Page 10 of Drifting

Amber rises and walks over to where Cin stands and hugs her, then she walks over and hugs me, too. “Thank you for telling me about your secret.” She pulls back to wink. “Don’t worry, it’s safe with me.”

“Looks like I missed something important,” Mark says as he puts food on the table.

“Not really,” Ricky says. “You already know about it.”

“Hi, I’m Shelby” I hold my hand out to the new guy who’s been cooking our food. “And this is my cousin, Cin.”

Mark’s face turns red. “Sorry. This is Robert.”

Robert shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’ve been to a couple of your races. You’re good.”

“Thanks.” We sit down.

“Robert owns a Mexican food truck. Do you think Gary will let him sell food during the final race?” Mark asks, making doe eyes at Robert.

“Don’t know,” I say. “Call him. You have his number.”

The food looks delicious and smells even better, but I’m not hungry at all.

Around me, everyone digs in and compliments Robert.

I grab a small chicken leg, take a bite, but mostly push the rest of my food around. While everyone else chats around the table, I sit quietly.

Ricky hands me a beer, which is what I usually drink with BBQ Chicken, but I shake my head. “Can I just get a water?”

Ricky’s thick, blond eyebrow pops up, once again surprised by my out of character behavior.

I give him a warm smile, hoping that will satisfy him for now, and he reaches into the cooler, then hands me a water.

As the night passes and we all move back to sit around the fire, I feel worse. I try to hide my sneezing and coughing by blaming it on allergies.

“Shelby, are you okay?” Billy asks after a series of sneezes. “You look pale, and you didn’t eat much.”

“I’m fine,” I lie and pat his arm.

The rest of the evening, I stay quiet as they talk shop, and every time someone asks if I’m all right, I smile and say, “Of course.”

By Tuesday, though, I can’t hide it anymore. My whole-body aches, and sweat beads across my forehead.

Cin makes me go to a free clinic where they filled a perscription of antibiotics and tell me to get rest and drink plenty of fluids.

It’s a good thing school’s over. There’s no way, with this fever, that I could have passed my finals.

CHAPTER FOUR

On Friday night, we return to the back parking lot behind the school to race for the finals. I spent most of the week in bed, getting over my damn flu. While I feel better, I’m nowhere near one-hundred percent.

As I lean against Little Devil, waiting for Ricky to wrap up the final analysis of the car, that tickling sensation in the back of my throat returns, causing a hacking and sneezing fit. For some reason, the gods are determined to throw a wrench in my straightforward victory by forcing me to compete while dealing with the flu.

Shivering, I pull my leather jacket tighter around me.

Ricky’s sandy-blond head pops up from around the hood. “Trouble, you sure you can race today? You still sound sick, and you’re wearing your jacket when it’s seventy degrees out.”

Cin rounds the rear of the car, giving me the evil eye. “She knows damn well she shouldn’t be here tonight. She still has a damn fever.”

Over the past week, my temp had bounced between 100 and 101.5. When I took it before we left, it had dropped to 99.97. So, while I still have a temp, it’s nowhere near what it was.

I rub my temples. I need to get my head in the race. I also need to get these guys off my ass and back to work.

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