Page 107 of Just One More Thing

“Of course.”

I smell like bay water, my hair is doing something that cannot be described as intentional, and Jake is still looking at me like I’m worth watching anyway.

I’m in serious trouble.

The Holler Crawler is the final competitive event.

One partner calls instructions from a platform while the other crawls blindfolded through obstacles guided only by voice. Just the caller’s voice. And complete trust.

The blindfold goes on. The world disappears.

I can hear the crowd, a low hum of anticipation, and Wayne somewhere nearby saying something I decide not to process.

“Mo.” Everything inside me settles. Just his voice and the nickname that’s only ever meant something when he says it.

“I’ve got you,” Jake says. “Forward. Slow.”

I move forward.

“Cone on your right. Come left a little.”

I adjust. Something smacks against my shoulders.

I yelp.

“Pool noodles,” Jake says. “Just go through. They’ll hit you, but they won’t hurt you.”

“Jake!”

“You’re fine. I can see everything. I’ve got you.”

My humiliation remains catastrophic. My physical injuries remain nonexistent.

“You’re through,” he says, laughter in his voice. “You’re doing great. Forward.”

I crawl forward.

“Stop. Tunnel on your left. Duck.”

I find the tunnel and crawl through it only to crack the top of my head exiting.

“THAT’S GONNA LEAVE A MARK,” Wayne shouts helpfully.

“Almost there, Mo,” Jake says. “Slight right.”

I move right. My hand plunges into something thick and gooey and deeply concerning. I freeze. “What is that?”

Silence. Then Jake says carefully, “…It’s not what you think.”

The crowd absolutely loses it.

“Jake Wheeler!”

“That’s the finish, Mo! You’re right there.”

I lunge forward and slam into the mat.

The crowd cheers.