Page 35 of Ex Marks the Spot

Despite Paul’s hopes, Hartley and I did not make progress in our communication by the time we arrived at the checkpoint for leg two—a cathedral in São Paulo, Brazil. In fact, we barely made it there in time. Again.

And she blamed it on me. Again.

And now we’re stuck in a hotel together.

Again.

But at least we get to have dinner with a few other teams before we’re confined to our room for the night. Mitchell and Kennedy, also known as the A Team, are the current topic of discussion. Not their second first-place win or our strategies on how to knock them out of the race—we aren’t allowed to talk about the competition itself when the cameras aren’t rolling—but about Mitchell’s abnormally white teeth.

“Just imagine the chemicals he’s using. What’s the point of having glowsticks in your mouth if you’re poisoning your body?” Treva says while loading her fork with salad.

“Yeah, but I bet those whitening strips take up less space in his backpack than a headlamp,” Oscar says (loudly, as usual). “All he’s gotta do at night issmile, and bam!” He mimics a tiny explosion with his hands. “Let there be light!”

Rather than contribute to trash talking that can bite me in the ass later, I use the opportunity to put out more feelers for future alliances. For example: Treva’s family owns a health and wellness store in Colorado. When she’s not selling locally grown, sustainably sourced products, she participates in ultramarathons. Earlier this year, she completed a one-hundred-kilometer run through the Rockies.

Forfun.

That kind of perseverance and strength is a goldmine when it comes to partnerships.

“It’s a shame we’re not allowed to have our phones with us, Treva. I’d love to show you the project I did at a high school back home.”

Her face lights up. “You have kids too?”

Hartley, who’s sitting across the table and a few seats down, stiffens and pauses her conversation with Kadeeja mid-sentence.

“No, none of my own, but I’m a substitute teacher.”

Okay, is it me or did Hartley just let out a breath? Why would she care if I have kids or not? She’s probably married to some art professor and owns her own gallery somewhere.

“What type of project was it?” Treva asks.

“The company I manage sponsored a garden at our local library. I brought seeds to all the ninth-grade classrooms as part of a module on the life cycle of plants. The students planted them in class and took a field trip at the end of the year to plant the seedlings in the library garden.”

“I’ve always said that getting kids into nature is the best way to grow their minds and keep them out of trouble.”

I don’t have a strong opinion on the merits of good child rearing, but I figure there’s no harm in playing along in the name of camaraderie and alliances. “I couldn’t agree more,” I say with a congenial smile.

“So...” Gianna sets her elbows on the table and rests her chin on the tops of her laced fingers. “If you don’t have kids, does that mean you’re single?”

Hartley’s fork clatters to the floor. After mumbling an apology at her water glass, she bends to retrieve it, then fixes her gaze on the table of crew members sitting next to us. Yesterday in Costa Rica, she assumed I have a girlfriend based on my lack of a wedding ring. Although she hasn’t said anything else about it since then, it’s obvious she’s interested in my answer.

But like I said—the only thing I’m interested in tonight is gathering intel for alliances.

“As a matter of fact, I am. How about you?”

I pull out my notebook and flip to a new page to jot down yesterday’s standings from leg two in Brazil.

1. A Team (Mitchell and Kennedy)

2. Alaska Girls (Marcail and Stephanie)

3. Kick Asspen (Treva and Boyd)

4. Niles (Padma and Bobby)

5. Old Bay (Haylee and Kadeeja)

6. Bombshells (Alexis and Gianna)

---