Ships Ahoy!

The Veteran

"Welcome, one and all, to the O Games!"

The last Friday in August had arrived, and with it the age-old annual Odd Squad tradition. A general feeling of excitement pervaded the air as every Odd Squad agent chattered amongst themselves in hushed, anticipating tones about who and what this year's contestants and challenges would be. Even Olive had caught the infectious mood of the day. After nearly a month of spending her days in the Odd Squad gym and working after hours in order to avoid everyone, it was rather nice to join in the festivities for a change.

Until she saw who was ringing the bells this year. A stupid, chipper grin on his face, there stood her former partner, clad in a ridiculously large green-trimmed gold toga, reverently ringing the memory bells. Olive bowed her head like everyone else, but inside she was tense, angered. Yet another special privilege from being Ms. O's personal adviser and favorite agent, she thought with no small amount of disgust.

Ochenta, the previous year's winner, was called up to the Thingieth to draw the numbers of this year's five contestants, but Olive had her eyes trained on Oscar. For the most part he was watching the selection process, though every now and then glancing at Ms. O, who was standing off to the side, to communicate with a hand or face signal. Once he glanced in Olive's direction, and she quickly looked away before he could catch her eye. It's not polite to stare, she reminded herself, not even when it's someone you loathe. But she had seen enough. It was clear that he looked to Ms. O like a little lost puppy, following her every move, never mind that—

"Agent Sixty-Three!"

Olive blinked, snapping back to attention. She had forgotten all about the actual O Games. Had her number just been called?

Ochenta held up a red ball. "Agent Olive?" she called. "That's you. You're our final contestant."

Olive opened her mouth and closed it again. A pathway had been parted through the crowd for her and every agent was watching her expectantly.

Am I really competing in the O Games this year?

Almost surreally, she stepped forward and made her way to the platform, where the other four contestants—Orchid, Oz, O'Donnell, and Odell—were already waiting. Feeling all eyes on her, Olive managed a weak smile that dimmed when her sensitive ears caught Oren murmuring to Olaf and the other agents near him:

"Imagine that. Olive has to compete in the O Games the same year her former partner gets to announce it. Boy, this oughta be good," he snickered.

Olive felt a hot flush creeping up her face, but before she had time to ponder the rude remark, Ms. O had clicked the Remote-Controlinator, transporting all seven participants to the O Games Arena. Though she remembered what was going to happen from previous years watching the games, she was still shocked to discover herself standing on a marble pedestal, clad in bronze and copper armor, her corkscrew ponytail transformed into an elegant yet functional braided bun.

It was at that moment that, as she looked over at her competition likewise inspecting themselves, Olive realized something. Out of all five contestants, she was the only one who'd had an extensive background in sports. And, quite by accident, she'd just spent the last month training for this day. Meaning she actually had a fighting chance.

With that realization came another. Since no one was left to watch when I stopped the pienado, I've never really proven myself to the rest of the squad. I've just been a follower, either Oscar's partner or Todd's tagalong. But if I win the O Games today, she decided, I'll show everyone that I can stand on my own two feet.

Olive felt herself straighten up taller and hold her chin high, a gleam in her eye and a determined grin on her face.

Let's go.