Chapter 6
Jett
The weird thing about a broken leg is that it doesn’t hurt so much after a couple of weeks. My arms hurt more than anything because they’re sick of using the crutches, but my foot feels okay. Too bad I can’t actually walk on it yet. I have four more weeks before I can get a walking cast and even then, the doctor doesn’t want me riding a bike just yet.
This whole situation sucks balls.
Keanna’s taking college classes, so to fill the void, I’ve been doing her job at The Track almost every single day. All I have to do is sit behind the counter and deal with customers, and it’s boring as shit, but at least I feel useful. The worst part is when my friends come in to ride and I know they’ll be having a blast on the track while I’m stuck here, immobile and wasting away.
I hit the gym in the evenings, working on arms, chest, and back so I can stay at least a little bit in shape. I do everything I can to stay busy, but it doesn’t help much.
By October, I’m fighting a losing battle with depression. All I want to do is hit the track. Feel the bike underneath me, the motor roaring in my ears. I want to travel again and revel in the feel of being the first racer to fly over the finish line jump. But now Clay gets that privilege and I’m stuck at home.
The boredom is driving me crazy. I don’t know how Keanna handles working at The Track so much. Just a couple of weeks being stuck behind this counter drives me crazy. I don’t want to be inside, I want to be outside, on the track.
It is nice that I get to see my girlfriend more often, but she’s stressed with midterms and college essays and reading assignments, so she’s kind of in her own world.
On a particularly cold October day, everyone must decide to stay home because I’m stuck sitting here in the front office for three hours without seeing a single person. My mom is at home with Brooke, and Dad is giving a lesson. I’m not sure where Keanna’s parents are, but she’s in class right now, a three hour lecture on history.
I doodle on a notebook until I run out of paper and then I look around the office for something else to distract me. But there is nothing, and that heavy weight of depression that’s been lurking around the corner is closer than ever.
I can’t ride and that pisses me off.
I’m bored, and that pisses me off.
My leg isn’t healed yet, and that also pisses me off.
But none of these things are what’s causing the depression. I think it finally hit me, something I guess I’ve known my whole life but always chose to ignore. This…this boring empty day is exactly what my life would be if I didn’t have motocross.
While Keanna is getting an education and making something of herself, I’ve got nothing. What would happen if I suddenly wasn’t able to ride anymore? If I got fired, or injured too badly? I’d become a huge burden on my family. Keanna would have no reason to be with me anymore. She’d have lots of opportunities to meet college guys who are better than me and can give her the life she deserves.
I let these thoughts consume me for the next hour. Anxiety fills my thoughts, followed quickly by anger and depression. Without motocross, I am truly nothing. I can’t go off and create my own dirt bike track like my dad did. I have no skills, no talents. Just motocross.
I turn to the work computer and pull up the local college’s website. They list all of their academic programs, but nothing really stands out to me. I don’t want to study the earth, or do financial accounting, or produce music albums. I don’t want to do any of this crap.
A deeper level of panic hits me when I realize that I can’t even come up with a backup plan if everything about college doesn’t fit me. There’s not a single college degree that interests me. Plus, where would I find the time for a fallback education in case motocross doesn’t work out?
What the hell have I been thinking all my life?
Only idiots think they can become famous and keep that fame forever. I need money. A career. A backup plan.
I’m so stressed I’ve developed a migraine. I look under the front desk for some aspirin, but I can’t find any. My crutches are next to me, but the thought of hobbling down to the break room sounds like too much effort for my already exhausted brain. I lower my head to the counter and close my eyes, letting the cool stainless steel surface wash over my forehead.
“Babe?” Keanna’s voice is soft and tender, just like she is in real life.
My eyes flutter open. I don’t know how long I’ve been asleep, but my migraine is still here, thundering around in my skull. Keanna peers at me, looking overly concerned, just like she’s been since the day I got hurt. Her hand touches my back.
“Are you okay?”
I shrug and sit up slowly, the pain in my head rocketing around with the movement. “Just bored.”
Her lips press into a thin line. “You look sick.”
“My head hurts,” I add.
“What about your leg? Do you need some pain meds?”
I nod. “Please.”
