Chapter 45
I can’t breathe as I walk through the tunnel. The beat of the music is so loud that it pushes whatever air my anxiety hasn’t stolen out of my lungs.
I’m fighting in the Circuit Smack World Championships. Me. Mari Williams. I made it here. With lots of help and luck but plenty of hard work too.
As I walked out, signs wave and people cheer.
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to this.
Splashed across brightly colored paper are signs reading: “Zeta wins to the max!” and “Unstoppable!” Glitter catches my eye.
There is a little girl holding a sign in the accessible section, a single sheet of paper with a trophy drawn on it.
“ZETA” in big block letters, neon green glitter matching the forearm crutches that lean against her seat.
My family told me to do this for me, and I am.
But maybe I’m doing it for that little girl, too, seeing someone like her competing.
Maybe I’m doing it for the kids who come to the robot building camp in the summers with ideas as big as their imaginations.
Maybe I’m doing it for the students in my class at the community college, chasing their dreams with dogged ferocity.
I’m doing it for me, and I’m doing it for every version of me, past, present, and future.
You don’t realize your dreams, your passions, have been second place until you’re about to lose them. When you realize they’ve been eroded by time and stress, it’s almost impossible to get them back. But I did it. I got my dream back, and some new ones to boot. And I’m never letting them go again.
I rest my crutches against the side of the arena as I scoot onto my stool. Zeta and Ginger Snapped face each other in the arena, ready to go. The controller shakes in my hand, and I grip it tighter to steady it.
“Zeta, you ready?” the ref asks, and I nod without looking at him. My focus is solely on ZetaMax.
I hear numbers, but all I’m waiting for is “go.” When the word hits my ears, I shoot out of the box, immediately trying to get behind Ginger.
Ginger’s wheels can’t gain enough traction on the floor.
I swing around and hit them hard from the back.
I send the bot flying forward, rushing after to hit them again and again, taking off wheels and putting gouges in their armor.
A hit sends them into the wall, their saw arm bending down, a freak outcome that leaves them with their front wheels less than an inch off the ground.
I hear their driver swear as she tries to see if it will move.
The motors work so hard that smoke appears.
The back wheels spin in place, stranded.
Sometimes wins are more luck than skill, and it doesn’t matter to me how I get the win as long as I get it.
“ZETAMAX WINS!”
I can’t stop shaking as I switch off my robot and turn around to face the cheers and cameras. In thirty seconds, I have put myself three fights away from winning everything.
Jacob pulls me into a bear hug back at my workstation, congratulating me before immediately setting to work cataloging the damage to Zeta. His frantic energy sends warning lights flickering across my brain. He’s got his own fight to worry about.
“Jacob, get ready for your fight.” I try to grab the drill out of his hands.
“My team’s got it,” he mumbles and shakes me off. The attention I’ve seen him give his own prep is solely for me. I don’t want it. I want him to focus on his next fight.
“You said you focus too much on risk,” I say softly. “What is the risk here?” He ignores me as he works the top panel off of Zeta’s frame to check internal components. “Jacob.” I grab his wrist gently as he reaches for the triage checklist.
“This would be easier if I thought it would be an easy win or an easy loss for either of us,” he says, big gray eyes wide and frantic like a spooked horse. “I don’t want you to go home,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “And I don’t want to go home.”
“I have the rest of today and tomorrow to fix my bot. You have an hour before you’re scheduled to fight.
You have to focus on your robot right now.
Don’t let me be the thing that distracts you this time.
” I can’t be the reason he loses. If he shut me out when he lost a minor match, what would happen if I caused him to lose Circuit Smack? I can’t risk it.
He takes his hand back gently. “You’re right.” He looks like he wants to say something else, but he kisses me instead. “You’re right,” he says again, this time to himself.
“Go kick some bot.”
He gives me a smiling salute as he walks away, “You got it, ma’am.”
I take my time disassembling to check out what’s wrong, but the thought keeps playing on repeat. What happens if I cause him to lose? Will it make a difference if I beat him or if I drive him to distraction?
I slip out of the Bay and into the arena, hiding in the shadows of the spectator stands.
He radiates self-assuredness, patting his team members on the back as they prepare.
When the ref asks him if he’s ready, I watch the mental switch flip, his whole body shifting into a stable, squared stance. Focus overtakes him completely.
Watching him fight is more nerve-racking than I thought it would be.
I’ve seen him fight dozens of times, but this is so much different from before.
Every hit against him makes me cringe. Every hit he lands makes me cheer.
Every time he pins his rival, flamethrower frying them, I relish in the flame’s glow.
Every second on the clock makes me sweat until he’s announced the winner, the other bot a smoldering wreck.
I go back to the Builder Bay and pretend like I wasn’t standing fifty feet away when he walks in and scoops me up into his arms. When he kisses me, I pretend like I’m not terrified of what happens next. I revel in his warmth and joy.
“We’re going out to dinner to celebrate. Join us?”