” Chris starts, but I put my hand on his arm to stop him.
“You were supposed to be all-stars! Brilliant! And you haven’t won a single fight!
” he shouts at us. He must have taken a power pose class.
I watch him intentionally correct his hunched anger into chest-out, shoulders-wide fury.
My shoulders meet my ears as I try to disappear from the staring of our peers.
“What a waste of time and money. This was supposed to be fun, and now—” He makes a disgusted noise.
“You’re all embarrassments.” His phone rings, and he switches demeanor at once into a smiling investor as he answers it and walks away.
“Who knew rich guys were so cheap?” Fatimah mutters.
Travis huffs. “He didn’t get to be that wealthy and successful by wasting his money. He spends it strategically.”
“You’re right, Travis. He strategically spent it on unethical labor, shady business practices, and grifting,” I say, rolling my eyes.
I take in Zeta’s battered body. “I don’t know about you all, but even if Joel has given up, it doesn’t mean I have.
” Even though I was close to it last night, I refuse to quit now.
For the first time in longer than I care to think about, I’m excited to fight, to build.
It swings back and forth in its intensity, but the frisson of excitement I have while rebuilding Zeta has worked its way into my bloodstream.
I’m bubbling with anticipation. I’ve worked too hard on ZetaMax to give up.
It may not be the best robot, but she’s mine.
ZetaMax was never Joel’s, she’s always been meant for me.
Fatimah winks at me. “That’s the Mari spirit. I’m also only here for the paycheck, but I like a challenge. What about you, Chris?”
“We could still turn it around!” Chris’s enthusiasm is as bright as a neon sign as he buzzes with excitement. It could also be because he’s holding a coffee large enough to revive a dead man. “Besides, if we do well in the next fight, maybe we can convince Joel to enter the Last Shot Bot Trot.”
“Travis?” I ask. It’d be so easy to leave him out, brush him off, and needle him the way he does everyone else.
However, I’m tired of fighting against everything and everyone.
I’ve got to fight for myself. Right now, that means allies.
Even if he’s a dick, it’ll be easier with his help than without it.
He throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine. I didn’t come all this way to lose.”
“I’ll take it,” I say, patting him on the back.
We take in our bot and tentative truce, then get to work.
After working in concentrated silence for a while, Chris whispers, “Do you think there’s any chance Joel would enter the Last Shot Bot Trot? Even if we win the next fight, there’s no way we’ll score high enough to advance to the championship.”
The Last Shot Bot Trot is for the losers.
Only the top two teams in each of the seven fighting groups advance to the Circuit Smack World Championship, along with last year’s championship winner.
Anyone who doesn’t have enough points to advance to the championship has the chance to enter the Last Shot Bot Trot.
The Trot includes four fights: an instant elimination qualifier with random matchups, and a three-fight tournament.
All three tournament fights take place on the same day.
It’s grueling even for the best teams. However, it’s your last shot at making it to the championship.
We are, unfortunately, losers.
“We can ask, but I doubt it, especially after earlier.” While entering the Trot is free and comes with a $25,000 prize, you are putting your robot and team through four more fights.
There’s no time for big fixes, only making it operational, and that’s still expensive.
Not to mention the cost of getting it back to perfection for the championship.
“This isn’t how I wanted my season to go,” he says mournfully. Chris is the only one on the team who seems to have a genuine interest in fighting heavyweights, other than me. “But I’m glad we are on the same team.” His wide smile is a balm.
“Me too, Chris.”
No matter what happens, I’m grateful I’ll be walking away from this with three new friends.
I glance over at Fatimah and Sonny, who are talking quietly, simpering, and batting eyelashes.
He brushes a lock of black hair behind her ear and she leans into his hand.
At least they won something greater here.
We decide to bring lunch back to our workspace so we can try to get as much done as possible today, but the space is abuzz.
People flitting across the aisles to other teams, whispering excitedly.
Soledad strolls to our booth. This is the first time since their debut that Calysto’s Revenge has not had a great run.
Soledad is becoming a new friend. We’ve chatted a few times about our bots, the challenges of academia, and our favorite video games.
“Mari,” she says cheerfully. “Did you hear the news?”
I set down my work. “What news?”
She becomes conspiratorial, eyes twinkling. “The Last Shot Bot Trot raised the prize money.”
My eyes narrow. “By how much?”
“They doubled it.” She rocks on her heels, shoulders shimmying in excitement. “It’s $50,000.”
Behind me, Chris sputters, coughing up a part of his gallon-sized coffee. My mouth falls open. “Fifty? Thousand? Dollars?”
Her joyful face bobs up and down. “Fifty. Thousand. Dollars. They got some new sponsor. Is Zeta entering?”
I grimace. “It’ll take a lot of convincing. I think if we turn it around in the next fight, we could do it.”
She is pensive. “I watched some of your beetleweight fights online,” she says.
I wince. It’s not weird to me if strangers watch my fights, but somehow, when my friends watch them, it feels like showing them my underwear drawer.
“If anyone here can turn it around, it’s you.
Don’t let a string of bad luck shake you. ”
I swallow, unsure. “Is Calysto’s Revenge entering?”
“Hell yeah, girl!” She laughs. “The team is having fun. We usually budget to stay for the Trot, but we haven’t needed to.
” She looks over her shoulder fondly at her team.
While I enjoy teaching my night classes—showing students the magic of engineering, watching them build and learn—it’s not my passion.
I can clearly tell that it’s hers. She turns back to me, radiating warmth and joy. “See you at the Trot.” She winks.
I turn to Travis. “What do you think the chances are of getting Joel to agree to the Trot?”
Travis pushes his glasses up his nose before tapping his chin dramatically. “Very low. But if you win this last fight, I think he’d take the chance.”
I chew my lip. “Okay. Let’s win this fight.”