Warrior Zone Page 5

  “How am I supposed to get around that?” Ravi asks. “She probably slicked the entire platform. I’ll fall right off.”

  “You’ll be fine,” I assure him. “Jump to grab the sword. Your feet will slip but you can hold on to the sword until you get your balance.”

  Ravi nods but looks uncertain. “I’ll do my best.”

  “You got this, Ravi!”

  Ravi lines up at the starting line. A set hand ties on his blindfold. Seconds later, the start horn blasts and he takes off cautiously toward the Ninja task. Ravi feels his way down the ramp. This time he knows what to expect and can reach over the gap between the ramp and the wall. He finds the swords in the wall and uses them to make the climb with ease.

  At the top, he throws off his blindfold and makes it into the dungeon of chains. Like me, Ravi was instructed to fall here. But he doesn’t. He carefully swings from one chain to the next. He crosses through the dungeon to a stationary platform. Here he studies the spinning platform with the sword in the stone, ten feet away from him. He has to make the jump, not just to the platform but to the sword itself. It’s his only way to get a sure grip. Ravi watches it spin around once, twice, again, again, then finally he makes a running leap and . . . catches the sword! He clutches it tight, his feet slipping on the oiled platform. After a few tries, Ravi manages to stand on his tiptoes and balance on the platform. Slowly, without moving any part of his body except his hands, he pulls the sword out of the stone.

  Now he only has one obstacle left. Ravi jumps down from the spinning platform and into the tube. The instant Ravi disappears inside, it’s clear what happens in the tube. The tube begins to tip at a dangerous angle, first to the left, then to the right, back and forth like an invisible hand shaking a soda bottle. After what feels like hours, Ravi appears at the other end. He looks dizzy, but he manages to find his bearings and jump safely down from the tube to the finish zone.

  “Yes, Ravi!” I shout, jumping and punching the air.

  The audience erupts with cheers for Ravi. He made it all the way through the final course, despite the producers’ trick. No matter what happens to me, Ravi has a chance to win first place.

  As soon as Ravi’s off the course, the set hands start to reset it. I watch them all closely, looking for anything out of place. It’s surprisingly easy this time. The same set hand who oiled the platform before Ravi’s turn is wiping off the platform with her towel. I follow her as she hops down from the platform and toward the dungeon of chains. In one swift movement, she squirts oil onto her hands and glides them down several of the chains. If I hadn’t seen her put the oil on her hands, it would look like she was just testing the chains. I memorize which chains she oiled—three different ones next to each other. I will have to skip all three, which means swinging about twelve feet to the next ungreased chain. I’ve never made that kind of leap before. Can I do it today?

  “Fiona, you’re up,” a set hand calls to me. I head toward my start position, but Paul steps in my way. He has a wild look on his face, the kind you have when a loud noise wakes you from a deep sleep.

  “Were you telling the truth yesterday?”

  “Yes,” I say, looking him straight in the eye. He stares back at me then finally steps away so I can pass.

  As I walk to my starting line, I hear him say, “Good luck, Fiona.”

  I turn back to him and smile. “You too, Paul. May the best athlete win.”

  A minute later, I hear the start horn. I slowly feel my way down the platform toward the wall. Like last time, I manage to climb the wall. Unlike last time, I make it to the top without falling. My biceps are on fire, I’m out of breath, and now I have to make it through the dungeon of chains. I remove my blindfold, take a deep breath, and grab the first chain.

  I swing myself steadily from one chain to the next. I loop my feet around the bottom of the chains to create a foothold. This keeps my arms from doing all the work and lets me walk from chain to chain instead of swing. This works until I make it to the middle where I know the next three chains are oiled. I begin to swing all of my body weight, back and forth, as much as possible. I swing, once, twice, three times, then I jump. I fly through the air, arms stretched out. I catch the chain with both hands and hug it tight. I can’t believe I made it past the oil! But I’m not done yet.

  I make it through the dungeon and prepare to jump onto the spinning platform. I’ve never made it this far, so I can only hope I can do it now. I take a running leap and I jump for the sword. I catch it with my hands. There is no oil on the platform, so my feet don’t slip like Ravi’s did. I find my balance more easily, but the platform is still spinning. If I’m not careful, I could fall. Slowly I pull the sword from the stone and then time my jump down into the tube.

  As soon as I’m inside the dark tube, it pitches forward. The angle is so steep I start to slide down. I can see a familiar pool of sludge below me. I am slipping quickly toward it when the tube lurches backward. Now I’m sliding backward toward the opening on the other end. The tube flings me back and forth twice. I lose my grip again and fall toward the exit. I grasp at the slick walls, but there’s nothing to hold on to. I’m falling out of the tube, feet first. At the last moment, I grab the thick rim of the tube. My feet dangle inches above the sludge.

  No way am I going back in that mess.

  I clutch the rim of the tube and pull my body back into it. Carefully, I turn and jump down safely into the finish zone. The audience explodes with cheers. I hear people chanting my name. I start to get up to my feet, but a wave of nausea hits me. I stay on all fours, hoping it passes. Someone helps me to my feet. I can’t look up, I’m too dizzy, but I know it’s Sarah by her voice.

  “Nice job, Fiona,” she says.

  I lean myself against her, completely disoriented. Everything is spinning. “I did it,” I say, weakly.

  “You did. You beat Ravi’s time. Too bad we have to penalize you forty points because of your little cheat.”

  “I didn’t cheat!” I shout.

  “You skipped three chains. You can’t skip obstacles. Those are the rules.”

  “Whose rules? That bald guy Diego’s?”

  “The producers’ rules, yes. They’re the only rules that matter,” Sarah snaps. “But your little cheat put you in last place. Paul has to do very poorly for you to come in second. Looks like you’re the Loooo-serrrrr.”

  Sarah walks me to a bench and leaves me with Ravi. He hands me a bottle of water. “You okay?” he asks.

  “I’m fine. Just dizzy.” My head starts to clear and the full weight of what Sarah said sinks in. “It’s over, Ravi. I lost. I’m going to come in last place. We’re not going to win.”

  “You don’t know that. I could still win.”

  “Paul has to fall. If he makes it to the end in a better time than you, he’ll outscore us both.”

  Ravi drapes his arm around my shoulder. “Hey, we did our best. That’s all that matters. Now we just have to wait.” I lean my head against his shoulder. Slowly the world stops spinning.

  We watch the set hands transition the course. We spot the girl wiping off the chains, leaving them clean for Paul. She doesn’t add any oil for him. The course will be far easier for Paul than it was for us. He has a clear shot at the win.

  The horn blasts for Paul to start. Even blindfolded he makes it up the wall as fast as a squirrel. He slows down on the chains, but eventually he crosses with ease. Unlike last time, Paul jumps high enough to catch the sword and land with his feet squarely on the spinning platform. In half the time it took me to get this far, Paul is already on the final obstacle. He enters the tube. I watch as it rocks back and forth, and I have to look away to keep my nausea from returning. When I glance back, Paul has emerged from the other end of the tube. He stands, firmly gripping the exit opening. All he has to do now is jump down to the finish zone and he’s won. But he doesn’t jump. He stands in the opening. Seconds pass, then a minute. The audience goes quiet. The announcer whispers into his microphon
e, “I don’t know what’s going on. All he has to do is jump. Something’s wrong, folks.”

  Finally, Paul does something. But it’s not what anyone expects him to do. Instead of making the easy jump into the finish zone, Paul slides directly down into the pool of muddy sludge water. In this moment, Paul has become the loser. He’ll be penalized for not completing the course, for falling before the end. He did what the producers wanted me to do all along. He fell on purpose.

  Chapter

  10

  The crowd erupts in murmurs and gasps. “Oh my goodness,” the announcer says, shocked. “Oh my—I’ve never seen this. It’s like he just gave up. He won’t be in first place now.”

  Ravi’s eyes meet mine. He has my same expression of disbelief and growing excitement. Paul—the golden boy, the one the producers wanted to win—can’t win now. And there’s nothing the producers can do about it. No matter who wins first place, we beat the producers. We didn’t cheat and we won anyway. That feels like a victory.

  The set hands usher Ravi and me over to the red circle for the awards ceremony. As we cross the sound stage, I see three set hands helping Paul out of the sludge. Cameras descend upon him to capture his low moment.

  Eventually, Paul joins me and Ravi in the circle. He’s covered in sludge. A wave of sympathy hits me. Yesterday, that was me covered in the gunk. And if Paul is the loser, he will soon be punished with a thick layer of disgusting green slime. “Hey, can I get a towel?” I ask a passing set hand. The set hand shakes his head. Every set hand in this place carries a towel, and they can’t spare one?

  Ravi doesn’t ask, he just snatches a towel from the nearest set hand’s pocket. “Thanks,” he says, sarcastically, then tosses it to Paul.

  “Thanks, man,” Paul says. I’m surprised to hear that Paul doesn’t sound upset. He actually sounds cheerful.

  “Paul, why did you do that?” I ask. “You had the win.”

  He shakes his head. “It wouldn’t have been a real win. But if I lost, I knew it would ruin the producers’ plan. I decided to cheat the cheaters.”

  “I’m glad we’re finally on the same page,” Ravi says, sticking his hand out. Paul shakes it.

  Set hands come through to touch up me and Ravi. My hair gets brushed, my face powdered. Ravi’s hair gets combed, his shirt straightened. No one touches Paul. The producers must like how bad he looks covered in crud.

  The lights dim. The announcer’s voice comes on over the speakers. “It’s been a long season. We’ve seen these amazing athletes do amazing things. But there can only be one Ultimate Warrior. In second place, with one thousand, three hundred, and sixty points, the fierce, fearless, and fan favorite, Fiona Chu!” I step out of the circle onto the second place podium. A stagehand places a silver medal around my neck. I made it to second place. I’m proud of my achievements because I earned them. This is why I came here.

  “In first place, a warrior who touched our hearts from the very beginning. He’s had some ups and downs, but in the end, he showed us what it means to be a true warrior. With a score of one thousand, five hundred, and seventy two points, this year’s Ultimate Warrior, and the winner of Warrior Zone, is . . . Ravi Murthy!”

  The lights swirl, confetti falls, the crowd cheers. From somewhere off to the side, a swarm of people run onto the stage. It’s Ravi’s family. They’ve been watching from the audience the whole time! On set, his family covers him in hugs and kisses. Set hands guide Ravi and his family onto the podium. Ravi receives a gold medal and the giant check for thirty thousand dollars.

  The lights dim until there’s only one spotlight on Paul. He’s alone in the loser’s circle. He’s about to be covered in even more slime and shame, all because he did the right thing. I look over at Ravi, still celebrating with his family. He wouldn’t be in first place if it weren’t for Paul. Ravi sees me and nods.

  “Now, sadly, not everyone can be a winner,” the announcer sighs. “One warrior does not get to leave the circle. He’s a, say it with me, Looooo-serrrrr.”

  No, he’s not, I think. Paul isn’t a loser. None of us are.

  I step down from my podium and walk back into the circle. Ravi leaves his family and joins the circle too. “What’s this?” the announcer says, startled. “Something’s happening in the circle. The winners are back. If they’re not careful . . . This could get ugly, folks.”

  I stand beside Paul and I take his arm. Ravi stands on the other side and takes Paul’s other arm. The light is low, but I can see Sarah watching from off stage. I look up at the ceiling, past the big tube where, any minute now, slime will come pouring out. Somewhere up there, Diego is in his office with a decision to make. It’s up to him if he slimes us. But winners don’t get slimed, so if he slimes us, he’ll be breaking his own rule. And if he doesn’t slime us, it means the loser doesn’t get slimed. Also breaking his rule. There’s no way he can win. And there’s no way we can lose.

  “Here it comes, everyone! In three . . . two . . . one!”

  Thick, sticky green slime rains down, drenching the three of us. It oozes into my hair, down my face. I can feel it between my toes.

  “Ooooooh,” the audience reacts.

  I can see Sarah grinning in the distance. She thinks she’s won. She’s wrong. We won. I smile back at her, then blow kisses to the crowd. Soon, their winces turn to cheers. They don’t care if we’re covered in slime. I see Sarah’s smile fade before she disappears off stage.

  Ravi, Paul, and I hug and high five. Ravi’s family runs into the circle and joins our celebration. We may be covered in slime, but we aren’t cheaters. There are no losers today—just three unbeatable athletes.

  About the Author

  Kristen SaBerre is a screenwriter and author living in Los Angeles. Born in New Orleans and raised in Birmingham, Kristen comes from a family of athletes, avid readers, math team members, and percussionists. After high school, Kristen migrated north to attend Brown University. In her free time, she enjoys playing Mah-jongg with her friends and practicing Marimba.