Page 19 of The Amazing Date

My partner?

* * *

They slam the airplane door shut behind us seconds after we enter the plane, panting, sweating, and looking like disorganized travelers who forgot to set the alarm clock. A fit of childish giggles fills the entranceway cabin. My gaze pins Rylee for a split second, a brilliant smile on her lips, one that lasts longer than the three seconds she normally allows herself to celebrate. Progress.

The stewardess directs us to the rear of the plane. We’ll be one of the last to disembark and will be at a huge disadvantage, but we’ll take it. As we rush up the aisle, we spot the engaged couple on the other side of the plane. Rylee high-fives Laredo, who shouts to our backs, “We thought you were on the first plane.”

We don’t have time to explain and rush to our seats to buckle up. I stare out the window, appreciating the moment. As the flight crew goes through their instructions, I notice Rylee scratching away furiously in her small notebook. I withhold my normally irritating remark, given what we’ve just gone through. She flips past pages and pages of checklists, and my curiosity grows, wondering what has captured her focus.

“No rest for the weary, huh? Is that an apology letter to Ms. Reed? I can help with that,” I offer.

Her brow furrows as if this is the most ridiculous thing she’s heard today. “Not even close.” A mischievous gleam floats across her eyes as the plane pushes back from the gate and begins to taxi. “I’ll share only because we’re partners and after what just happened…” Her voice trails off.

For the first time since Gabby pushed us together, I get a sense Rylee believes we are a team. If I’m being honest, so do I. “The team that gets arrested together stays together.”

Her smile eases the tension that had been there a moment ago. “Don’t laugh when you see I made a list.”

“I won’t.” I lean over to get a good look at her scribble.

She raises her hand to uncover the title of the page. It’s written in large block letters: Operation Blondie Destruction.

I laugh out loud. I had been so relieved to be out of the holding room, I forgot who had led us there in the first place. “I love it,” I whisper to Rylee, and we both fall into a fit of laughs. “May I take a look?”

She twists the notebook toward me, and I begin to skim. Some of the items are illegal, some are dangerous, but every one of them is spot-on in what the duo of nuisance deserves.

“We have two hours of flight time. Care to brainstorm with me?” Rylee’s sincere question causes me to pause. She’s never let anyone other than my sister plan with her.

“You sure you don’t want me to study the San Francisco guidebook?”

“I’m not worried about it. If we stumble into some blind alleyway because we didn’t read the book, I know you’ll get me back to safety.”

My mouth goes dry as her cheeks color a shade of red I hadn’t seen since PR. She’s a fighter, and I’m her partner. I need to show her I’ll do what is needed. I tap the notebook, ready to join the fight. “Well, you know what they say: two heads are better than one.”

Her tongue clicks against the top of her front tooth, deep in thought. “It takes two.”

Chapter 13

Rylee

The flight flies by, yet our devilish demise of team blondie is still in the early formative stages. Roberto and I plot out over thirty ways to torture them, however, not a one of them is within the rules of the race.

Just kicking back and spitballing ideas with him proved liberating. Even though we are in the back of the plane and the other teams have disembarked, I don’t feel the normal anxiety that weighs me down. I’m not attempting to envision the whereabouts of each team, picturing how to navigate the corridors of the airport to the quickest route to find our next clue. I’m almost afraid to think it, but I feel relaxed.

Halfway through the flight, Roberto took my pencil and drew a tic-tac-toe board. That led to a game of connect four and a few other long-forgotten childhood games. Some of them we had played on the beach in the sand back in Guánica, the afternoon sun blazing from above, the laughter of children in the water, the sound of merengue music in the background. Puerto Rico is known as La Isla del Encanto for a reason—the island of charm.

The silly games force me to relax, to rest my mind. I’m not concerned with finishing first—that thought went out the window the minute the first plane took off. But what is surprising is that I have no concerns about finishing last either.

I shift my backpack onto the center of my back, both hands through the straps, thumbs hooked to the handles, ready to motor. We exit the jetway, and the race clue box awaits us at the exit gate. There is only one envelope in the box, confirming our last-place status. I hand the envelope to Roberto to read.

“Money.” He holds up the bills. “Welcome to San Francisco, the golden city. You have sixty-three dollars for this leg of the race. Below is an image located somewhere in San Francisco. Make your way to this location by any method of travel of your choosing and search for a lady with a traditional red cheongsam matched with a San Francisco Giants baseball cap to get your next clue.”

Roberto holds up the postcard. The image shows a picture of a metropolitan street, cars passing under a large green-and-gold awning. On each side rests smaller awnings over an archway under which pedestrians walk.

I tap the picture. “It looks like the gold on top are two snakes of some sort, and it looks like Asian symbols or lettering on the archway. A cheongsam must be a Chinese garment of some sort. Or possibly Japanese. The clue says lady, so I would guess some sort of dress.”

“LA has a Koreatown,” Roberto starts. “I believe San Fran has a Chinatown. I wish we could use our phones. A Google image match would find this in seconds.”

I shake my head. We’ve broken enough rules for the day. “Let’s check the cabs. One of the drivers will know.”

---