Page 16 of Octane

Great, I’m the last one here.

As he leads me, the sun escapes behind a cloud, casting a dark shadow over the speedway. An ominous feeling creeps into my bones, but I cast it away. It’s just my nerves acting up. I raise my head a little higher and swallow my fear.

I see a group of men ahead: my teammates. I can hear hooting and laughter coming from them, joking around and having a good time. I begin to relax a little bit, glad that they appear friendly. I can’t help but feel out of place, though. They’re already in their racing gear, whereas I’m in my converse, jeans, and a leather jacket.

“I always try to get garage number seven for practices,” Jackson tells me. “It’s my favorite number.”

He looks at me with a smile on his face, obviously trying to break the ice. I offer him a smile back. I hate small talk, it always feels so uncomfortable and forced, but I need to get used to talking to him.

“I prefer the number three, but I guess seven will be fine too.”

“There’s that spitfire personality I remember,” he teases, smiling and winking at me.

As we close the distance between us and the garage, I notice a shift in the air. A cool wind begins to stir, and not even my leather jacket is thick enough to stop goosebumps from breaking out all over my body.

“These are your teammates.”

Jackson waves a hand at the men scattered around the garage then rattles off their names, even though I know who they all are without having to be introduced. Nate Allen, Robby Carson, Tim Mitchell, and Ryder Hall. My awestruck face is met with stares of varying emotion. Nate looks to be sizing me up, but I don’t know if it's in a negative or positive manner. Robby is looking at me like I just kicked a puppy. Tim appears indifferent, and Ryder greets me with a smile.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you all.” It’s all I can muster under their scrutiny.

“Everyone, this is Sawyer Stone.

“I’m honored to be a part of the team.”

“Hi Sawyer, welcome,” Nate says.

“I still can’t believe you signed a girl,” Robby scoffs.

I’m hoping that the other three don’t agree with Robby’s sentiment and are just better at keeping their opinions hidden. I stand my ground and raise my chin a little higher, though the voice inside my head is screaming for me to run away.

“I may be a girl, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a good driver or that I don’t deserve to be here.”

Ooh,that’s it, Sawyer. You really told him.

“That’s enough. What did we talk about?” Jackson reprimands.

Isthatwhy I’m the last one here? They had a meeting without me? Jackson had to call them together in advance to beg them to show me mercy? This just keeps getting better and better.

“You have a problem with your teammate, you find a way to work it out, or you don’t race. It’s as simple as that. You don’t like the way I run this team, you’re free to look for another one.”

Jackson stares at each one of them, pointedly, as he gives his speech.

“Now, get your shit together. I want everyone out on the track in five minutes or less.”

The guys move slowly as they finish zipping up their racing suits, attaching their HANS devices to their helmets before walking to their cars.

“They’ll come around,” Jackson assures me. “They’re good guys, this is just new for them.”

I nod to him. It’s all I can do since I can’t risk speaking. If I do, I believe that I will crack into a thousand pieces where I stand. My eyes flit down toward the tunnel, and I consider running.

This is it Sawyer. What you’ve been dreaming of forever. Make your choice.

I can leave right now. I can tell Jackson that this was all a big mistake, tear up my contract, and tell Daniel that he was right all along. I can let the men inside that garage know that they won and that I agree with them. I don’t belong here.

Or I can dig my heels in and keep my head held high like my father taught me to do. I can continue working hard, putting in the time, paying my dues, and not falter as I show them exactly who I am. I can prove to them that they’re wrong about me. That they don’t know anything about me. That I am strong and can accomplish any and everything I put my mind to.

“Here is your official Powell Racing gear,” Jackson says, breaking me from my internal reverie. “I’ve been holding on to it since you haven’t been able to meet up with me so I could give it to you. Even though we live in the same building.”

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