Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 152045 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 760(@200wpm)___ 608(@250wpm)___ 507(@300wpm)
Her brow wrinkles as her eyebrows damn-near touch her hairline.
She starts removing her clothes, and in minutes I’m in her jeans and she’s in my dress. I pull her hoodie over my head. “I’m not sure if Hunter has a phone,” I tell whoever’s listening. “Can you text someone at the dance. Ask them to tell him I’ll be really late?”
Mace gets on her cell, typing away.
Cruising into Fallstown, we can barely maneuver around traffic, whether it’s vehicles or people on foot. Coral just ends up pulling as far ahead as she can and parking.
“Thanks, guys.” I hop out. “Sorry to drag you here!”
I start to run, but then I notice Coral turning off the car and everyone climbing out. They walk up to me, fixing their clothes. “You’re going to need a ride back,” she says.
“I can find one,” I tell her. “Are you sure?”
But just then, Mace’s face lights up. Or it lights up to about as amused as I think she ever gets. “Holy shit.” She looks around at the track, the crowd, and the bikes racing by. “I’ve never been here.”
Codi’s wide-eyed, chewing her gum, and I smile. “Come on,” I tell them.
We stroll in, bypassing the metal detectors, and I nod to Pax, one of the security guys dressed in a black polo.
“Hey, Dylan,” he says.
“They’re with me,” I tell him, gesturing to my friends.
He lets us pass, and I lead them to the stands. “Concessions are over there.” I point to my left and then wave my hand to the seats. “Sit anywhere.”
Superbikes race to my left, while I hear a motocross race going far in the distance, over the hills, on a track deep in the field. People are spread all over the place, standing on the sidelines, watching, and some sitting in their own chairs they brought. Beer flows, and I smell the food trucks serving burgers, sandwiches, and pretzels.
My brother sits in the media booth, a pair of binoculars around his neck that he’s not using, because he’s playing games on my dad’s phone.
I run up, jumping onto the edge of the booth and swinging my legs over. I slip his binoculars over his head.
“Hey!” he blurts outs.
But he doesn’t put up a fight.
I look through, spying Noah in his green and gray uniform flying over the hill, into the air, and setting back down with ease. He’s not even close to first place. “Come on…”
“Van der Berg standing tall, feet on the pegs, powering through the ruts,” Shane Benchly tells the crowd.
“Sinclair, Fahl, and Weisman climbing high,” the other one whose last name, I think, is Dubois adds. “Richter falling back to fifth.”
“And here were go, last lap…”
I watch Noah put his foot down, speeding faster and faster.
“Stuart closing back in,” Dubois says. “We saw Weisman wobble there, back tire caught in a rut, and Van der Berg trimming four seconds off Sinclair’s lead…”
My dad is down in the pit, his headset on, probably talking to Jax in the tower.
“And Van der Berg pulls ahead!” Benchley shouts. “Coming in fast!”
Noah sails through the finish line, and I exhale, smiling wide.
“Borrrrring,” my brother groans.
I laugh, handing his binoculars back. Not that he’ll use them.
Jumping back down, I run over to Dad. He stands next to my bike, all the mud from the last time I rode gone.
“Your mom’s still at the hospital,” he tells me, handing me my gear.
I open the bag, bypassing the pants and pulling off Codi’s hoodie as I grab the jacket.
Zipping up, I climb on, taking my helmet from him.
“Now, you haven’t been on a bike in a couple of weeks,” he says.
I flinch. I can tell him that’s not exactly true, but I’ll wait until after I win.
“These guys—”
But I interject. “Athletes, racers…”
There are a ton of other words he can use that include me.
“Athletes,” he corrects himself, “are on their way to Pittsburgh to qualify for the championship.” He pins me with a stern look. “Six laps. It’s a display. That’s it. You ride, you learn, you keep up. Nothing more. Understand?”
I smile, but my knees shake.
My stomach swims, and I feel like my heart is floating in my throat.
I’m scared.
But I remember Aro’s words. Love or fear.
I tip my head to my dad. “I can do it.”
He helps me into my helmet as I fit in an earbud, and I hear the other bikes approach. They move past, one looking at me until he passes so far that he can’t stare anymore. I breathe harder, fasten my strap, and pull on my gloves.
Dad looks at me, and I meet his eyes.
He looks like he’s holding his breath. “I didn’t tell your mother I was letting you do this, so…”
“I won’t die.”
He laughs, kisses my helmet, and hesitates like he wants to change his mind.
He doesn’t, though.