“Did you see the news?” Luiz asked as soon as Drew walked into the press office that morning.
“No, what news?”
Drew braced himself a little. He’d grown a bit too accustomed to new information turning his life upside down. But as Luiz spun his laptop around to show him the headline on the screen, Drew couldn’t help but smile.
“No way. Is that real?” he asked, seeing the photo of Harrison at the very top of the BBC News website.
As much as Drew disliked Harrison, there was no denying that the man was an excellent snowboarder. But to many people’s disappointment, Harrison had just had his gold medal revoked. According to the news article, he’d been met with a surprise drug test that came up hot. Unexpected urine sample tests were a standard part of Olympian life; they came at random andfollowed people throughout the entirety of their athletic careers. Everyone knew they could be tested at any time, though it was rare to be met with one immediately after a big Olympic-gold celebration party. The urine test hadn’t found any steroids or performance-enhancing drugs, but it had found a powdery white substance in his blood more potent than snow.
“Wait, isn’t your—” Drew began to ask, knowing full well that Luiz’s partner worked on the anti-doping team. But Luiz put his finger over his lips and shook his head before Drew could finish his sentence—they were in the press office, after all. They couldn’t risk an overheard conversation getting out.
“What an… unfortunate coincidence,” Drew said, correcting himself.
“Wasted talent,” Luiz said, careful not to implicate himself. “I guess he just let the success get to his head.”
“You could say… he fucked around and found out.” Drew shrugged as the two of them laughed and wordlessly agreed to never talk about it again.
Luiz’s desk was cluttered with press credentials, SD cards, charging cables, and notebooks. But he and Drew pushed them all aside to place a wide-screen monitor at the center. They hooked it up to Drew’s laptop and called everyone over to see the post that was about to go live.
“It’s nine fifty-eight,” said Drew, nervously staring at his screen as a crowd of people he’d met over the past two weeks assembled around him. The staff were drinking their morning coffees, the volunteers were chatting about competitions, and the journalists were scrolling through emails from their editors, but they all looked just as excited as he was. Everybody had a hectic day ahead of them, but Luiz had gathered them together for one reason. There was a sense of quiet anticipation in the air as they looked at the screen and then at Drew. A few of them evenhad their phone cameras out, ready to capture the moment as it happened.
“Nine fifty-nine,” said Luiz.
As Drew looked around at the press office, he realized that this was the kind of day he would want to remember. Maybe his future self would trace all the best things in his life back to this moment. Or perhaps he’d refer to it as his peak. Whether it was the start of a new era, or the golden summit of one that was about to end, he wanted to savor it. So, he paused for a second and took it all in. The gentle flutter of snowflakes outside the window, the constant chatter of the press office, the sound of typing keyboards, the smell of filtered coffee, the memory of Ari’s face lit up on the lake. And finally, the sense that no matter what came next, it would be worth the risk. If this was as good as things ever got, this morning would be more than enough.
As all the world clocks on the wall ticked to mark the start of a new hour, Drew nodded and faced his screen. He placed a hand over his mouse, moved the cursor, and clickedREFRESH. He held his breath as the shaky Wi-Fi refreshed the home page of the official Olympics website, staring at the screen as it turned white, froze for a second, and then reloaded.
The top headlines were as he expected. A gold medal for a legendary figure skater, an interview with the head of the Olympic Organizing Committee, and a highlights reel of the Games so far. But when he scrolled down, he was greeted by a wide-screen photo collage that made the crowd surrounding him begin to cheer.
A security guard from the accreditation team patted him on the back, a CNN photographer gave him a small nod of respect, and a volunteer took a video as the rest of the crowd urged him to click on the page they’d been waiting to see all morning.
THE GAMES MAKERS: THE HEROES BEHIND THE SCENES OF THE WINTER GAMES BY ANDREW DLAMINI
Since arriving in the Village, Drew had been taking photos of the volunteers, contract workers, and staff members who brought the Games to life. It had started casually, something he just did because his eyes were drawn to the people doing the jobs he aspired to. But then he’d become more intentional with it. The Olympics was as significant a career milestone for the people behind the scenes as it was for the athletes. But because they all spent so much time fielding requests, averting crises, and making sure everyone who stepped into the Village had a smooth experience, they rarely stopped to take photos of themselves. So, Drew had become their unofficial self-appointed photographer. He’d taken photos of the security guards as they checked everyone’s credentials, the medics who stood by the side of each match ready to intervene, and the gritters who woke up early each morning to clear the snow and cover the pathways with salt to make sure nobody got hurt. For a while, he’d had no idea what to do with those photos, so he just printed them off and gave them as gifts to the people he’d met and photographed along the way. But then he’d gotten talking to Luiz.
Their easy friendship had led Drew to forget that Luiz worked for the media department of the Olympics. When Drew had shown him the photos and explained that Zeus didn’t want them, Luiz had made a few calls and then sent the photos over to one of the online content managers in the press office. A few emails and questions later, they agreed that the photos deserved a home—and thus, his behind-the-scenes photo diary had come to life.
There was a portrait of a broadcast engineer from Colombia accompanied by the story that explained how she’d handledthe curling match streaming crisis. There was a group picture of Jørgen and the other baristas talking about the hundreds of coffees they made each day for the coaching teams during the most important weeks of their professional lives. And there was a set of photos of the chief icemaker who spent hours meticulously perfecting the ice rinks in the Village. But the centerpiece of it all was a photo of Luiz on his laptop amid the chaos of the press office: the calm in the storm.
As Drew got up from his chair to show the other volunteers and staff members the photos he’d captured of them, he looked around the press office and thought about how far he’d come. From slipping on the snow between Zeus assignments to somehow plucking up the courage to ask his heroes to let him take photos of them. He was still uncertain about the future, but since last night, a few more things had clicked into place. He’d sat down with his family and had an honest conversation about all the secrets they’d been keeping from each other. He and Thandie had bickered for precisely three minutes before she forgave him for keeping Ari a secret. On the condition that he photographed her entire team’s headshots for free. Drew still didn’t know if he was going to go back to college or accept his new life in Wisconsin, but he was beginning to find comfort in the uncertainty of just doing the next right thing.
So, once he’d collected his things, he, Luiz, and the friends they’d made in the press office put on their coats and walked out into the snow. It was time to head over to the hockey stadium and sit in the delightfully neutral press box. Because soon the horn would blare and the puck would land in the middle of the rink for what felt like the most important game of the year.
“Which team are you cheering on?” asked Luiz, taking a sip of coffee as they looked out at the ice.
Drew shook his head and smiled. He knew where his loyaltieswere supposed to lie. But as supporters and fans began to fill the audience, he realized that despite the last twenty-two years of his life, for half of the game at least, he’d be cheering on the other side.
47Ari
DAY TEN OF THE 2026 OLYMPICS
Ari was walking down the corridor toward the locker room when she saw a familiar face coming her way The wheelchair was new though. Ari dropped her plastic cup and headed straight into the arms of the woman who’d unintentionally changed her life.
“Ari, I’m so proud of you!” Gracie said as she squeezed her tight. Ari couldn’t hold back her tears, and as it turned out, neither could Gracie.
“You’re here? How? When?” Ari asked as she crouched beside her wheelchair.
“I took the first flight I could get as soon as you qualified for the quarterfinals. I knew you could do it,” Gracie said, beaming at her.
