Chapter Three #2
“Nope, but you’re right. He’s a good kid, good head on those scrawny shoulders. He’s got it.” Deck assured. Dylan’s opponent pulls up, hanging out the window and talking shit to Dylan we can’t hear.
“Who’s the jackass?” I jut my chin towards the Civic.
“Hatchet.” Deck rolls his eyes.
“They call him Hatchie. He’s a Phantom. I stole the schedule from JC when he wasn’t lookin’. Most of our races tonight are against Phantoms.”
Great. Figures that the night I return, all of our opponents belong to the West side. A few catcalls
and whistles draw my attention back to the track. I watch as Abby struts between the two cars, dressed in gray denim booty shorts and a black mesh top to show off her red lace bra.
She whacks Hatchet in the head, shoving him back into his car, and stops at the starting line. She unties her bandana and twirls it around, causing the crowd to get even louder, even more hyped for the race.
“What a showwoman,” I said tonelessly, causing Deck to cackle.
“Ah, Nadia. You know you live for this shit.” A statement I don’t deny.
“Hatchie, you ready?” JC called, getting a loud engine rev in response.
“Dylie boy, you ready?” JC called again, getting another rev. Only this one caused an even greater adrenaline spike in my veins. My heartbeat thumps excitedly, eager to see the show.
“Dylie boy?”
“It’s a long story.” Deck sighed.
“Call it, Abby!” “I want a nice, clean race. You hear me?” Both engines rev to acknowledge her.
“At the drop of this bandana. In three…”
The crowd counts down with her, all of us entranced as we watch her arm fall.
Both cars take off simultaneously, blowing her red waves in every direction.
Everyone quickly flocks to the starting line to watch.
Deck and I, though, walk a few paces behind them, where the finish line is.
This gives us a clear, unobstructed view of the action.
They come to the end of the straight, taking the first turn. Hatchet executes it perfectly, but Dylan has a little trouble. Not enough to cause him to spin out, but enough for Hatchet to take an early lead.
“Shit. We need this win.” Abby grumbles as she pulls up next to us. I don’t take my eyes off the two cars.
“It’s still too early to call. Dylan can come back.” Deck assured her.
They approach the second turn, which Dylan executes perfectly this time, but so does Hatchet.
It’s not enough to take back the distance already lost, though.
One thing to note about Hatchet is that his personality seems to match his driving.
Wild and erratic. He takes the turns too fast, swerving left and right, and rarely brakes.
Still, he’s got the experience to make Dylan’s first race too difficult.
“We’re fucked.” Abby exhaled. This time, Deck stays silent. We’re not, though. Because there’s still time for Hatchet to do the one thing I know he’s probably good at.
A crash and burn.
The third and fourth turn go by quickly. The LBC has gone quiet while the Phantoms jump up and down, shouting words of encouragement and victory like it’s already a made match. Like they’ve never learned to not underestimate the rookie.
“Ghosts incoming. 9’o’clock.” Abby warned.
I cast a single backward glance and quickly turn away when I realize that Riven and crew are approaching the finish line. Where we are already standing. Why the fuck are they coming here? It’s not like they have anything going on at the moment…
… besides this fucking race, but who the fuck cares?
I don’t bother telling Abby that they’re at 3 o’clock.
She tends to mix up her left and right, but we ignore it lest ‘Abby’ turns into ‘Stabby’.
We all face forward again, eyes intent on the race just as the boys get to the fifth turn.
Dylan executes it exactly how I told him.
Exactly how he’s been doing thus far. Exactly how he needs to win this. It’s almost kismet the way it happens.
Hatchet gets to the turn first, of course. And like he’s proven in the last couple turns, he doesn’t slow down. If anything, he gains speed, wanting to end this race with a swift victory.
But the mighty fall quickly.
As I predicted, his stock vehicle can’t take it anymore.
His tire tread has gone smooth, and the poor machine is just too hot.
It’s immensely satisfying to watch as mid-turn, Hatchie’s tires start to smoke and skid.
He loses control, rolling off the track and colliding with the barriers. He’s lucky to be alive.
But not lucky enough to win. Because as he’s stepping out, fruitlessly attempting to push his car back onto track, as if he’s suddenly gained Superman strength, Dylan flies by, taking the turn with the confidence of a seasoned driver.
The Phantoms are forced to shut their mouths, and the LBC explodes. Hilariously, Hatchet runs after him on his two legs. Dylan goes through a few more straights, a couple turns, and is sprinting towards the finish line.
Abby and Deck back up a few steps, but I stay close. I don’t wanna be any closer to the Phantoms or one in particular than necessary. I also wanna see the look on Dylie boy’s face when he realizes he pulled off his first win.
He crosses the finish line, slows down with just enough finesse, and comes to a stop a few paces in front of me.
As he shifts into park, I tap the hood a couple of times in congrats, watching through the windshield as he fists his hair in both hands, completely amazed.
I walk over and open his door, leaning down as he slowly meets my eyes.
“Nice work, kid. You’re a true LBC.” He laughs a little and hops out on shaky legs.
“I won.”
“You did.”
“I beat Hatchet Radaker. On my first match.”
“Yes and yes.”
“Oh my fucking god.” The look of wonder in his eyes is adorable, like a baby giraffe learning to walk. Clutching the front of his shirt, I pull him down. Both to my height and back to reality.
“Don’t let it get to your head, Dylie boy. You did good for your first time, but the hard work’s not.
over yet. You’ve still got a long way to go.” I release him, and he straightens in understanding.
“For tonight though, go celebrate.” I push him towards the screaming group of people eager to face the champ. With one last smile, he jogs toward them while I reclaim my position with Deck and Abby.
“Can’t lie, I lost faith there for a second, but I’m happy I was wrong,” Abby admitted.
“He couldn’t’ve done it without our good luck charm. Our resident car nerd.” Deck throws his arm around my shoulder.
“I say we put her to work a little more.” Abby grins mischievously, walking backward to the starting line.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Absolutely. We got more races to win.” With a wink, she’s gone.
“Did I mention just how good it is to have you back home, Nadia?”
“One more time wouldn’t hurt.”