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I know I have lost Ash forever, but at least now I have the comfort of knowing that because of Shelby’s unfailing kindness to every living creature, she is going to give me another chance. But I don’t know how that will work since she looks exactly like Ash and the smallest thought of him makes my heart clench and writhe in pain.
I wrap another picture frame and place it neatly in the box. As a general rule, students can’t bring more than a carload of personal belongings with them to the dorms. I survey my room and sigh. I will have to leave a ton of stuff behind. Dad told me my room would always be my room and I was welcome to leave stuff there. Even though I no longer work at the track, I would always be his daughter, he had said. If that were the case, then why didn’t he try harder to convince me not to move away?
Mom’s personality did a complete turnaround that day of the race. She said she had seen Ash’s heart break as he watched me from the ambulance. She claimed she literally saw the moment when his heart snapped in two: when Ryan pulled me to him and threw an arm around me, holding his trophy in the other hand and smiling at the cameras that captured the moment he was offered a factory ride by FRZ Frame Energy.
Now she is no longer bitter and spiteful. She calls me daily and urges me to move back in with her and attend community college. Though she claims to be sincere, I think she’s only acting this way because my heartbreak is the advantage she needs to get me back and hurt Dad.
I wouldn’t move in with her anyway. I don’t belong there with her new husband. I don’t belong here with my Dad who still doesn’t look me in the eye and I fear I have lost his trust forever. The only thing I can do now is start over. And I will do that in a stuffy one-bedroom dorm room with Felicia.
I continue packing, looking for only the essentials and tossing them in a box. Every time I walk past my window I look away; the last thing I want to see is a motocross track. My life will never be about motocross again.
I pick up Shelby’s letter and refold it along the creases, only after reading it one more time. At least Ash got his happy ending. Not even my Dad knew that Team Yamaha was scouting along with FRZ Frame. Even though Ash broke his collarbone, they said it was obvious he could ride and offered him a full factory contract when he healed.
He is a real professional motocross racer now. Good, I think. He deserves it. I haven’t ruined everything after all – just everything that involves me. I fall backwards on the bed and stare at the ceiling, her note still clenched in my hand.
Will I ever find anyone like Ash again?
A light tapping on my bedroom door startles me back to reality. I hear the click of the door handle turn and I shove the letter under my pillow so I won’t have to answer any curious questions. Molly enters my room wearing an apron spotted with steak sauce from tonight’s dinner. In her hand is an envelope, much like the one Shelby used to send me her letter.
I mute the TV out of courtesy and hope whatever she has to say won’t take too long. Molly isn’t mad at me per se, but she is married to my dad who is still very upset with me, and things aren’t the same between us anymore.
“You have another letter.” She hands it to me and takes a seat on the bed. I stifle a groan. Molly only lingers in my room when she wants to talk. So far I have been lucky enough to avoid parental room-lingering for a whole month; guess my luck just ran out.
“I thought kids these days only communicated through emails and text messages,” she says, staring at the envelope as I turn it over in my hand. Great, here comes the parental talk sandwich. Start with general small talk – sandwich in the personal and embarrassingly awkward thing you have to say – then end with more pointless chitchat.
“Back in my day, we wrote letters all the time,” she smiles.
“Maybe that’s why you have such pretty handwriting,” I add my part of the general small talk and wait for the meat of the sandwich to be thrown in. Her eyes dart to the boxes in the corner of the room, then to the TV.
“You made a mistake, Hana.” Wow, no wonder she can’t look me in the eyes. After an unnerving moment of silence, she sighs and grabs my hand. “People screw up. Everyone screws up in their lives…several times.” She gives my hand a squeeze that invites me to stop staring at the floor and look at her. “I want you to know I would never judge you because of it. You are a part of my family, and I love you. Girl, if you even knew the mistakes I’ve made in my life…” She shakes her head and trailed off, letting the memories of her past fill her eyes with nostalgia.
I change the subject, “What’s for dinner?”
“That sandwich your dad likes,” she says, and I snort at the mention of an actual edible sandwich. “The one with sliced-up steak, cheese and Worcestershire sauce.”
“You should really think of a name for that concoction. ‘The Molly’ or something.” We laugh, completing the parental talk sandwich.
Molly leaves, closing the door behind her. I wait to examine the envelope until I hear the echo of her footsteps descending the stairs. The scrawly letters are no match for the bubbly strokes of Shelby’s handwriting. There is no return address and it isn’t even addressed to the house, but to Mixon Motocross Park, care of Hana Fisher.
I slide my finger under the seal. Inside is a folded note written on the Grand Plaza hotel stationery and two colorful papers. I examine the first one: it is a ticket for the supercross race in Houston. SKYBOX SEATING. The other paper is an official pit pass like the one Teig has been begging my dad to buy him for weeks.
My hands tremble as I unfold the remaining paper – the note. It is only one sentence, scrawled in the center of the paper, followed by an elaborate celebrity-style signature and the number 336.
My first win won’t be any fun unless you’re there to come home with me.
Chapter 24
“I’ll give you fifty dollars for it,” Teig says, reaching for his wallet. “And I’ll still wash your truck.”
“Sorry, but no.” His offer grows exponentially each time he asks. If I hold out long enough he’ll probably offer me his soul.
“Yeah, I get it. You wanna see
Ash.” He kicks a bottle cap across the parking lot as we walk. I do feel guilty for turning him down, but Ash mailed me the pit pass, and I intend to use it. It isn’t my fault Dad forgot to buy pit passes before they sold out.
“Okay guys,” Molly says, turning to look behind us at a row of signs. “We’re in parking lot B, section 14. Let’s try to remember that for when we leave tonight.”
After spending an hour in traffic, we had finally made it to Reliant Stadium – home of the Houston Supercross. We arrive in Houston three hours before the supercross races start, but hundreds of people are already here. Many of them come early to hang out in the pits and get the professionals’ autographs, but others come to watch the practice and qualifying races that take place before the main race. That’s what my family is here for. I am here for Ash …I think.
