21
Asta felt invisible in the best possible way.
In spite of the little burst of attention from the papers this week, she did not draw a crowd on the street like Felix did.
No one thought twice about a rider, helmet in hand, making her way into the raceway and along the edge of the track.
She paused, ostensibly studying the course, though her position at the main entrance did not afford a great view of the terrain.
Really, she was watching for the inspectors.
At last they came, Yixin among them. They split up into pairs and began working their way from one pit to the next.
Nat’s crew was in the fourth slot. Asta took a few aimless steps in the opposite direction around the outer track.
Ten more minutes, and she could deliver the jar and be done with all of this.
She could not keep her thoughts from returning to Felix as she waited. The magnetism between them had not faded during their years apart. If anything, it was stronger than ever. Asta blushed thinking of what it felt like to be near him, the way her body gravitated toward his.
The track had been freshly rolled and conditioned this morning, and the graveled surface was even and dense.
It always surprised Asta how wide the track actually was.
Jostling with a crowd of other dragon–rider teams, avoiding side spikes and looking for openings, it felt much smaller.
But standing here now, with the stands that rose like the foothills of a vast mountain range encircling her, she felt like a little mouse creeping around the floor of a giant’s kitchen.
On the other side of the track rose the terrain obstacles, glittering in their illusions.
The theme of today’s course was industry, and the fences sported huge cogs and pistons in constant motion.
Illusory steam billowed from stacks atop the canyon towers, as if they were part of a power plant.
Asta couldn’t see much of the mountain scramble from where she was, but she imagined that, among the goats and shepherds’ huts, there might be tractors or combines.
Maybe, if the illusionists were feeling cheeky, the goats themselves would be styled as mechanized automatons frisking up and down the scramble.
‘Sorry about that.’
Asta turned. Felix had finally caught up to her, still wearing that same beaming smile he had on his face when she’d left him.
‘Thanks for waiting,’ he added with a touch of sarcasm.
Asta glanced over his shoulder at the pits.
The inspectors were with Nat’s crew. Why did he have to stage this reconciliation now?
Couldn’t he have waited until she’d done her dirty work for Hummer?
Couldn’t he have come back into her life after she had paid her debts and gotten free?
Then she would be someone worth loving again.
Felix followed her gaze with a turn of his head. ‘You nervous about this afternoon?’
‘A little,’ Asta said.
‘You’re going to do great.’
‘I wish people would stop saying that.’
‘Stop winning. They’ll stop saying it.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Brilliant.’
‘Let’s get some seats in the riders’ section before they fill up and we get stuck watching from the nosebleeds.’
‘I kind of like it up there. You can see the whole course.’
Felix made a face. ‘That’s what the screens are for.’
‘Suit yourself. Go find seats. I’ll catch up. I have something to do first.’
‘I’ll come with you. Where are we going?’
He had been serious about his proposal. It was as if he had instantly forgotten about the pain that stood between them and gone straight back to the days when they had been inseparable.
She had not expected it to be quite this easy to fall back into their routines.
She wasn’t sure that it was that easy for her.
Was this what he meant by going through the hard parts?
It felt more like skipping right over them.
More to the point, Asta needed to deliver the jar, which would be complicated with him tagging along.
‘I was just going to wish Nat good luck.’ She watched him closely, hoping that the prospect of coming face to face with the Bruces would be enough of a deterrent, but Felix was determined.
‘Yeah, alright. Let’s go.’
With a sinking heart, Asta led the way.
The pit was crawling with Bruces edging their way around Vulture, who filled most of the open space.
The pit chief was Nat’s second cousin Orville, a humorless man of about forty whom Asta had never seen with a clean face.
What kind of a person he was or what he did in his spare time, Asta couldn’t say.
Nat’s crew seemed like extensions of Hummer rather than individual people.
When he summoned them, they came. When he gave instructions, they obeyed.
They laughed at jokes that Asta never heard – except Orville, who never laughed – and gave Nat a hard time whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Orville didn’t acknowledge Asta as she approached the lip of the pit; he was too busy chewing out Yohn, a stoop-shouldered young man who had spent the summer training under Torque at Asta’s tournaments before being transferred to Nat’s crew.
Asta crouched by the edge of the pit, her helmet hanging from the fingers of her left hand and waved to get Orville’s attention. ‘Hey. Is Nat around?’
Before Orville could answer, someone grabbed Asta’s shoulders and pushed her forward.
She shrieked and fought to keep from falling into the pit.
Vulture’s head swung around at the sound.
A startled dragon was a dangerous dragon.
In the mayhem, Asta’s helmet slipped from her fingers.
Orville, who had a sixth sense devoted to protecting helmets from impact, leapt forward to catch it before it hit the ground.
Whoever had pushed Asta forward was now pulling her back, and she fell against their legs.
It was Nat, and she was laughing.
‘Gotcha!’ She dumped Asta on the ground and was immediately on top of her, straddling her. She was wearing her navy-blue race suit, the sky-blue bear on the Bruce crest rearing on its hind legs, claws out, as if it was reaching for the dagger in the next quadrant.
‘Get off!’ Asta cried, but Nat stayed put. Asta was thinking about the jar of irritant in the helmet. Had Orville found it? Had anyone seen? Hopefully, the banshee currently perched on top of her had been a passable distraction.
‘You brought the Golden Boy.’ Nat tipped her chin up and looked Felix over. ‘I almost socked you one yesterday,’ she said to him.
‘Good thing you didn’t try.’ Felix’s attempt at bravado was cute, Asta thought, but not terribly convincing.
Nat looked him up and down. ‘I would have kicked your ass.’
Asta grunted. ‘I’m going to kick yours right now if you don’t get off!
’ She pushed at Nat’s knee until she jumped up and let her free.
‘I came to say good luck, but considering you just tried to break my neck, I take it back.’ Asta eased herself into a crouch, bracing for the pain that would come with standing up.
‘Orville would have caught you,’ Nat said airily
Orville scowled at Nat. ‘You dropped this,’ he said to Asta, plunking her helmet back on the edge of the pit where it rocked on its crown.
Asta took it. The jar was gone. Her gloves were folded neatly in the bottom.
‘Besides,’ Nat continued, offering Asta her hand and pulling her to her feet, ‘you don’t have to wish me good luck. You are good luck.’ She wrapped an arm around her waist. Somehow her fingers always seemed to find Asta’s bruises and dig into them. Asta flinched and pushed Nat’s arm away.
‘You too, Golden Boy,’ Nat added. Before he could react, she had given him a swift smack to the ass.
‘Hey!’ Felix jumped away, horrified. ‘Hands to yourself!’
‘Prude.’ Nat winked at Asta and lowered herself into the pit.
Vulture craned her neck to greet Nat and receive her kisses. Nat did not seem interested in Asta and Felix anymore. It was as if she’d erased them from her memory just by looking away.
I don’t care if you forget me, Asta thought to her. Just lose. Please lose. Let this all be over.
‘Well,’ Asta said, attempting a disinterested air, ‘shall we?’
But rather than lead them toward the riders’ section of the stands, across from the starting line, Felix made for the stairs to the upper levels.
‘I thought you wanted to sit down here,’ Asta said.
‘Let’s try it your way,’ Felix said over his shoulder.
Asta quickly regretted her suggestion. Much as she wanted to convince herself otherwise, her body was not okay. She noticed that Felix, too, was favoring his bad leg.
‘Should have brought my hiking gear,’ she joked after the first set of stairs.
Felix looked at her, taking in her pinched expression. Without a word, he led them to the elevators.
They settled in the second-to-last row of bleachers in the top tier of the grandstands. If Felix and Asta were recognized, the fans who occupied these lofty heights were less brazen than the ones below, because no one stopped them or stared.
‘Not bad, right?’ Asta asked, jabbing a thumb in the direction of the track. Felix nodded his concession, clearly impressed with the view.
From a distance, the details of the illusions were indistinct, but the overall design of the course was more apparent than from the ground. The terrain pieces seemed to interlock into an enormous engine – turbine funneling into compressor, pushing ever toward the combustion chamber.
The sun hadn’t quite cleared the edge of the raceway yet, and the aluminum bleachers were cold under Asta’s thighs – only the lower tiers had the luxury of folding seats with backs on them, with the amenities improving the further down you went. Cup-holders, padding, heating, lumbar support.