A Disaster in Three Acts by Kelsey Rodkey

Author:Kelsey Rodkey
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2022-04-19T00:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

The look of devastation on Holden’s face when I exit the obstacle course empty-handed doesn’t need to be recorded for me to remember it forever. It’s burned into my memory and tainted with guilt.

But because this is a documentary, it was recorded, and I’m awful.

“I don’t understand,” he says, flustered, as we walk back to the hotel after a web series interview, the night thick around us but the sounds and colors still vivid with life. “You were right there. I saw you go in first.”

“I told you. I tripped and someone else got there before me.” I rub at my elbow like a lying liar lying about fake injuries I lied about. “I’m so sorry, Holden.” At least that’s only, like, fifty percent of a lie.

His face screws up for a moment and then he exhales loudly. He’s still a little pale, but he’s no longer sweating or throwing up. He’s just completely bothered. By me. By losing. By the competition’s end. By the people who threaten to jostle him as he walks along the sidewalk without a care in the world whether he’s in their way.

He doesn’t tell me he forgives me, or that it’s not my fault, and I worry that he knows.

“Hey.” I grab on to his upper arm and stop him. “Why don’t we get some food in you? You’re running on empty.”

“I just want to go and suffocate myself in the uncomfortable hotel bed.”

“Don’t joke about that.” I tighten my grip and pull him, so he has to face me fully. “Can your stomach handle some food? Not that crap we had before. Like, a sandwich? Fries?”

I swear I feel the vibrations of his stomach growling all the way up his arm when he says, “No.”

I sigh. “Come on. My treat.”

He’s not enthused, but he doesn’t put up a fight when I drag him to the closest food establishment, force an overpriced grilled cheese sandwich in his mouth, and recount my lies over and over, step by step, as he tries to understand how I could have possibly lost his last shot at winning.

We’re both exhausted and miserable when we get back to the hotel room. So much so that it’s not even that awkward to change and slide into opposite sides of the bed, kind of like an old married couple who don’t hate each other but certainly don’t like each other. An entire person could fit between us, but with the way we both lie there in the dark silently, it feels more like a wall.

I’ve almost worked myself into relaxation, a few deep breaths from sleep, when Holden says my name. I stir.

“Saine,” he says again.

I blink sleep from my eyes, even though I can barely see anything in the darkness. “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” I turn toward him.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like it was your fault or anything. I appreciate you doing that for me.” He rolls on his side to face me, his frown etched in moonlight through the sheer curtains on the window.

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