Chapter 2
Jett
I haven’t had a window seat the last several times I’ve flown on a plane, so I treat today like it’s special, because it is. Keanna has never flown anywhere, and I keep telling her I’ll make sure she gets the window seat when we finally go somewhere together. Today, it’s just me. I’m tucked up against the wall of the plane, my forehead resting next to the window. The flight to California is only half full, and I’ve got the whole row of three seats to myself. This sure beats that time I was sandwiched between two large men who only liked breathing through their mouths.
I snap a picture of the clouds and send it to Keanna. She doesn’t read it right away, so she must still be in her exams at the college.
She has a 4.0 GPA and I’m really proud of her, even though at times I feel like maybe she’s jealous that I’m not in college and she is. I did at least finish my senior year of high school, even though I did homeschooling which my mom totally hated. Now technically, I could be in college like her, since I graduated early, but I’m not. School isn’t on my radar right now. I’m focusing on motocross.
Like my dad says, if you get famous enough as a racer, you don’t need an education. No yet, at least. If all goes according to my plan, I’ll race professionally for at least ten years, hopefully fifteen. Then, after a career of professional motocross, I can do anything I want. I’ll have the money and just enough fame to get endorsements and side gigs.
I can settle down with Keanna, maybe take over my dad’s business and teach kids how to become fast racers themselves. After my racing career is over—and it always ends way too soon because our bodies get old and racing is a young man’s game—then I can look into college.
Right now, the idea of sitting in classes and writing essays and shit sounds like my idea of a nightmare. No, thanks.
But Keanna is going, and she just finished her first semester, and I’m really proud of her. She doesn’t really have to do anything if she doesn’t want to. I already have enough money to take care of us, and her parents are my parents’ best friends, and they wouldn’t ever kick her out of the house or anything. So maybe that’s why I really admire my girlfriend. She does the things she doesn’t have to. She goes to college, and works at The Track, and takes care of her little brother.
I smile despite myself and send her another snapchat. This time it’s a picture of myself, even though I’m not really a fan of taking selfies. They make her smile, so I do it when we’re not together.
As soon as the plane lands, a nervous energy latches onto my insides. Now that I’m here, I have to be in race mode. This Sunday is the start of the Fireframe Summer Nationals, a ten race series that takes place every Sunday for the next two and a half months. Each race is at a different track in a different state, and the first one is here in Anaheim, California. It also happens to be the headquarters for Team Loco, my motocross team.
After being an intern all of last year, I proved myself enough to get bumped up to a real team member. Now I’m a rookie, along with three other guys who are all equally badass on the track, even though I’d rather not admit that fact. Back in Texas, I’m the badass racer.
But these guys are all the badass racer of their home state, and now we’re all battling each other in the Fireframe Nationals for a spot at racing supercross in the fall.
Team Loco hasn’t exactly said it out right, but my manager Marcus has made it clear that only one of the rookies gets to race for Team Loco in this year’s supercross season, so even if we don’t like it, that means we’re all in a battle against each other, too. We are teammates and competitors.
Supercross is the ultimate professional dream. The races are held in stadiums all across the country, and it’s where the famous, most well-known racers battle it out for number one. Supercross season is where even people who otherwise know nothing about dirt bikes come out once a year to watch us race.
And I want it to be me.
I like the other rookies on my team. Zach, Clay, and Aiden are all great guys with a lifetime of amateur motocross championships to their name, just like me. So, no offense to them, but when it comes time for Marcus to choose which rookie gets to race under the Team Loco name this year—I hope it’s me.
There’s a car waiting for me at LAX. The driver stands there in his pressed suit, holding a sign that says JETT ADAMS. I’m not gonna lie, I feel like a total badass as I approach him like I’m someone worth holding a sign for.
“I’m Jett,” I say, trying to sound cool and normal even though this is totally awesome.
“Let me get your bags, sir.” The guy takes my suitcase and reaches for my gear bag, which is twice as big.
“I’ve got this one,” I say, holding onto the strap. This bag contains my precious cargo. Team Loco has riding gear and helmets and boots for me already at the track, but this bag has my lucky underwear (the pair I was wearing the day I first kissed Keanna), my laptop and my phone charger. I can’t risk letting anyone else touch the bag but me.
I’m dropped off at a five star hotel in Anaheim, and there’s a room waiting for me. I get my key card from the front desk and make my way up to the fifth floor, all the while wishing Keanna was with me. We get plenty of alone time at home, but alone time in a hotel in Cali? That would be fuckin’ awesome.
I drop my suitcases and do a sweep of my hotel room. I’m only here for two nights, but I wish it was longer. This place is fucking lit. A huge flat screen television, a balcony overlooking the gorgeous mountains in Cali, and the bathroom is pretty much solid marble with fancy shit inside it. The shower has a built in radio and TV. A TV in the shower. It doesn’t get much more five star than that.
I grab a soda from the mini fridge, then drop to the plush mattress and FaceTime Keanna.
She ignores it, and then calls me back on a regular call. “Hey babe,” I say. “I tried Face Timing you.”
“Trust me, you don’t want to see me like this,” she says. “I’m crazy ugly right now. Just spent an hour playing in the sand with Elijah and I’m sweaty and gross.”
I blow a raspberry. “It’s literally, physically, scientifically impossible for you to be ugly.”
“Weird… because it’s totally happening right now!” she says sarcastically. “I look gross.”
“You’re always beautiful.”
“Whatever.”
