Page 38 of My Fault
I knew what he was thinking: that he could beat me like a cheap rug.Well, I hate to tell you, Ronnie, but I forgot to mention that you’re racing against the daughter of a NASCAR champ.
The car was dope. Leather seats, impeccable body, and the roar of that motor…what a pleasure, what memories. I slid it into gear and rolled slowly to the starting line. No one knew who was inside. No one but my adversary.
I smiled like a little kid. I didn’t want to think about the consequences, didn’t want to think of how Nick would probably kill me; I just wanted to have fun.
Come on, Ronnie, you hard-ass.
When the flags gave the signal, I stomped the accelerator, and in under a second, I was off. It was moving, liberating, relaxing, scary… Nothing could have been better. I hadn’t done anything like that in years. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d done something for me, something I liked, something that didn’t have to do with my mom or her husband or my ex-boyfriend or ex-best friend. I was free, free as a bird, and in a state of pure ecstasy.
Ronnie was gunning it next to me. I stepped down harder and shouted like crazy as I glided past the first curve, leaving him behind.
“Hell yes!” I shouted.
But the second curve was fast approaching, and that was the tough one. So I asked myself the million-dollar question: slow down and avoid danger or push it to the limit and risk running off the track?
Needless to say, I chose the second.
I accelerated while calculating the absolute minimum I could slow down at the key moment to round the curve in safety.
When I saw it up close, I realized it was tighter than I’d thought at first. Shit. I was going to start spinning out. I braked and jerked the wheel with all my strength, heard the sand hitting the car, the tires squealing under the abuse.
I clenched my jaw and shouted when I made it through without killing myself. The motor growled, telling me to go faster, and who was I to say no?
“Yes!” I shrieked, seeing Ronnie behind me, almost on my bumper. In his reflection in the mirror, his face was enraged. He knew he was losing.
“Suck it!” I shouted in bliss. “All you big-shot macho dickheads can suck it!”
I’d made it through the hard part. The rest was a cakewalk. Isped up toward the finish line. Another mile or two and I had him. My heart was racing, I was thrilled… =and then Ronnie hit me from behind. I lurched forward, and the seat belt dug into my chest.
“You fucker!” I said and gripped the wheel tighter. Ronnie was a maniac; he kept slowing down and speeding up, trying to ram me again. I rocked to one side to avoid a third attempt, but he followed me, this time striking me to the right. That son of a bitch was destroying my car!
I pulled right quickly and gave him a taste of his own medicine, almost breaking off his side mirror, and when I saw he was distracted and more pissed off than ever, I put the pedal to the floor, ready to reach my destination.
Just a few feet more, three, two…then it was over. I’d crossed the finished line.
The screams were deafening; people were waving their hands and their fluorescent bandanas in the air. It was wild, the feeling of winning, knowing I’d left that thug in the dust.
I braked next to the mass of spectators, looked in the rearview, and saw Ronnie getting out of the car in fury. He kicked the door of my car. I just laughed.
Then someone appeared in my window, opened the door, and pulled me out of the interior, almost lifting me in the air.
“Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Nicholas said. He looked rabid.
“Jesus, Nicholas!”
I’d never seen him so mad. Not even when we’d fought at the party the night before and he’d been handing out beatings like they were candy. His hair was messy, it looked like he’d been pulling on it, and his gaze told me he wished I was dead and buried and he’d never have to lay eyes on me again.
I was so scared, I blurted out the first thing that came into my head: “I won, though.”
Face almost touching mine, he asked, “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?!” I was terrified, but I wasn’t going to let him cow me, so I shook and shook until he had to let me go.
“Don’t you dare yell at me.”
That rich fucker. It wasn’t like I’d wrecked his car; I’d taken perfect care of it. Whatever damage it had received was the fault of that dumbass, Ronnie. Plus, I’d won the race! I’d won!
That was when Jenna and Lion came over, leaving behind the chaos. As I pricked up my ears, I heard screaming and whistling coming from all around.
“Cheater! Cheater!”
