Текст книги "Slow Twitch"
Автор книги: Лиз Реинхардт
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
I jumped in. “But Jake needs the bike to have a chance to win. Who cares if it’s from them? They have more money than God, so it’s not like this is some huge thing they can hold over his head. I think you should use the bike that’s safe when you race.”
“No.” Jake put his left arm out the door and pounded the metal. “I can’t. I won’t.”
I was slightly shocked at Jake’s uncharacteristic outburst. “But you could get hurt,” I protested.
“I’ll have gear on. I’m not an idiot.” He looked at me from under the brim of his cap. “Alright, maybe I’m a tiny little bit of an idiot, but not big time. Trust me on this one.”
“Evan, you took the classes once the payment came back, right?” I realized from Jake’s glare that I was pushing, but he worried the crap out of me.
“Sure.” She rubbed her elbow on mine, and there was the bony bump of our arms against each other that was Evan’s warning to me. “But, in my case, Gramma swooped in to pay, and I love that woman back and forward. Also, I have a soft spot for my daddy, even if he’s mostly useless. He never perved it up with my girl.”
“Thank you, Evan.” Jake looked around me and grinned like a fool, happy to finally have an ally in an argument. “It’s sweet to have someone who can understand sense.”
“Alright? You want sense? If you don’t use the bike they sent, I think you should drop out of the race.” The silence that started the trip fell back over us like a heavy, wet blanket. I put a hand on Jake’s thigh and squeezed. “I know you think I’m being a huge pain in the ass, but if you get hurt, I’m going to beat the crap out of you.”
“I’m notgoing to get hurt. I’m not.” We pulled onto the highway and he accelerated. The air whipped through the car, Evan held her hair to the side with her hand, and I let mine fly wild while I gave Jake a long, steady glare. He shook his head. “Look, if I was still piss-poor, I’d just be riding my old beater, no questions. So let’s just pretend I’m still piss-poor, okay?”
“No way. Because you’re not, so you have to take advantage of what that means,” I lectured.
Evan pinched my arm, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to shut me down. I wanted to yell at both of them. Tell them why my point made so much more sense. But I felt like I was outnumbered for once.
We pulled in at Tony’s and Evan said, “I have the bladder of a baby squirrel. Brenna, come to the ladies’ with me?”
All three of us got out and went inside the diner, complete with shiny black-and-white tiled floors and sparkly red booths with bright red laminate tables.
“You girls want me to get a table inside?” Jake asked.
“Could you?” Evan’s drawl was cinnamon sweet and a little smoky. She dragged me to the bathroom. Once the heavy door swung shut, she put her hands on either side of my face and looked me right in the eyes. “Are. You. Insane?” She squeezed my face.
“Why? Ow! You’re squeezing my face!” I cried.
Evan released me, crossed her long, thin arms over her chest, and tapped her foot.
“What?” I demanded. She just stared, so I stomped over to the sink, yanked on the zipper of my purse, and pulled out my lipstick, a new berry pink color that I still hadn’t decided if I liked or not. “Why would you be mad at me? You think he should ride that bike? Have you ever seen a motocross race? It’s dangerous. Even when every single thing works perfectly, it’s still scary as hell, okay? His bike was barely making it a few months ago, and now he has the chance to be safe. And win. And be happy. So why am I the maniac?”
Evan made it look like she was rubbing her eyes, but I knew for a fact she wouldn’t touch all that expertly applied mascara. “Sweetie, for someone do damn smart, you can be so damn dense.”
I bit my tongue before I told her that was pretty much the biggest example of the pot calling the kettle black ever and, instead, studiously applied way too much lipstick. “I’m being dense?”
She waltzed into a stall and slid the bolt over, and when she spoke, her voice bounced off of the pink and cream tiles. “He’s got pride. Crazy pride. And he’s not going to just get on some blood-money bike his family sent, no matter what. If he’s a good rider, he’ll be careful. I’m warning you now, if that boy doesn’t win the race, he’ll probably have this whole moral breakdown, but you have to step back and let him do it.” She flushed the toilet and came out. This time she spoke so low, I had to bend my head close to hear her over the water running out of the faucet. “Trust me, Jake is rare. I’ve seen so many guys who have access to more money than some small countries, and it makes them animals. Appreciate what you have, because, sweetie, he’s amazing. Seriously. Now I get your meltdown in Ireland.” She took the lipstick tube out of my hand, put some on her lips, and held a paper towel out so I could blot some of my dozen layers off.
I followed the click of Evans black heels to the booth where Jake sat. Saxon was across from him, arms over the back of the booth seat. When Saxon saw us, he jumped up and skated onto the floor. Evan slid into the seat he left open and I got in next to Jake.
“Jake, it’s criminal the amount of fine women you convince to hang out with you.” His black eyes were running up and down Evan, who gave him a cheery smile.
“Are you Saxon?” She asked while she perused the laminated menu.
“My reputation precedes me.” He put out a hand, and she shook, not the light, finger-grabbing shake that she’d done with Devon and Jake, but a full-on, business handshake. “Nice grip,” Saxon complimented. “I’m not officially your waiter, but I hate to see beautiful women in need of anything. What’s your poison?”
“A mint chocolate chip shake, extra whipped cream, two cherries.” Evan winked, and every single coat of mascara did its flirty/lovely job. “And a water, lots of ice, please.”
Jake ordered a rootbeer float, I got a chocolate shake and a Coke, and Saxon skated away to get our drinks. Jake studied Evan, who didn’t seem remotely Saxon-interested, then looked at me with a face that let me know he was anticipating a fight and didn’t like it. The look on his face got my back up and made me want to explain my points again, slowly, so the logic could be absorbed. But Evan’s quiet look of warning stopped me cold. We watched Saxon skate back, our drinks on a round black tray.
“Here you are, m’ladies.” He put our shakes in front of us. “A little birdie told me someone dropped a shiny, expensive gift at your door.” He handed Jake his drink and raised his eyebrows. “Guess I can put my summer savings on you at the race after all.”
“I’m not taking it.” Jake jabbed the vanilla-bean-flecked ice-cream into the soda and watched the brown foam volcano out the top and soak the placemat. Evan grabbed some napkins and blotted it, and he thanked her.
“I get it.” Saxon sat next on the bench next to Evan, forcing her to scoot in. “I do. Gerald’s a fucking prick. It sucks he’s our loser excuse for a father. But he’s got money, your current bike sucks ass, and who gives a shit? You don’t have to even acknowledge you got the thing. You could throw if off a cliff after you win the race if you want. But use it to win.”
“It’s safer,” I piped up, earning a defiant glare from Jake, a warning eyebrow from Evan, and a nod of satisfaction from Saxon.
“She’s right, man. Listen to her. It’s safer, and you’re not going to win without it.” Saxon met my eyes across the table, and we made a silent pact to join forces for Jake’s benefit.
Jake fidgeted in his seat, and I know he would have stomped away if I hadn’t been blocking him in.
“Didn’t we come here to deliver that shirt, Bren?” Evan took a long, slow sip of her minty shake and ignored the semi-dirty look Saxon flicked her way for interrupting our effort to talk sense to Jake.
“Tony’s meeting with some vendors right now, but I’ll get the shirt to him if you want.” Saxon held his hand out, and I took the shirt out and passed it across the table to him. He unfolded it and his smile unfurled in increments until it changed the shape of his lower face. “Brilliant, Blix. As usual.”
“Thanks.” We shared a glance that was all about mutual respect.
“I need to go check something,” Jake snapped and hurried me out of the booth so he could stalk away.
I started to follow, but Evan put a hand on my wrist and shook her head. She trailed Jake to the truck, and Saxon fell onto the bench next to me, arm around my shoulders. I shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to do.
“He’s having a shit day, right? I shouldn’t be worried he’s going to come back and hammer on my face for complimenting your fucking art, should I?” I opened my mouth to reassure him, but he’d already switched tracks, and he leaned closer to me. “I’m dead serious now. You gotta talk him out of racing that piece of shit. I’m gonna tell you, no joke, and you know I’m no fucking gutless mama hen, that bike is a disaster waiting to happen and he’s lucky he hasn’t crashed and burned the last five races he rode it in. He doesn’t listen to dick I say, so it’s up to you to talk some sense to him.”
“It’s not that easy.” I turned so we were face to face, and I felt shades of the old excitement, the old challenge, but something new, too. Saxon wasn’t looking at me like I was a bet to win or a problem to solve. We were on a team now, united because we both cared about Jake. It gave me hope that there was still room for us to be something, maybe even friends. “Jake has serious attitude about his dad and all the Macleans. His vacation this summer just made it all worse. I think he thinks he’s got something to prove.”
“He’s going to prove himself a fucking concussion and lose the damn title if he rides that piece of shit. Sometimes, Jake is like the smartest guy I’ve ever met, and sometimes, he’s just a big frustrating tool.” He snorted, and I looked up at him and laughed.
“You’re telling me.” He took my hand, and I would have pulled back, except that he looked so sincere and worried.
“I wish Jake and I were still close enough that he gave a shit what I said or thought, you know? Once in a while, and it’s rare as hell, but every now and then, I can be pretty clear-headed about something he’s just being a maniac about.”
“I’ll work on him. Not that it will do much good.” I let Saxon pull me into a hug and even kiss my cheek, and when I got up, I saw Jake at the end of the hall watching us, hands in his pockets, the tips of his ears bright red on either side of his cap.
“Uh, you better go, Blix. I’ll take care of the tab, alright?” He gave me a stiff-handed pat on the shoulder as I made my way down to Jake.
“Evan said she was craving pizza.” Jakes words were mechanical, and he didn’t make any eye contact. “You ready?”
I put my hand on his arm, and he stared at it like it was a foreign object. “Jake, it wasn’t what you think. He’s worried about you and the race. Me, too. We were just talking.”
“Cozy talk.” The words clattered around like change dropped on the floor.
“Jake, please, trust me.” My stomach churned with too much icy chocolate syrup and acid. “I know how it looked, but you have to believe me, it was all about you.”
He nodded. “Well, I’m okay, so there’s no need for you to worry.” He lifted his eyes and squinted at me. “You really are worried, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Jake Roadrunner Kelly.” I put a hand up to his cheek.
“That one’s the worst.” He gave me a smile so tiny, I could barely feel it under my fingers. “I don’t ride on the roads.”
“Jake Speedy Gonzalez Kelly?”
“Wouldn’t people kind of expect me to be Mexican and Irish then?”
“Jake Speedracer Kelly?”
“I don’t have a cool enough ascot.”
I stood on my toes and kissed him. “I can get you one.”
“You think I could rock a killer ascot?” His lips were sweet and hungry on mine.
I pulled away, breathless. “A handsome motocross daredevil like you? You could bring ascots back in a big way. You might get your own ascot line.”
He wound his arms around me, picked me up, and laughed while he shook me back and forth. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now come on and take pity on poor Evan. Who knows what terrible excuse for pizza she’s had in Georgia? It’s our duty to taste-educate this girl.” I linked my hands through Jake’s and we left together. I didn’t look back at Saxon even though I heard the clack and roll of his skates on the floor not too far behind us.
Later that night, Evan sat on my windowsill, smoking her clove cigarette while I nervously checked the door.
“Bren, you’re going to have a heart attack. I’ll put it out.” She had popped the screen out and her long legs dangled down into the outdoors, her heels beating on the side of the house.
“No!” I shook my head. “My mom and Thorsten went to Our Place tonight. They always give them a comp bottle of wine, and Fa doesn’t drink much, so Mom’s out like a light.”
“I’m still gonna think you’re cool if you don’t want me smokin’ like a bad girl.” She laughed, and tiny bursts of grey-blue smoke coughed out of her lungs from the force of it.
“It’s not good for you.” I lit a berry candle, trying to look nonchalant about my attempts to cover up the tangy smoke smell.
She leaned back lazily and flipped open her little gold silver case. She stubbed the cigarette out and tucked it away. “You don’t have to worry so much, you know. About me. About Jake. You worry a lot.”
“Well, when the people I love stop murdering their lungs with carcinogenic smoke and racing badly operating machines at accelerated speeds, I’ll stop worrying.” I opened the window next to Evan’s and popped out the screen, then sat on the sill with her, my knees pulled up to my chest. The clear, warm night felt full of anticipation, even though we didn’t have plans that got any more exciting than watching old romance movies and whispering our girly secrets til dawn.
“You need to take more risks.” Evan pointed her toes and tapped me on the knee with them. “You’re young. You should be wild. You should stop worrying so much.”
I flicked her toe. “Last time I was wild, I worried a hundred times more than usual. Oh, and I almost ruined everything I had with Jake. And I nearly died of pneumonia. I’m not Marianne. I’m Elinor.”
“Are you talking Austen?” Evan wiggled her toes, shiny with green and silver polish that perfectly matched her outfit. “I always think of you as Lizzie Bennett.”
“I think I’m a little more of a romantic than Lizzie. Or maybe I can’t get over the fact that she had a billion sisters. And I sort of hated Darcy.” I clamped my hands over my eyes in shame after my confession as Evan tottered on the window ledge.
“Say that again, girl, because I know I must have misheard! You did not just take the name of Darcy in vain.” She clutched her celery green tank with silver silk-screened birches to her heart. “You have depths of insanity I’ve never imagined, Brenna Blixen.”
“Edward Ferrars is my main Austen man, gloved hands down.” I crooked an eyebrow up high at Evan. “So you’re waiting for your Darcy? Because you were kind of with…well, I was going to say Willoughby, but was Willoughby even that bad?”
Evan snapped and unsnapped her cigarette case. “Rabin? He was just a mess. If there’s a character in any book like him, I hope it’s a clearance-rack piece of crap no one ever bothers to read.” She pulled a piece of her long, dark hair over her shoulder and flattened it long and smooth between her fingers, over and over as she gazed into the descending dark. “Maybe I am looking for Darcy. Maybe I’m in the wrong book?”
“How about Rochester?” I pulled at a thread on the bottom of my shorts.
Evan tapped her teeth with her silver nail. “Too old. And the wife? The crazy Creole? I liked her too damn much. Actually, I loved her. That woman needs a book all her own.”
“How about Lancelot?”
“Too tragic.” She dragged her fingers along the smooth wood of the window frame.
“The Beast?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I liked him better as a beast though. He’s a man now, and I don’t think he can compare.”
“Wolverine?”
She rubbed her chin. “Tempting. But I don’t know if I can be with a guy whose claws might rip through me during a moment of passion.”
“I’m all out of romantic options.” I sighed and was about to hop down from the edge when I heard the low rumble of an engine from the woods behind my house. “Do you hear that?” I asked, my heart in a canter.
Evan’s smile was an Easter basket of sweet secrets. “Maybe.”
“Evan?” I braced my hands on the window and leaned out, searching the jagged horizon for a clue, but the sound had stopped.
“Change into jeans. And a sweatshirt. It’s so strange how cold it gets at night here. In Savannah, you could sleep all night on the roof without a blanket if you wanted. These mountains are so damn cold.” She was purposefully dragging the conversation in a different direction and ignoring my glare. I paced around the room, checked the windows again, and leaned out, listening for any clue, but the night was suddenly devoid of mechanical noises. “Hurry up and get changed,” Evan scolded.
“What’s going on?” I hopped out of my shorts and into jeans, then pulled a sweatshirt on. I was in the middle of lacing up my sneakers when the bushes outside my window moved, and I gave Evan a quick, startled look, wondering if this was all part of the plan.
“Bren?” Jake’s voice came from below. I leaned over the sill and the hook of his wide smile caught me and pulled me tight. “You ready?” He was breathing heavily like he’d just finished running.
I turned back and stared at Evan, who was rubbing the nail polish off her toenails with languid circular swipes of the cotton balls. “He’s coming by to take you on a ride. On his death machine.”
I gave him a quick smile and backed into the room in a fury. “I can’t go on that with him,” I hissed, crossing the room in a few angry strides so I could argue with Evan quietly enough that Jake wouldn’t hear.
The stench of the nail polish remover stung my nostrils. She barely looked up from her task. “I love you. I really do. But you need to stop being so bossy, especially if you don’t know all the facts. Jake is not stupid, Brenna. Trust him. Go ride with him, and trust him to do things right. That’s what he wants from you, you know.” Her blue eyes glowed summer-sky bright. “Be a little wild with your wild boy. Go!”
“What will you do?” I asked, suddenly guilty to leave my newly single friend alone in my room while I went out with my boyfriend.
“I will paint my toes and watch romantic movies and eat all your chocolate. And feel all smug and whatnot that I helped plan this wild romance. Now go!” She pushed me with one half-polished hand. “Live a little, Elinor.”
I went back to the window and peered over at Jake. He lifted his arms up. He had snuck in and out of my room more than a few times, and I’d watched him do it, but I’d never jumped out myself. I looked back at Evan, who gave me an encouraging smile, then climbed up on the sill, sat on the edge, and jumped into Jake’s waiting arms.
The night was crisp and chilly enough that I was glad I had on a hoodie. Jake’s arms folded around me completely and he pressed me against the house, his mouth quick and hard on mine. The thrill of his kisses, the night air, and the unexpected adventure made my skin burn with anticipation.
“Did you and Evan plan this together?” I asked, kissing his neck.
“Yep. By the way, I like your friend. She’s smart, like you. But she doesn’t constantly worry that I’m gonna break my ass or do something stupid. She actually kinda liked my stupid idea.” The moon was huge and shiny gray in the sky, the exact same color as his eyes.
“So what’s your plan?” I pushed my chilled hands up and under his sweatshirt, right against the hot skin of his ribs. He tensed and pulled back.
“Holy hell, how do your hands get so cold so quick?” He yanked them from under his shirt and rubbed them between his hands with quick, short strokes. “We are going on a ride.”
“A ride?” I felt the little clutch of worry hit right at the back of my throat. “Where?”
“Nowhere dangerous.” Jake put his hands on either side of my face and just looked at me. “Sometimes I think it’s hard for you to get what I do. Or why I do what I do. And Evan pointed out that it might be slightly easier for you to get it all if I showed you. So I’m gonna show you.” He grabbed my hand and then we ran, over the cool, ticklish grass of my lawn, into the taller, catching brush at the edge of the woods that bordered my yard, then into the dark forest.
I couldn’t remember if I’d ever run through the woods at night before. The leaves from fall were still thick on the ground, slick in a thousand collected layers. Reedy branches swatted against me high and low, and gnarled, knotty roots bumped out in unexpectedly treacherous places, custom-made to twist ankles and trip unsuspecting runners.
I ran half-blind, my free arm waving at the snapping, snaring branches that tore past me. I couldn’t get lost in the night because I was nervous to get caught, nervous to get hurt, nervous to end my time as a runner, nervous to find Jake’s death trap of a bike and fall off, and even more nervous to find it and love the ride.
But suddenly, I stopped worrying for a second. I found my stride and cleared my mind, my hand tightened around Jake’s, and I felt like I could see everything under the brilliant light of the moon. I was free. We were free. This was one night, one moment where nothing else mattered, no worries could eclipse the pure, giddy, awesome, joyful adrenaline that pushed through me and made my feet unexpectedly sure.
Jake’s bike leaned against a tree with half the bark missing, and he walked up and caressed the handlebars with loving pride.
“I’d let you ride on your own, but the throttle’s been touchy, plus it’s dark. But if you want to another time, I’d be happy to teach you.” The metal was all hollowed shadows and oily-dark gears, and the plastic body was shined and buffed over intense, hard-worn scratches.
“I think I’d like to. When you have time to show me.” I imagined, for a minute, the thrill of riding break-neck over some wide open space, the hum of the engine vibrating through the frame and up my hands and arms while the tires collided with the ground just long enough to propel the bike up and forward on another explosive burst of speed.
“Anytime. You’ll get your license soon. You can drive over and meet me at the track after work if you want.” The excitement in his voice made me bounce on the balls of my feet, and I wondered if running on my own two legs would manage to keep giving me the same thrill after all this unbridled speed. Jake handed me a helmet out of a backpack on the ground near the front tire. “I brought an extra one for you. I wouldn’t ride without one, you know. Even if I didn’t have you looking all sexy, glaring at me like that.”
“I think it’s a real problem that you find me sexy when I’m pissed at you,” I griped, sliding the helmet over my head.
Jake fished under my chin and adjusted the strap. “Why’s that?”
“I think you get off on getting a rise out of me.” I reached into the helmet and brushed my bangs back. The fashion-obsessed part of me was dying to see what I looked like with a helmet on. My bike helmet was an entirely different animal and, dorky as it might be, I had a desire to see myself in this cooler helmet.
“I also think you look hot right now. That helmet suits you.” Jake gave the helmet visor a playful slap and adjusted my goggles. He put his helmet on, and I felt that rush of edgy, crawly, fluttery, breathless goodness that sometimes made me see little pinpricks of black at the edges of my eyes when I looked at him. Jake Kelly made my senses reel big time. He swung one leg over the seat and kickstarted the bike, coaxing a roar from the engine. “Hop on and hold tight,” he ordered over the rumble of the engine.
I jumped on behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and clung tight to the bike with my thighs. For a few seconds, the engine roared, then sputtered a little, but Jake pressed on the throttle and it went back to a rhythm more like a deep purr.
“Ready?” he yelled.
I squeezed him tight to let him know I was.
“Keep your feet on the pegs!” he called, and we took off through the well-worn forest paths. At first it was all chokingly scary midnight black, the burning stench of gas fumes, the jarring lurch of the bike over ruts and bumps in the path, and I clung to Jake for dear life, positive I was going to fly off the back and wind up with something important broken.
But he cruised out of the woods and we raced into a wide open field. The trees had been hiding a perfectly round, bright full moon, but it shone down on us now and illuminated what looked like a rough track. Jake pulled onto it, and I felt his body relax under my fingers, like his muscles were happy and satisfied to be where he belonged.
I had watched, my heart lodged in a choking lump right at the base of my throat, while Jake flew around the track at races before, but I had never been on the bike because it had always been so completely Jake’s territory. But as we got closer to each other, the things that were important to each of us tangled and intercepted until we were wound tight and intertwined.
Jake coasted and looked at me over his shoulder. “Wanna jump?”
My heart picked up a startlingly quick rhythm, leaping and diving in my chest. Fear of jumping made my mouth dry and my palms sweat. My stomach knotted and my arms tightened around his waist until I was sure I was cutting off his air supply.
“Okay.” The word warbled out of my throat and he snapped the throttle. My eardrums expanded against the screaming whine of hot metal preparing to take off.
The bike tripped forward with unsteady, gasping skips, and Jake had to take us one circuit, then two, to smooth the belching pace. When we finally came to the base of the jump, he leaned forward slightly. Because I had my hands clamped around him for dear life, I leaned forward too, and I scanned the situation, my mind working quick, dismal calculations.
This would neverwork. The bike would seize. Or flip. Or die and leave us in midair, about to crash to the ground in a crunched, broken heap. I attempted to say something, anything to Jake, but my voice was caught in my throat, raspy and stuck. I kneaded and squeezed at this sides, but he only turned around and gave me a swift, confident smile before he looked forward, apparently oblivious to my sheer, terror-shrouded panic.
Maybe it was my good fortune that I knew next to nothing about operating a bike, because all of a sudden we screamed up the dirt ramp, and then it was pure weightless flight.
I clung to Jake so hard, I was fairly sure he’d have fingernails imbedded in his skin for weeks, but I peeked one eye open over his shoulder. My stomach rose just a tiny bit in my abdomen, just enough that I felt the sickening/thrilling pull of anti-gravity. Under my body, the heavy weight of metal and plastic that had anchored me to earth was pulling away, slowly, and there was this trick couple of seconds where Jake and I were two people clinging to each other in the cool night air, flying high up over the dirt without anything grounding us.
It was like floating. It was like sucking big lungfuls of breath in until you were so dizzy you could faint. It was like running to an edge and diving over just to enjoy those flighty few seconds where you were suspended in midair.
And then we crashed back to the ground with one huge thump, and every sensation that had been suspended whooshed back tenfold. The bike jarred me and shook my entire body, my helmet rocked back and forth, the scream of the engine battered my ears, the smell of the exhaust choked me, and a small meteor show of dirt and mud flecked up on me.
Jake cut the engine and got off the bike, holding it steady so he could look at me. “You like?”
“I love,” I croaked out, my voice spent before I’d even had a chance to shriek or laugh or cry. “I know everyone says it’s like flying, but it’s like daring, right? It’s like playing too close to the edge, then just hurtling over it.” I wrapped my arms tight around him and breathed the sweaty/clean mesh of his skin coated with mud and sweat. “Can we do it again?”
Jake hopped back on and we roared through jump after jump. After three I was able to extract my fingers from his skin. After five I gave out a terrified whoop of adrenaline-based joy. After seven I was planning on getting my own bike, and then Jake’s sputtered out. It wasn’t when we were super high, but we were high enough that I could hear his angry curse as the bike flew forward and bit the dirt with more malice than it had before.
He jumped off and pulled me with him, steadying the bike with one arm. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. What about your bike?” We both looked down at the unpredictably amazing machine, now spent and maybe done for.
“It’s fine. I know what to do to get it working again.” He pulled the helmet off my head, and strands of my hair, activated with static electricity, buzzed around my face. “Don’t worry about the race.”
“It stalled when we were low on the jump. What if you were higher?” I felt a chill of fear rattle up and down through me. “Jake, that could have been really shitty. Why don’t you just use the bike your family sent? Who cares?”
Jake put his hands on the handlebars and pushed with his full weight, moving the massive bike with slow, steady steps. “It’s not that simple.”
“So explain it to me.” I followed him while he leaned the bike against a tree and marched back to the clearing and the bag where my helmet had been.
It was hard to keep pace when Jake anger-walked. “Don’t ignore me. Explain.”
“You’re going to poke holes in my explanation,” he grumbled, kneeling next the bag. He took a flashlight out of his pocket and shined it in, rooting around for the tools he needed.
“So let me poke holes. That’s what I do, right? I argue the sensible side, you hopefully listen. Yes? No?” I knelt next to him, and he looked at me and attempted to smile.
“You’re going to poke really smart holes in this because my reasons for doing it are stupid, okay? It’s a stupid idea. I should ride the new bike and win the race on it, all that shit.” He gripped the tools in his fist so tightly, the metal handles clanked against each other.
