Page 8 of Let the Games Begin
He looked nervous. “I’m Noah, head of recruitment here at the Athens Olympics, and there’s been a bit of a mix-up with your role this year.”
Olivia’s heart began to sink, the way it always did when she could sense bad news on the horizon.
“There were originally going to be two International Relations and Diplomacy interns. We sifted through hundreds of applications and went through a rigorous interviewing process,” he said.
Olivia nodded.
“However, we made a… clerical error.”
Olivia sat up straighter in the chair and frowned. Noah looked everywhere but at her.
“During the recruitment process, the team decided to make it a paid internship, but the department didn’t have the budget to fund two paid internships and so we had to cut it down to just one intern. And, unfortunately, the team decided to go with the other applicant. Though I take full responsibility for this mistake, somebody was supposed to get in contact with you and take you off the new-recruit mailing list, but unfortunately…”
Noah was still speaking, but Olivia didn’t have the heart to keep listening. She’d spent years planning her path to the Olympics and made pretty much everything in her life secondary to achieving her greatest dream. She’d dipped too deep into her credit card and pinned her hopes on this one perfect summer. But her vision was dissolving. She was already well acquainted with disappointment, but this one really stung.
“So, if I’m understanding you correctly… I flew to Athens for an internship that’s not going to happen?” Olivia asked calmly.
Noah winced. “I’m sorry, but yes, that is the case,” he said, looking up at the ceiling, down at the floor, and then over at the door to avoid making eye contact with her.
Olivia wanted to protest. To insist they’d got it all wrong, and to fight for the place she knew she deserved. She’d already made a mental list of questions that would pick Noah’s story apart. But as she looked around, she sighed. Just like when she’d driven the Mercedes to the house of the probable murderer and when she’d said nothing to the creepy snooker-table man who’d made her hate the smell and taste of limes, sometimes it was easier to detach and move on than fight. There was nothing to be gainedfrom speaking her mind in a place like this. The “angry Black girl” label was the kiss of death, and she still wanted to get a job here one day. So, instead of fighting it, she decided to find a way around it. Her best option, she reasoned, was to convince them to give her something, anything. And then work her way up to the top.
“Well, Noah, I came all the way to Athens.” She did her best to maintain her composure. “There’s got to be something I can do for the rest of the summer, right?” She wanted to seem determined, not pushy.
God, all she ever did was try to seem determined but not pushy.
Noah fidgeted and looked around as if trying to find a solution in the walls. Then his face lit up.
“Yes, there is. We have one last space in another department that you can join.”
Olivia gritted her teeth and listened to what he had to say.
7Zeke
ONE DAY BEFORE THE OPENING CEREMONY
“Zeke, wake up! Look!” said Anwar.
Zeke had fallen asleep almost immediately after getting into the Team GB shuttle bus from Athens International Airport. But at the sound of Anwar’s voice, he woke up and looked out of the window. His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing. The gates, the signs, the red, blue, green, yellow, and black rings.
“The Village…” said Frankie. Suddenly everyone on the shuttle bus was looking out of their windows. The road leading up to the gates was lined with a row of sycamore trees that looked magical in the sunlight. The newly built training facilities, accommodation blocks, and competition venues were dazzlingly high-tech. And there were athletes from all around the world in colorful team uniforms piling out of shuttle buses. Zeke had been to Rio and Tokyo, but the first moment on Village grounds never failed to take his breath away. The gravity of it all was overwhelming. It was a strange mixture of grief and joy.
The Olympics had been hisandhis dad’s dream, yet only one of them would ever step into the Village. Zeke tried to shake off the complicated feelings. He’d spent his whole life making sacrifices for this.
But there was more to the Olympics than competing. When theGQwriter who’d interviewed Zeke had asked him what his favorite part of the Games was, Zeke had answered immediately—the Village.
Because the Olympics threw together hundreds of young, hot, athletic twenty-somethings from around the world and let them play sports and party for two weeks. Well, party within reason.
“What happens in the Village, stays in the Village…” said Zeke, and the whole bus began to groan. It was Zeke’s favorite game. “What happens in the Village, stays in the Village, but do you remember the timesomebodygot blackout drunk and security found them running around the stadium at three a.m., wearing Team GB Speedos… and nothing else?”
Harry, the shot putter who had done exactly that, laughed from the front of the shuttle bus. “Okay, what happens in the Village, stays in the Village, but do you remember the morning when we saw two members of the Croatian rowing team leaving Frankie’s room…”
Frankie shouted in protest, “What happens in the Village, STAYS in the Village!” Frankie wasn’t as innocent as he looked. “I mean it,” he said, blushing. “Okay, what happens in the Village, stays in the Village, but do you remember the timesomeoneset up fireworks to ask someone to go on a date and then got interrogated by the actual Japanese FBI?”
“They were just really active sparklers!” protested Zeke, “andanyway, they weren’t mad at me, they just couldn’t understand how I’d got them into the Village.” He shrugged.
“Now that I’m thinking about it, howdidyou get fireworks into the Village?” asked Anwar.
“Even more surprisingly, how did you get Valentina Ross-Rodriguez to be your girlfriend?” said Camille with a smirk as the whole bus laughed.
