Page 74 of Caught in a Bad Fauxmance
The park is as over the top as Liam’s personality. The waterslide I’d spotted during my night out with Julian is three times bigger in person, looming so high above us, it looks like it’s one with the clouds. There’s the usual theme park smell—deep-fried everything and chlorine—mixed with a surprisingly floral scent. As if the entire park were covered in Glade Plugins. There’s no way the Alleghenys will ever need Mr. Cooke and Spill-e; this place is immaculately clean all on its own.
“This is awesome,” Andy whispers as we step through thewelcome gates and follow the path toward the check-in for the games.
Even Maya doesn’t have anything snarky to say, keeping her mouth shut as she stomps ahead of us. Through her tinted sunglasses I can see her peeking at the slides, her eyes widening at the sheer size of the attractions here. As Julian said, it does feel like the ultimate sandbox. Waterslides with nerve-racking turns. A lazy river with a breathtaking view of the lake. Food stands and trucks for every cuisine you can think of.
It’s magnificent and I hate it.
Much like at sign-ups, an unexpected crowd has already started to gather around.
Lake Andreas has come alive in the days leading up to the games. Literally. There are more people in town today than there have been all month. Old Bob’s store had a line out the door yesterday. A flurry of new faces bustled in and out with arms full of groceries and snacks. This morning, a bright yellow sign on the souvenir shop proudly announced that they’d sold out ofI Got Crabs in Lake Andreasshirts. We even have a new set of neighbors—a family of four from Tampa who were more than happy with the deal they got on their mushroom cabin.
“Are all of these people competing?” Isabel asks as we struggle to stick together while navigating the crowd.
“They’d better not,” Maya snips, glaring at every unfamiliar face. “They don’t get to show up at the last minute and blow our chances.”
“Hey,” Dad warns. “Cuídate, nena.” He’s had to say that a lot during this trip.
We’re only halfway to the sign-in table when Old Bobspots us. “And the stars of the show have arrived!” The crowd parts for him, breaking out into hushed whispers as he ushers us up to the front of the line.
“Quite a turnout you got this year,” Dad says when a nearby woman starts taking pictures of us.
Old Bob beams while he hands us our entry badges. “We got a little creative with the marketing. My nephew’s been making these, uh…What’re they called, Janine?” he shouts over his shoulder to his wife, who’s organizing entry badges.
“TikToks,” she yells back.
“Right, TikToks,” he says with a snap of his fingers. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled poster. “Plus, we hung these up all over town. Folks ate ’em up.”
The poster is very different from the initial flyer Old Bob had shown us. It’s an illustration, depicting two teams, one red and one blue, competing in an intense game of tug-of-war. Front and center, between the two feuding families, are two boys. One red, one blue, holding hands. Beneath it, written in elegant script reads,Lake Andreas: Where Anything Can Happen.
Son of a bitch. They stole my face for a poster.
“Uh, very nice,” Dad replies diplomatically.
“Is that us?” Andy points to the hulking strongman on the blue team, clearly a depiction of Henry.
Maya shakes her head, pointing to the tall boy on the red team. “No,that’sus.”
Andy pouts. “My arms are bigger than that.”
Old Bob cackles as he takes the poster back, tucking it into his breast pocket. “Turns out the TikTok folks love a good rivalry.” He nudges my arm with his elbow. “And a little star-crossed-lover action never hurts either.”
Great, our family rivalryandmy fake romance has an audience.
“That’s very exciting, but we should go get ready for the first event.” Dad grabs the last of our badges and pulls us away. While I haven’t told anyone besides Maya about my fallout with Julian, it didn’t take long for everyone to draw their own conclusions.
“Best of luck!” Old Bob calls out, waving his cane in the air. “Make us proud!”
The crowd gawks in awe as Dad bustles us toward the roped off parking lot where most of the events are being held, more of them whipping out their phones to snap photos of us. Going from seeing basically no one for three weeks to becoming a local celebrity overnight isn’t helping our pre-games jitters. We keep our eyes forward, following Dad until a shoulder knocks roughly into mine. I’m prepared to brush it off when a familiar flash of sandy-blond hair catches my eye. I turn on my heels, hoping that I was just seeing things, but no. The reality is as horrifying as my imagination.
“Good luck out there,” Liam says with a sneer, an entry badge pinned to his T-shirt.
Of course Liam entered the games. As loose as the rules are, this seriously feels like cheating. How can the son of this year’s sponsor be allowed to compete?
Behind Liam are three very confused-looking water park employees pinning entry badges to their shirts. Nothing in the rules ever said teams had to be made up of family members. Paying off his dad’s employees must be Liam’s way of getting around any potential conflicts of interest. Though this still seems like a serious violation.
Then again, I’m not surprised that Liam thinks he can be an exception.
“Don’t need it, but thanks,” I reply before rushing to catch up with the others. Liam winning could potentially work in our favor. The bet only said Mr. Cooke would get the cabin iftheywon. But I can’t stomach the possibility of admitting defeat to someone like him.
