Marlowe
I ended up sharing a room with King, exactly as the math had promised, and neither of us said much about it out loud beyond a brief, businesslike division of the space that fooled absolutely nobody, least of all ourselves.
The showcase itself consumed the whole next day — bikes lined up in neat rows across three states' worth of talent, judges moving methodically down the row with clipboards and unreadable expressions, my own hands steady on my build despite a nervous system convinced otherwise.
When they called my name for second place overall, I heard it twice before I actually believed it.
"Second place," Nova crowed, nearly knocking me over with the force of her hug. "Out of everyone here. First showcase. You beat riders who've been doing this for a decade, Finch!"
I stood
