15 #3
Felix was slow to speak. ‘Everyone here wants to win, Asta. That doesn’t make you special.’
‘No, I mean, I need to win.’ She leaned her elbows on to the black marble counter and nudged the base of her illusion, turning it around. ‘I have debts to pay.’
Once Nat got knocked out of the tournament tomorrow, which Asta was desperately trying to convince herself was inevitable, especially if Vulture was going to poop out in the final straightaway like she did yesterday, then Asta would have a brief window where the note was meaningless, except as a kind of IOU.
That would be her chance to get free – but only if she won.
If she didn’t win, she would walk away with nothing, and who knows when she could repay Hummer’s loan.
With the prize money, though, she could pay him back so many times over that they could forget all about that creepy little note.
‘If you need money, I can—’
‘I don’t want more debts, Felix. I just need to win.’
Rather than answer her, Felix leaned forward in the black leather chair, his elbows on his knees, his head lowered. All this time, she had been worried about how he was scrutinizing her, but she hadn’t stopped to look back at him. Now that she did, she saw that he looked tired.
Asta felt a twinge of remorse for the things she had said to him earlier. She straightened from the counter and carried her water back to her chair to sit beside him. But he stayed as he was.
‘I’m sorry for making fun of you. I know you hate it. The attention. You always have.’
He didn’t look up. ‘It makes me feel invisible.’
‘Says the man whose face is literally everywhere I look.’ She couldn’t keep a touch of sarcasm out of her voice.
‘That’s not me. It’s who they want me to be.’ He sounded so despondent that Asta wanted to kick herself.
‘I know.’ The distant sounds of cheering and moaning drifted to them from the track.
‘That guy on the magazine covers doesn’t fool me.
You can be a prick sometimes, Felix Seraphin, but I don’t think you’re that prick.
’ Asta swiped at the sweat on the glass bottle with her thumb.
‘For what it’s worth, whenever I see those pictures, I don’t see that guy. I see you. I always see you.’
Felix lifted his hand to wipe at his eyes and his breath quickened. Without thinking, Asta leaned over to put a hand on his back and left it there until his breathing calmed again.
He gave his eyes another wipe and looked at her, his face as open and earnest as it had ever been. ‘Asta,’ he said, his voice wobbling, ‘do you ever wish we could go back?’
Asta fought back the sting in her own eyes. ‘Before I ruined everything, you mean?’ she asked. ‘Only about a thousand times a day.’
Felix shook his head. ‘You didn’t ruin—’
The door of the suite opened, and Gem came in, eyes searching the room for Asta. He was dripping with rainwater, a puddle forming at his feet on the tile floor.
‘Asta.’ His voice was husky and anxious. ‘It’s bad.’
Asta and Felix both jumped to their feet.
‘What’s the matter?’ Asta tried to imagine what had happened. ‘Is Carmine okay?’
Gem’s hands were fluttering in front of him like fledgling birds. ‘Where did you go after the opening ceremonies?’
Asta tensed. ‘Out with Nat.’
Gem closed his eyes, as if he was afraid of his own questions. ‘Did you race? Out in Hallium, I mean. Did you and Nat race?’
‘Maybe,’ Asta said, the word small in her mouth.
Felix looked at her in alarm.
Gem winced at her admission. He opened his eyes again. ‘Someone saw you.’
Panic rose from Asta’s gut to her chest to her throat.
‘You have to appear before the NFDRA board right away.’
Asta felt dizzy and reached for something to steady her. She found Felix’s arm and held on.
Asta didn’t even know there were offices at the Horizons Raceway.
The security guard led Asta and Gem through the main entryway, then stopped, swiped a card, and opened a nondescript door that led into a rather bland hallway.
Someone in a Silverscale staff shirt was waiting on the other side to escort them to the room where the hearing would be held.
The room seemed to be set up for a press conference.
At the front, Flávia Gameiro sat in the middle seat of a long, bare table with a laminate top printed to look like woodgrain.
Her silvery hair was pulled back from her face in barrettes, incongruously soft compared to the severe look on her face.
There were four other racing officials present, two on either side of her, all equally stern-faced.
One of them was Dr. Isley. Another was Tess Curie.
Asta’s heart turned to stone in her chest.
Nat, Hummer, and Tru sat in the third row of armless black chairs that faced the long table.
Nat leaned forward in her seat, elbows propped on the back of the chair in front of her.
The rest of the chairs were empty, except for one.
On the far side of the room sat Pikki. Her eyes, when they met Asta’s, were triumphant.
Déjà-freaking-vu.
‘Ms. Ekenberg,’ Flávia Gameiro said in her thin voice. ‘Please have a seat.’