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“Your mom got married?” she says, stacking a pile of hundred dollar bills on the table. I nod and place an identical stack next to it. Sunday’s regional races consisted of only kids’ classes and they were over before noon. Shelby is with me in the tower, helping count the weekend’s earnings. We are halfway through the cash box and already at nine-thousand dollars.
“She was all excited about it when I talked to her this morning.” I tell her about my earlier phone call with Mom.
“And she’s only known him a month?”
“Apparently she knew him a while ago, and they’ve only just now found each other again.” I count ten more bills. “But that’s probably a lie.”
“Wow,” is all Shelby can say. I don’t blame her.
“They’re in Vegas now, but they’re having a fancy reception party in two weeks, and she wants me to go.”
Shelby smiles with a little too much enthusiasm for the occasion. “That’ll be fun.”
“You don’t have to be so nice all the time you know.”
“Sorry.” The happy smile leaves her face. “I just don’t know what to say…I hope it works out for her.”
“It won’t.” I blow a raspberry with my tongue and grab another stack of cash from the metal box.
After the money is counted and stuffed into two bank deposit envelopes, Shelby’s mom comes upstairs and asks for a ride home. Rick is at home with the flu, and she wants to be there to take care of him. Ash and their little brother Shawn were going to take advantage of the free practice for the rest of the day, so Shelby asks me to watch after them in her absence. She winks as she says it, and I know what she really means.
She thinks I should get to know Ash better and realize that I like him instead of Ryan. But with Shelby gone, I can’t see myself being comfortable around him – especially after yesterday.
I walk around the pits for some fresh air after being stuck in the tower all morning. It might be my imagination, but is everyone looking at me? Maybe it’s because I’m over-dressed for a hot and dirty motocross track. I had to dress nice in case Ryan’s beautiful self decides to show up and sweep me off my feet and bury me in the depths of his undying love. The closest I came to seeing him yesterday was when I watched him lose to Ash during their race. He never came to talk to me, and when I finally left the tower for the day, he was gone.
The tiny, horned and pitch-fork wielding voice in my head tells me he was avoiding me because he changed his mind about liking me after our kiss. I wait for the angelic voice to tell me that everything is all right, that Ryan must be humiliated over losing the race and that’s why he jetted out of here so fast. That voice never speaks up, and my level of worry increases ten-fold.
I pat my back pocket to double check that my phone is still there. It is. And although it hasn’t beeped all day, I still check for a missed text message or call. There is nothing though, only a photo of Teig and me wearing dirt bike gloves and making goofy faces as my wallpaper. I think about texting Ryan first, saying something about missing him yesterday, but girls don’t text first. It isn’t fair, but that’s how it is.
Ash’s truck has two dirt bike stands next to it but no bikes. I search for him on the track and see his bright blue helmet sink into a turn and disappear behind the tall berm of dirt. I don’t know what color of bike or gear his little brother has, but he’s probably out there somewhere, trying to avoid the big bikes.
Teig hates riding with the big bikes, but since this is open practice they all ride together. There is a small track for little bikes but Teig made it clear that the “baby track” was too juvenile for him, since the jumps are merely two-foot-tall hills.
The bleachers next to the baby track are empty, so I sit here and make a mental pro and con list about the consequences of texting Ryan first. Teig was right about this being a baby track. There are two kids riding around the small trail as slowly as if they were pedaling a bicycle. I am as bored watching as they must be riding that slow.
I run my thumb over the square buttons on my cell phone. Then I press New Message and add Ryan’s name. There are a million ways to write hello but I can’t think of a single one that sounds appropriate. It needs to be casual and portray me as being a laid-back kind of girl, one who doesn’t wait around all day to hear from him. I won’t even mention that I miss him.
Seven and a half minutes later I have the perfect message on my screen: Hey you, what’s up? I take a deep breath.
I press send.
My phone rings.
It’s Felicia. I crawl back into my skin, take a deep breath to make my hands stop shaking, and answer.
She isn’t calling to check up on me, but to tell me about the new guy she’s dating. He is a junior in college and works as a bartender. Her mother absolutely hates him and therefore Felicia loves him. I ask if he has any muscles.
“What?” she asks, “Since when do you like muscles? I thought you had a thing for guys in skinny jeans who rock out in garage bands.”
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“That was before I was introduced to the wonderful world of motocross.” I struggle to listen for a beep signaling Ryan’s reply. “This place is crawling with sexy guys, and most of them have muscles. So, yeah, muscles are my thing now.”
“It’s crawling with guys? I’ll be there in four hours.”
I let her tell me every detail about her new crush before delving into the details of mine. When I tell her about the kiss, she squeals in delight, unlike Shelby.
“I can’t believe you got a guy to like you so quickly.” She’s jealous, I can sense it in her voice. It’s probably best if I don’t tell her about Ash. Soon we’re away from the topic of boys and dissecting my mother’s motives for marrying a man half her age.
