I should be happy. Everything’s working out.
I’m keeping my car. I’ll have five grand by the end of December, easy. Except, Hannah and Cole? What’s good about that?
Nothing.
I keep a low profile for the next couple of days. I don’t play pool with the guys Friday night. I don’t answer their text about the status of my car. I even skip Luc’s party Saturday. I drive to the airstrip instead.
I need to get used to the track. I drive the runways for a couple of hours, memorizing bumps and surface flaws and thinking through possible moves. By the time I’m finished, I have every angle covered.
Sunday dawns cold and wet. It pours all morning. By lunch the rain eases to drizzle, but the temperature drops. When I look out the window at one point, snow is mixed with the rain. Nerves clutch my stomach. The race can’t be canceled.
Just before dinner, the weather breaks. An hour later, I get word that the race is on. I’m golden. I’m pumped. I have a race to win!
The temperature is near freezing when I head out around eight. I can’t see stars. I know the sky is still overcast. As long as the rain holds off for another few hours. That’s all I care about.
Adrenaline surges when I drive through the broken gate at the old airstrip. Several hundred people have shown up. My mouth is suddenly dry. There have to be fifty or sixty cars here.
I pull up left of the orange cones that mark the starting line. Lucas slaps me on the back when I join them. “Welcome back, Shields. Ray told us you’d be here.”
My heart starts to hammer. “He did?” Does Hannah know? It doesn’t matter, my badass self taunts. She’s with Cole, remember?
I pop the hood on my car and spend the next fifteen minutes answering questions about my modifications. When Ray comes by, I give him full credit. A few minutes before race time, I’m about to slide behind the wheel when a familiar voice calls my name.
“Tom!”
I look over my shoulder. My knees turn to putty. Hannah is heading straight for me. Her hair’s a mess, and the collar on her jean jacket is sticking up at a weird angle. Like she dressed in a hurry.
“I came to see if it was true,” she says when she reaches my side. I glance past her for Cole, but he’s not there. “To see if you’re really racing again.”
My tongue won’t work. What am I supposed to say? Yes, I’m racing, but it’s none of your business. You’re with Cole. Or you should be. “I didn’t want you to find out this way.”
“Oh, really?” She angles her hands on her hips. “How did you want me to find out?”
I didn’t. But I can’t tell her that.
She stares at me like I’m a piece of toxic waste. “I cannot believe it.”
“Look, it’s—” I stop. Necessary. But I don’t have time to explain. “There’s a reason I’m here. A bunch of stuff is going on. You don’t know the whole story.”
“Story?” She takes a sharp, ragged breath and shuts her eyes. When she opens them, they shine like dark chocolate. “The only story I know is that Logan is dead because you challenged him to a race.”
I can’t afford to think about Logan. I can’t get rattled right now.
“And now you’re doing it again,” Hannah adds.
As if on cue, Santiago pulls his white Boxster up to the starting line.
“This is different.” I incline my head. “He wants to be here. That’s one of my rules. No racing someone who doesn’t—”
She cuts me off. “I don’t want to know.”
Santiago gets out of his car, gives us a curious look. I turn my back to him. “I need money. For my—”
She stops me a second time. “It’s just an excuse.”
“It’s not.” My hands are shaking. I feel like I’m going to puke. It shouldn’t matter what Hannah thinks. But it does.
She rolls her eyes. “It is. You’ll never change. You’ll never stop.”
“Yes, I will! I’m—”
“Then stop,” she says. “Right now. Don’t race.”
I can’t. I just stare at her.
Her lip curls. “I knew it.” She stalks off.
Santiago wanders over. He’s wearing a leather jacket and a huge ring on his pinky finger. “Nice ass,” he says, gazing after her.
His comment slams me like a fist to the gut. “She’s taken.” I can’t think about Hannah right now. I have a race to win. I get in my car and pull up beside the Boxster. There’s a pair of cars ahead of us. We’re second.
Santiago smirks and gives me a little salute as he gets behind the wheel. The guy’s an idiot. He has money and attitude but no racing smarts. I look over at his competition tires. They’re dangerous. A stupid choice for this kind of weather. Ray’s a jerk for conning him out of three grand. Making him think he can win. I feel a stab of guilt for going along with it.
A driver I recognize from Burien comes to the start line. He gives the cars in front the signal. My heart kicks into overdrive as I watch the two drivers get ready to launch. Beside me, Santiago is checking his gauges, fiddling with his wheel. He’d better be careful. If he hits a patch of ice, he could lose control, big time.
The two cars shoot off. After a minute, Santiago and I pull ahead. This is it. I clutch the steering wheel, feather my foot over the gas pedal. And I watch.
The starter raises his arm. And then he drops it.
I launch in a surge of adrenaline and speed. The world rushes by. Blood roars in my ears. Santiago is inches back. I’m going to win. I deserve to win.
And that’s when I smell it—cherry Twizzlers. The familiar prickle hits the back of my neck. There’s a flash of movement off to my right. It’s Logan. Staring at me from the passenger seat. One side of his face is cut and bleeding, the other is smashed beyond recognition.
“Hey, Shields.” He grins. “How’s it goin’?”
I stop breathing. “You’re not real,” I yell. “You can’t be.”
But the look he gives me is as real as anything I’ve ever seen. I’m pretty sure the blood on his face is wet too.
“Don’t be such a dweeb. I’m as real as you are. Probably more.”
I swear I’m going to piss my pants. “Go away!”
“No way.” He laughs. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for weeks.”
He has it now. Outside the car, everything slows. I’m inching down the track. The world creeps past in major slow motion. Rain is starting to fall; it hovers above the windshield, almost suspended in time.
“Why won’t you leave me alone?”A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead and stings my eye. I press on the gas, urge the Acura forward. The car shudders but stays almost still. I can’t lose. I need to help Mom. I need my pride. “You’re dead.”
“And you think life stops when you’re dead?” He laughs. “That’s naïve.”
“I killed you.” Tears clog the back of my throat. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still be alive.”
He snorts. “You didn’t kill me. If you hadn’t dared me to race, I would’ve found another way to bail on life. The same way you are.”
“I’m not bailing.”
“Sure you are. You’re a loser, Shields. A total and complete wuss.”
I grit my teeth. “I’m no wuss. Wusses don’t race.”
“No. They’re afraid to live. Just like you. You’re scared you don’t measure up.”
“You’re full of it.”
“You think you’re nothing without five thousand pounds of steel between you and the world.”
The tears start to fall.
“You’re racing out of fear. All of your decisions are based on fear. Every single one.”
“No way.” Furiously I wipe my eyes.
“Yes way. You’re scared you’ll lose your car. You’re scared you’ll lose your house. You’re scared you’ll lose Hannah.”
“I can’t lose Hannah. Hannah doesn’t want me. And she’s with Cole anyway.”
“Yeah, and why do you think I’ve been bugging you?” He doesn’t wait for me to answer. “Cole Murray is a dipstick. You’re the one who’s supposed to be with Hannah.”
“Me?”
He glances over his shoulder. “I don’t see anybody else in the car.”
You’ll never change. You’ll never stop.
“Hannah wants me to stop racing. Forever.”
He nods. “Yeah.”
I ’d have to give up my car. I wouldn’t be able to help Mom. My stomach bottoms out. What if I give it all up, and Hannah still doesn’t want me? Logan’s right. I am afraid. I’m afraid I’ll never been good enough for Hannah Sinclair.
“I can’t do it,” I admit.
Logan dips head the way he used to. For a second I forget about his blood and ripped skin and exposed flesh. I see Logan, my friend. And I miss him. “Wuss,” he says again.
Wuss, badass—what’s the difference?
Time is speeding up. I catch fifth gear and floor it. There’s a surface dip ahead that’ll be full of rain. I’ll need to compensate. I glance in my rearview mirror.
Santiago won’t be able to. Not with those tires. He’ll fishtail. Maybe lose control. Panic clutches me. And this crash will be my fault. Because I can see it coming.
I need to stop. It’s the only way to get him to slow down. To keep him safe. But if I do…My panic swells, black and heavy. If I do, I’ll lose my car, my chance to help Mom, my pride. I’ll lose everything.
“He’s gaining on you,” Logan says.
I glance in the rearview mirror again. But I might save a life.
“What’re you gonna be, Shields? A winner or a loser?”
I hit the brakes. Logan smiles and starts to fade.