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“Yeah, who knows?” I echoed, but the roar of cars passing us drowned out my words. The heat from the vehicles radiated all the way up to where we sat, like a blast of a furnace, taking me back to the past. Some sensations—the feel, the sound, the smell of the rubber, the blur of the unbelievably fast cars—never left you. Watching the race was one thing. Experiencing it in person was another level.
Troy leaned over and tapped my shoulder with a pair of headphones. “Here. You can listen to the team and get commentary on what’s going on, too.”
My head bobbed, excited to hear Axel while he worked. To get an inside “view” of the inner workings.
“Middle of the pack,” I heard. “Coming up on the 5. He’s going high—no, he’s swooping low. Go go go now!”
I cheered as Axel cleared the car to move forward. He may have started in the back, but he was steadily cutting his way through the competition.
“Where’s the 57?” Axel asked.
“He’s running tenth. Moving up, though,” the spotter reported. “Watch out. Watch out. The 11 is weaving ahead of you, trying to find his opening to pass.”
“Got it. I see him,” Axel said. “Going high.”
I stood with the crowd around me, watching Axel drift down as if he planned to go low. When the other car tried to block, Axel suddenly zipped up, going so close to the wall he should have left behind paint when he took the unexpected path. I cheered as he passed the 11 and then edged past the 57—Teddy!
Tenth! He was in the top ten!
I jumped to my feet, yelling. Axel crowed as he sped ahead, leaving Teddy a few lengths behind him.
“Yeah! He passed Teddy!” My fist pumped. I twisted to look at Molly, my eyes burning with the happy tears starting to well in them. “Oh my God!”
It was early, with half the race to go, but seeing Axel pass his old car was everything.Everything.Vindication at it’s most basic.Eat that dust, Darius.
Thirty-Seven
Axel
I wasn’t out to win.
Okay,of course, I wanted to win. But mostly, I had a point to prove. I was a better driver than that betraying ass-kisser my uncle had replaced me with. Finishing anywhere in the field ahead of Teddy would be a victory in my book. So far, with luck, skill, and a fuck-ton of serendipity, I’d managed to find every opening I needed for moving forward from dead last to the front of the pack.
As we neared the final laps, exhilaration flowed through my veins, but my body was tense yet tired, dehydrated and damn hot. Sweat drenched me while I kept my focus trained to every little movement ahead of me.
Staying in third for most of the final quarter of the race fueled my determination to finish ahead of the Pendleton team. I didn’t doubt Teddy and I would exchange paint when he tried to pass me before the end of this thing. He’d stayed right on my ass ever since I passed him. But he wasn’t getting ahead of me, and there was no way I’d let him bump and spin me.
Yeah, there wasn’t a lot I could control when it came to wrecks, but sheer determination had to count for something.
Knowing my family and Bristol—but especially Bristol—watched from the stands ratcheted up my need to do well. So did all the bullshit I’d endured to get here. I couldn’t let that distract me, though.
I pushed it all out of my head as best as I could. I had too many other things demanding attention. My mind couldn’t stray to anything but the car, the track and the information funneling in from my team.
“How’re you feeling?” my new chief, Jon Paulson, asked. Jon and I had meshed like a pair of Legos this week, becoming an easily cohesive unit. I’d never worked so well with my old crew chief.
“Good. Car’s running good, but it’s pulling just a little to the right. Gonna need full fuel on the pit.” Sometimes, teams did a partial fill and conserved gas to get to the end, but I didn’t see that as part of my strategy this afternoon. Not with Teddy hot on my ass the whole time.
“We have to change out tires. You been on those too long to finish on them.”
“All four?”
“Yeah.”
“Whatever you think is best,” I agreed. “And Teddy?”
“He’s reporting something loose. They’re gonna have to take a quick look—at least, theyshould—when he comes in. Might buy a couple seconds on him.”
“You think?”
