“Regan, you in here?” Dad calls.
“Yeah, I’ll be right out,” I shout from behind the closed door. I finish changing into an oversized shirt and sweatpants, and walk out to Dad sitting on the couch. I sit next to him, and he pulls me into another hug.
“Great race today, kiddo.” He lets go and I see his face beams with pride. “One step closer to Cup. Did you see Dixon’s interview after?”
I shake my head. I try to avoid Dixon’s face as much as humanly possible, especially after races. Dad hands me his phone with a video already cued up and ready for me to hit play. I tap the screen and Evan Knight’s voice fills the room.
“How do you feel about the outcome of today’s race?”The cameraman follows them, but Dixon doesn’t turn around to answer his question.“How are you feeling on your championship chances with Brady’s win today?”
The mention of my name makes him stop dead in his tracks. I have a sinking feeling this isn’t going to be good. He shakes with rage, and he’s going to tell Evan exactly what’s on his mind.
“You want to know how I feel?”he asks with a bite to his tone.“It sucks that we fought all day in a backup car to make it to the front, only to lose out in the end to someone who barely had towork at getting there. Brady was in the right place at the right time. Not sure she really deserved that win.”
My mouth drops open in disbelief. Didn’t deserve the win? He has to be joking, right? Unfortunately, there’s still more to this video.
“Do you think you can catch her points lead?”
“There’s still half a season left and time to take what I have actually worked hard for, and not just handed to me.”That’s when he turns and walks off, and the video cuts to the announcers back in the booth.
I hand Dad his phone, and I can feel my fists clenching into tight balls, my nails digging into my palms in anger.
“What the fuck? He’s such a prick. How the hell can he say that?” I shout, my anger taking over.
Dad puts a hand on my shoulder, and it brings me down. My anger losing it’s grip on me almost instantly.
“Relax. Your talent speaks volumes on that track. Don’t let Dixon or anyone else for that matter, get under your skin.”
I sink back into the couch. “You’re right. We’ll continue to kick ass next week.”
Dad smiles and raises a hand for a high five that I reciprocate. It’s corny, but it helps me forget how angry I just was.
“That’s right. Get some sleep. We leave early tomorrow.”
SIX
REGAN
“Shouldn’tyou be somewhere that’s not here?” Dad asks, taking the wrench out of my hand.
I’m still making some final adjustments on the car for the upcoming race. All week, I’ve worked with my crew to make sure the car’s setup is as perfect as possible; practicing pit stops and watching previous race footage to do whatever we can to gain every advantage possible.
“I would, but this is Daytona. I need every advantage I can get,” I say, reaching back for the wrench, but Dad pulls it away from me.
Daytona is a superspeedway with high speeds and an even higher risk of wrecking out of the race entirely if you’re not careful. Not just because of the high speeds, but this track is big enough for three, sometimes four cars racing side by side. And if one thing goes wrong in a pack like that, you can say goodbye to a good finish. It’s Dixon’s bread and butter. for He dominates these types of tracks, and secretly…they intimidate me a little bit.
“We’ve got this, kiddo. It’ll be fine.” He finally hands the wrench back to me. “Call Cindy or another friend. Hang out while you have some time.”
Cindy Mullen is my childhood best friend; we grew up down the street from each other. It’s always been tough for us to hang out during racing season, and now that Cindy has started taking college classes, she’s busier than ever. She’s still my best friend, and we both do our best to be there for each other when it counts.
Cindy moved in down the street when I was eight. She was in her driveway drawing with chalk when I was passing her house on my bike. In the strange ways kids make friends, I stopped and walked over to her and asked if I could join. We’ve been basically joined at the hip ever since.
Except for that time in high school when we didn’t talk for three months because we were fighting about a boy. A boy not even worth fighting about. Turns out, he was stringing both of us along until he ran off with the head cheerleader instead. But we talked it out after discovering what actually happened, and all was forgotten.
She was and still is my rock. Especially after Mom died. She sat with me for hours and just let me cry. Not saying anything. Just being there. We’ve been there for each of our firsts. First kisses, first boyfriends, first time we each had sex—every milestone, we’ve been there for each other.
“She’s probably out with her boyfriend of the week or something,” I say with a shrug.
“Did you ask her or are you just assuming?” he asks.
