Page 5 of Let the Games Begin
After the impulsive, almost disastrous summer of 2019, Olivia had gone home and meticulously mapped out how she was going to live out the next few years of her life. She’d made a five-year plan, stuck it above her desk, and promised herself that she would do everything she could to achieve every goal on her list.
“And what’s the plan again?” Aditi knew every step ofthe plan, but she also knew just how much Olivia liked talking about it.
“Years one to three, get a first-class honors law degree at UCL and intern at each of the big four,” said Olivia.
“Tick,” said Aditi with a grin.
“Year three, spend the summer interning at an Olympic-adjacent company in New York and get into LSE for my master’s.”
“Tick,” said Aditi, drawing a tick in the air.
“Year four, KILL my master’s program, win an academic award, and intern at a bunch of tech start-ups and NGOs.”
“Tick!” shouted Aditi, squeezing Olivia’s arm.
“Then start year five by interning at the Olympics and end it having secured my dream job at the Olympic Organizing Commission or the UN,” said Olivia as they headed over to their gate. “Then the rest of my twenties? Total world domination. By twenty-nine I’m either on theForbesThirty Under Thirty list or a Nobel Prize nominee, you know?” She laughed, but they both knew she wasn’t joking; she ran on pure unfiltered ambition.
“Or both!” said Aditi. Olivia could always count on her best friend to be her number one hype woman.
On the plane, they synced up their screens to watch the same movie together during their flight. When they were above the Austrian mountains at the halfway point between England and Greece, Aditi took out her toiletry bag and—to the complete bewilderment of the middle-aged man sitting beside them—began her six-step skincare routine. Olivia accepted a face mask, closed her eyes, and smiled.
This summer was her chance to take a huge step toward achieving the dreams she’d spent her whole life thinking about. And to make it in ways her parents had long ago stopped believing they could. She couldn’t afford to veer away from the carefully crafted plan she’d made for herself.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your pilot speaking,” came the voice from the speakers above. “We’re about to land in Athens,where the temperature is thirty-four degrees centigrade. If you look to the left, you’ll see the majestic hills and the Acropolis.” Olivia glanced over to the left and caught a glimpse of the city from the windows on the opposite side of the plane.
“And if you look to the right, you’ll see what I know so many of you have come to Athens for this summer,” he said. Olivia looked out of her window as the plane began its descent. She could see the city sprawling out across the horizon. And then she looked closer. There it was, standing apart from everything else in the city, the Olympic Stadium. She had spent years planning for this, months preparing for it, and her whole life dreaming about it. Now, it was finally within reach.
4Zeke
ONE DAY BEFORE THE OPENING CEREMONY
The Team GB uniforms had arrived at Zeke’s apartment three weeks ago in hand-delivered boxes tied with blue ribbon. He was lifting weights while watching and analyzing one of his old races. But as soon as the courier handed over the boxes, he’d stopped everything. He’d placed the first box on his coffee table, gently unfolded the ribbon, and slowly lifted the lid. Inside was a fresh white jacket. It had a British flag on the left, “Team GB” on the right, and his full name on the back. As he’d looked at his reflection in the mirror, the reality sank in: he was really going to Athens for his third Olympic Games.
When Zeke arrived at the airport terminal on the day the team was scheduled to fly to Greece, he was surrounded by an excited crowd waving red-white-and-blue flags as they cheered for each athlete that walked past. There were news reporters and TV cameras lined up on either side of the entrance. A group of schoolkids held flowers and “good luck” signs. One girl spotted him and nudged her friend, sending a ripplethrough the sea of supporters until they were all shouting his name.
“Zeke!” called a voice that he instantly recognized. He turned around to see one of his friends, Anwar, a Team GB javelin thrower. The whole team was inside the airport terminal. They played different sports and only got to see each other a few times a year, so each team trip felt like a full-blown reunion.
“I see you ordered a shirt two sizes too small again?” said Camille, one of the high jumpers.
“Especially for you, Camille,” Zeke said, flashing her a smile. He turned back to greet another friend. “What are you listening to, Frankie?” he asked. Frankie was a long-distance runner who always listened to audiobooks during his marathon training sessions.
“A Little Life,” said Frankie.
“Whoa, are you okay?” asked Zeke, surprised. He’d read the book last summer and, like everyone else, he’d finished it feeling a little bit broken.
“It’s not exactly lighthearted, is it?” said Frankie. “But it’s thirty-two hours long, so perfect for training.”
The team checked their tickets to see who was sitting next to whom on the plane. There were over four hundred athletes at the airport. Fencers, cyclists, rowers, gymnasts, boxers, and athletes who competed in events that the average person would have never heard of. It was the best thing about the Games: feeling part of something way bigger than yourself. Being in a team with athletes who’d grown up across every corner of the country and made a home for themselves in sports centers, fields, and waters. They’d spent their whole lives training for this moment. So laser-focused on their goals that they’d missed out on birthday parties, holidays, and carefree weekends with their friends to dedicate every single day to mastering their sport. And the time spent was more than worth it, because now they were about to compete with some of the best athletes in history.
Zeke remembered the day he first got the call. He’d competed in local and regional running competitions throughout his childhood, and he and his dad had met with plenty of coaches over the years. They’d spent car journeys strategizing his career and evenings researching runners like Linford Christie, Usain Bolt, and Tyson Gay to learn from their technique. But Zeke got the call from Coach Adam, inviting him to join Team GB, less than a month after his dad’s funeral.
He’d gratefully accepted the offer to join the team, but he’d felt a deep wave of sadness, knowing that his dad wasn’t around to give him advice anymore. His dad’s death had been sudden, a heart attack nobody saw coming. And Zeke had been too young to realize how many questions he’d one day wish he could’ve asked. If he’d had an inkling that his dad wouldn’t be around by the time he became an adult, Zeke would have paid so much more attention. He would have sat in the car and listened to every lecture and unsolicited piece of advice. Taken his headphones off and asked to hear all of his dad’s favorite stories. Asked him how to live, how to be a good man, and how to know if he was doing things right. Because despite his mother and brothers’ reassurance, he was never quite sure that he was doing anything right.
Zeke and the hundreds of other Team GB athletes made their way onto the airport concourse and got into formation. Theyadjusted their matching kits as photographers aimed their cameras toward the plane that was about to fly them to Athens.
“When was the last time you saw Miss USA?” said Anwar, elbowing Zeke as a magazine fell out of Camille’s bag.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Zeke lied. His friends looked over at him with amused, questioning eyes.
