I’m not sure how long Cruz is gone. Eventually, I see her silhouette and long ponytail swaying behind her. She opens the door and slides into the passenger seat. “I scored you a race, but it wasn’t easy. Most people want to race for more than two hundred bucks.” She gestures at the starting line. “Let’s go.”
I focus on Video Game Girl leaning through the window of a black muscle car.
When I pull up next to the car, Cruz gets out and Video Game Girl snaps to attention. As she steps away from the car, I see the driver.
Ortiz from Shop class grins at me. “You sure about this, Frankie? I don’t wanna take your money.”
“I’m sure.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice.” He pats the dashboard. “My girl needs a racing clutch.”
Cruz steps away from the car and joins the crowd. Video Game Girl follows the same sequence she did when I raced before—she checks in with the drivers, issues instructions, and stands in her designated spot.
We flash our headlights to signal we’re ready.
My movements feel more natural this time as my feet exert the ideal amount of pressure on the pedals to hold the GT-R at five thousand RPMs. I keep my hand on the gearshift, eyes on the road, and ears tuned to the engine. I focus on the gold bangles on Video Game Girl’s wrists, waiting for her arms to drop.
The second they do, I let out the clutch and hit the gas. The engine guns, and when I hear the RPMs reach the magic number, I shift.
Second gear …
Third …
Ortiz pulls ahead, and his engine roars.
Fourth …
Fifth …
Sixth …
His taillights fly ahead of me, as if Cruz’s car is moving in slow motion and Ortiz is driving at warp speed.
I don’t care.
Adrenaline races through my veins, and my bones thrum from the speed. In this moment, no one else controls me or my future. No one decides who I love or hate.
Ortiz crosses the finish line as I’m circling back. The headlights from the rows of cars on V Street fade, and there’s nothing but darkness—the kind I want to lose myself in.
When I make it back, Cruz runs up to the car and hops in, her forehead creased with worry. “You okay?”
“No.” My voice is a whisper.
Ortiz jogs up to Cruz’s car and taps on the roof. “Nice job, Frankie.” He winks at Cruz. “I get a warm and fuzzy feeling inside knowing that my future wife is a good teacher.”
She rolls her eyes and holds out the cash. “You’d think a guy with an imagination like yours would get better grades.”
“I feel bad taking your money, Frankie.” Ortiz stares at the bills in Cruz’s hand.
“But let me guess?” she asks. “You’ll still take it?”
“Damn straight.” He stuffs it into the pocket of his jeans and jogs toward a group of girls shouting his name. “Duty calls.”
“Did racing make you feel any better?” Cruz asks when he’s gone.
“I’m not ready to lose him.” My voice trembles.
Cruz bites her lip. “He won’t get over this, Frankie.”
“Neither will I.”
CHAPTER 34
THIS IS HOW WE BREAK
I leave the house the next morning in time to watch an angry sunrise—a yellow sky streaked with red. Dad came home after two o’clock in the morning and cracked my bedroom door to see if I was still awake. I kept my face buried in the damp pillow under my cheek and pretended to be asleep.
I texted Marco right away.
r u up?
After a few minutes the bubbles appeared on the screen.
yeah. i need to talk to you.
We agreed to meet just after sunrise—early enough that Dad would still be asleep, but late enough that I wasn’t sneaking out in the middle of the night. I left a note on the kitchen table.
Keeping my end of the deal.
Be back.
No Love, Frankie. Dad and I were way past that.
I took the bus and walked under the last red streaks in the sky, and now I’m sitting on the curb in Lot B, waiting for Marco. The first time I saw him was in this parking lot. It wasn’t that long ago, but it feels like forever now that it’s about to end.
Across the street, kids in pajamas push their way out of the 7-Eleven, their parents carrying white paper bags and coffee cups. As a kid, I loved Saturday mornings. I spent most of the day in my pajamas, too.
After today I’ll hate Saturdays and angry sunrises, the sight of 7-Eleven and Lot B.
Marco pulls in a few spaces away from where I’m sitting, but he doesn’t rush over and scoop me up in his arms. He approaches me slowly, the dark circles around his eyes proof that he didn’t sleep last night, either.
My heart skips.
How am I going to break his heart and mine—and walk away?
Because you love him, you have to protect him.
Marco stops in front of me, shoulders hunched. “Did you tell your dad I was meeting you at Lex’s?”
“How can you ask me that?” The words hit me like a slap.
He drags his hands over his head and sits next to me. “I need you to answer me.”
“Of course not.” A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “I told you I love you, and you’re asking me if I sold you out to my father? It’s nice to know what you really think of me.” I turn and head toward the sidewalk.
He doesn’t trust me. Maybe he doesn’t love me, either.
My chest tightens.
“Frankie!”
Keep moving. One foot in front of the other.