Page 89

I almost fell over the chair this time as I stumbled around it. “I’m good,” I croaked. I was not good. The room had gotten bright and fuzzy around the edges. I was pretty sure I was either going to have a heart attack or pass out, and I was definitely halfway outside my own body and looking back in disbelief. This felt like a dream, a really bad dream.

The door.

We were heading for the door.

And then I’d go to my apartment. And I’d pack, like I’d been going to last night, and I’d get on a plane, and I’d go home a loser and a failure and a dropout and a waste of space that didn’t deserve anything good, and I couldn’t even go see Saga and get wasted and pretend I could reach the stars, because he’d fucking left me, like I’d left him.

“Mr. Navarro,” Varga said.

“I’m going.”

A chair scraped behind me. “Wait, please.”

I stopped, wobbled, held up by Miles.

“Mr. Navarro?”

I turned. Dr Varga stood, and held up a finger, with the phone to her ear. “I see,” she said to the caller. “Well, that is of course something we’ll investigate further. Thank you for bringing it to my attention. This is a serious matter of misconduct.”

What the fuck had I done now? They’d already kicked me out. What were they going to do now, kick me while I was down too?

I couldn’t take this.

I had to go. I couldn’t be here anymore. I couldn’t be around any of it. I pulled from Miles’s hand. “I have to go.”

“Mr. Navarro . . . my . . . apologies,” Varga said. “I need you to sit back down, please.”

Her apologies? Why had her tone gotten softer?

“If you’re going to tell me I’ve done something else wrong, I really don’t want to hear it, lady.”

“Doctor,” she corrected, then gestured at the chair. “Sit, please. And allow me to explain something to you and to the rest of the panel.”

I rubbed my face and dropped back into the seat, numb, barely there, only half listening around the sound of the thumping in my ears.

“That was Dame Celia Ashborne calling, who I believe you have met, Mr. Navarro,” Varga said.

“We met, yeah.” At the London gala, months ago. She’d been kind, I remembered that much, and Ren had told me she was important, but we hadn’t talked for long. She’d sent me the lovely letter about possible Olympic selection eighteen months ago, after my Meridian crash-out.

“She had some pertinent information relayed through her that is of importance to this panel. It seems, Mr. Navarro, that you were correct and there is someone who has a personal interest in trying to impede your progress at the Games, and while we investigate this, I would like to formally apologize, here and now to you.”

“Apologize?”

What the fuck was going on? Was I in or out? My heart hurt so bad I wanted to pull it out, throw it away, and be done with it.

“There is still the matter of your lying to this panel, twice,” Varga said.

I grabbed the chair arms and began to rise. “You know, I think I’m done . . .”

“And I am sorry for that, Mr. Navarro. But I would like to make clear, that in light of this new information I’ve just received, you are no longer expelled from the Games.”

I froze halfway out of my chair.

“You may continue, as you were. We will be investigating this matter, but given its nature and the source of this new information, there’s no reason you cannot compete.”

I blinked. “What are you saying?”

“You are still an athlete at the Olympic Games, Mr. Navarro. You may compete without prejudice.”