Dammit! Cold spire not man spear!
July 24
From: Angela
What?
July 24
To: Angela
CONS piracy. That’s what I was trying to say.
July 24
To: Angela
I give up. I’m throwing away my phone.
—
After my experience with the man who I just knew my father had sent to watch me, I tried to find Roger to complain about letting the man in the race, but couldn’t find him. Then I texted Dixon to see what he was up to (and hope he’d invite me to his room), but he didn’t answer.
In the end, I went to bed. Alone. My formerly tingly parts were glum and cheerless, and threatened to start writing emo poetry if I didn’t bring Dixon around to visit them again. It was very sad.
Today I was up early because we had the first takeoff time. I wandered into the hotel’s tiny dining area, where they had laid out a breakfast spread. Melody was alreadyat a small round table, but I knew from the previous morning’s experience not to try to talk to her until she’d had at least two cups of coffee, so I grabbed a bowl of granola and a cup of yogurt and was about to sit down at an empty table when I saw Dixon.
“Hello, stranger,” I said, setting down my food.
“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing around to make sure we weren’t overheard. Fortunately, Sam and Tabby were chowing down and both busy with their tablets, no doubt catching up on the latest news and such.
“For what?”
“Missing your text last night. I fell asleep writing in my journal. I must have been more tired than I thought.”
I glanced at the mark on his head. “You don’t still have a headache, do you?”
“No, my head is fine.” He grimaced. “Well, as fine as it ever is. But I do regret not being awake to... er... talk to you.”
“I had a lot more than talking in mind,” I said, giving him a flirtatious look that should have steamed his shorts. “I suppose, given your experience in the car, it was better that you get the rest. But tonight...”
“Tonight I definitely will not fall asleep early,” he said, his voice rumbling in a way that made me feel very warm.
“I’m delighted to hear it.” I sat down and, with an eye on the clock, hurriedly ate my breakfast. Dixon returned from the buffet with a plate of eggs and toast and a small bowl of fruit. “We’re going first today, so I can’t stay to chat long. Looks like we have a nice straight run today.”
“Hopefully without encountering any bandits,” Dixon said, touching his forehead gingerly.
“Sometimes I feel like we’re in a movie rather than filming a reality show,” I said, dabbing my lips and removing the four napkins I’d used to cover as much of my dress as was likely to get food on it. “Robbers, in-cardramas, dashing men and women in stylish costumes—I like yours today, by the way.”
Dixon looked down at his gold vest and forest green suit. “Thank you. I’m told this is what was called a one-button suit, and all the stylish gents wore it in 1907. You look nice as well. The plaid suits you.”
“It does, doesn’t it? Let me see if I can remember what the wardrobe ladies said about my outfit.” I got up and did a little twirl for him. “The skirt has six groups of four pleats each, and a bolero jacket. There is a blue silk belt, and my hat for today is a straw boater decorated with heather and yards and yards of this white net stuff that—let me tell you—sucks in all the bugs within a five-mile radius. The last part wasn’t the official description, by the way.”
“It’s very charming,” he said gravely, although I noticed a certain amount of approving heat in his eyes.
“I like it, but not as much as your pretty vest.”
“Waistcoat,” he corrected gently.
