our tickets, Blake and Philadelphia step up to take our place. “We need to go to Serbia,” Blake says.
“I think it says Sur- bay -a,” Philadelphia attempts to correct him.
“Is that in Italy? I thought Serbia was in Russia.”
Will rolls his eyes at me, and I feel another surge of gratitude that I got him as my partner.
After we go through security, change our money into rupiahs, and get a snack, we still have three hours to kill. There’s nothing interesting in the terminal, so we end up sprawled on the floor at the gate, playing hearts with Zora and Martin. Zora asks about my Team Revenge T-shirt, and I tell her about Samir. “Is Aidan your brother?” I ask her.
She nods. “We’re twins, but we got adopted into different families when we were babies,” she says. “We just found each other a year ago. We thought the race would be a good way to bond, but … not so much, apparently.”
“Man, that sucks,” Will says.
“What’s your deal?” Zora asks him, and only then do I realize I don’t even know why Will’s here. The one time we had an extended conversation, I was too distracted by his trivia game—and, let’s be honest, his face—to ask.
“Lou’s my half brother, and our dad’s the CEO of a prettymajor company,” Will says. “Totally stereotypical bigwig, with the private jet and the expensive cigars and the country club membership and everything. He’s been grooming me to take over the family business my whole life, but the thing is, I have zero interest in business, and neither does Lou. When we told him we wanted to start an arts nonprofit instead, he threatened to cut us off. So … we’re here for the money.”
“Wow,” Zora says. “That’s rough.”
“My dad even has my future wife picked out, if you can believe it. She’s the CFO’s daughter. She’s gorgeous, but she’s literally the most boring person I’ve ever met. He’s always trying to shove us together at company Christmas parties and stuff. Last time I saw her, she spent an hour talking about the problems she was having with her maid. I wanted to puncture my eardrums with a prawn fork.”
I stare at Will, suddenly more intimidated by him than ever. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this. I thought he was just a regular guy who went to NYU, and now it turns out he probably grew up vacationing on a private island. How could a childhood like that produce someone so normal ? But now that I know what to look for, his backpack does look more high-tech than mine, and his jeans look more artfully distressed.
I try to picture myself on his arm at a black-tie company Christmas party, but the whole thing is too ridiculous for even my imagination. I’d probably trip in my high heels and fall in a chocolate fountain or something. The CFO’s daughter would never do that. She probably has impeccable table manners, speaks twenty languages, and uses some sort ofbillion-dollar yak’s-blood zit cream that makes her skin look like rose petals. How could I ever compete with someone like that, boring or not? I don’t even know what a prawn fork is . She probably has her own monogrammed set.
I tune back in as Martin asks, “Which company does your dad run?”
Will gestures toward the cameras, then lowers his eyes. “I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind. He’s not a bad guy, and I don’t want to get him into trouble. That’s just not the kind of life I want, you know?” There’s an undercurrent of pain in his voice, and it makes me want to reach out and put my hand on his cheek. I manage to restrain myself.
The gate agent announces that preboarding is beginning for flight 372 to Hong Kong with continuing service to Surabaya. My heart is suddenly in my throat as we get in line—I’m about to sit next to Will for twenty-five hours. What if we run out of things to talk about right away and I have to deal with an entire day of awkward silence? What if I fall asleep and drool on his shoulder or exhale
“I think it says Sur- bay -a,” Philadelphia attempts to correct him.
“Is that in Italy? I thought Serbia was in Russia.”
Will rolls his eyes at me, and I feel another surge of gratitude that I got him as my partner.
After we go through security, change our money into rupiahs, and get a snack, we still have three hours to kill. There’s nothing interesting in the terminal, so we end up sprawled on the floor at the gate, playing hearts with Zora and Martin. Zora asks about my Team Revenge T-shirt, and I tell her about Samir. “Is Aidan your brother?” I ask her.
She nods. “We’re twins, but we got adopted into different families when we were babies,” she says. “We just found each other a year ago. We thought the race would be a good way to bond, but … not so much, apparently.”
“Man, that sucks,” Will says.
“What’s your deal?” Zora asks him, and only then do I realize I don’t even know why Will’s here. The one time we had an extended conversation, I was too distracted by his trivia game—and, let’s be honest, his face—to ask.
“Lou’s my half brother, and our dad’s the CEO of a prettymajor company,” Will says. “Totally stereotypical bigwig, with the private jet and the expensive cigars and the country club membership and everything. He’s been grooming me to take over the family business my whole life, but the thing is, I have zero interest in business, and neither does Lou. When we told him we wanted to start an arts nonprofit instead, he threatened to cut us off. So … we’re here for the money.”
“Wow,” Zora says. “That’s rough.”
“My dad even has my future wife picked out, if you can believe it. She’s the CFO’s daughter. She’s gorgeous, but she’s literally the most boring person I’ve ever met. He’s always trying to shove us together at company Christmas parties and stuff. Last time I saw her, she spent an hour talking about the problems she was having with her maid. I wanted to puncture my eardrums with a prawn fork.”
I stare at Will, suddenly more intimidated by him than ever. I can’t believe I didn’t know any of this. I thought he was just a regular guy who went to NYU, and now it turns out he probably grew up vacationing on a private island. How could a childhood like that produce someone so normal ? But now that I know what to look for, his backpack does look more high-tech than mine, and his jeans look more artfully distressed.
I try to picture myself on his arm at a black-tie company Christmas party, but the whole thing is too ridiculous for even my imagination. I’d probably trip in my high heels and fall in a chocolate fountain or something. The CFO’s daughter would never do that. She probably has impeccable table manners, speaks twenty languages, and uses some sort ofbillion-dollar yak’s-blood zit cream that makes her skin look like rose petals. How could I ever compete with someone like that, boring or not? I don’t even know what a prawn fork is . She probably has her own monogrammed set.
I tune back in as Martin asks, “Which company does your dad run?”
Will gestures toward the cameras, then lowers his eyes. “I’d rather not say, if you don’t mind. He’s not a bad guy, and I don’t want to get him into trouble. That’s just not the kind of life I want, you know?” There’s an undercurrent of pain in his voice, and it makes me want to reach out and put my hand on his cheek. I manage to restrain myself.
The gate agent announces that preboarding is beginning for flight 372 to Hong Kong with continuing service to Surabaya. My heart is suddenly in my throat as we get in line—I’m about to sit next to Will for twenty-five hours. What if we run out of things to talk about right away and I have to deal with an entire day of awkward silence? What if I fall asleep and drool on his shoulder or exhale
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