Page 34 of Ex Marks the Spot

“She’s right about that one.” Court says, crossing his arms over his chest. “It would’ve been nice to have a teammate who isn’t so”—his eyes move up in thought—“difficult.”

“I’m notdifficult. And I was referring toyougetting a new personality so I could work with an actual team player instead of a caveman who makes all the decisions.”

Paul brings his palms up in a placating manner, then clasps his hands together. “It sounds like you both have some strong opinions on that. Hopefully you’ll make some progress by the next checkpoint.”

Wait.

What?

I glance at Court and see that his expression mirrors mine: brows bunched into a V, mouth slightly agape, and head canted to the side. I can already picture the memes once this clip airs. (When you remember song lyrics from high school but not why you walked into the room. When you order Diet Coke and they ask if Diet Pepsi is okay.)

“What do you mean ‘next checkpoint’?” Court asks.

“While it’s true that you and Hartley were the last team toarriveat tonight’s checkpoint, you are the tenth team to actually check in. Moe and Randall took a taxi here instead of traveling by foot and incurred a time penalty.”

One glimpse of Team Rockville’s matching frowns confirms what Paul is saying, but just in case, I add, “We aren’t eliminated?”

Paul shakes his head, which means . . .

We.

Are.

Still.

In.

The.

Race!

I move to hug Court, then remember it’sCourtso I switch to a double high five...but it’s stillCourt, whose arms are still crossed, and my arms are still moving and now I look like a weirdo who just walked into a spiderweb.

On (what will eventually be) national television.

So there’s that.

But yay! We’re still in the race!

Paul drops me a lifeline in the form of a question, allowing me to corral my hands and focus on something other than the second meme I just created. (When you’re auditioning to be an octopus. When it’s your first time at a rave. When you watch tai chi on fast forward.)

“Hartley, if Team Hartbreak wins the race, what do you plan to do with five hundred thousand dollars?”

Court unfolds his arms and extends an interrupting finger. “You mean four hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred seventy-two dollars and eighty-eight cents.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“Your prize money. If we come in first place, you’ll get four hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred seventy-two dollars and eighty-eight cents.”

“Why do you keep repeating a random, yet oddly specific number?”

“It’s not a random, oddly specific number. It’s your half of our prize, minus the money you stole from me. I want my twenty-seven dollars and twelve cents back.”

CHAPTER 8

COURT

Day 3—Brazil

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