CHAPTER EIGHT
The Long Haul

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SURPRISING, WHEN CECELIA met up with the Academic Decathlon team by the school bus early the next morning, she was buzzing with energy. She should have been exhausted—she'd barely gotten four hours of sleep last night, studying until her brain turned to mush—but anticipation for the upcoming competition sent adrenaline surging through her veins. This seemed to be true for the rest of the team, as well—although there were a few stray yawns and eye rubs, everyone was on their feet. Liz and Abe chatted quietly. Sally, Charlie and Cindy went through a series of flashcards, answering questions at rapid-fire speed. Michelle had her head buried in a book, ignoring Flash's efforts to start a conversation. Ned and Christine, the latter sipping a coffee to keep her awake, stood awkwardly next to each other.

"Hey, guys!" Liz called as Cecelia and Alex approached. She'd rolled the sleeves of her ugly yellow blazer to her elbows, impossibly managing to pull off the look. "I'm glad you're here! We're just waiting on Mr. Harrington to clear some things up. Should only be a few minutes."

"Hi, Liz," Alex said, pulling his suitcase behind him as he walked. "Glad to be here."

They'd gone to school together today, just like they'd gone home together yesterday. Although Alex wasn't as frigid with Cecelia as he was before, there was still a chill between them. Probably because they both knew a conversation was long-overdue but were reluctant to be the ones to begin it. Mom had told them they needed to figure it out soon, as they couldn't let their family feuds impede upon their performance at Nationals, but they hadn't, yet. Cecelia was determined not to be the first one to crack.

Even though yesterday's signal had located the Chitauri core in Midtown Tech's workshop, it hadn't been found there. Though Schultz and Vale had emerged disappointed, they would have to take a temporary break on the search. Although most of their missions stayed within the Big Apple, the one they were leaving for tonight would take them across the country. Because Cecelia wouldn't be joining them, she only knew the barest of details—something about trucks of confiscated technology. If she was being honest, she didn't particularly care.

"Cee!" Christine called, now waving Cecelia over. She was radiant this morning, her hair sitting in loose curls that tumbled over her shoulders. "How are you, girl?"

Cecelia pulled her suitcase along, wincing when its wheels caught a particularly large stone and jolted. She'd probably brought too much with her for a two-day trip, but foster care had taught her to never leave anything behind. Once, she'd been kicked out with nothing but her schoolbag and had to make her way to the nearest emergency shelter with only a packet of fruit snacks to keep her sustained. Even after five years as an Olivier, she still kept a tube of toothpaste in her pocket at all times.

"Fine," she answered, leaning against the bus. Her own blazer itched uncomfortably at the collar, and she wormed two fingers underneath the fabric in an attempt to alleviate it. "I feel like I'm going to throw up, and I'm convinced that I haven't been studying enough—"

"All you've been doing lately is studying!" Christine pointed out.

"—and maybe we're all underprepared and are going to be crushed by the other teams. But I'm fine."

"Aw, man, don't say that," bemoaned Ned, clutching his stomach. Even beneath the bucket hat perched on his head, Cecelia could see his skin paling. "You're making me second-guess everything."

"Ned, you're fine," Christine said. "We're all fine. Cecelia, stop freaking Ned out."

"I'm not freaking out!"

"We're gonna be fine," Christine said. "When's the last time someone besides Flash got an answer wrong?"

"Charles did, like, yesterday," Cecelia pointed out. Ned pulled his bucket hat over his eyes.

"Hey, it's Peter!" Abe called out suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. All chatter stopped, and all eyes turned to the sidewalk leading up to the school bus. Sure enough, there Peter was, barreling towards them in a flannel shirt and jeans. He wasn't the blur of speed he'd been yesterday, but he still managed to reach them in an extraordinarily short amount of time.

"Peter?" Liz questioned.

Peter's eyes darted, landing on each member of the team in turn. "Yeah, I was hoping maybe I could rejoin the team," he said, slightly out of breath. Flash immediately started towards him.

"No, no way," he growled. Peter stumbled back, nearly tripping. "You can't just quit on us, stroll up and be welcomed back by everyone."

"Hey, welcome back, Peter!"

Mr. Harrington climbed out of the school bus in an identical blazer to the team. For once, his eyes were shining, and a smile appeared on his face. "Flash, you're back to first alternate."

"Thank the Lord," Alex murmured. Cindy giggled behind her hand.

Flash blinked. "What?"

"He's taking your place!" Abe announced. Everyone laughed at that, and Flash's eyes narrowed.

"Uh, excuse me, can we go already?" Michelle asked, stepping forward. She hadn't yet donned her blazer—instead, it was draped over one arm. A mountain of books was tucked under the other. "I was hoping to get in some light protesting in front of one of the embassies before dinner, so..."

"Can I join you?" Cecelia asked. "Did you know that the Anacostan Tribe used to live right where the White House and Capitol Hill are now? Their tribe slowly accumulated into others, but they still deserve recognition. Along with all the other Native Americans who called DC home first."

Michelle nodded. "I read about that in preparation for this trip. I was thinking more of protesting against the treatment of Black people in the Capitol, but I'm open for that, too."

Cecelia couldn't help but smile at that. Some people got annoyed when she talked about Native American rights and reminded everyone that they were the first in the US, but of course Michelle wouldn't be one of those people. Although she was a little weird, she was as much of a pioneer for social justice as Cecelia was.

"Count me in," Christine added. "Lord knows this country needs some change."

A blush spread across Michelle's cheeks. She nodded.

"Protesting is patriotic," Mr. Harrington said. "Let's get on the bus!"

Flash balled up his blazer and thrust it into Peter's chest.

The bus ride to DC was just over four hours, with one bathroom and lunch break in the middle. While they were still refreshed, Liz ordered them to sit near the front and go through some review questions. Cecelia found herself beside Christine, while Alex, relieved to no longer have Flash as his partner, was sitting with Peter.

The bus roared down the highway as Liz flipped through her notecards. "Focus up, everyone. Our next topic is the moons of Saturn. First question: how many of the eighty-two confirmed moons have been named?"

Christine slammed down on her bell. "Fifty-three!"

"Correct, Christine! What is the smallest of Saturn's moons?"

Abe answered next. "Aegaeon!"

"Yes, Abe! What giant in Greek mythology was Saturn's 'ocean moon' named after?"

Cecelia was finally first. "Enceladus!"

"Awesome!"

The team whirled through the questions, hitting their bells faster and faster and spitting out right answer after right answer. The only small bump in the road was when Liz asked where the civil war ended. That was when Flash decided to finally open his big mouth.

"Fort Sumter," he answered.

Abe tapped his bell. "Flash is wrong."

"Okay, guys, let's focus." Liz shuffled her cards again. "Next one."

"Liz, don't overwork them," Mr. Harrington warned.

"We're good!" Charles insisted.

After Peter answered a question about the periodic table—Cecelia swore he could recite the thing upside-down and backwards, not that she was paying attention to him—he jumped to his feet, holding up his buzzing phone. "Can I take this real quick? I'll only be a sec."

"Yeah, fine," Liz responded. Peter nodded and stumbled towards the back of the bus, dropping into a seat behind Ned. Strangely, Ned hadn't at all been participating in the practice—instead, he'd kept his head down, staring at what was likely his phone in his lap. Christine kept glancing over at him, subtle as a flaming unicorn. Liz had to call her name three times to get her back on track.

After the phone call, Peter remained at the back of the bus with Ned. The rest of the team began getting antsy, so Liz finally gave up on the quizzing. Two hours in, they stopped at an on-route, and Cecelia bought a smoothie and a medium-sized pouch of French fries for the road. She was sipping the strawberry-banana blend on her way back to the bus when Alex stopped her.

He was carrying a veggie burger wrapped in foil, and with his unoccupied hand, rubbed at his neck. He'd left his blazer on the bus, revealing the graphic T-shirt he was wearing (a cereal bowl with fangs, Cereal Killer scrawled underneath). Sweat beaded at his temples, and he shifted from foot to foot.

"What?" Cecelia asked.

"Can I talk to you?"

"Are we not talking right now?"

Alex heaved out a sigh. "You know what I mean."

"Oh, so you're finally done giving me the silent treatment?"

"Yes! Jesus Christ, Cecelia, that's what I'm trying to do. I'm trying to apologize. Okay? I shouldn't have overreacted in the way that I did. It's not your fault that you're the closest to Uncle Rick. It's not your fault that he asked only you for the internship. I'm sorry I blamed you for it. You didn't deserve it, and you didn't deserve me basically ignoring you after what happened." He picked at his cuticles. "I was really worried about you, you know."

A laugh bubbled up in Cecelia's chest. Yeah. He was worried about her. He wanted Uncle to notice him, but he wasn't prepared for the consequences that came with being noticed. Injuries hidden behind baggy clothing. Not eating or drinking for hours because you were in the middle of a mission. Wondering if, even though everyone around you says it's for a good cause, what you're doing is wrong.

Of course, she couldn't exactly blame her brother. From his end, getting Uncle's attention probably seemed like paradise—college credits, a way out of chores, quality time with another member of the family, frequent excursions to the diner. It was why Jules always made some jealous comment whenever Cecelia brought up her so-called internship. It was why Eva was extra polite whenever Uncle came over.

It still hurt, though. Everything that was so obvious to Cecelia wasn't to anyone else—what might as well have been a giant red flag billowing over her head appeared green on the other end. Sometimes, she got so close to telling them everything. How she'd really broken her finger. What she really did on those long nights. Where she'd really gotten all of her new technology.

She never did, though. Despite everything Uncle did to hurt her, he'd done so much for her, as well. After all, it had been his influence that had gotten her adopted into the Olivier family.

All of these thoughts were bouncing around Cecelia's head as Alex finished speaking, but she didn't voice any of them. Instead, remembering Liz's advice the day of the party, she said, "I'm sorry, too."

"You don't have to be sorry," Alex said. "I was the one being an asshole."

"No, I was, too." The words were hard to get out. Cecelia was aware that she was prickly sometimes (okay, most of the time), but she never knew when the line between prickly and downright sharp was crossed. And when she did eventually figure it out, admitting it aloud was always a more difficult battle than getting her iPad back from Jules. "I shouldn't have... flaunted all of that in front of you. And I should've just turned Uncle down when he offered to drive me to school that day."

Of course, that wouldn't have actually been possible. But this was what apologies were about: saying you should have done something that you never would.

"Oh," Alex said. "Thanks."

Cecelia sipped her smoothie. "Are we done here?"

Alex shrugged, then opened his arms. "Sure. Awkward sibling hug?"

"Really? You're referencing Gravity Falls now?"

"Oh, just get in here, Dipper." Alex wrapped her into an embrace. As usual, Cecelia first endured it stiffly, but, after a few moments, let herself melt into it. She'd missed him, during these past few days. Alex had always been the one constant in her life, the one person she knew was always there for her, and without him, a part of her had been lost. It was stupid, because she'd spent ten years of her life without him, but apparently, the last five years had meant more.

"Are you saying you're Mabel?" she asked reluctantly. After the Gravity Falls phase she and Alex had gone through when they were younger—which was incredibly embarrassing and something she desperately wished she could forget—all of the trivia had locked in her mind. Even now, she could basically recite the script of every episode off by heart.

"Duh." Alex finally released her. "You're the smart, socially awkward, kind of obsessive one, and I'm the extroverted weirdo who really likes sweaters."

"If you're trying to flatter me into forgiving you, it's not working."

"I'm not." Alex threw an arm around her shoulder. Cecelia tried to be annoyed by it as he steered her back outside, but she couldn't help but smile, at least a little. Her family was big and loud and a little smothering sometimes, but they were hers. Alex was hers. Eva was hers. Jules was hers. Mom and Dad were hers.

And she hadn't had people she could call hers since she was five years old.

MUCH TO LIZ'S CHAGRIN, the rest of the bus ride to Washington, DC, was not spent studying. Instead, Midtown High's Academic Decathlon Team spent the time locked in conversation with each other, enjoying the scenery around them as they drove over state borders. No longer confined to the first few rows, they spread throughout the bus, some choosing to stay in the very front while others, like Flash, moved to the back. Every so often, there was a shriek of laughter from Cindy, a raised voice from Charles. The only ones who weren't really participating in the typical madness school trips brought were Michelle—reading, as per usual—and Peter and Ned, who were whispering to each other.

Now that Alex and Cecelia had sort of, kind of, made up, the two of them sat with Christine, engaged in a fierce debate about whether hot dogs were sandwiches. Okay, Alex and Christine were doing most of the debating. Cecelia just sat in the middle of them and watched with mild amusement, knowing the true answer. A hot dog was obviously a taco.

When they arrived at the hotel, everyone was eager to get out and stretch their legs. For the next few nights, the hotel had been specifically designated for the Academic Decathlon participants. A blue banner hung on the building's awning, multiple other school buses pulled into the parking lot, and streams of other kids their age roamed the premises. A lot of them were predictably arrogant private schoolers who sneered at the Midtown Team as they entered, but there were a few who at least gave them a friendly nod.

The inside of the hotel was even bigger than the outside. It was open concept, meaning that if Cecelia craned her neck, she could see each and every one of the hotel's floors, and incredibly lavish. The lobby sported even more AcaDec banners, as well as a few tents with T-shirts and other merchandise available to be purchased. A miniature waterfall roared across from Cecelia, and potted trees sprouted up in every available corner. The air smelled like chlorine and sandalwood, which somehow managed to blend together in a tolerable scent. Cecelia loved it at first glance.

"Everyone stick together," Liz instructed, walking beside Mr. Harrington towards the desk to check in. No one argued, perhaps because they were afraid if they walked even a few inches to the left, they'd get separated—even with the ugly yellow blazers to act as a beacon to their way back.

"You kidding me?" Charles exclaimed, marvelling at the area. "This place is huge."

"I've seen bigger," Flash shot back.

"Oh, sure you have," said Christine, exchanging a grin with Cecelia.

"There's a bird in here," Abe remarked, pointing at one of the trees. Sure enough, a little sparrow was nestled on its branches.

Mr. Harrington collected their room keys from a very helpful receptionist, and Christine linked arms with Cecelia. "Isn't this exciting?" she gushed, eyes glowing. "I mean, look at this place! It's amazing!"

"Okay, yeah," Cecelia admitted. "This is cool. I didn't think Midtown had the budget to afford a place like this."

"Oh, they don't," Alex said. "Hotel accommodations are free for all contestants. They couldn't exactly say 'oh, too bad, you're too poor to go', could they?"

"Uh, yeah, they could. Rich people do that all the time."

"Well—nope, that's true. I'm not even going to argue."

"All right!" Mr. Harrington clapped his hands to get the attention of the team. "I've got the room keys here—one per pair. Please don't lose them, because they cost twenty dollars to get replaced, and I really don't have the budget for that. Keep them with the most responsible person in your pair. No, Charles, that is not you.

"Dinner is in two hours—we're going to some place called Reggies. I have not tried their food and have no idea if it's good. Please don't blame me if it isn't. Until then, feel free to settle into your rooms, watch TV, study, do whatever. I honestly don't care, as long as you don't get into trouble. I would say meet in the lobby at six, but I'll probably lose you, so meet at my room. That's 408. Got it?"

"Got it!" the team chorused.

"Okay, good. Here are your keys. First pair, Abe and Alex. You're in room 401. Liz and Michelle, you're in 402..."

Christine and Cecelia ended up in Room 405, to the right of Cindy and Sally and to the left of Charles and Flash. With Christine in possession of the key—Cecelia had immediately passed it over to her when Mr. Harrington had handed it out—they headed down the hall and let themselves in.

The room was surprisingly nice, even if it did have the mothball-dust smell and paper sheets that were practically a staple of hotels. Beside each single bed was a nightstand with a lamp, a landline phone, and a drawer with a notepad and a Bible. A desk boasted a coffee machine and a basket of toiletries, and a conveniently placed television allowed them to watch crappy cooking shows under the covers if they so desired.

They only stayed for a minute, though; long enough to claim a bed—Cecelia by the window, Christine nearest to the bathroom—and shed their blazers. Cecelia pulled on her Midtown Tech sweatshirt and retied her shoes. Christine ensured the room key was safely in her pocket and locked the door behind them.

When they exited, they found Michelle idling on the balcony, her arms crossed. A few signs were tucked under her arms, slogans written on them in neat, blocky handwriting. Even though she'd clearly been waiting for their arrival, surprise still flashed on her face at their approach.

"Oh," she said. "You're actually coming."

"Yeah, why wouldn't we?" Christine asked.

"Usually when people say they'll do stuff with me, they kind of end up bailing." Michelle ducked her head, and a lock of frizzy brown hair fell into her face. "A lot of people think I'm weird."

"You're not weird," Christine said. "You're cool. And gorgeous! And, like, super smart. I bet you're gonna win the whole competition for us tomorrow."

Cecelia nudged her. "You're going a little overboard, there."

"Oh. Thanks." Michelle blinked. "Uh, you're cool, too, Christine. Not that I'm the best person to decide who's cool and who's not, but..."

"Okay, enough with the self-deprecation," Christine said. "You're amazing."

She was a lot better at the whole 'being nice' thing than Cecelia was. Given how different they were, it was a miracle they were still friends—they weren't exactly the 'two peas in a pod' stereotype. One of their elementary school teachers had joked that their similar names had them destined to become friends, but honestly, if they hadn't met on the playground, the whole thing probably wouldn't have happened.

Cecelia, awkward as usual, pointed to the signs. "Did you make those yourself?"

Michelle looked down as if she'd forgotten they were there. "Oh. Yeah. I brought extra, just in case. Um... do you want one?"

"Sure." Cecelia took one that said Error 404: Democracy Not Found. It was both fairly funny and unfortunately true based on the current political climate. "Thanks."

"No problem." Michelle shifted her weight. "So, um, do you want to go?"

"Of course!" Christine picked up a sign, too. This one wasn't as lighthearted as Cecelia's, with We Will Not Be Silenced printed in bold font.

Michelle gave her a shy grin and grabbed the last two signs. With one of them in each hand, she marched ahead, the leader of the pack. Cecelia followed her, ignoring the looks a few private school kids tossed her as she passed. They were either side-eyeing every other team in the competition, or they disagreed with the signs in particular. Given that they were blond, white kids, it could have honestly been either.

Cecelia narrowed her eyes at them. They blanched.

The front doors to the hotel yawned open, letting them back into the early evening. Cecelia took in the DC air and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. She was finally here. She'd made it. And though the looming threat of tomorrow's competition sat on the horizon, taunting her, she ignored it for now. She could deal with that when she got back. For now, she was going to do what she always wanted: be a normal teenager.

Hopefully.

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HAVEN: haha... i'm sure cecelia will have a great trip and nothing bad will happen at all! she'll probably just have fun with her friends and go home feeling like a normal teenager :)))

in all seriousness, though, i am very hard on my girl and she deserves a lot better. but also part of this was peter's fault, so blame him, too. 

thanks for reading <3333