“So we lose one Trial.”
“Tribulation.”
“These dumbass names.”
I chuckled. “No, I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”
“Then I’ll see you out there.”
I didn’t fully appreciate until later the gift she’d given me. I wasn’t just doing it for me now; I was doing it forher. Off came the shirt, and I leapt, the cool water swallowing my damaged torso, exposed publicly for the first time since my accident.
I swam to my assigned position by Barnes. He’d tried to corner me the previous evening, but each time Arjun unfailingly squired me elsewhere. However, Arjun was now consigned to be goalie, and Barnes had me all to himself. “I hope we’re filming in locations other than this one tacky house,” he huffed, floating closer to me. “So, ready to deliver the beatdown?”
“Mary said no contact.”
“Yeah, that’s not why they hired you.” He adjusted his glaring neon swim trunks.
“Those are very green.”
“Bright colors get the focus on camera. I might not have the body of a Greek god, but I refuse to be the pasty-faced white kid bobbing in the background.”
“You’re really experienced with this TV stuff, huh?”
“Burned in my brain.” He drifted nearer, our shoulders inches apart. “So if you’re looking for an alliance, I’m in. The two gays winning this thing? People would gonuts.”
“That… would be something.”
“Right? We can totally get some numbers together and run the votes.”
“Well, I really like Imogen,” I volunteered, which elicited a groan. “What?”
“Nothing, she’s clearly sporty. She’s just not a heavy hitter as far as her Q rating goes with the network. There’s zero pull there. Besides, she hasn’t given me the time of day.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You really gave her a chance at the airport.”
“Fair enough,” he said grudgingly. “I’ll smooth it over. I was just… distracted.”
“Cool. Plus, Arjun’s awesome too. Maybe we do something the four of us?”
His eyes dimmed, though he summoned a hollow smile. “Totally. Arjun’s great.”
The whistle blew, and for the first time in months, a ball was in my hand. I’d forgotten how natural it felt, my body launching into a fray. Two men from the other team barreled at me, and I could have cried with relief:no ache in my legs, no lingering claws of the accident tearing in my muscles and bones. I juked them handily to find Barnes begging me to pass, but Imogen swam rapidly beyond him. I sent the ball soaring over Barnes, and she seamlessly caught it to score our first point. Soon enough, Imogen and I had almost single-handedly won the game, swimming laps around the cast while Arjun hollered praise from our goal.
“I was open, like, ten times!” Barnes protested later, but there was no room for him. I’d found my team.
“LuMoJun for the win, America!” Arjun cheered into a camera after, arms around us.
“What the hell is LuMoJun?” Imogen asked.
“Our trio name. Trust me, we need to get a jump on the edit.”
“Okay, you actually shouldn’t name anything ever,” I laughed, and with Arjun’s arm tightening around my waist, I truly forgot my scarred body was being filmed from every angle.
That night, before we determined the men bound for the Trial, Arjun cornered me and Imogen. “We have to convince the team to vote in Barnes.”
“Thoughts?” Imogen asked me. “You talked with him today.”
“More like he talkedatme,” I replied, trying to ignore the Caymanian cameraman to my immediate left. I also didn’t want to belabor that I felt guilty targeting the only other gay kid.
