Partner Games
Page 9
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“I’m here to win a million dollars,” he told me with a cocky grin. “Doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the company on the way.”
My fists clenched. “Do you seriously want to go out with me that bad?”
He leaned in. “You wanna know the truth?”
“Yes!”
His lips moved close to my ear, whispering. “I think you’re cute as hell, but no, I’m not interested in dating. It’s mostly to get your sister to hang out with Plate. He’s got a massive crush on her.”
I jerked back, stung. So he didn’t want to go out with me? Why did that hurt my feelings? I swallowed hard and my gaze flicked to his mouth, which had been uncomfortably close to my ear. “One hour,” I bargained. “After all this. Dinner in the city or something.”
“Done,” he said, and set his tray down. “I’d offer to spit on my hand and shake on it, but I don’t think I have any spit left.”
“Gross.”
Swift just winked at me. “Okay, here’s what you do.”
He walked me through the process, which was most of what he’d already shown me. Apparently you ground the corn into a chunky mix and then shoved it in your mouth and chewed for a long time. When it got ‘good and sloppy’ (his words, not mine) you took it out and mushed it into a ball.
“Trick is,” he told me as I chewed my first mouthful. It was like the world’s worst tasting, driest granola. “You put them into balls, and then you flatten them,” he said, pushing his thumb onto the little balls on his tray. “I already got sent back once over this. If you don’t do it, they’ll reject your tray.”
It was the first time he’d done that particular move, and I narrowed my eyes, realizing that he’d been deliberately holding back that bit of information. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
“Well, that’d be kinda stupid of me, don’t you think? Lie to you to get you voted off? Then we can’t have our date.” He winked and sauntered away, heading over to the judges. He presented his tray, and one of the costumed Incans handed him a beer. He turned and toasted me, and then downed the entire thing in one long pull. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he took the clue disk they gave him and jogged away.
Damn the man. I was going to have to trust him, wasn’t I? I sat down again and spit out the dry wad of corn in my mouth. It looked nothing like his corn. He must have been better with his mouth than I was.
Then I blushed at the thought and shoved another mouthful in.
Chewing mouthful after mouthful of corn for chicha de muko wasn’t a hard task, but it was time consuming and my jaw hurt from all the grinding. It also made me never want to eat another bite of corn ever again. Team after team showed up, until almost all the blankets were full of contestants chewing away. Both the Dr. Moms and Team Houston left shortly after Swift did, and by the time I finally finished my hundredth ball of spitty corn, the green cops team was not far behind me. Apparently Foster chewed corn like a wild beast. Who knew? I checked in my tray and got a nod from a judge, and someone handed me a glass of beer.
Just don’t think about where it’s from, Clementine, I told myself as I pinched my nose and drank. Beer was not my favorite drink to begin with, but this purple mess tasted bitter and horrific. Like beer mixed with dirt. I choked it down, got my clue, and trotted off to the finish line. My jaw hurt and my stomach felt as if it were going to give up in protest, but I was proud of myself. Firmly in the middle of the pack to start, but not bad. Not bad at all.
On one of the terraces, a finish line had been set up, full of cameras and World Races flags. On the other side of the finish line was a mat with the logo, and Chip stood there, checking his hair in a mirror. Off to one side were the teams in order that they’d finished: Black, Yellow, Teal.
When I got to the finish line, though, a production assistant waved me aside. “You can’t check in to the mat until your teammate gets here.”
I nodded and moved to one side, holding the disk. Georgie was a fierce competitor when she put her mind to things. I had no doubt she would get her task done quickly. In fact, I was a little surprised I had beat her to the finish line. On the other side of me were several other contestants that had done the other task, waiting on their corn-chewing partners.
Huh.
Green came up a few minutes behind me, and they checked in. Then Team Endurance Island, Annabelle and Jendan, exchanging a happy kiss. As more teams checked in, I got more and more nervous.
Where was my twin?
Chapter Six
“Plate’s gonna be a problem. He wants to ally with Georgie and Tiny because they’re cute. Which, normally, I’d be down with because they ARE cute. But I kinda need that money. It might be smarter to team up with those Green Team dickbags.” — Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races
The Red Hat team – the two elderly ladies – checked in at the mat. That left everyone but Georgie still at the travel mat, didn’t it? I tried counting teams, but I was getting so nervous and worried for my twin that I couldn’t think straight. Nine teams. There were nine total in the game, right? God, where was Georgie?
Everyone looked at me expectantly. I fidgeted, arms crossed, and then strode forward. “I’m going to go find her—“
A production assistant stopped me. “I’m sorry, you can’t. That’s against the rules. Since you did the food challenge, you can’t go to the grounds of the other challenge. It’s considered double dealing.”
I gave the woman with the clipboard a hard look. “We’ve already lost. Just let me go find her.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the assistant said. “Please wait at the line for a bit longer.”
Frustrated, I was about to give her a piece of my mind when a big hand clapped on my shoulder. “I’ll check it out, Tiny. No worries. I did the challenge so they can’t stop me,” Plate said, and lumbered forward, jogging back down through the terraces of Machu Picchu.
I watched the enormous biker head down. “My name’s not Tiny,” I said, a bit exasperated. Mostly, though, I was just relieved someone was going to check on Georgie. I bit my nails and glanced over at Swift.
He raised his hands in a shrug.
Minutes passed slowly, and it got to the point that I was ready to do a quarterback tackle on the next person that prevented me from finding my twin. Then, Plate’s broad face and enormous shoulders appeared, and a moment later, so did my twin. Relief shot through me as Georgie walked slowly up the terrace steps, not an ounce of urgency in her form. Rather, her shoulders were slumped, defeated, and she was wiping her eyes as if she’d been crying.
I pressed my fingers to my mouth. Oh, Georgie. What was wrong? My twin never cried and she loved competition. What was it about this challenge that made her have a meltdown? It must have been incredibly hard. And here all I had to do was chew up and spit out corn. Next time, I’d let Georgie do the eating challenge if it was that much easier. I felt guilty that I’d done so well and she’d struggled so much.
Plate put an arm around Georgie’s shoulders, leaning in and saying something. His pep talk must have worked, because Georgie smiled through her tears, wiped her eyes and jogged up the stone stairs to where I was waiting by the mat.
My fists clenched. “Do you seriously want to go out with me that bad?”
He leaned in. “You wanna know the truth?”
“Yes!”
His lips moved close to my ear, whispering. “I think you’re cute as hell, but no, I’m not interested in dating. It’s mostly to get your sister to hang out with Plate. He’s got a massive crush on her.”
I jerked back, stung. So he didn’t want to go out with me? Why did that hurt my feelings? I swallowed hard and my gaze flicked to his mouth, which had been uncomfortably close to my ear. “One hour,” I bargained. “After all this. Dinner in the city or something.”
“Done,” he said, and set his tray down. “I’d offer to spit on my hand and shake on it, but I don’t think I have any spit left.”
“Gross.”
Swift just winked at me. “Okay, here’s what you do.”
He walked me through the process, which was most of what he’d already shown me. Apparently you ground the corn into a chunky mix and then shoved it in your mouth and chewed for a long time. When it got ‘good and sloppy’ (his words, not mine) you took it out and mushed it into a ball.
“Trick is,” he told me as I chewed my first mouthful. It was like the world’s worst tasting, driest granola. “You put them into balls, and then you flatten them,” he said, pushing his thumb onto the little balls on his tray. “I already got sent back once over this. If you don’t do it, they’ll reject your tray.”
It was the first time he’d done that particular move, and I narrowed my eyes, realizing that he’d been deliberately holding back that bit of information. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?”
“Well, that’d be kinda stupid of me, don’t you think? Lie to you to get you voted off? Then we can’t have our date.” He winked and sauntered away, heading over to the judges. He presented his tray, and one of the costumed Incans handed him a beer. He turned and toasted me, and then downed the entire thing in one long pull. Then, with an exaggerated sigh, he took the clue disk they gave him and jogged away.
Damn the man. I was going to have to trust him, wasn’t I? I sat down again and spit out the dry wad of corn in my mouth. It looked nothing like his corn. He must have been better with his mouth than I was.
Then I blushed at the thought and shoved another mouthful in.
Chewing mouthful after mouthful of corn for chicha de muko wasn’t a hard task, but it was time consuming and my jaw hurt from all the grinding. It also made me never want to eat another bite of corn ever again. Team after team showed up, until almost all the blankets were full of contestants chewing away. Both the Dr. Moms and Team Houston left shortly after Swift did, and by the time I finally finished my hundredth ball of spitty corn, the green cops team was not far behind me. Apparently Foster chewed corn like a wild beast. Who knew? I checked in my tray and got a nod from a judge, and someone handed me a glass of beer.
Just don’t think about where it’s from, Clementine, I told myself as I pinched my nose and drank. Beer was not my favorite drink to begin with, but this purple mess tasted bitter and horrific. Like beer mixed with dirt. I choked it down, got my clue, and trotted off to the finish line. My jaw hurt and my stomach felt as if it were going to give up in protest, but I was proud of myself. Firmly in the middle of the pack to start, but not bad. Not bad at all.
On one of the terraces, a finish line had been set up, full of cameras and World Races flags. On the other side of the finish line was a mat with the logo, and Chip stood there, checking his hair in a mirror. Off to one side were the teams in order that they’d finished: Black, Yellow, Teal.
When I got to the finish line, though, a production assistant waved me aside. “You can’t check in to the mat until your teammate gets here.”
I nodded and moved to one side, holding the disk. Georgie was a fierce competitor when she put her mind to things. I had no doubt she would get her task done quickly. In fact, I was a little surprised I had beat her to the finish line. On the other side of me were several other contestants that had done the other task, waiting on their corn-chewing partners.
Huh.
Green came up a few minutes behind me, and they checked in. Then Team Endurance Island, Annabelle and Jendan, exchanging a happy kiss. As more teams checked in, I got more and more nervous.
Where was my twin?
Chapter Six
“Plate’s gonna be a problem. He wants to ally with Georgie and Tiny because they’re cute. Which, normally, I’d be down with because they ARE cute. But I kinda need that money. It might be smarter to team up with those Green Team dickbags.” — Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races
The Red Hat team – the two elderly ladies – checked in at the mat. That left everyone but Georgie still at the travel mat, didn’t it? I tried counting teams, but I was getting so nervous and worried for my twin that I couldn’t think straight. Nine teams. There were nine total in the game, right? God, where was Georgie?
Everyone looked at me expectantly. I fidgeted, arms crossed, and then strode forward. “I’m going to go find her—“
A production assistant stopped me. “I’m sorry, you can’t. That’s against the rules. Since you did the food challenge, you can’t go to the grounds of the other challenge. It’s considered double dealing.”
I gave the woman with the clipboard a hard look. “We’ve already lost. Just let me go find her.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the assistant said. “Please wait at the line for a bit longer.”
Frustrated, I was about to give her a piece of my mind when a big hand clapped on my shoulder. “I’ll check it out, Tiny. No worries. I did the challenge so they can’t stop me,” Plate said, and lumbered forward, jogging back down through the terraces of Machu Picchu.
I watched the enormous biker head down. “My name’s not Tiny,” I said, a bit exasperated. Mostly, though, I was just relieved someone was going to check on Georgie. I bit my nails and glanced over at Swift.
He raised his hands in a shrug.
Minutes passed slowly, and it got to the point that I was ready to do a quarterback tackle on the next person that prevented me from finding my twin. Then, Plate’s broad face and enormous shoulders appeared, and a moment later, so did my twin. Relief shot through me as Georgie walked slowly up the terrace steps, not an ounce of urgency in her form. Rather, her shoulders were slumped, defeated, and she was wiping her eyes as if she’d been crying.
I pressed my fingers to my mouth. Oh, Georgie. What was wrong? My twin never cried and she loved competition. What was it about this challenge that made her have a meltdown? It must have been incredibly hard. And here all I had to do was chew up and spit out corn. Next time, I’d let Georgie do the eating challenge if it was that much easier. I felt guilty that I’d done so well and she’d struggled so much.
Plate put an arm around Georgie’s shoulders, leaning in and saying something. His pep talk must have worked, because Georgie smiled through her tears, wiped her eyes and jogged up the stone stairs to where I was waiting by the mat.
