Page 69 of Crash into me

Grace kneels beside me. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ll do great! We have a room full of dancers. I promise this will be amazing!” She claps her hands. “And we’ll continue this tradition, with each dancer making a dance until the season ends.”

She stands up, surveying the room.

“We have one month for this, so practice will be two nights a week. Saturday mornings and Tuesday afternoons.”

“What should it be?” I wonder, looking around.

“A romance?” Grace wonders. “Something tragic,” she adds. “Everything is up to you. It can be a semblance of your own life, or of something new entirely.”

Once she’s done talking, I huddle with the girls to map out the perfect routine.

29

It’s amateur racing only tonight, so Foster won’t be joining me.

I was nervous about this, but I feel like I have a leg up on this race. My first one was the big leagues. I wasn’t sanctioned, and they threw me on the roster the last second, but I was with real, lifelong racers and I came in a pretty good spot for being new.

Now, I’m with riders who don’t normally race the circuit.

I wish Foster was beside me. It’s always comforting having him near. But it also means I’ll always be in last place because he’s just so damn good on that bike. Tonight, I might have a chance to place first.

The amateur races normally don’t hold a big prize pool—I think it’s like five hundred dollars—but tonight it’s a grand. I know winning isn’t everything, but damn would it feel good.

We’ve been practicing every day after school; I’m either wearing Pointe shoes or racing boots. There’s no in between anymore.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Foster pushes my helmet down extra tight, strapping it underneath my chin. “You ready for this?” he asks. I know he’s excited for me and proud, but even he can’t deny the slight tremble in his voice whenever I’m going to be somewhere without him on the bike. Normally he’s right next to me, always close. But tonight he’ll be on two feet while I’m on two wheels.

“I’m fine, I promise.” I kick up my stand, blowing him a kiss as I take off to the starting line.

“Racers, take your positions!” the man with a microphone calls out. We all line up, and excited nerves bubble into my chest. I look back to Foster, who watches me with crossed arms and a serious expression, his head turning back to watch where I’ll come back from.

Kate is bouncing on her heels, excited and angry. She thinks it’s so cool, but she doesn’t want me to race. Brett is cheering me on, his fist in the air before we even start, but I see a sense of worry on his face.

I get why they’re scared.

But this is what I want.

The flag girl draws my attention forward. She raises it in her hands, and I pull my visor down. The loud, chaotic sounds of the cheers, the crowd, the motors all fade out when she throws the flag down.

I take off, zipping and turning past bikes that are mere inches away from me. The adrenaline rush is hard to match, and I can’t believe this is my life.

The dark ground is illuminated by our headlights as they dance back and forth, trying to pass. But I take all of my training and use it. I weave in and out, bringing myself away from every other rider and soaring past all of them.

A sense of pride blankets me as I look ahead to the dark, open road. Another racer who’s on a shiny, sparkling maroon bike races past me around a tight curve, and I pull the throttle back. I want this too much to allow anyone to take it from me.

I ease up when I need to and go full force when necessary.

The tightest curve is coming up, and it’s my last chance before the short stretch of runway to the finish line. I need to get past him, now.

My knees nearly scrape the ground as I lean, going much too fast. He peers his helmet back when I’m near his tail.

When we both maneuver out of the turn and are facing straight, there’s nothing around but the two of us. I make it right beside him, and that’s when he swerves at me. I nearly lose all control, my body beginning to shake from flashbacks.

I’m edging a long, rocky cliff that ends at the ocean. This isn’t a game; this is my fucking life.

I could let this slow me down, stop me. But I persist, not allowing his grimy tactics to deter my soul. He thinks he lost me, but at the last moment I go into a wheelie with how fast my bike takes off down the straightaway.