Page 60 of The Knight

"Show me your dirt bikes, Connally. Let's have some fun."

* * *

I should've known there would be alcohol.

Tanner has a can of what's ostensibly seltzer but is clearly alcoholic based on the way he keeps pausing between runs to drink it down. The athletics director, who's supposed to be supervising us, doesn't seem to notice or care—he's standing a good hundred feet away, at the edge of the dirt-packed race course, talking on his cell phone. The senator's son drinks half a can of something with a cherry on it without even being noticed.

"C'mon," he cajoles, as I do another tepid loop on the bike I borrowed, "get down in the pit with me and do some tricks."

He brought me to a tricked-out race course for dirt biking, complete with a long flat loop to race around and several hills to jump off of. The course stretches out as far as my eye can see, a strange and unnatural part of the Connecticut landscape. For all I know Georgia Connally built it for his son. It's certainly got quite the drop off from the flat area I've been testing my bike skills on and the pit where Tanner has been doing tricks.

Eyeing the incline, I feel my stomach go all wobbly. "I thought we were going to bike in some field or something. Or down a dirt road. Not... this."

"I can find a dirt road for you, if you want." Tanner aims a white flash of a grin at me, then glances over at the glorified gym teacher. "We'll just have to ditch the help. Or pay him off."

Suede, the official Director of Athletics Activities at Coleridge, shoots a frown in Tanner's direction. "What's that?"

Tanner calls out, "The girl wants to bike that way." He points across the road from us, towards a field a mile long and a gravel road that vanishes between the trees. "We'll come back in an hour or two. Maybe more."

The wink he sends my way makes it clear what the "more" is meant to be, but for some reason I don't get flustered or irritated. I know by now when to take Tanner seriously and when to just ignore him. He's trying to lighten the mood more than anything, because he saw what happened between me and Lukas, and knows what's going to happen in just over a week when I testify.

I still don't know if I've properly explained to my mom and Wally what the testifying means. They know I witnessed something, and they know I'm the Jane Doe in the Ferdinand Von Hassell case. But they have no idea the danger I'm facing. I had to tell my mom I had too much homework to come back to Wayborne for spring break, a lie that stuck in my throat like a clenched fist.

More than anything, I want someone I can trust and confide in about this. Even Holly doesn't know it's me who's testifying—though I think she suspects. Georgia has managed to keep that secret. Until I tell her, or someone back home, the only people I have who know the truth are Georgia and the Elites.

What a cold shoulder to rely on for comfort.

"Alright." The athletics director eyes each of us, and apparently decides that as long as we come home alive, he doesn't care what else happens. "Be back in ninety minutes. No more. None of this hour or two shit. Got it?"

Tanner grins like the cat who got the canary. "Got it. Let's go, Brenna."

We ride our dirt bikes across the road, me at a slower clip than him, my hands squeezing tight on the handlebars. Unlike Tanner I'm wearing a helmet, and my vision of his bike on the road ahead of me makes him seem like a dark silhouette, leading me astray. As we reach the dirt road and he stops, I push the visor up so I can see him better.

"Let me catch up!"

He slows his pace for me, the dappled overhead sun shining spots of gold on his face and neck, turning a boy into something else before my eyes, something wild and free like a forest sprite. For a moment, seemingly unaware he's being watched, Tanner pauses on the road and tilts his head up towards the canopy overhead, the long stretch of his throat vulnerable. A kind of peace falls over his face, and I wonder if I'm imagining things, or if sadness briefly changes his mouth into the shape of a sigh.

The expression leaves, and he shoots a grin over his shoulder at me. "Keep up, Wilder! I don't have all day."

Rolling my eyes, I look down at my bike and decide it's now or never. Time to rev the engine and prove that I can keep up with even the wildest of boys.

I can feel my brother's shadow spirit at my back, egging me on, his hands clenched on the handlebars next to mine, his voice goading and teasing. As Tanner calls out, "Let's go!" I can't tell if it's his voice or the echo of my brother's that I hear.

Turning the engine all the way up, I let the bike loose, aiming for the road ahead of Tanner, right where it widens. As I pass him he lets out a holler of delight, his voice a wild whoop tinged with an unfixed drawl of an accent that his father has no doubt given up on getting rid of. A moment later I hear the roar of his bike behind me, and know he's fast on my tail.

As the road bends and we leave the world behind, I forget everything.

Who I am.

Who he is.

What I've lost.

What I've yet to gain.

I'm just a girl with a wild scream strangled in my throat, the wind whipping my clothing back, an engine warm and roaring between my legs. Gravel sprays beneath the bike's tires, and I let the scream out of my throat, yelling as loud as I can into the empty abandoned wilderness.

Tanner's voice joins mine, whooping so loud it echoes through the trees around us, filling the empty spaces and bouncing back. Electricity tingles in my fingertips and toes, and I grin even as the acceleration forces the visor of my helmet down and cuts off part of the light of the world.

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