Partner Games

  “Like you’ll be any better at puzzles?”

  Georgie had a point. “Well I have to do one of them! You pick which one you want to do.”

  “I’ll paint,” she said. “I’m good with makeup. It can’t be that different, right?”

  I snorted.

  “Yeah, I know. I’m grasping at straws. Don’t care. I just don’t want to be last.”

  We wove our way out of the tombs and back out into the bright daylight, and I felt a little mournful that I hadn’t gotten to see them in their full glory. With me in tow, Georgie jogged down the street, looking for the marked off area.

  “Here,” she cried. “There’s a sign!”

  We paused in front of the signboard. PUZZLE was written on one arrow, pointing up the street. PAINTING was down the street.

  “Here’s where we part,” Georgie said, giving me an impulsive hug. “Try not to let anyone break your glasses or steal any more money or whatever else they can do at this point.”

  “Gum in my hair? Wedgie?”

  “Any of those,” she teased, then slapped me on the back with her paper-bagged hand. “Go get ‘em, tiger.”

  “You too,” I called, and then we split up.

  Luckily the ‘puzzle’ area was cordoned off with bright ropes and I was able to find it easily. As I came up to the clue-stand, I pulled a disk out and looked at the scene ahead of me in surprise.

  People were here.

  We’d caught up?

  I tugged out my monocle again and snarled, making a face so the glass would stay in place between my cheek and brow. Bending over, I read my clue.

  PUZZLE

  The Saadian tombs lay untouched for centuries, when they were rediscovered in 1917. Beautiful examples of Zelij (Moroccan tilework) cover the floors. Your task is to grab three marked bags of tiles and recreate the flooring in one of the tombs. Please note that your tiles must match up exactly. Each color touches another color and can only be placed in one spot. Once your floor is perfect, you will see that the pattern spells out the location of your next destination. Good luck.

  Colors? Okay. I could do colors. Squinting through my monocle, I looked over at the participants from the other teams working on their floors. The Zelij tiles looked like a headache-inducing, wildly intricate pattern of colors and shapes, so it wasn’t surprising that everyone seemed to be having trouble.

  I was surprised to see everyone that was on the flight was here at the task. Jendan from Team Endurance Island had an almost-completed floor, and was busy working away. Foster from the Green Machine looked as if he’d just started, and his skin was blotchy and red from his shave. Nearby, Muriel from Team Red Hat was busy shaking out the pieces from a bag.

  We’d caught up.

  “We’re back, baby!” I bellowed as I raced forward to take my place in the tilework. “Let me know how you like that four hour penalty, Foster!”

  “Shut up,” he muttered.

  I cackled in glee and got to work.

  It was only after I’d started in on my puzzle that I realized everyone here was from our flight. The Doctor Moms, Team Houston, and One Percent were nowhere to be seen.

  Were they that far ahead of us?

  Or had something gone horribly wrong?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “I’m starting to have a real bad feeling about Morocco.” – Swift, Team One Percent, The World Games

  “Georgie and Clementine, you are team number two.” Chip gave us a smug look. “But since the Green Team acquired a four hour penalty, you are now team number one.”

  Georgie and I squealed in unison and grabbed each other, dancing around happily. It was our first time as number one! We’d come into the lead!

  My celebrating stopped as Georgie hugged my neck. Wait, if we were number one after losing our money and those challenges…where was everyone else?

  Off to one side, the Green Team glared at us, unable to check in. I pulled my twin off to the side and gave her a worried look. “How is it we’re in first?”

  “Because we’re awesome?” She did a little jig in place.

  “No, I mean, where are the guys?”

  She blinked. “Damn. That’s a good question.”

  “Ladies, can you move to the side?” Production asked, herding us along. “The Red Hats team is due to show up soon.”

  We headed over to the far end of the walkway. We were near a golf course, a resort set up in the distance. After finishing the puzzle and paint challenge, we’d had to ride camels through La Palmeraie to the mat. I smelled like camel and sweat, and I was hot and exhausted, but judging from the way they were steering us away from the resort, we weren’t exactly invited there. A small half-circle of tents nearby were flagged with the World Races logo and were probably our accommodations for the night.

  Our cheap, cheap accommodations.

  “Claim a tent, ladies, and hydrate.” Someone pushed bottles of water into our hands. “You’re sweating hard.”

  I wiped my brow and tugged at my shirt. “Can we strip down a little?”

  “Inside your tent you can.” The production assistant gave us a tight smile, hugged her clipboard, and moved away.

  Figured. I headed into the tent and dumped my bag, and Georgie dumped hers. There were two sleeping bags and pillows rolled up off to the side, but it was too hot to even think about blankets. I sat on my bedroll and pressed my water bottle to my face. “I don’t understand,” I told Georgie. “How did we get in the lead? We were at least two hours behind the others.”

  “Yeah, but the Red Hat ladies were sucking hard at that last challenge, and Drew and Foster got a penalty.” She opened her water bottle and poured it over her head and then down the front of her shirt to cool off. “Maybe the guys got held up at the camels? Those things were assholes.”

  “But then we would have passed them,” I mused. “They’re just…nowhere.”

  “Another team coming in,” someone called, and I heard the sound of cameras readying.

  I looked over at Georgie. “Should we go see who it is?”

  “Might as well. It’s hotter than heck in this tent.” She fanned her face with her hand. “I’m starting to miss Norway.”

  “You aren’t the only one.” I wiped my brow and got to my feet and headed out of the tent with Georgie. We peered at the finish line (me with my stupid monocle) and were disappointed to see the two Red Hat ladies triumphantly arrive. A few steps behind them were Jendan and Annabelle.

  “Something’s definitely wrong,” Georgie murmured. “That’s all four teams on our flight here at the mat.”

  “Their flight was delayed, remember?”

  She shrugged helplessly. “Let’s find a shady spot and wait for them. They’d do it for us.”

  They would. We found another open air tent with coolers, water-jugs and sandwiches set aside for the crew. We snacked and sat in folding chairs, watching the finish line.

  The Red Hat ladies joined us a few minutes later, looking longingly at the chairs we’d acquired. Muriel gave us a grandmotherly smile. “No hard feelings, right, ladies? It’s all part of the game.”

  Georgie took a sip of her water bottle and shot them the finger.

  That seemed like an excellent idea. I did the same, wagging my middle finger in their direction. They’d threw their lot in with the Green Team, not us. We hadn’t done anything to them.

  “Hussies,” Pearl snorted. “Fuck you both.”

  “You kiss your grandkids with that mouth?” Georgie called after them as they left. My twin looked over at me and shook her head, then tsked. “Sore losers.”

  “Either that or we’re being sore winners.”

  “Ask me if I care.”

  I chuckled. “You care?”

  “Nope!” Georgie beamed at me, and I was so thankful to have my sunny twin back that I didn’t care if we flipped off every old lady in all of Morocco. Since her confession to me about her horrible experiences modeling, it was like all of her anxiety and stress ab
out it had run its course. There would still be issues – and I was determined to get my sister into counseling the moment we got home – but she wasn’t panicking or freaking out at difficult challenges. It was progress, of a kind. I guessed that some of her worry had come from the fact that she’d thought I’d judge her.

  I never judged Georgie. I loved her. She was my other half. And now that she realized that, she seemed to be relaxing a little.

  Her flirtation with Plate didn’t hurt things, either. He doesn’t push her, just teases her and they have fun together. It’s weird, but I trust him to go slow with her.

  Which is ironic, because I’m the kissy-makeout-twin on this excursion.

  I thought about Swift. Where were they? What had happened?

  ~~ * * * ~~

  Hours later, Drew and Foster checked in at the mat, grumbling about their penalty. I noticed they didn’t give our money back, though. Jerks.

  They were in fourth place, according to Chip. The relief and surprise on their faces echoed ours. It was hard to believe that there were other teams still out there.

  My worry ratcheted upward, and I chewed on my fingernails. Three teams were still out racing, and two of them were going to be eliminated. If the guys didn’t beat the Dr. Moms or Team Houston, they’d be going home.

  I paced. Despite the heat and my exhaustion, I paced, sipping the bottles of water that production pushed into my hand. What was I going to do if Swift was gone from the race? We’d been playing at having a relationship, but that was while the race was going. What happened when it was suddenly over and he lost?

  God, what happened if he lost? His father had cancer and needed the money. I felt like a jerk for wanting the money to live on while I went and dug up dinosaur fossils. I was competing against someone that wanted his money for medical bills. “Hey, Georgie?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You think we’re going to win this?”

  “Of course.” She rubbed at her sweaty neck. “Why else are we killing ourselves on camel rides and bungee jumping if not to win?”

  Why indeed. But I thought about Swift and his dad again. What if it came down to us versus the guys? Who was going to come out ahead there? What if we had to choose to beat the guys or to let them beat us?

  I shook my head to clear it of such crappy thoughts. It might not even matter – if the guys didn’t get to the finish line soon, they wouldn’t be in the game anymore at all.

  I returned to biting my nails.

  ~~ * * * ~~

  An hour after Drew and Foster checked in, my stomach had formed one big giant knot of worry when the camera crews leapt to their feet and began to ready for filming.

  I jumped to my feet, too, leaving the covered awning to venture back into the heat. “Is someone coming?”

  “All three teams are on their way,” someone called into a walkie-talkie. “Prep the cameras, we’re gonna have a race to the finish.”

  People scrambled. Chip resumed his place on the mat and a make-up person arrived to powder his nose. Georgie came to my side and I clutched her arm. “It’s gonna be a race,” I told her. “The guys can beat the others in a footrace, right?”

  “Dr. Moms? Absolutely. Team Houston? I don’t know.” She squinted and shielded her eyes against the late afternoon sun, trying to see into the distance. “Do they strike you as runners?” She shrugged. “Does it even matter? They have to camel up to get here, and then race into the courtyard. If they have crappy camels, they’re doomed.”

  I clapped a hand over Georgie’s mouth. “Don’t say that! Put positive thoughts out there.”

  “I’m positive your hand still smells like camel,” she mumbled behind my fingers. Then she smacked my hand and pointed. “Look! Camels!”

  I peered off into the sandy dunes, past the palm trees of the oasis and the buildings surrounding us. Past the golf course. Sure enough, there was a string of camels heading in this direction, and three seemed to be clustered together at the front, three in the back. Ahead, the camel handlers waited to take the reins, and from there, it’d be a race to the finish.

  And they were too far away to tell who was in the lead.

  I turned my back, biting my knuckle.

  “You’re not going to look?” Georgie asked.

  “I can’t. What if they’re in the back?”

  “Then they’re out and we’re on our own.”

  And Swift and Plate would be gone. No running into each other at challenges, no laughing competitions, no cuddling at pit stops, no furtive hand-holding at airports.

  No more kissing or exploring what came next. He’d get sent home and I’d go back to waiting to be hired by a university. We’d go our separate ways.

  I’d never get to have sex with a hot biker guy who might or might not be in an outlaw gang.

  I rubbed my face with my hand. It was my mehndi one; we’d managed to smear our ‘art’ despite the protective baggy we’d worn and both Georgie and I looked like we had a muddy rash instead of a pretty design. I’d wanted to show Swift and have a good laugh about it.

  Now there wasn’t much to laugh about.

  “Someone’s coming in,” Georgie said. “I think it’s…oh my God.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “I never want to see a camel ever, ever again. Ever. Ever.” – Swift, Team One Percent, The World Races

  At Georgie’s uttered ‘Oh my God’ I couldn’t stand it any longer. I turned around, thinking to see the worst.

  There were six dark blobs in the distance. I squinted and then pulled out my janky monocle and held it to my eye. Six camels came into view, snaking across the dunes. My heart sank when I saw the bright teal t-shirt of Team Houston out in front.

  Next, though, there were two reddish-brown shirts. Far, far behind were the two yellow Dr Moms, and even further behind was the last teal shirt, the camel dancing and wandering all over the place.

  Where were Plate and Swift?

  “Look at them,” Georgie gasped, her hand going to her mouth. “What happened?”

  I peered harder through my broken glasses and then gasped. The reddish-brown shirts were them after all. Plate was in front, and his arm was hanging against his chest in a makeshift sling. He had a fierce frown on his big, broad face. Behind him was Swift, with what looked like a major bruise on one side of his face. Both were covered head to toe in the reddish sand.

  They looked pissed, too. “They look like they fought the camels and the camels won,” I told her.

  “And they’re in second. What happens if half of Team Houston hits the mat first?” Georgie looked over at me, concerned.

  “I don’t know.”

  The cameramen swarmed, moving closer to the finish line as Tony from Team Houston led his galloping camel into the courtyard. He quickly dismounted and then sprinted for the finish line.

  Georgie clutched at my hand.

  Tony stomped on the mat and then looked expectantly at Chip Brubaker, who was regarding him with a cool stare, his makeup perfect despite the heat of the day.

  “Tony,” Chip said in a grave voice. “You are the fifth team to arrive.”

  Tony’s grin split his face as he realized he was still in the game. Georgie’s fingers gripped mine in a stranglehold.

  “However,” Chip continued. “I cannot check you in until your partner can join you on the mat.”

  Tony’s expression darkened. Georgie made a muffled squeal and began to jump up and down. She flung her arms around me and bounced, making me drop my crappy monocle. It didn’t matter, though. If I squinted, I could see the far edge of the courtyard, and past where the cameramen hovered, the two men were dismounting from their camels and jogging forward. Even without my glasses, I knew it was Swift and Plate.

  They were still in this.

  Georgie and I clung to each other as the men sprinted up to the mat. I released my twin and bent down to grab my monocle again so I could see their expressions. Raising it to my eye, I noticed that neither guy seemed happy. I
n fact, both seemed pretty darn angry.

  “Please step aside, Tony,” Chip said, gesturing that Swift and Plate should move forward.

  Tony swore and stormed away a couple of feet, his hands on his hips. “Helen!” he shouted at the far-away camels. “Fucking hurry up! HELEN!”

  “I feel sorry for Helen,” murmured Georgie. “Someone’s about to get a tongue-lashing.”

  “Shhh,” I said as the guys stepped onto the mat. My heart hammered.

  “Swift and Plate,” Chip said in a grave voice. “You are the sixth team to arrive on the mat.”

  The two men exchanged a look.

  “However,” Chip continued.

  “HELEN!” Tony bellowed. “DAMN IT! COME ON! WHIP THE CAMEL!”

  “They really, really don’t like being whipped,” Plate said, touching his arm. “Just a heads up.”

  “However,” Chip said in a louder voice, glaring at everyone for interrupting him. “Because Team Houston cannot be checked in until both are on the mat, you are officially team number five. Congratulations, men, you are still in the game.”

  Georgie gave a whoop and I clapped from the sidelines, but there was no response from Swift and Plate. Instead, they just looked at each other and nodded.

  “We’re now down to five teams,” Chip said. “Good luck on the next leg.”

  Together, the black team stepped off the mat and looked over at us, where we were waiting by the cluster of tents near the golf course. I shoved my monocle in my pocket and stepped forward at the same time Georgie did.

  A moment later, a very dirty, camel-y smelling Swift threw his arms around me and hugged me close. “Swift? You okay?”

  “I just need to hold you for a moment,” he said, breath fanning against my neck. He buried his face against me and I awkwardly held him as the yellow team – the Doctor Moms – limped to the finish line.

  “All right.” I looked over at Georgie and Plate. Plate’s big face looked unhappy as he showed Georgie his arm. She gave him a frustrated look and immediately grabbed a handful of his shirt, dragging him toward the medic tent.