“It takes more than that to get kicked out, you know.”
Wrong. Not when you’ve got baggage like mine.
He pauses. “I’m pissed at you for wasting my time, but there’s no way I’m ratting you out. You do you, girl—I’m not gonna make trouble for you. You’re doing a great job of that all by yourself.”
“Like I said… that was my last race ever.”
“Sure, Hitman. Sure it was.”
And just like that, he walks away, taking with him everything I thought I might finally earn this year.
7LEWIS
If I thought my screwed-up Friday night was the low point of my weekend, that was before we played the most catastrophic game of the season. The Cardinals got absolutely demolished, 77–42. Two days later, and I’m still sick over that pathetic performance. Even the modeling class I just walked out of didn’t manage to lift my mood.
“Lewis!”
I look up. Donovan’s barreling across the park.
“Hey,” I say flatly.
“Still feeling pretty pissed, huh? That makes two of us.”
He shoulder-bumps me, and we fall into step as we pick our way over to the parking lot.
“I’ve got a ride booked. The guy better not bring up the game, I swear…”
Don shakes his head sadly. “I’m gonna go find Carrie. I deserve to be trash-talked by my vicious girlfriend.”
I cringe. “You must really hate yourself.”
“Hey, I know you don’t believe it, but when times are tough, nothing beats having a girlfriend.”
“Give me a whiny passenger any day of the week.”
“You taking Firebird with you?”
“No.”
I haven’t gotten around to telling the Campus Drivers that Amy has been blacklisted—I’m still not sure how exactly I can drop that without throwing her under the bus, but I’ll figure it out. I’ve got other stuff to deal with right now, and as long as the guys think I’m still onboarding my ex-trainee, they’ll leave me alone. Which can only be a good thing.
I drift over to my car, my eyes riveted on my phone. I always park in the same corner—I hardly even need to look where I’m going anymore.Driving will chill me out. As long as my passenger just leaves me alone and lets me work through my shit.
Don gestures farther down. “I’m parked that way—catch you at practice?”
“Yup. You go get that trophy back, champ!”
“You betcha!”
The parking lot is crammed. I weave my way through the cars, squeezing between two motorbikes and looking up to see… not my car. I start. It’s a silver Nissan Rogue, and for a moment I’m confused.Okay…I guess what with the travel to Kentucky and the way we got our asses whooped, I was maybe a little distracted. I must have parked in the wrong spot. I spin around, scanning the parking lot for clues, playing back the moment when I pulled up in my car this morning.
“You okay?”
Don is walking back over to me, and for a minute I stay quiet. I’ve got a bad feeling about this. The churning in my stomach is all I can focus on.I definitely came this way—I know I did. Past that bush, near that utility box. Then I…
Where the hell is my car?
“Are you okay, man?”
