A new Snapchat alert pops up on my phone. It’s a photo from Mandy. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed in her dorm. An NYU pennant is taped to the wall behind her. She’s got a textbook open in her lap and she’s frowning.
Studying for a test. Kill me!
I Snap her back a video of myself rolling my eyes.You’ve got this!I write as the caption.
My chest hurts every time I see Mandy living her new fancy life in New York. She’s not only going to college, but she sees incredible new things every day. NYC is a big place with more adventures than one person could ever have. But that’s her adventure. It doesn’t feel like the place I should go.
But the thing is, nothing is calling out to me. I know I want to go somewhere, but I don’t know where.
Later, when I’ve finished eating dinner with my parents, I find myself sitting on my windowsill once again. The night sky is a clear deep blue, little stars sparkling over the Texas landscape. I gaze out, feeling such an overwhelming sense of wanting to be somewhere else, wanting to do something else.
But what?
I lean over and get my laptop from the bed and open a blank Google search. I stare at my blinking cursor for a few minutes, wondering what exact combination of words I’m looking for.
I don’t want to just be some traveling nomad who wanders around pointlessly. I want to work toward a goal of achieving something. I want to figure out what I want to do with my life. I need a purpose.
I bite my lip and type:internships that travel around the country
I scroll through pages of search results that aren’t exactly appealing. I think an internship would be a good idea because there’s no long-term commitment, and I can still go to college when the next school year starts. It’s also more likely that I can get something like that instead of a job, because when it comes to jobs, I have no college degree and my only experience is in checking out groceries. If there happens to be some traveling job that requires you to have all 400 produce codes memorized, then sign me up.
I’m about to give up on my search when something catches my eye.
OPEN INTERNSHIP FOR TEAM LOCO MOTOCROSS.
Motocross? Isn’t that dirt bikes? I remember Mandy’s little brother Sam went through a phase in junior high where he wanted a dirt bike so bad that it’s all he ever talked about. His parents wouldn’t get him one, but they did take us to a motocross race in Dallas. Mandy and I tagged along for fun, and the race was held at a football stadium. There were thousands of people there cheering for their favorite racers.
Before the races started, we got pit passes and got to walk around and see all the professional racers decked out in their colorful riding gear. Sam stood in line to get a ton of autographs on posters, but Mandy and I didn’t really care about it since we knew nothing of the sport.
I do remember that the guys were cute and the whole atmosphere was fun. They traveled around to different cities every week for a new race. They come to Dallas once a year.
I click on the link and I’m brought to a blue and silver website called Team Loco Racing. There’s a page on here for an internship. I skim through the post and I seem to fit all of the requirements.
The intern will shadow Marcus, team manager. You travel to each racing location and help the team with administrative duties. It’s an unpaid internship, but travel and lodging are covered as well as a thirty dollar a day per diem for food expenses.
This sounds awesome.
I click the link to apply and find that the deadline to apply is tomorrow. What are the odds?
I feel this giddy excitement in my veins, even though I know it’s a long shot. They probably won’t hire me—I have no skills or experience at all. I gaze outside and watch the tiny dots of car headlights driving down the county road behind my house. All those people are going somewhere.
I’ll never get out of here if I don’t at least try.
I take a deep breath and fill out the application.
Chapter 2
I pour the last bit of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into my bowl and then frown as I set the empty box on the coffee table. Damn. I just bought this three days ago, and I already need to go grocery shopping again.
“What’s that sound?” Jett’s voice fills the room, coming from my cell phone, which is on speaker next to my cereal bowl.
“Cereal,” I say, taking the bowl.
“Dude, are you still eating?”
“I’m always eating,” I say, taking a bite and sitting back on the couch.
“Hold on guys,” Marcus says, his voice deeper than Jett’s, with the rasp of an ex-chain-smoker. “I’m getting Aiden and Zach on the line.”
