Chapter 3 South Carolina
Chapter three
South Carolina
Bryce tore into the dirt around the turn on the practice track.
He laid on the throttle hard and flew over the next jump, taking massive air.
His coach probably wouldn’t like that since he was supposed to be practicing taking the jumps low and fast, but he couldn’t help it.
In that moment, Bryce wasn’t riding for practice or time, he rode for the joy of it.
Dirt flew out behind him as he roosted through the softer spots.
It was as if even the track felt his delight.
His bike thrummed happily between his legs as he slowed, back at the start of the track, where his coach Reuben, flagged him down. “What the hell, Bryce? What was that?”
He pulled his goggles off and slung them over the handle bar. “That was major air, dude.” He couldn’t help the stupid grin stretched across his face.
“Not funny.”
“I know, but I’ve been at it for hours and just needed to cut loose. Relax. Want me to go ‘round one more time?”
Reuben put his hands on his hips and gave Bryce a stern look, but then he shook his head. “No. That’s fine. We’ll get this at the camp. You are going to the camp, right?”
“Of course.” Bryce knew he was going to the camp in North Carolina where his team wanted him to start practicing.
What he didn’t know was whether his parents would be tagging along.
If he could help it, the answer would be no.
He knew the team would be flexible and accommodate them, but Bryce didn’t really want them there.
“Fine. Get out of here and we’ll see you at camp.”
Bryce tossed his cell phone on his dresser.
His manager, George, said he had all the approvals ready, now he just had to get his parents to let him go.
Alone. He ran his fingers through his dark hair contemplating what he would say and imagining all the different scenarios of how the conversation would go. If only he were eighteen already...
He groaned and forced himself to get up and get on with it.
He paused at the door to pull off his favorite hooded pajama top.
He often wore it for comfort and he loved the tiger ears sewn on the hood.
The soft and cozy pjs always made him feel better, but he’d look like a kid wearing them.
He needed to look mature, so he tossed it on his bed and ran his fingers through his hair again, pushing that purple lock out of his eyes and tucking it behind his ear.
“Mom? Dad? Can we talk?” Bryce made his way to the living room where they were settled in to watch some program before bed.
Bryce rarely watched TV with them anymore.
He had a million other things to do, and would rather sit in his room with his ear buds in, listening to music and imagining his next ride, than waste a minute on a stupid sitcom.
“What’s going on Bryce?” his dad asked, turning the volume on the TV down with the remote.
“Uh...So, I just got off the phone with George.”
“It’s not time yet. You still have a few weeks before you have to be seriously practicing, don’t you?” His mother looked over at him. He got his blue eyes from her.
They didn’t understand how much more intense the Supercross 250 was going to be for him than the other divisions he’d raced in.
“No. Not really. Not anymore. Moving up to Supercross means I need to stay on top of my skills. He wants me with Reuben as soon as possible and I can do that easier at the camp. He has me set up already.” His parents didn’t respond.
His mom sat there, lips pressed together tightly.
His dad’s forehead wrinkled with his frown.
“On Monday. He’s arranging everything, but I’ll need to bring my bike.
Just for the first week or so, until they get my new one out to me. ”
“Can’t you just wait for the new one? We hardly get to see you—”
“You hardly see me when I am home.” He shrugged.
He’d finished school, taken the tests and passed everything.
She had home schooled him the last couple of years so he could spend more time racing and now he finally got the tap to move up that he’d been waiting for.
He signed to a Supercross team. His life was dirt bikes.
“Bryce,” his dad started in with a grumble. “This is probably your last year at home and once the season starts? Isn’t the local track good enough? We just want to spend time with you first.”
“I know. I get that. But, I’ll always be your son, but I need to do this now. I need to be at my best. That means no distractions. Supercross isn’t going to wait for me. I have to grab it. Don’t you get it?”
“Okay.” His mom always seemed to cave first. “When do we have to be there?”
“I don’t need you to come with me. I can drive the pickup.”
“What?” His dad crossed his arms over his chest. “Isn’t this the camp in North Carolina? We can stay in town.”
George had actually promised he could get them in a private cabin on camp grounds, but Bryce didn’t want that. He didn’t want them there at all. “Listen. This is hard core training. Working out, riding. They have a cafeteria and staff—”
“You’re not ready.”
“Mom. Really? I’m almost eighteen. Plus, if you’re worried about me getting into trouble, don’t. Everyone there is all about racing and training. They’re just as...uh, I don’t know, single minded? Yeah. One focus. Plus the staff is capable and—”
His dad stood up. “You’re not eighteen yet. You’ve been sheltered from a lot, being home these last few years. I don’t know.”
Bryce huffed and sat down in the recliner. He wanted to yell and stomp his foot, but a tantrum wouldn’t get him what he wanted. “This is important.”
“We’ll think about it.” Usually, when his mom said that, he’d get his way. He tried not to look too happy. They still hadn’t said yes, officially. Yet.
Bryce had his bike loaded and strapped down the night before, so when he got up at five in the morning, he started his day with jumping jacks, pushups and sit ups to get his blood pumping.
Then, made a couple of breakfast burritos with egg, leftover chicken breast, and chilies and ate them on the way to the track.
He hoped like hell his folks would finally give in and let him go to camp without them, but all those thoughts were shoved away when he arrived at his local track.
Bryce had been coming to this track his entire life.
His cousin had first got him into bikes when he was five years old.
He had been the only kindergarten kid at school that rode a little mini motos bike on the weekends.
He moved up to an 80cc bike before he turned eight.
By the time he was in middle school, he was riding five days a week.
His folks realized he had talent and let him keep riding, even after his cousin had sold his own bike and moved on to other things, namely girls.
Bryce had no interest in chasing after girls, though. He kept racing—and winning.
He got his bike on the track and took a few practice laps. It felt good to ride without the pressure of Reuben watching him. He needed to relax and enjoy this moment, knowing there wouldn’t be too many more of them. Once he got to camp, it would be hardcore practice time and getting it right.
After a while Bryce’s arms ached, so he stopped before they started shaking.
He’d spent more time on the track than he realized, so he started packing it up for the day.
After he had the bike loaded back on the truck, he checked his phone.
His mother had sent a text for him to meet her for a late lunch in town.
It would be on the way home, and he would have just enough time to make it there.
He knew he was in for a grilling, but if he wanted to go to camp without her, he’d have to face it.
It’d been a great day riding and he didn’t want to blow his mood thinking about it all, so when he got in the truck to leave, he connected his MP3 player and cranked up the volume.
His playlist rocked hard. He loved bands that mixed a killer horn section with electric guitars and hard percussion.
He flipped through his list until NOFX came on.
The song focused more on percussion and horns and the lyrics felt appropriate for his funky mood.
Nodding his head to the beat, he mouthed the words.
He drove into town and parked at his mother’s favorite diner.
Bryce liked the place too, because he could get good healthy food, stuff that wasn’t fried, yet served up pretty fast. He made sure to park his truck in the front, as close as he could get to the restaurant, so he could watch it out of the big windows.
He didn’t want anyone messing with his bike.
He looked forward to tinkering around on it when he got home, to tune it up a bit.
When Bryce walked into the restaurant, he spotted his mother in a booth next to the windows where he could see the parking lot. “Mom. Hey!”
“Go get cleaned up. You’re filthy.”
Bryce frowned, but headed to the restroom just the same.
When he looked in the mirror, he saw she’d been right.
Dirt smeared over his face and cheeks, hiding his freckles.
He washed up and then lingered a minute, looking in the mirror.
What did people see when they looked at him with his big blue eyes and purple streaked hair?
He wanted another piercing to go with his gauges…
eyebrow maybe, but that wouldn’t be practical with motocross, and nothing in his life was more important than riding.
The diner wasn’t one of those old fashioned places that served burgers, fries, and milkshakes.
It seemed a bit more modern, and although it wasn’t a Panera Bread, either, it did have decent food.
The decor was simple, clean, and functional.
He passed beige tiled floors, light brown tables and chairs, and Warhol style prints of various menu options on the walls.
He sat down across from his mother and took a glance at his truck.
“I’m watching it, Bryce. Everything’s fine. Oh, I ordered you grilled chicken and salad.”
“Dressing on the side?”
She huffed and clasped her hands together on the table. “Of course.”
“Thanks.”
“I do get it, Bryce.”
“I know, Mom. I’m not trying to be mean about this, about any of it. I just want to find my own way. I’m not a kid anymore.” He took a sip out of the glass of water sitting in front of him. Cool and refreshing. He wished his life could feel like that.
His mom sighed. “I know that too. It’s not always easy. You haven’t had a...normal childhood.”
“What’s normal?”
“You know what I mean.”
“I guess.” Bryce shrugged. He did know what she meant.
He’d given up public school, dances, and pretty much having friends to ride motocross.
He home schooled and he rode bikes and he worked out.
He didn’t have time for anything else or any one, but he didn’t care.
He probably would have missed out on a lot of that stuff anyway.
He wouldn’t have had dances and friends, because he was gay.
So, he missed out on drama and being bullied.
That shit had started before he left school and he didn’t miss it.
On the track, the only thing anyone cared about was how good you rode, how fast your bike was, or how much air you got on that last jump.
Giving up high school for motocross was more than worth it.
“I don’t think I really missed out on all that much. ”
“Maybe, but we can’t go back anyway. I just want to make sure you’re good. Safe. Going forward.”
“You can talk to George. Ask him what it’s like at camp.”
The waitress showed up with their food. The salad looked fresh and he could see the grill marks on the chicken.
He dabbed on just a little dressing. His mom had the same thing, but her salad had been smothered in delicious honey mustard dressing.
Bryce knew it would be good, but stuck to his own vinaigrette, used sparingly.
He didn’t need the extra calories. The waitress left, satisfied that they had what they needed and Bryce dug in.
“I’m so hungry. I probably should order an extra chicken breast.”
“You can. Want me to call her back?”
“Nah. It’s good.” He shoveled in another bite and chewed.
His mother hadn’t started eating. “So, Bryce. I don’t need talk to George. Your dad and I agree that you’re mature enough to handle camp on your own.”
Bryce looked up quick. It wasn’t what he had expected her to say. He thought he’d have to fight harder for it. Maybe they were coming around after all.
“But. You will call and check in with us and if things aren’t going well, you will let us know. Plus, we’re coming up on the weekends, just to make sure you’re okay.”
He didn’t really want them checking up on him, but he knew he needed to make a compromise. “Okay. I can live with that. I need to bring the bike, just for the first week or two.”
His mother sighed again. “Your dad is going to want to drive up with you, then.”
Bryce could see her jaw clenching. She thought he was going to fight her on that, but he wasn’t really ready to drive that far by himself and he knew it, so giving in on that demand wasn’t so hard. Besides, Bryce wanted to surprise her too. “Good.”
“Good?”
Bryce nodded and gave her a small smile. His mom smiled back and picked up her fork. Finding his independence would be a challenge, but he was happy they were willing to compromise with him.