Partner Games

by Jessica Clare

  We raced back up the stairs to the Temple of the Sun. Behind us, three teams were working, and I knew that three teams were ahead. The rest of the group was somewhere else, probably still climbing the long trail to Machu Picchu.

  As we turned in our brick, the costumed Incan gave us a new disk, and we raced back down the steps to read it in private. As we did, a cameraman broke off from the group and followed us, and I did my best to ignore him. We were going to be watched every day for the next few weeks, and I just had to get used to it.

  “Read it,” Georgie whispered to me, and we hunched over the disk to read the next clue.

  “Individual challenges: making beer or making clothes? Each of you pick one.” I looked at my twin. “What do you want to do?”

  “Clothes are my thing.” Georgie took the disk from my hands. “I’ll do that and you go make beer.”

  Fair enough. I gave my twin a one-armed hug. “Good luck!”

  To my surprise, she stiffened against me, then relaxed. “You too!” She dashed off, then came back. “If one of the other contestants is there at the challenge, watch what they do. Learn from them. Don’t try and figure it out on your own.”

  “Okay—“ I began, but she dashed off again, leaving me wondering.

  Then there was no more time to wonder. A signpost at the bottom of the stairs had an arrow pointing in two different directions, so I headed for the one that read BEER.

  I went up a flag-marked terrace, and came to a cordoned off area with a crowd of tourists watching and blankets set on the ground with large bowls next to them and trays. I frowned to myself as I counted heads. There was one of the Dr. Moms, the wife from Team Houston…and Swift.

  Of course Swift was here. I wasn’t that lucky.

  I went and grabbed one of the challenge cards at a marked spot and skimmed the instructions.

  Chicha de muko is a native Incan beer made from maize. The corn is ground with a mortar and pestle, then chewed to bring out special enzymes. Create 100 maize balls in preparation for fermentation. When the judge determines your maize is created correctly, he will hand you a beer. You can drink your beer, then continue to the finish line.

  Once both team members have completed their challenges, they will be checked in.

  Chewed? Ugh. I looked at the blankets set out, like a picnic. Several stations had bowls of corn, a mortar and pestle, and trays. Both of the women from the teal team and yellow team were sitting together on one blanket, chewing. That station was full.

  That left me with…Swift. Team black.

  Dammit. I contemplated going to one of the other stations and striking out on my own, but if I lost, Georgie was going to have my ass for not listening to her and watching another team.

  With a small sigh, I moved to the blanket Swift was currently seated on, cross legged, and thumped down with him.

  He grinned at me, his cheeks full of corn. “Hey.”

  “Can I sit here?”

  He ground his pestle into the stone bowl in front of him and shrugged, chewing hard.

  I sat, crossing my legs, and studied my implements. I had a bowl of purple corn, a few trays, and a mortar and pestle. No idea on what I was supposed to do. I glanced around, but everyone was watching me. “Where are the instructions?”

  Swift grimaced and held up a finger, chewing. Then, he pulled a wad of half-chewed corn out of his mouth and made a face. “Sorry. Not my hottest moment.”

  “No,” I said faintly.

  He shrugged and wadded the chewed corn into a ball and set it on the tray.

  “Is that how it works?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “Maybe. Or maybe you want to wait for the demo. It’s at the top of the hour, every hour.”

  I looked around. There was no clock to see what time it was. I could take a chance, or I could ask for help.

  I focused on Swift, who was chewing another mouthful of corn. “Did you watch the demo?”

  He smiled smugly at me, which I imagine was difficult to do with a mouthful of corn.

  “Can you help me?”

  He spit out another handful of corn, then said, “On one condition.”

  “What?”

  Swift shrugged. “You go out with me and your sister goes out with Plate. One date.”

  I gaped at him. “When?”

  “Today after the challenge.”

  “We’re in a freaking race!”

  “And you’re about to drink a beer made of spit and I’m about to put this half-chewed corn back in my mouth. It’s no one’s finest moment.” He wiggled his eyebrows again. “But that’s my condition.”

  My face felt like it was on fire. “No.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, and tossed the handful of corn back into his mouth. I winced as he grimaced again and continued chewing. I looked back at the other two women at the picnic blanket on the other side of the challenge. They saw me glance over and hunched over their trays so I couldn’t see.

  Damn it.

  Just then, Swift spat out his last mouthful and began to mash it into another ball. Then, he dusted off his jacket and got up.

  And I panicked. “Wait. You’re done?”

  “Done with this part,” he told me. “Last chance to take me up on my offer.”

  I hesitated. What if the demonstrator was coming in the next five minutes? Then I wouldn’t need Swift’s help.

  Then again…it might not come for an hour. By that time, the other teams might catch up. “I’m not here to date anyone,” I told him as he shouldered past me. “I’m just here to spend time with my sister.”

  “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.

  She gave me a bright smile, and then it wobbled again. “I’m sorry, Clemmy. I couldn’t do it. I didn’t complete the challenge.”

  “That’s okay,” I soothed. “Really.” I enfolded her in my arms and hugged her close. At the end of the day, this was just a stupid competition. My twin was worth more than a million dollars to me, and if we lost in round one, well, we lost in round one. “We had fun, right? That’s all that matters.”

  Georgie nodded and buried her face against my shoulder as we stepped onto the mat. I knew she thought I was disappointed in her. I wasn’t; I was more concerned that Georgie had broken down and cried over something that was supposed to be exciting and fun.

  Chip looked at both of us gravely. Cameras zoomed in on Georgie and I. “For not completing the challenge, ladies, you have incurred a four-hour penalty.”

  I gave the host a cross look. A penalty didn’t matter for shit if we were in last place. Georgie sniffed loudly, and I caught sympathetic looks from a few of the other players. No one wanted to be the first ones out. “We had fun,” I said staunchly, hugging Georgie’s slim waist. “There’s no one I’d rather be with than my sister.”

  Chip’s eyes narrowed at us and he gave a slow nod. “As I said, you ladies have a four hour penalty.”

  I frowned. “We’re in last.” Did I have to point out the obvious?

  “Actually,” Chip said, that famous smirk on his tanned face. “The pink team failed to catch a flight to Peru on time. They are currently en-route and will not arrive for another six hours. You are currently in last place, but you are not out.”

  I gasped and Georgie’s fingers tightened on my arms. Then, with a happy squeal in unison, we hugged each other and danced around the mat.

  “Twins, man,” I heard someone mutter. “That’s so freaking hot.”

  I turned, recognizing that voice, and scowled at Plate. He just grinned back at me, and I couldn’t even be pissed at the guy. He looked like a big dumb lunk, but he’d also been so courteous and kind to Georgie that I liked him anyhow.

  “There’s a bus arriving in a half hour to take you all back down to the village,” the production assistant said. “Once you’re down there, we’ll start the countdown timer. Everyone will be taking off twelve hours exactly from the time you checked in, with the exception of our red team, who will be leaving sixteen hours later.”

  I squeezed Georgie’s hand excitedly. “It doesn’t matter,” I whispered to her. “We can make it up, no problem.”

  She nodded and gave me a half-smile back.

  It didn’t matter if Georgie wasn’t sure if we’d climb ahead in the next round. I’d work twice as hard to make sure we succeeded and my twin got her mojo back.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  A short time later we were back in Aguas Calientes. There were tents set up for us on the edge of town, or we could use some of our money and get a hotel room. Since this was the first leg and we weren’t sure how much money we’d need for the future, Georgie and I opted for the tent. With bottles of water and a shared cake of soap, we washed up and switched out of our sweaty clothing.

  “I heard that Annabelle saw Alicia and Jen getting drunk at the airport bar before the flight,” Georgie said as w
e switched into a clean pair of red shirts and our lightweight red jackets. “Maybe they got so wasted they missed the flight entirely. Either way, it’s to our benefit.”

  “It is,” I agreed. Georgie seemed back to her normal self. The bus ride had given her plenty of time to socialize with the other teams and chatter, and her breakdown was forgotten by all…except me. Right now she was back to her old self, but I wondered.

  I kept all that wondering tucked away, of course. If Georgie was feeling better, I wasn’t going to bring her back down again. I pulled my shirt over my head and tucked it in.

  “Knock knock,” came a male voice on the other side of the tent.

  Oh no. I grimaced at the sound of Swift’s voice and looked at my twin. “So I forgot to tell you that I made a deal back during the challenge.”

  “Oh?” Georgie asked, running a brush through her hair.

  “I sorta told Swift we’d go out with him and Plate if he helped me with the challenge. I’m so sorry.”

  “I can hear you through the tent walls,” Swift called out, amused. “And I’m not sorry.”

  I made a face.

  Georgie giggled. “Well, if we must, we must,” she said gravely, a goofy grin on her face making her words exaggerated.

  I’m sorry, I mouthed one more time, but I smiled. Georgie didn’t seem upset about my deal, which made me relax. I moved to open the tent, but she stopped me.

  “We’ll be out in just a second,” she called, and handed me the hairbrush.

  “We’ll be waiting uh, out here somewhere.” The sound of footsteps told us they’d walked away.

  Blushing, I undid my frizzy braids and brushed my hair. I started to pull it back up again and Georgie shook her head and handed me some tinted lip gloss instead. “Trust me,” she murmured. “If those boys like us, we can take the help.”

  In other words, we were going to flirt with the enemy to get ahead. All right. I gaped as Georgie stuffed a sock in each bra cup, then fluffed them. “We’re twins,” I hissed at her.

  “You’re right,” she said. “Where are your socks?”