Chapter 28

Dylan

“Thanks for helping,” I tell Aro.

I sit in a chair at my house in Weston—in the room Winslet slept in—and gaze up at Aro in the reflection of the makeup mirror she brought that sits on the desk. She stands behind me, fixing some waves in my hair with her curling iron.

She meets my eyes for just a moment. “It sucks around school without you.”

“I’m sure you’re the only one who thinks so.”

She shrugs. “They’ll get over it.”

I’m sure a few people miss me in classes, but there might be a grudge or two, despite Kade assuring me that everyone will know that it wasn’t me who vandalized the school.

It was me who stole the locker, and set off the fireworks. He hasn’t brought up either.

“You are coming back, right?” Aro asks, but it sounds more like a statement. “You can’t leave me there on my own.”

I laugh a little, fiddling with her lipsticks in the tote of stuff she brought. “My parents would never let me transfer my senior year.”

“Would you?”

I glance up at her and then back down, thinking. I convinced my parents to let me sleep here my last night, despite the fact that they know there was no adult supervision over the last two weeks, as long as I have a girls’ sleepover. Mace, Coral, and Codi happily agreed, so they’ll be staying here after the dance tonight. Hunter isn’t allowed in my room.

I had to leave his house before he and Kade made it back this morning, so I haven’t seen him. Mom and I went shopping for a dress, and then Aro and I came back here.

After my dad calmed down and he, Madoc, and Ciaran made us all breakfast, Dad just hugged me. He didn’t apologize for going ape shit, but he didn’t punish me, either, for lying about staying with a host family. I think no matter where I go or who I meet in life, I will always have met my match most with my dad. He needs to come to terms in his own time, like me. We can’t be forced.

“Actually, no,” I finally reply to Aro. “I mean, I wouldn’t hate it here, but I want to go back to the Falls and stand my ground.”

I’m ready to walk back into that school, and my house, and have the best year.

I suck in a long breath and look up at her as she crafts my hair into beautiful locks. “Where’d you learn how to do all this?”

My desk is covered in makeup and hair product. When I met her, she looked like a teenage guy starting his first metal band.

But she just smiles. “I always knew how to do all this. But when you steal cars and fence tech for a living, it’s best not to be noticed by people who consider women just as much of a commodity.”

“Right,” I murmur. Her lips are a dark pink, and her eyeliner make her eyes almost look like a cat’s. She’s gorgeous, and I can imagine she was around a lot of people whose attention she didn’t want.

She doesn’t talk about her life here in Weston much, but like Noah, she’s made big changes to chase the life she wants.

“Your first time…” I broach. “Was it okay?”

She releases a lock of hair and takes another in the clip of the curling iron. “I was fourteen.”

I narrow my eyes. “Did he…”

I don’t want to say it.

But she quickly adds, “He would’ve stopped if I’d asked him to.”

I release a breath.

“I was just too young to understand what I was agreeing to,” she points out.

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret is pointless,” she tells me. “I can’t change anything.”

She should tell that to my dad. He regrets so much, and I think he knows he projects it. He thinks I’ll regret racing and not going to college if I decide not to.

“But it was bad,” she goes on. “And the way he treated me afterward was bad. The feelings I have about it are bad. Sometimes I wish I didn’t have those memories.” She looks at me in the mirror. “Other times, I know they’re the reason that I realize exactly what I have in Hawke. He’s my love.”

I smile at that. My cousin deserves her too. He’s good to her.

“Were you scared, moving to the Falls and everything changing?” I ask.

“Yeah. But I was scared all the time before that too,” she explains. “You gotta choose which scared you want to be. Love or fear, remember?”

I nod. Love or fear. If I choose to back off racing, it won’t be because I love my parents. It would be because I’m afraid of making them unhappy. Or because I’m afraid of getting injured.

She finishes my hair and covers it with hairspray. I look at my makeup in the mirror, my dress laying on the bed.

“You okay?” she asks me a question next.

I nod. “Yeah.”

“Anything you want to talk about?”

Mischief gleams in her eyes, and I laugh, knowing she wants to talk about sex now that I’m having it too. “You mean, do I need advice on the most optimal position for reaching multiple climaxes?”

“Let me know when you’re ready. I have an answer for that.”

I stand up, my cheeks warming. “I think I’d like to figure it out on my own.”

I dress in a backless, black dress with spaghetti straps and a slit for cleavage that trails halfway down my stomach. The waist is tight and then flows out in a wide skirt that falls to mid-thigh. I slide on some black high-top sneakers, and thirty minutes later, we’re walking out the front door.

A whistle cuts through the air, and I see Coral, Mace, and Codi standing around Coral’s car.

Codi is in jeans and a hoodie, and Mace is in her usual black jeans and leather jacket. But her eyes are done and her lips are red, and she wears a fun, gothic white blouse that leaves half her tummy bare.

Coral is dressed in a tight, short black dress with long sleeves and strategically placed holes, the hems frayed at her thighs and looking very apocalyptic.

“Back at ya,” I say.

I meet them at the bottom of the steps, sliding my phone into the small purse that hangs from my wrist.

“You should come,” Coral tells Aro. “We can scrounge you up a dress if you like, but really, that’s fine too.” She gestures to Aro’s black shorts that you can barely see, because they’re nearly swallowed up by her huge black hoodie. Her long legs and toned thighs look gorgeous all the way down to her black, heeled ankle boots. “There are some people who’d love to see you.”

But Aro is tapping away on her phone. She glances up. “Maybe prom.” She sighs, looking at me. “There’s apparently a huge race in the Falls tonight. Jax and Jared need me there, and Hawke’s already on his way. I gotta go.”

“A race?”

“Yeah, some team from L.A. is coming through on their way to Pittsburgh?” she explains what they must’ve just texted her. “Your dad just found out, so he’s letting them make a special appearance. He’s running a superbike race, endurance tests, and Van der Berg’s on the dirt.”

Superbikes…

And all of a sudden, I feel it. All the people, the lights, the sounds of the motors filling the air… I don’t want to miss it.

But she touches my arm and starts to leave. “Have fun,” she says.

“Bye,” I say, barely audible. In a moment, she’s gone and Mace is opening one of the car doors. “Let’s go,” she calls out.

We slide in, Codi and me in the back and Mace and Coral in the front. We speed off toward the dance.

But it only takes a few seconds before I realize that’s not where I belong. I want to see the race.

“Wait,” I blurt out. “Stop.”

Coral slams on the brakes, she and Mace looking around like we were about to hit something.

“What’s wrong?” Mace asks.

I don’t know. I just know I can’t pretend that I don’t know exactly where I want to be.

I’m about to tell them I need to turn around when my phone rings.

I dig it out of my little purse and see my dad calling.

“Dad?” I answer.

“There’s a Motocross Special at seven,” he tells me. “And a superbike exhibition just after. I can have your bike here.”

I stop breathing, tears filling my eyes.

“You want in?” he asks me.

“You mean it?”

“I think so?” he says like he’s scared.

I laugh a little and wipe my nose. He’s inviting me to race…a motorcycle. “I’m on my way,” I tell him.

We hang up, and I look at Mace and Coral. “Turn around.”

“What?”

“Please,” I beg Coral. “I have to go to the track.”

She pauses for a moment and then hits the gas, spinning the wheel to make a U-turn. We charge back down Knock Hill.

But we pass the house. “I can take the bike,” I blurt out.

“No, we’ll drive you,” she says.

“You want to change?” Mace looks at me then to Coral.

But we’ve already passed the house. I look to Codi. “Give me your clothes.”

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.

“I love you,” he says.

He moves back, and I start the bike, shouting, “I love you too!”

I move to the starting line, fitting in among the other drivers, all men and all far more experienced, which I kind of blame my dad for, but hey, I’m also younger.

My chin trembles, and I squeeze the handlebars, trying to get my hands to work. Everything is hot with adrenaline, and my limbs feel weak.

Do you love me?

I hear Hunter’s voice as if I’m tasting it.

Do you love me?

My teeth chatter twice before I stop them, and for some reason, tears fill my eyes. It’s the excitement. That’s all.

Do you love me?

I look around for him.

I didn’t tell him. I should’ve tried to call.

I close the visor and say the words as I see his face in my head. “I love you,” I whisper.

Taking out my phone, I go to my app, but then I remember I still haven’t redownloaded anything onto my new phone.

But as soon as I open it, I see a playlist ready to go.

It’s called Pirate Girl.

I grin wide, but no one can see.

He made me a mixtape.

I scan the songs, few of which I recognize, but I see one of my mom’s favorites from when I was a kid. I haven’t heard this in forever, but we would rage scream it in the car when it was just the two of us.

I press play, turning up the volume as the announcer introduces our race, and “The Collapse” by Adelitas Waystarts playing in my ear.

Men rev their engines around me, getting louder and louder, and some of my father’s guys move around us, taking pictures while I’m sure others are filming to research the footage later.

The purr of the bikes quickens, and my heart pumps as I watch the signal lights. They turn green, and I suck in a breath, all of us darting off at the same time as my feet find the footrests.

Bikes fly past at my side, the music blasts in my ear, and I see arms shoot up in the crowd as people cheer. Some of them know me by my dad, but I don’t know if it was announced that I was on the track too.

Either way, I am. Tightening into nearly a ball, I fall in behind everyone, struggling just to keep up, much less get ahead. The world zooms by in a blur, the wind barreling into me, and my heart races, feeling like I’m on a tight rope, and it’s not a matter of if I’ll fall, but when. Any second.

I can’t… It’s too fast.

“Come on, come on, come on!” I yell, firing it with more gas. I pull up, head-to-head with the racer in last place, all of us leaning left, hugging the curve as we race around.

A real superbike race can be over two-hundred miles long. The same massive lap a handful of times. Fallstown can’t accommodate that, and probably never will, but this allows my dad and his competitors to measure against each other. A “fun” exhibit of their designs.

Billy Waters, a racer out of Texas, swerves in front of me, and I tremble, jerking my handlebars. He looks over his shoulder at me as the guy next to me, whom I don’t know, skims his eyes behind his visor down my body and back up again. He jerks his wheel, faking me out, and my hands shake.

Fuck…

I let off the gas, starting to fall behind again. They keep staring at me.

Like I’m a novelty and not really here.

That’s how it always is. If I win, it’s because they let me. If I lose, then of course I did. Nothing I earn will be deserved to them.

And it makes you feel like the hill doesn’t have a peak. It’ll never end.

As we finish the third lap, I catch sight of my dad, standing with his arms crossed and watching. I start to face forward again, but I see Hunter.

At least, I think it was him.

He stood in front of the media booth, and it was quick, but he wore a black suit and white shirt, and his hands were in his pockets.

He watched me fly by, and I hear his words in my head again. Maybe the only way to beat him was to stay.

To know what we can control and what we can’t. To know my own mind, and that I don’t need permission or validation, especially from people I don’t know or love.

The chorus in my ear charges my arms and legs, and I tighten my fists around the handlebars, zooming around the bend, and then another, and skimming the curves just like Farrow taught me.

I blast past the guy in last place, then Billy Waters, and slide around a black bike with red accents. I cruise into the middle, ramping up my speed a little more and a little more, and find myself creeping up onto the lead guys.

Their speed increases, and I push it faster, finding them accelerating more. I smile behind my helmet, my heart swelling in my throat.

We fly around and around, and I sink into the curves, holding my own as we race. The finish line approaches, and I find myself pushing it just a little harder, until…

We charge past, blowing through the finish line and the flag and cruising around again, slowly decelerating. Third.

I think I was in third place.

I shake with laughter as I ride around to the start again and pull up to the side. I don’t look at the other guys, and I won’t worry about what they say.

We’re going to do that again someday. Mark my words.

Dad rushes up, followed by Hawke, Aro, Mace, Codi, and Coral.

I beam. “It was so much fun,” I say to my dad.

He fixes me with a look like I went far faster than was the plan, but I see a smile peek out as he helps remove my helmet and I take off my gloves.

“You’ve been racing,” he says. “Who taught you how to do that?”

I flash him a big, toothy smile, but I don’t unclench my teeth, and he knows he won’t find out the answer to that tonight. Maybe someday I’ll tell him about Farrow when I’m sure my dad won’t kill him.

Hell, if I can be coached by my dad, and mentored by Farrow and Noah, nothing will be able to stop me, much less catch me. Farrow and Noah have very different styles, though. I don’t think they’d work well together.

“Tuesdays and Thursdays, four to six,” Dad says. “Here at the track, you got it?”

I nod quickly. He’s training me?

He hands off my helmet to Aro. “And I’m setting you up with a personal trainer at Astrophysics,” he tells me.

I wince. “Exercise?”

He narrows his eyes, and I remove the expression from my face immediately. “I’m sorry, yes.”

All of his racers go to a trainer. It’s part of the program, and in this, he’s my coach. Not my dad.

He smiles a little and comes in, kissing my hair.

And then he backs away, making room for my friends.

The girls rush in. “That was awesome,” Coral blurts out.

“You were going so fast, I thought I was going to die,” Mace laughs.

I hug Aro and then look around. “Where’s Hunter?”

Aro shrugs. “I didn’t see him.”

I look to the others, and they shake their heads, having no idea.

But he was here.