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I have nothing against Heather. Anyone can see how much she adores Atlas. We’ve known her our whole lives. She’s literally the girl next door. Sometimes I just wish my twin hadn’t gotten so serious so quick with her. He says he knows she’s the one, and if he’s happy, I’m happy for him. But how can you marry someone, how can you choose forever, without knowing anyone else?

I’ve dated a few girls, nothing serious so far. But I think learning what you don’t want is just as important as knowing what you think you want.

“Ready to take Bridgeport?” Atlas clasps my shoulder, passing me my helmet.

I smile at my twin brother. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Heather gone to sit with Dad and Chance?”

He nods. “Yeah. She was gonna go powder her nose or something first.”

“Girls,” I chuckle. “I’ll never understand why they go to the bathroom together.”

My brother shrugs. “I think it’s a safety in numbers thing. Chance asked her to go after Zara, anyway. Fox has been blowing up her phone all morning with text messages. He should be getting ready for the race,” he says as we hear the five-minute call. “But it’s better safe than sorry. That guy’s a fucking loose cannon.”

As if summoned by Atlas’s words, we see Fox riding past our garage on his way to the starting line. His face is covered by his all black helmet, but he flips us off on his way out of the racers’ paddock area.

“What a fucking douche.” My brother snorts, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah. I never liked him. He’s always rude on and off the track. But I had no idea he was a violent piece of shit.”

Atlas’s eyes search mine; it’s like looking into a mirror and I know immediately what he wants to say.

“Don’t worry, I know the fucker has it out for me after I kicked his ass yesterday. I can take him.”

He nods. “I have no doubt you can, brother. Just be careful though, ok? We have just a couple of races to finish and win the League and then we’re off to Europe. Heather can’t wait to visit on every school break. We don’t want an injury to derail our dreams.”

I reassure him. “I’ve got it. If that motherfucker wants to hurt me, he’s gonna have to catch me first. We both know that I’m way faster than him.”

Atlas dons his helmet. “You’re right. Just watch out, is all I’m saying. I have a bad feeling about this race.”

His words sound ominous, but I shake that feeling off.

It’s my biggest regret. I should have told him to sit this race out.

I should have told him to go get Chance and have him finish this one for our team; after all, he qualified and got the pole position yesterday.

Instead, I make my way to the starting line and take my spot behind my brother.

Bridgeport is a relatively short race; twenty laps for a total of sixty miles. The track has a shape that resembles an hourglass or two joined funnels, but it’s warped like in a surrealist painting. The most challenging part is where the track narrows in the middle; the two sections of track that form the neck of the hourglass are separated by a small patch of grass. Barriers should have been erected for safety reasons, and if this was a MotoGP event, there would have been some extra safety measures in place.

The Super League is relatively new and while the organizers claim that safety is at the forefront of their plans with every event, I’ve seen several things that need work.

The safety barriers in this particular racetrack are one of those things.

I focus on the race that’s about to start. Another racer tied with Chance yesterday and earned the pole position, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

If he doesn’t show, that gives me an advantage because I have just Atlas to pass to get to the front.

Of course, mine is just wishful thinking. The new guy shows up on an all black Aprilia.

He doesn’t have the best bike on the track. That model is fairly old, and unless they modified it to an inch of its life, it’s no match for our cutting-edge motorcycles.

However, the guy is skilled. I have never seen anyone ride like that. Daring and yet surgical with every curve, every turn.

I’ll have to watch out for him, if I want to place on the podium today. Lev might be on my team, but he’s another contender. In theory, he should let me pass him, because I have more overall points in the league. It’s team work at its finest. But there’s no use in him letting me pass, if I have no chance to get one of the top three spots.

I’m glad when the race starts. Since last night, I’ve been in my own head way too much. Concentrating on the race is a welcome respite.

Everything goes reasonably smoothly during the first half of the race. I’m riding close to the two pole position starters. Atlas and the new guy are riding neck and neck.

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