The Player Penalty (SteelTrack Racing #3)

5-Lily

Rivers Motorsports Headquarters, North Carolina

The garage is smaller with all the people in it. I stay in the back, by the doors, so no one notices me. It’s easy because attention is on Boone Rivers. Julian is on his right side, with Dad on his left.

Our eyes meet, and Julian smiles and nods with his chin. Dad catches the gesture and scans the crowd, curious to see what drew Julian’s attention. I shrink and look at the floor.

Crisis averted. Dad doesn’t complain about Julian as much these days, but he doesn’t approve, either. He also doesn’t know we’re becoming friends or something approaching friends, either. I haven’t told him because it’s possible Julian is merely being nice; that’s happened before. It hurts to realize you’re someone else’s friend more than they are yours. No one wants to be the afterthought.

Boone climbs up the moving stairs as the crowd cheers.

Julian crosses his arms and smiles. We stayed on the phone for the duration of his car trip last night. After listening to him, seeing him chipper this morning is strange.

“The 29 car is guaranteed entry into the round of twelve after last night’s performance. That win is the result of everyone in this garage right now. I want to thank everyone for your hard work and dedication this season. Let’s take a moment to congratulate each other and go back to work. This isn’t over yet, and we have a Cup to win!” Boone Rivers is never excited; he always appears gloomy, and here he is, shouting with joy. It’s probably fake.

“Most of all, my thanks go to our teammate and driver of the 33.” He waves towards Julian, but that’s it. They don’t exchange high-fives or even a handshake. Instead, Julian waves at the crowd. They cheer, and he adds in a mock bow. Boone continues, “He came and gave me the push that did it. It gave me the speed to win last night. Thanks, Julian.” The magical handshake finally occurs. “You’ll be back next year. We both will.”

I don’t understand racing strategy and don’t want to, but even I know Julian’s help cost him the race and the playoffs.

The post-race meeting is almost over, so I leave the garage before anyone notices I was there.

∞∞∞

“Caught you spying,” Julian says.

I jump in my seat at his sudden voice. “Sorry, curiosity took me. I went looking for everyone since the building was so quiet. Are the big post-race meetings always like that?”

“First, never apologize.” Julian rubs my head like I’m a little kid, and it takes everything in me not to slap his hand away. It’s supposed to be a friendly gesture, and it always feels condescending. “Second, they’re worse.”

“What will you do for the remaining season? You could go on a vacation somewhere or visit your family.” He could visit them if they can’t come to his races. Either that or take a long nap.

“You don’t know the NASCAR Cup Series, do you?” he asks.

Julian’s hair is perfectly combed this morning, probably because he went straight to bed after our phone call. If I hadn’t sent those text messages, would he even be standing beside me right now? He sounded miserable on the phone last night, and now we’re pretending it never even happened.

“It never seemed important,” I say.

“I still get to compete, only not in the playoffs. What do you think my strategy should be?” He leans against the table and holds both hands before him like he’s weighing something invisible. “Should I be a good teammate and help them advance?” One hand drops. “Or should I say fuck it and race for myself?” The other hand drops. Both of them wobble back and forth. “Team or me. Team or me.”

“I don’t know.”

“Yeah, me either.”

“It would depend upon your goals,” I say.

“What are your goals?” he asks.

“I don’t know.”

“Then what are you studying in school?”

I open my laptop to stare at the marketing plan I’ve worked on the last few nights. “Right now, business. Before that, I wanted to be a psychiatrist until I learned that meant medical school. I also majored in library science for one semester before changing my mind. I want to do everything.”

“You can’t make up your mind,” Julian says. He means it sympathetically, and it feels accusatory. “That’s why you’re still in school, right? Pete said you were close to finishing, and that’s not the impression I get.”

“I started a year early,” I say as an explanation before realizing that makes it worse. “It’s hard sometimes.”

“What is?”

I put my hair back in their braids. “Finishing. I’m full of ideas and enjoy trying new things.” Unless they scare me. “Then, I don’t.”

“You get bored?”

“I can’t finish. It doesn’t matter whether I want to do it; my brain doesn’t let me. That’s what happened with the museum effort. It started perfectly, and then I couldn’t.”

Why am I pouring my heart out to Julian Murphy? Most people tell me to try harder or focus harder. It’s excruciating because I keep explaining that it doesn’t work like that, so I get the same advice again, only louder. After a little while, the frustration comes, and I beg them to believe me. I’m not lazy. It’s not that I don’t care.

“That’s rough,” he says. “Do you want a break for some milkshakes?”

“I guess?”

“Good. We can drink them at a nearby park. Grab your sweater.”

∞∞∞

Julian takes a sip of my milkshake. “How can you drink that? It tastes disgusting.”

“It’s my favorite flavor.” Cookies and cream is the perfect milkshake flavor. “Also, so is yours.” I stick my tongue out, pretending to gag.

“It’s a green smoothie. It’s full of B vitamins and shit.”

“If that’s true, you should throw it away.”

Julian climbs on the picnic table and lays across it like he’s presenting himself for a meal. It’s a striking image. He’s a man who displays no concern for anything, while I worry about everything.

“Come here.” He crooks his finger until I lean in close. “I’m not close to my family. It’s not because of my travel schedule or anything like that. We’ve been no-contact for three years. I call my dad sometimes since he keeps the same cell phone number. He’s received over a dozen voicemail messages telling him how I am and asking him to call me back. There’s no way to know if he listens or deletes them. I even sent them a Christmas card last year.”

“What happened?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“It was returned in the mail, unopened. There’s no point in sending one this year, is there?”

“Only if you never want the situation to change or decide the relationship should stay this way.”

Julian draws back at my response before standing on the table to look down at me. I look up, but the sun is at his back, momentarily blinding me. He jumps off and sits beside me, close, with no part of our bodies touching.

“That question has gnawed at me all year.” Julian picks up one of my braids and runs a finger across the end before dropping it. “Thank you for telling me what you did earlier.”

“Is that why you told me? A secret for a secret.”

“Why did you tell me?” he asks.

“I felt comfortable enough to share.”

“Well, there you go. I felt comfortable enough to share with you.” Julian pauses, emphasizing the final two words. “What else do you struggle with?”

“It won’t make sense to you.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Our eyes meet, and I inspect him for any sign of pity. That’s difficult enough, but realizing you annoy people you considered friends is worse. Julian is almost a friend now. “It’s difficult to move from task to task. Some people wake up and get ready for their day like it’s nothing. I have to go through a task list in my head. Time is hard, too. It passes, and I don’t understand how.”

“What do you mean?”

Discomfort scratches me, and I know this conversation will stay in my head all night, at least until I puzzle out all the wrong things I said. “I’ll start a shower and go get a clean towel. Then, I’ll remember the shampoo bottle is almost empty, so I’ll get that, too. It was only a minute, or it felt that way, but the hot water was gone, and I can’t figure out how it happened.”

“Is that all?”

Not even close. He doesn’t need to hear that I worry about getting a job, especially after losing that internship, or that I left school for a while. He thought I was weird once, and the whole story would frighten him away. It’s also not entertaining and would make me seem childish. Julian already thinks that of me.

“It’s always with me, if that’s what you mean.” Julian’s piercing gaze lingers until I’m forced to look away. My milkshake is empty, so that isn’t even an excuse. “I need to work twice as hard to complete basic tasks that others take for granted. People like you.”

That statement struck a wound. Julian glances away with a slight nod. “Then make me a promise.” My eyes narrow with suspicion, and he notices. “Tell me what’s going on or when you’re struggling. Give me a chance to understand. Can you do that?”

“It won’t help you.”

“It will make me a better friend.” I almost miss the quick smile he flashes. “That helps us both.”

“I’ll try.”

“Fair enough. You’re done with classes today, right?”

“Nothing until tomorrow.”

“Good. You can keep me company. Let’s go.”

Julian puts an arm over my shoulder to pull me in for a side hug. It’s a casual touch. Friendly.

He wants to be a better friend.

It seems I might want to do the same for him.