The Player Penalty (SteelTrack Racing #3)

27-Lily

“How are you? It’s been a couple of months, hasn’t it?”

“Two months on Monday.” Remembering to brush my teeth is a struggle, but remembering the exact date and time of an appointment isn’t? This is my life. “I’m fine.”

Dr. Lambert tucks several strands of hair behind her ear. It immediately falls back into place. She doesn’t respond immediately, choosing to review notes from our last appointment instead. “Your school term is almost over, isn’t it?”

“Next week, and then nothing until the fall. There are five classes left after this.” The idea of taking five at once is daunting. It’s been three or four, including summer terms, every year so far. Three classes aren’t full-time, but it feels like it when an essay takes you twice as long to complete as everyone else. Medication helps me focus long enough to write, but it doesn’t help me to write quickly. “It might be another full year until graduation since I also need to complete a certain number of internship hours.”

“How do you feel about that?”

I’m disappointed that it took so long to make up my mind. “A year ago, I would have been disappointed with myself because it feels like I can’t do enough. Anything less than an A was a failure. I don’t think that way anymore.”

“Are you still working every Friday?”

I perk at the mention. “Horizons Academy. It’s my favorite day of the week.” Julian would be crushed to hear that, as he would want it to be race day. He’s my favorite person to spend time with, which is something very different. “I love it there. I work with the art teacher, mostly setting up projects and helping students when they need it. She asked me to work part-time as a counselor this summer. They want extra help with field trips and the talent show.”

“Oh, wow, Lily, that’s wonderful that you were asked; that means you made a great impression.” Dr. Lambert’s voice turns eager and congratulatory, as it always does when she hears good news. She says it helps her patients remember to congratulate themselves. Seeing our failure is easy, while acknowledging wins is much more difficult. That’s true for me, at least.

“I agreed to do it since it would allow me time to travel with Julian on the weekends. Plus, my academic advisor says the job might count toward my internship requirements. I want to work with children, even if I don’t know the exact job.”

Dr. Lambert adds to her notes. “Do you want to teach?”

“I want to be with kids like me. Growing up, I always wanted to see a grown-up who could have a job and friends. It used to scare me because it meant I couldn’t fix myself.” Worrying about it led to hours and hours of online searches with personality assessments and job suggestions. Hours digging into social media as a young teen didn’t help either. For every bit of comfort, it showed more examples of failure, and that always left me even more anxious.

“You want to give others that chance. Well, that’s very admirable, Lily.”

“Maybe.”

“It is. Let’s make that an assignment for next time. Tell me more about your ideal job, and we can discuss what that looks like. What else is going on since we last spoke?”

“My friend Julian and I are dating,” I say, wondering if she’ll believe me. “Romantically. He asked to make it official two weeks ago.”

“What? I’m so excited for you.” Dr. Lambert slams her pen on the desk. “You have a boyfriend who races cars for a living. I love it! I love it so much.”

“Uh, thanks? That’s the part I never think about, probably because I grew up around motorsports. It isn’t anything special.”

“The relationship is special, though, isn’t it?”

He’s taken me out to dinner multiple times and to a movie once. Julian helped with one of the jigsaw puzzles until I grew bored. The unopened boxes now sit by his front door. He’s even dropped suggestions for my new hobby.

He’s surprised me with breakfast, held my hand before last week’s race, been extra pleasant to Dad, and been altogether perfect.

Can something be so perfect it only proves it will eventually fall apart?

“I think so.”

“Lily, am I making you uncomfortable? If this isn’t a conversation you’re ready for, it can wait until next time. You set the limits here, not me.”

“No, you’re fine. We can talk about him.” I’m pulling my hair again, and I didn’t realize it. If Dr. Lambert asked, then my body language must be pretty awful. I force my hands into my lap. “Julian only knows what I’m like on medication. What happens if I go off them and it’s like before? What if my head gets loud again, and I forget everything even more than now? My bedroom was so gross before; it’s embarrassing to think about. What if that happens again? I worry what will happen, that’s all.”

“Have you spoken to him about this?”

“That’s the last thing I want to do.”

“It might help. If you hear directly from him and believe him, would that make a difference?”

“Maybe.”

“Then let’s add that to your assignments. You need to communicate this with him, not me. Give him a chance, Lily.”

“I’ll try.”

“Let’s do a med check before we end. How are you feeling? Do we think more is better, or are we in the right place?

“My last anxiety attack was months ago, during that horrible business interview. My grades are good enough. I’m worried, Dr. Lambert, but I’m also very happy.”

“That sounds like we’re in a good place. You should be proud of yourself.”

∞∞∞

“Is this you?” I point at the boy in the drawing.

Liam nods before grabbing his tablet. He opens the photos and shows them to me. His parents are remarkably similar to the drawing on his construction paper. “They’re wearing stripes, like you.” Liam wears striped shirts every day, no matter the weather. “This is at the park. What’s your favorite ride there? Mine was the swings.”

He switches to the AAC app and pulls up the merry-go-round.

Liam’s talent is remarkable. His drawing displays his small family set against a striped background. His parents each have giant smiles and complete sets of teeth, while Liam doesn’t give himself a mouth at all. He’s in front of his parents and taller than them both, which is an impressive feat for a seven-year-old.

Later, after the school day ends, I put away the art supplies and clean the tables. One of them is covered with glitter, which is particularly frustrating.

Ms. Terry hands me over a few stapled sheets of paper. “This is the application packet. You’re in, so this is a formality. We need emergency contact information, that sort of thing.”

I immediately grab a pen to fill it out. “This way, it isn’t forgotten.”

She smiles with understanding. “We’re extremely flexible, so if you’re taking classes over the summer, we can work around that.”

“No classes; I need the break.”

“Don’t we all? We should, especially considering I volunteered to head up a summer camp. I should have booked a vacation to Europe.” This is her third year managing the school’s summer camp program. She’ll never take that trip to Europe, not until she retires. “There’s one overnight trip for the older students. It’s always a big hit. If you’re available that weekend, I’d surely be grateful.”

“I’m usually at my boyfriend’s races on the weekend,” I say, and my cheeks burn. The word is still strange on my tongue, especially since it refers to Julian. We’re both happy and yet a year of friendship came first. It’s difficult to believe I won’t snap out of my daydream only to find out he’s still hooking up with other women. “You know what? He can drive without me. Yes, I want to do it.”

“I’m sorry, dear. Did you say your boyfriend races for a living? As in, he races cars?”

“He’s a NASCAR driver. We kind of met through my father,” I explain.

“That’s right. Your father manages the cars, doesn’t he? I recall him picking you up after school when you were younger. Now, tell me, what’s your boyfriend’s name? My husband watches nearly every race, so I join him now and then, so maybe I’ve heard of him.”

“His name is Julian Murphy.” A bit of pride warms my stomach. Naming him publicly like I did is probably a boast, but it’s all true.

I’m dating Julian Murphy.

I’m falling for Julian Murphy.

“Julian Murphy? Forgive me; I can never remember the numbers; it’s too complicated, but that name is difficult to forget. My husband says he’s having a great season.”

“He is,” I demur.

Julian has ranked in the top five points all season long, and even Dad volunteers the occasional compliment.

Ms. Terry sits in one of the kids-sized chairs, so her knees poke up. Her kind eyes smile at me. “You’ve done so well, Lily; I hope you’re proud of yourself. You barely spoke when we first met, and within a month, you were in here every day, showing off your latest creation. You’re one of the reasons I became a teacher.”

∞∞∞

Kansas Speedway

Julian’s pit crew wheels his car towards the garage for pre-race inspection.

“It’s gorgeous,” I say.

His all-black car with dark green accents lend it a forbidding air. It’ll seem like a dragon breathing green fire on the track tomorrow.

“As long as the company names covering it help pay our bills, it doesn’t make much difference to me. Some are nice, some are ugly, and all that matters is how it performs,” Dad says.

My father’s practical side is out in force as he witnesses NASCAR officials performing their inspections.

“Can’t anyone be here?” I ask him. My presence certainly isn’t necessary. I’m only slightly more helpful than the VIPs who paid extra for garage access. “I thought you might delegate this since you run the entire garage now.”

“I’ll do this until my last race.” Dad pulls up his trucker hat to smooth back his hair. “It’s always been my job, and giving it up now makes no sense. Besides, I watched each of our cars be built. It’s nice having you here with me. We’ve barely seen much of each other these past few weeks, haven’t we?”

Guilt pricks. Dad insists he’s fine on his own, and that’s probably true. He cared for himself and raised me, but he must get lonely. One of the reasons I never moved out, besides fearing it would end in failure, was leaving him alone. Dad gave up everything for me, and the idea of leaving him alone makes me miserable.

“I’m sorry. It’s been a busy time with school, my internship, and….” Dad was remarkably sanguine over the news, but I always remember the many times he questioned Julian’s character and commitment.

“Plus, you’re dating Julian now. It’s okay, Lily. You don’t need to spend the rest of your life entertaining one old man.”

“You’re not old,” I protest.

“My knees say otherwise.”

We both grow quiet as the inspection continues.

“There is nothing wrong with that car,” Julian says from behind us. I jump, and he laughs. “Inspections can be shocking. Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Dad frowns but says nothing.

“I was telling Dad how pretty the wrap on your car is.”

“The best part is knowing it means we have sponsor money to pay for it all,” Julian says. Dad’s ears perk up. “In all seriousness, I watched them build that car. It’ll pass with no problem. It’ll be a good race tomorrow.”

“Do you feel good about it?” I ask, already knowing the answer.

Julian feels confident, hopeful, or ready at the beginning of every race. He always answers in the same even tone, too. I’ve come to find his simple assessments incredibly sexy. The way he evaluates his performance is clear-eyed about his skills and the skills of his competitors. Julian doesn’t brag; he states the obvious.

His eyes meet mine. “It’s a good car. We had the second and fifth fastest laps during practice. We’re ready for whatever happens, and I expect good racing.”

Dad listens to our every word, even as he tries to pretend otherwise. His body language isn’t good enough to hide it.

“It will be another top five,” I boldly say.

“With you here cheering me on, it might be. Are you hungry yet? Dinner is marinating, so we can eat when you’re ready.”

I smile at Julian’s assumption I would join him. His cooking skills are limited to baked chicken, brown rice, and a vegetable. The only surprise is his choice of seasoning. My cooking is better, but that doesn’t mean very much. It works out well because Julian can stick to his diet, and it’s one less surprise for me to conquer.

“You go on,” Dad says. “Boone asked to meet up one last time before the day ends.”

I kiss his cheek. “Be back later.” At least, I’ll try. We haven’t stuck to our rule about limited activity during race weekends very well. It’s not even Julian’s fault, as I’m as likely to jump him whenever we’re alone as the other way around.