For the Win by Angel Lawson, Rochelle Allison Page A

for Olympic Gold, there’s only one person that square jaw and never-been-elbowed straight nose could belong to: Tyson Rickman.
    Fucking swimmers.
    They’re the undeniable royalty around here, fawned over by the IOC, media and other athletes. I’m not denying they work hard, like really hard, but they’ve never had to fend off a two-hundred pound forward—cleats first.
    I’m unconsciously touching the scar over my eyebrow when Allie grabs my arm, letting the others walk away. “Did you get the message from McDowell?”
    “No. But I haven’t checked. They told me to report in with Mitchell at nine.”
    “Change of plans. McDowell is here and he wants to meet with us.” She peers up at me. “Both of us. Any idea why?”
    I suspect it’s about the marketing plan they have for the two of us, but I shrug. “Not a clue.”
    Back at the room I shower quickly, eating one Powerbar before I get in and another when I get out. The altitude here is different, and I’ve had to make some adjustments, but so far everything seems okay. As long as I don’t go off on a bender or get sick, and I don’t plan to, I should be fine.
    Allie and I meet up outside the dormitory and walk together to the main office. McDowell’s is the largest, reserved for when he comes in from Chicago. We’re ushered in to find him speaking with a woman and man.
    “Ah, there are my stars,” McDowell says with a clap of his hands. The others swing their attention to us. The woman’s eyes light up, her gaze travelling from our heads to our toes.
    “Stars?” Allie glances my way, bemused.
    “Allie and Julian Anderson, meet Veronica Weathers and James Houseworth. Veronica is a filmmaker and James is her camera man. They’re creating documentary-style promotional material on you for the Games.”
    “Just us?” Allie asks, checking them out. I can’t lie—Veronica is kind of a knockout, with long, shiny brown hair, big blue eyes and legs that go on for miles. Clearing my throat, I focus my attention on the guy next to her.  James? Well, he looks like he just crawled out of a dark room with the other film nerds.
    “Veronica and James will work specifically with you,” McDowell says. “There are dozens of teams working with other high profile athletes.”
    “Uh, exactly when did we become high profile?” I can already see the wheels spinning in my sister’s head. She always has a million questions, but this may send her into over-drive. I try to arrange my face into something that resembles aloof curiosity.
    Veronica steps forward and shakes both of our hands. “You’re the first opposite gender twins to ever make it to the Olympics. It’s a very big deal. The US Olympic Committee has asked that we profile you specifically.”
    McDowell jumps back in. “They’ll be following you through the training program over the next couple of weeks. You’ll make time each day to answer questions or film whatever they need. These mini-documentaries will show during the actual games.”
    “Interviews?” No one said anything about interviews.
    “I’m thinking of really focusing on the two of you and how you grew up—especially with Julian’s Diabetes. I want to show the challenges you both went through to get here.”
    Allie’s tongue pushes into her cheek—a sure sign she’s not convinced about all this. “You don’t think this will be distracting? What about the others? It’s Maria Thomas’ last year on the team. If we win she’ll be the only woman to have three gold medals.”
    “Don’t worry,” McDowell says. “Everyone will get coverage. You two are just a special angle we’re taking. You’ll see other film crews around campus interviewing people from different sports.”
    I’m sure Tyson Rickman has a full crew at his disposal.
    “I’m not comfortable exploiting Julian’s health for the IOC,” Allie says.
    “Think of it as an educational opportunity,” Veronica says with a smile.
    I nod to give my approval, hoping