by Vera Strange
In the practice course, he would have only landed on grass, but in the real race there would be mud traps and more difficult obstacles threatening to trap him. The exact layout was kept a secret in order to make it harder. All the athletes could do was train and hope they were ready for whatever crazy things the race committee threw at them to trip them up. It wasn’t like a normal race. It was much more challenging. Not only did Hector have to be swift, but he also had to be clever and nimble. He had to be able to improvise and think on his feet.
“Your best isn’t good enough!” Phil yelled back from the sidelines. “Not if we’re gonna win the Cup. Try harder, Wonderboy. You don’t wanna end up like me, trust me.”
“Hey, it’s not as easy as it looks,” Hector replied defensively.
Or rather, it probably looked pretty hard—but actually racing the course was more difficult than it looked. The obstacles just kept coming at him, faster and faster, every time he practiced.
Hector tried to focus and get past the balance beam. He was breathing heavily as he reached the wall and started climbing, his fingers finding the narrow handholds.
Ring!
In the distance, the school let out. He could see the students from his perch on top of the wall. Kids streamed for the buses or hopped on bikes to head home. Hector felt a familiar sense of curiosity and envy as he watched them. What was it like to go to school with kids your own age, not just your brothers? And sit in a class at an actual desk, not just the kitchen table? While a teacher who you weren’t related to taught you math?
And have recess where you could run around outside with your friends?
And be around…girls?
Hector wasn’t sure what to make of girls. He didn’t spend much time around any, except his mother.
But she didn’t count.
Hector almost lost his balance at the top of the wall. His foot slipped and his heart lurched, but then he caught himself and started carefully down the other side.
“Stay focused,” Phil yelled again, spotting his slip. “We can’t afford mistakes, not this close to the race.”
“Sorry,” Hector managed to get out while gasping for air. He was nearing the last phase of the course, but it was also the hardest part. He wanted to beat his best time and prove he could win.
Hector wove through the next series of intense obstacles—the rope climbs, the pit, the army crawl, and then the hurdles. Phil kept pushing Hector harder and harder.
Just as Hector crossed the finish line, a girl sauntered onto the field, having just gotten out of school. Hector caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye as he fought to catch his breath. Her long, shiny black hair whipped around her tanned shoulders. She wore hip athletic clothes—track shorts and a sleeveless shirt, paired with electric blue running shoes with a golden lightning bolt on the side.
“Mae, hurry up!” barked a man who trailed behind her with a stopwatch and clipboard, just like Phil. “We’ve only got a few hours left to train.”
“Yes, Pops,” she said, tying her hair up into a sleek ponytail, then bending down to tighten the laces on her shoes. She cocked her eyebrow and smirked. “I’ve got the race in the bag. Don’t even sweat it.”
Hector was mesmerized by her. Something about the way she walked and talked with such confidence. He took a step back to watch as she started the course. She whipped through the obstacles with a grace and ease of movement that astounded him.
“Whoa,” Phil said, joining Hector on the sidelines.
“Yeah. She’s amazing,” Hector said.
While he was fast when he worked the training course—maybe even a little bit faster than the girl—his movements were nowhere near as elegant and smooth. It was like watching a dancer, but one who could scale walls and climb ropes and vault hurdles. He didn’t realize his mouth had dropped open until his brother reached over and pushed his chin up. Hector blushed.
Who was this strange girl? And why had he never seen her here before?
“Okay, enough gaping. Your time was good until you got to the wall and lost focus. Let’s run it again.”
“Yes, Coach,” Hector said, adopting Phil’s all-business tone. He jogged back over to the starting line, trying as hard as he could not to watch the girl as she made it to the balance beam.
Phil blew his whistle, and Hector took off. He sprinted and jumped, dove and climbed, making sure to focus on what he was doing and not on the people around him. He was kicking butt—he could feel it. And soon enough, he found himself back at the base of the wall.
From the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of movement. He couldn’t tell where the girl was on the course, but she was close by.
Stay focused, he told himself, hearing his brother’s voice in his head. Don’t get distracted.
He dug his feet into the turf, sprinted down the field, then leapt halfway up the wall, finding the handholds to scale it. He pulled himself up, his feet landing on the holds easily. He’d done this so many times by now, his brain had memorized the positioning of the things.
“That’s it, Wonderboy!” Phil yelled as he scrambled higher and higher. “You’re beating your top time!”
Hector’s muscles tingled with excitement. He had almost reached the top when he saw the girl execute a parkourlike move over a hurdle, tucking her knees into her chest, then landing and rolling on the grass and popping back up on her feet.
What the…?
“Good job, Mae!” her father called from the sidelines.
The move was graceful and elegant—completely captivating—and unlike anything Hector had ever seen. Not only that, but thanks to her fancy moves, she was gaining on him, even though she started well behind him on the course. How was that even possible?
Despite his attempts to focus and keep climbing, Hector couldn’t take his eyes off her. He missed the next handhold by a mile and felt his other hand start to slip.
“Oh no,” he gasped.
He made another grab for the handhold, but it was too late. His palms were slick with sweat, and the handles were too smooth. His stomach swooped as he fell backward off the wall.
“Noooooooo—” Phil yelled.
But there was nothing Hector could do. He plummeted toward the ground and landed on his back, hard.
Thud.
Pain flooded through his body while stars exploded in his vision. Breath gushed from his lungs from the impact.
Then everything went black.
Hector’s eyes popped open. The sun glared down, making it impossible to see.
“Wh-where am I?” he stammered, feeling a rush of panic.
He was lying flat on his back on the soft grass of the field. He blinked and tried to focus. The last thing he remembered was climbing the wall, then watching the girl do that sick move, then losing his grip—and falling.
Oh no…I fell, he thought.
A familiar voice reached his ears. It sounded worried.
“Hector, you okay?” Phil said, patting Hector’s shoulder. “If you are, then say something.”
“Something,” Hector managed weakly. His brother snorted a laugh. Hector flashed a wry smile.
“Well, if you can crack a joke, then you’re probably not dying,” Phil said, sounding more relieved than amused.
“Confirmed,” Hector said. “Not dying, at least not yet. Can’t get rid of me that easy.”
“Thank the gods—all of them,” Phil said. “But let’s get you checked out to be safe,” he went on. “Can you sit up?”
Hector did, but winced. His ribs felt bruised, though not broken, and his pride was damaged. But otherwise he felt okay. He looked up and caught sight of the girl and her father watching him.
Just great, Hector thought. Not only did she witness his embarrassing fall, but this new girl could actually beat him in the big race. She’d tackled the practice course like it was nothing.
Hector was sure that he was stronger and faster, but she was more nimble and graceful. She could probably climb more easily
, and her efficient movements meant that she could catch up to him.
I could actually lose to her, he thought, anxiety coursing through him.
“So, if you’re all right, do you want to tell me what happened there?” Phil said, helping Hector to his feet. “You got distracted, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Hector admitted, glancing at the girl again. Mae. That was her name. He remembered her father calling her that. She was stretching on the sidelines, her father talking to her in low tones. Slowly, Hector dragged his gaze off her.
Why was she so distracting?
“When are you going to learn to focus?” Phil said, shaking his head in disappointment. “You could’ve gotten seriously hurt! You’re just lucky you landed on a soft patch of grass. In the real races, you won’t be so lucky. It’ll be a mud trap…or worse.”
Phil sounded upset—but also scared.
Hector looked down at the soft spot that had cushioned his landing. His brother was right. He was lucky. He could have seriously injured himself if he’d landed somewhere else. These races looked like fun, but they could be dangerous if the athletes weren’t careful. This was just a practice course. The real race would have more obstacles designed to trip him up or even trap him.
Hector shuddered. His athletics career could end with one bad injury. He thought of his mother and the trophy case in their little shop. Winning the Cup wasn’t just about bragging rights. It would help boost their business and also make his family proud. He couldn’t fail them. He’d seen them get their hopes up with each of his brothers, then felt the dark cloud descend after they lost. He didn’t want to see that same disappointed look in his mother’s eyes after his race. Resolved, he decided to train harder and not get distracted ever again—especially not by Mae.
Phil helped him up, leading him over to a bench. He piled their bags on it.
“Wait here, I’ll get the truck and pull around,” Phil said, leaving Hector on the bench. “We’ll get you checked out at the clinic to make sure you’re okay.”
Hector nodded, but he knew that he was. This wasn’t his first fall. When he started training as a kid, he’d bit it more than once. But he appreciated that his brother cared and wanted to make sure he was all right.
While Phil pulled the truck around, Hector studied the practice course and its series of obstacles. The girl was breezing through them, twirling and tucking and leaping.
He couldn’t stop watching her. The sun was just dipping into the horizon, casting a golden hue over the world. It was magic hour—the best time to take pictures because of the incredible lighting.
Hector snuck his camera from his bag and took some candid shots of Mae. Her ponytail whipped around her face as she ran. Her father trained her hard, coaching her from the side of the field.
Hector zoomed in, focusing on her face. Her brow was furrowed in deep concentration, her eyes were locked forward on the next obstacle, and her cheeks were flushed from the effort.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
Hector fired the camera, recording her image while the golden sunlight cascaded over the field. He zoomed in even closer on her face. Suddenly, she turned and looked right at him—their eyes locked through the camera viewfinder.
Hector quickly lowered the camera, but it was too late—she’d caught him taking her picture. He should’ve asked her permission first, he knew. He resolved to delete all the shots once he got home. How humiliating. Why did he keep watching the girl? Why was she so distracting?
Just a few seconds ago, he’d promised that he would focus and work harder. It was like she had some magic power to lure his attention. He couldn’t explain it.
He hid his camera in the bag, zipping it up right as Phil pulled around. The truck chugged, spewing exhaust fumes. Hector’s heart thumped harder.
That was close.
“Rise and shine, Wonderboy!” Phil called. “It’s prelim time!”
Hector groaned in his bed, then sat up sleepily. He didn’t feel like a Wonderboy. Even though he wasn’t hurt from the fall, not really. The soreness in his ribs had already faded away, but he didn’t feel up to the race at all. He turned and squinted at the window. At least it looked like a lovely, sunny day.
Hector sat up and grabbed his camera. He thumbed the buttons, navigating to the saved pictures and pulling them up on the digital screen. Mae’s face flashed across it. They were zoomed-in close-ups. Her intensity was clear in her gaze.
Despite his promise to himself to delete them, he hadn’t yet. He’d told himself that it was smart to study the competition. But really, he was fascinated by the way she ran the track. Something about her just captivated him. Maybe it was how she seemed so confident and sure of herself—the opposite of how he felt.
Who are you? he wondered, flipping through the images so fast they became animated and looked alive, like in a movie.
Still, he resolved that he wasn’t going to lose to her, not today. He’d trained practically his whole life for this race. This was the final practice run before the real deal next week. Everyone in town would show up to watch.
He was ready.
He had to be ready. He didn’t have a choice. Unlike taking pictures, where he could always take another one, or edit them to fix the mistakes, in racing there were no do-overs or repeats. You only got one chance to win the Zeus Cup.
With a sigh, he flicked his camera off and set it aside, then got busy changing and getting ready for the race.
“You ready for this?” Phil said when Hector appeared in the kitchen in his racing uniform. It had lightning bolts across the chest.
“You know it!” Hector said, mustering up as much enthusiasm as he could.
“Good luck,” his mother and father said in unison, making his mom chuckle.
“We’ll meet you at the track with the rest of the entourage,” Dad added with a wink.
“Dad, your brothers do not count as your entourage,” Juan said.
“Yeah, plus you gotta be famous to have an entourage,” Luca added.
“Wow, teenagers,” Dad said with a snort. “Can’t live with them…wait, that’s it. That’s the whole saying.”
“Wish they’d told us what we signed up for at the hospital before we took you home,” Mom added with a wicked grin. “Should’ve read the fine print.”
They both laughed while Luca and Juan pouted. Hector shouldered his athletic bag and headed for the door behind Phil.
“Love you guys,” he said, suppressing a grin at his family’s antics. “See you at the track.”
When the starting buzzer went off, Hector felt his heart vault into his chest like it was leaping over a hurdle. He clenched his jaw and bolted off the starting blocks. As he sucked in a breath and pumped his legs, he smelled a mix of fresh-cut grass, mud, and sweat—the familiar aroma of racing. A mix of local twelve-year-olds, of all genders, ran the practice course alongside him, including Mae. But Hector flat-out refused to even glance in her direction. He got off to a strong start, his legs propelling him forward toward the first obstacle—a series of hurdles. He leapt over them, feeling his heart thump, fast and steady.
Hector led the pack as they reached the more difficult obstacles, splashing through mud, climbing ropes, and vaulting walls. With each obstacle the course seemed to get harder and trickier, but he’d been training so hard he knew how to handle them. Practically the whole town had shown up to watch. They packed the stands and cheered for their kids or for their favorite. Hector could hear his name echoing over the course.
“Go, Hector!”
“Wonderboy, you’ve got it!”
Hector flew over the mud pit, swinging from one rope to the next like Tarzan. He heard his mother whoop and tried not to smile.
No distractions.
“Stay focused,” Phil called out.
When Hector glanced over at him, he saw someone gaining on him from the corner of his eye. It was Mae. Of course it was. Hector looked ahead and refocused. It didn’t matter where she was. He
ctor was determined to win.
His breath grew short. Sweat dripped down his brow, stinging his eyes.
His gaze locked onto the next obstacle—the highest and last wall.
He dug his shoes into the grass and leapt over the mud pit at its base, flinging his body at the wall ahead and starting to scramble up it. Down below, the mud pit glistened in the midday sun, thick and goopy, threatening to trap anyone unlucky enough to slip off and fall.
He climbed faster, but Mae was behind him, right on his heels.
Stay focused, he told himself, climbing higher. Don’t let her distract you.
He reached the top. Over it, he could spot the finish line just ahead. All he had to do was make it over, climb down, then sprint through it.
But then he heard her voice. “Help!”
Hector glanced down and saw the distressed look on Mae’s face as her feet slipped out from under her. She clung to the wall by only one hand, about to fall.
Hector remembered his fall at the field and how bad it hurt—how freaked he’d been after being knocked out. He knew he should focus on the race. She was his competitor—not his friend. He didn’t have to help her. He could hear Phil yelling at him from the sidelines.
“Why are you stopping?! Stay focused! You’re almost there!”
But Mae looked desperate. Her eyes were wide and full of fear.
“Please help me!” she whimpered.
Hector knew he should just keep climbing, but he couldn’t let her fall. It wasn’t the right thing to do.
He was better than that.
“Here, grab my hand,” he said, reaching down to help her back onto the wall. She reached her free hand up.
But instead of letting him help her, she yanked him down, causing him to slip. He clung to a handhold with one hand. It all happened so fast. As he dangled there, she shot him a wicked smirk, then climbed up the wall and sprang onto the top of it.
She’d tricked him.
“What’re you—” But Hector didn’t finish the question, because his hand, which was slick with sweat, slipped from his handhold.
“Noooo!” Phil shouted.