I turn around and walk as quickly as I can to the doors that lead outside. And then I run.
The stadium is round, and a third of the way down is where the entrance is for the racers. They’re all parked outside in the parking lot, but they have to get inside the stadium somehow, and this is how I’ll do it, too.
There are people all over the place, managers like Marcus, and other dirt bike people who put on the races. I keep my head up and I pretend that I’m totally supposed to be here and hope no one says anything.
There’s an ambulance parked back here, and right when I walk past it, two EMTs run up and climb inside. They drive the ambulance forward to the doors that lead to the stadium, and then the back door opens and a female EMT jumps out, lowering a stretcher. I see the two guys from the golf cart pull up, and they’re carrying Jett on one of those orange plastic stretcher things. My heart skips a beat and I run toward him.
“Stay back,” one of the EMTs says, holding out a hand to stop me.
My heart is racing as I try to catch a glimpse of him, but he’s got an oxygen mask on his face, and he seems really out of it. They load him into the ambulance, and I rush forward. “Please,” I say to whoever will listen. “I need to go with him!”
“Family only,” the woman says, not even looking at me in her haste to get Jett into the ambulance.
It feels a little gross, but I say what I need to say. “I’m his sister!”
She looks back at me, lifting an eyebrow as she gives me a once over. “Please!” I say. “I’m the only family member here with him.”
“Get on in,” she says.
