Carmine let loose a billow of flame, and Asta ducked to avoid getting it full in the face.
‘Up!’
Carmine rose to clear the top of a false ladder and banked around the buoy. She kept him in flying position until his feet touched the ground, all the way across the finish line. She did not turn to look for Felix. She had told him she wouldn’t.
It wasn’t until she jogged Carmine to a stop that she realized something was wrong. The medics were running, and the spectators– students who hadn’t qualified for the final race of the semester– stood in the bleachers, expressions of horror plastered on their faces.
Asta raised her visor and directed Carmine back to see what had happened. She saw the medics bent over someone on the ground while Mr. Carle tried to calm Essie, who was rearing, her eyes wide and panicked. The other racers had stopped and were scattered around the course, all of them looking down at the spot where Felix lay.
Felix.
It took Asta a long time to understand. It was as if she was watching the scene unfold on a television set with bad reception. Frantic activity whirled around her, but Asta stayed frozen on the track, hollow with terror. Was he alive?
Then, suddenly, he was on the stretcher and being loaded into the ambulance. His screams tore through the still air, even as they shut the doors on him.
That was Felix. Her Felix. Her best friend. Hers.
A moment later, Landry was helping her down from the saddle, talking to her, telling her something about Felix. His words made no sense.
And then the ambulances were screaming away, sirens blaring.
There was Pikki coming at her, whipping her helmet to one side, her mouth filled with accusations.
‘You did it on purpose! You ghoulish bitch! How could you keep racing? As if your fucking ranking matters right now?’
Asta said nothing. What could she say? Look at what she had done.
‘You think you’re hot shit, Asta? You’re nothing! You’re a coward!’ And she went on like that, telling Asta about herself in ragged screams. Asta deserved shit because she was shit. Asta was pathetic. She was so desperate to protect her fucking pride that she would do anything. Even this.
Asta did not punch Pikki because she was a liar. She punched her because she was saying things aloud that Asta could not bear to hear. And she just kept saying them and saying them. Asta had to make her stop somehow.
The Silverscale Grand Prix: Day Four
Disciplinary Hearing
18
Pikki sat ramrod straight in her chair, facing the table where Flávia Gameiro, Dr. Isley, Tess Curie, and the rest sat listening to her accusations. She was dressed in the off-track uniform of her racing house: dark green athletic pants and a warm-up jacket with highlights of pink, sponsor logos all across her back.
‘Everyone knows what the Bruces are,’ Pikki said.
Nat was half out of her seat. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
‘Ms. Bruce,’ Flávia cautioned, ‘you will have your chance.’
‘So I’m just supposed to listen to this bitch talk shit about my family in the meantime?’
‘You bet your ass you are,’ Tess Curie bit back at her. ‘Now sit down and shut up.’
Tru pulled Nat back to her seat.
Above their heads, there was a dull throb of noise from the track. They were between races, but the sound of tens of thousands of feet clomping around the grandstands, changing seats or going to get refreshments, shook the building.
Gem, sitting beside Asta, fidgeted with the edge of his plastic chair. Asta didn’t want to know what he was thinking. He had believed in her. Really and truly. She had been a mess when he came to get her from Pillar, but he had been the one to convince her that she still had a future. Somehow, his believing it had made her believe it. He didn’t deserve this.
‘I saw Natalia and Asta talking to Felix Seraphin before they left the ceremonies,’ Pikki went on. ‘When I asked him what they wanted, he told me Natalia had claimed she was going to– quote–burn the city down.’
Asta couldn’t believe it. Same old story. Once again, Felix had been running his mouth to his so-called friend, Pikki.
