“Ew, no.” I wrinkled my nose. “Don’t be gross.”
Morty’s equally disgusted expression relieved me. “Yeah. Felt weird even as I said it.”
“Glad we agree.”
With a quick nod, he resumed pushing the bike. I propped my hands on my hips and stood in front of it.
“Where’s your brother? I need my second clue.”
He stared expectantly, as if waiting on a tip for his trouble.
“What?” I demanded, and when he tapped his foot, I heaved an exasperated sigh. “What do you need to help me?”
“You have to choose.”
He shrugged like that explained everything, then tried to push the bike around me.
I side-stepped in front of him. “What do you mean?”
“Those two things aren’t the same—baby bro’s location and your second clue. And I’m only in the mood to answer one question today.” He shrugged. “It be like that sometimes.”
As he swerved the bike around me, I clapped my hand on his shoulder. “Morty, do you know what my second clue is?”
Another shrug. This one, intentionally done to throw my hand off him. “Perhaps.”
“When were you going to tell me you had it?”
“Once you asked, of course.” He reached into his pocket. “I thought you might stare down that fork in the road forever.”
Bouncing impatiently, I itched to get a move on, so I ignored his riddled insult and forced my foot not to tap on the pavement. When he held out a small flashlight, I snatched it from him.
“What’s this for?” I clicked it on, and white specks of dust on his black shirt brightened. “Is this a black light?”
“Beats me.” He pushed his fingers at me in ashoomotion I didn’t particularly care for. “Now, you beat it, too. I’m late. I’m late for a very important date.”
I got out of his way, and he pushed the bike to the driveway.
“Fine,” I grumbled. “I’ll just figure it out myself.”
Seated on the bike, he kicked it to life and called out. “That is kind of the point of this whole thing, you know?”
I pretended I didn’t hear him over the rumble of the engine, and as he took off for his date with a wave, I prayed for the poor girl walking into that hot mess.
It wasn’t untilSabotagetraining with Austin that I realized what I needed to do.
At the start of the lesson, he walked me through the exercise circuit, again, set up like a miniature Obstacle Course.
I’d made it through the rope climb, tire run, and army crawl before wading across a small man-made pool that had been dug into the ground. Soaking wet, I had low expectations for my performance on the monkey bars that followed.
When my hand slipped off the third one, I landed in the mud with anoomph.
“Are you alright?”
I wiped mud off my arms with my T-shirt. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
He scrutinized my face with a frown, not buying that for a second. “You seem a little distracted. Want to take a break?”
Shaking my head, I declined. “No, I need to try again.”
