“Third row for the win. You won’t have to walk as far when they call your name,” she says with her usual optimism. I kind of want to hug her face for giving up her day off to come support me. Fall semester’s been rough. Between soccer and football, we’ve hardly spent any time together, but our friendship is as strong as ever and I know I can always count on Becca to be there for me when I need her. “You’ve totally got this, girlie.”
“Here’s hoping.” Enzo and I won our heat, but with five heats, it’s impossible to know the overall winners since times weren’t posted. I swear the ACME judges are masochists. This has been the longest weekend of my life, although if I’m being honest, the competition is only half to blame. I’m doing my best not to think about the other reason, all six foot four of him.
The struggle is real.
We wait with baited breath as the rest of the crowd files into the auditorium. I’m too nervous to make small talk, although my mom and Becca don’t share my affliction.
Enzo nudges my shoulder. “Don’t forget to breathe.”
I flash him a shaky smile. “Pfft.Only sixty of the original seven hundred and eighty-six teams competing advanced to the finals. I’ll take those odds.”
The minute the words are out of my mouth, I want to stuff them back in, because in truth, the odds aren’t great. Which is why I need to focus on the positive. I already lost my boyfriend this weekend. Losing the competition is not an option.
Good vibes only.
Right. A win today will give us a chance to compete at the international level. And it’ll open a lot of professional doors, doors that might otherwise be closed to us. I can’t speak for Enzo, but I don’t have connections, and in a field that’s heavily dominated by men, I need every advantage I can get when it comes to career placement.
Besides, how freaking cool would it be to work for one of the top engineering companies, like Gamut, where I could help drive change and inspire other girls to pursue STEM careers? That’s the kind of influence I want to have in my field. Sort of like the amazing opportunity football has given me to show girls they truly can do anything.
My chest tightens at the thought of football. And Austin. He believed I could play D1 football even when I didn’t. He was also the one who helped me see what a great platform I was building to change the narrative about girls in male-dominated sports and STEM fields.
For that, I’ll always be grateful.
The lights go down and the emcee takes the stage. I try not to fidget as he runs through the usual minutia, talking about all the work ACME’s doing in the industry and the hard work of all the competitors.
“Yeah, yeah. No one’s a loser. We get it,” I whisper to Enzo. “Can’t they get to the awards already? I’m dying over here.”
“Same.”
After twenty minutes of lip service, the emcee finally invites the judges to the stage. I sit up straighter, my pulse pounding. Mom grabs my hand and gives it a quick squeeze.
“The third-place runner up from Cornell University is…Team KISS!”
The crowd applauds, and we watch as the students make their way to the stage to collect their crystal trophy and have their picture taken. I’m clutching the arm of the chair so hard my fingernails are digging into the soft wood.
The applause dies down and Team KISS moves to the back of the stage. Then the emcee announces the second-place runner up from MIT: Team Awesome.
We applaud again, and watch as they go through the same routine. The tension in the room is so thick it’s a wonder we don’t choke on it.
This is it. Our last chance to final. My heart slams against my rib cage, and I can hardly draw a breath. I grab my mom’s hand, this time not letting go.
“And finally, the first-place winners of the ACME Student Design Competition, from right here at Waverly…” I’m on the edge of my seat now, squeezing my mom’s hand so tight it’s a wonder she doesn’t cry out. “Team Spark!”
I clasp my hands over my mouth, but it does little to contain my celebratory scream.
We did it! We actually won!
There’s a thunderous round of applause complete with whooping and cheering, but I can’t focus on any of it. I’m on sensory overload. Or celebratory overload. Or maybe I’m in complete shock. Enzo and I exchange a quick embrace before I turn to my mom and Becca, who lean in and hug me at the same time, shouting their congratulations over the noise of the crowd. My mom’s crying and Enzo’s tugging at my hand and it’s all happening so fast.
I suck in a breath to center myself, square my shoulders, and follow Enzo to the stage on shaky legs, emotions running high. We climb the steps on the left side of the stage and—thankfully—I manage not to face-plant. It’s so bright on the stage I have to squint to see. We shake hands with the judges, and my eyes finally begin to adjust as we pose for pictures.
The photographer snaps pictures from several different angles, but at least he doesn’t have to tell us to smile. I’m grinning like a fool. So is Enzo. Doesn’t matter. We’ve earned the right, busting our butts day in and day out to build the fastest robot in the competition. Of course, we probably wouldn’t be standing here without the meddling of a certain cocky QB. His driving tips were invaluable, if not infuriating. My chest squeezes at the thought of Austin and my smile falters, but I force it back into place.
I will not let my broken heart dampen this moment.
The emcee congratulates us once again, and another round of applause breaks out in the audience. It’s loud and raucous and wholly inappropriate. I squint, focusing on the back corner of the auditorium.
“Holy shit,” Enzo says, nudging me with his elbow. “Is that the football team?”
