Page 33 of False Start

“We’re not working on a solid friendship. We’re barely acquaintances.”

“We played music bingo together!” I pressed a clenched fist to my chest, leaning away from Kit dramatically.

She pursed her lips, expression bored. “Fine, close acquaintances. I’m hoping to make it out of this trip without hurting him, mentally or physically.”

“See what I mean? This friendship is already underway.” I crowded Kit’s space, knocking her shoulder with mine. “And don’t worry. I’m pretty tough. It’d be hard to hurt me.”

“And yet you have such a fragile little ego.”

“That’s great,” Ashley set down her phone. “It’s so nice to meet you both. We’ll catch up with you later in the race. Good luck out there!”

“You know,” I said, loping an arm around Kit as we left. “That was really helpful. Like therapy, except we paid it in the form of an entry fee. I think this race is going to bring us together.”

“This race isn’t some turning point for our friendship,” Kit groaned, but didn’t pull away. “It’s a car rally. It’s not a spiritual journey or an emotional awakening. It’s a rally for shitty cars and dumb roadside attractions. That’s it!”

“But if we happen to have a spiritual journey at the same time…”

“No. No journeys. No epiphanies. No upending our world view. If we don’t get to ride to the top of the big sombrero at South of the Border, I’m going to be livid. That’s all I want out of this experience.”

“So that’s what this is about? Huge inanimate objects?”

“Exactly.”

“Good.” I dropped my arm from her shoulder, giving her a soft punch before pulling away. “Because that’s the exact kind of stubbornness you need before having a giant revelation in the middle of a car rally.”

She dropped her head, massaging her temple with her fingers. “That’s it. I can do this alone. Find another team.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I really do. I’m going to check the fluids and make sure we didn’t lose anything on the ride here. You go schmooze with the other teams.”

“Schmooze? Do I look like your eighty-year-old uncle? I don’t schmooze.”

She barked out a laugh. “You can’t drive stick, and you can’t navigate. At the very least, you can schmooze. Be friendly withthe other teams and make nice with that cute judge some more. We need the points.”

I glanced back at the judge, now interviewing a group of college guys dressed as different Nicolas Cage characters. “You think she’s into me? I thought we were doing a harmless flirting thing, and she was with that other judge, but I’m notnotinterested.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Ew.”

“I’m willing to do anything to help this team out.”

“I’ve noticed,” Kit said dryly as she popped the hood of the car, leaning underneath to pull out the dipstick.

Dismissed, I wandered into the middle of the parking lot, surveying the field. Kit was right about one thing: we wouldn’t win. All the cars looked like they were one slight jostle away from blowing up on the highway. And, in terms of preparedness, Kit and I fell firmly in last place. The other teams had costumes, carefully packed supplies, and large road maps with potential stops. Probably even a team name.

A couple dressed like Barbie and Ken driving a bright pink Geo Metro scoured a map of the Eastern seaboard, the paper already marked with potential stops and routes. I sidled up beside them, glancing over their shoulder at the map.

“Wow, you all came to play, huh?” I said, tucking my hands in my pockets and plastering on my friendliest smile.

“This is our third rally. We’re aiming to place,” Barbie said. She turned around, eyes roving my body. “You know you get extra points for a theme, right?”

“I’m a late addition. I just read the rules on the way here,” I admitted.

“Costumes aren’t everything,” Ken said. His eyes narrowed. “Hey, do I know you?”

“Trent Vogt.” I held out a hand and he took it in a firm handshake.

“Mike, and this is my girlfriend, Hayden. You play for the Breakers, right?”

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