Chapter 52
Our alarms blare in unison. We’ve both been lying here awake for an hour, anyway. Arms silently wrapped around each other, not a word to breach the silence. Slowly, we extract ourselves, dressing in the quiet, dark morning.
It’s not a fraught silence. It’s comfortable. It’s anticipatory. We’re both anxious, but no matter what, we’ll be celebrating. As much as I want to win—and I will do whatever I can to do so—there’s no sadness at the thought of losing to Jacob, only pride that I got this far.
We’re almost finished getting ready when Jacob finally speaks. “Crutches or cane?”
I hesitate, looking at where they both lean against the desk.
Everyone’s seen me with the crutches on camera, but I’ve only used the cane behind the scenes.
It’s very clear this isn’t some short-term use thing like the crutches.
My cane is customized, well-fit. The thought of everyone realizing that I’m disabled, not injured, floods me with worry again, despite my new mantra.
But why should it?
I let the thought float in my mind, like I did when Jacob asked me why I didn’t trust him.
Like my colorful hair, my fat body, and my short temper, my disability is a part of me.
It’s integral to my identity. It sucks a lot most days, but it’s an undeniable, permanent part of me and my worldview.
I will always need accommodations, I will always need mobility aids, and there will always be days I struggle.
And there’s nothing wrong with me. There’s nothing wrong with any of it.
I don’t judge someone for needing glasses, so why am I so judgmental about my own cane?
Especially when it helps me and my pain. That’s foolish.
Pain has been holding me back from my dreams. The mental energy being in pain takes, and the effort to counteract it, has been more than I’ve been able to balance for a long time.
I’m done mourning something I cannot change.
I’m tired of holding myself back. This body is mine, and even though it is fickle, frustrating, and painful, it is mine.
It has built robots; it has made love; it has cared for people, and I love it. Fuck what anyone else thinks.
As I grab the pink, glittering cane from where it leans, I feel strong.
I feel ready. I know this won’t fix me, but it will give me parts of my life back.
Right now, it’s going to help me win and show everyone who I really am.
Strong and proud. Not despite my disability, just in addition to it.
I’ll never “overcome it” the way nondisabled people think.
I will always live with it; I will always struggle with it.
And I will still succeed. Everything I have achieved, I have done disabled.
Jacob looks triumphant. “That’s my girl.”
The Builder Bay is a flurry of activity when we reach it. The teams that have stuck around for exhibition matches are doing repairs and getting ready. While they aren’t competing for the trophy, they still get plenty of attention that attracts sponsors and fans.
With a kiss on the forehead, Jacob leaves for his station, and I go to mine. I scroll through the dozens of well-wishing texts from my former team and my family, letting each one add a layer of invisible armor.
As Neil and I work, I shut out everything else. He has to shake me to get my attention when the camera crew arrives to do final interviews before the fight.
“Mari!” Celia’s extra-polished for the finale.
Not that I didn’t also take a little extra time getting ready this morning.
My makeup is exactly the way I want it, and my pink-and-purple waves are styled my favorite way with butterfly clips embedded in them.
I’m wearing my favorite outfit: my pink leather jacket styled over my favorite tank top and jeans.
In my hand is my sparkling cane. I’m at my most me, ready to be seen, ready to be heard, ready to be loved, and ready to win.
“Celia!”
“Mari, you had a rocky start to the season.” I nod seriously. That’s an understatement. “But here you are, about to compete for the championship trophy. And against longtime rival, Jacob Moore. Does that worry you?”
“I’ve been fighting Jacob for sixteen years, and I’m worried every time.” I grin. “He’s an incredible builder and an incredible driver. I’m looking forward to fighting him.”
“Previously, you said you and Jacob have a tied win record at home; is that right?”
I smirk. “Yes, we’re exactly tied in both beetleweight and featherweight fights against each other.”
“Are you confident you can break that tie tonight?”
I glance over at Jacob, whose mouth is tilted playfully at me from the sidelines, devastating dimple fully on display. I’m warm and full. “It could go either way, but it’ll be a hell of a fight, no matter what.”
After Jacob’s interview, we dive back into our work, and soon we’re being shuffled towards the arena by producers. My blood whooshes in my ears so loud I can barely hear them talking.
“Come here for a sec,” Jacob says, pulling me into an alcove before pressing me against a wall.
I giggle and bury myself in his chest. I’m buzzing with nerves, but it’s quieter when I’m pressed against him.
He kisses the top of my head. The low rumble of his contented hum vibrates against me. “Kiss for good luck?”
“Good luck for who? Me or you?” I tease.
“Are you kidding me?” He pulls me closer. “Me, obviously. I’m going to need it.”
It’s hard to kiss when you’re smiling so big your cheeks hurt, but we manage with enthusiasm.
We walk to the spot where we must say goodbye, and he kisses me again. “See you in a few minutes.”
“See you in a few,” I echo, squeezing his hand one last time before he’s being led away.
“Mari!”
I turn in time to be swamped in a hug by Fatimah, Chris, and Sonny.
“Oh my god,” I say, tears springing to my eyes as they release me from their death grip. “What are you doing here?”
“We came to cheer you on,” Chris says.
Sonny puts his arm around Fatimah. “We figured we all just came into $10,000. We could afford a quick trip back here.” He smiles adoringly at her.
“We were afraid we were going to miss you before you got out there,” Fatimah says. “You made it, girl!”
“Wild, right?”
They all shake their heads. “Earned,” Chris says seriously.
“With this new Zeta, you’re going to kick Kilowatt’s metal ass,” Fatimah says, delighted with possible revenge.
“Speaking of Kilowatt,” Sonny says. “Were you kissing Jacob a minute ago?” Fatimah elbows him. “What?”
“You can’t just ask people if they were kissing their former nemesis,” she mumbles to him.
“Oh,” he winces. “Sorry.”
“Were you, though?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I laugh. “It just kind of happened.”
Fatimah pulls me into a hug, her plump arms wrapping around me tightly. “We’re happy for you.”
Chris pulls out his wallet and hands Sonny a $20 bill.
“Did everyone know but us?” They nod in unison. “Wow.”
“It’s not your fault,” Fatimah says reassuringly. “He was being a massive fool.” Chris and Sonny nod quickly in agreement.
“Mari!” a producer calls. “Thirty seconds!”
“Oh shit. We have to head to our seats,” Sonny says. “And you have to get to your fight. Good luck.”
“You got this, Mari,” Chris says.
“Kick his ass!” Fatimah says as Sonny leads her away.
I wipe the happy tears off my cheeks, take a deep breath, and square my shoulders.
“It’s show time! ZetaMax, let’s go!”