Page 51 of False Start

“Sid’s Aviation would totally let us set it up there if we had one,” Sean chimed in.

“If…and according to my search,” Marty said, holding up her phone. “They cost almost as much as one year running Crossroads so we can just get that idea right out of our heads.”

“It was a pipe dream anyway. We need real ways to capture dollars in a town where bake sales, auctions, and spaghetti suppers rule. That kind of shit is great, but not for the kind of money we’re looking for. We aren’t trying to fill a piggy bank, for fuck’s sake,” Rory said.

Zara nodded toward the bar. “Patti used to do banked track…maybe she knows where there might be one.”

“Nothing is near here and I would have thought if there was one, we would have heard about it by now. Even if there was one in Boston, you’re talking a four-hour drive,” I said.

“And we have no experience, guys. Seriously, a few weeks on a banked track, even if we could find one to practice on, it’s not going to be enough to have a shot. And who would coach us?” Sean asked.

“Maybe Patti would,” Zara said.

“Except she’s got a business to run. Listen, I love Patti and all, but she’s already spending too much time here. She’s been stretched thin with the holidays coming and the extra crowds, covering shifts when bartenders don’t show. I’ve tried to be available to help, but sometimes by the time I get here, she’s wrung out,” Rory said, casting a worried glance at Patti behind the bar.

I spied Patti over my shoulder, taking in everything. She leaned over the counter, attitude in her cocked hip and crooked grin. But if I looked closely, really looked, I spotted the way her smile slipped a little too soon, the way she rubbed at her temples, and the slump of her shoulders as she pulled on tap handles, filling beer orders.

Patti could offer knowledge, but when it came to hours wrangling a derby team, she just wouldn’t be up to it. Not that I’d ever dare say the words outright.

If she caught wind that I even noticed a hint of exhaustion on her face, she’d mount my ass over the bar with her derby memorabilia.

“We need to think realistically, guys. Let’s start with sponsorships from our employers. Maybe we can get something going there, especially when we tell them that Patti is putting up 10K for the cause. They might just follow suit,” I said.

“It’s worth a shot, but this is a hard time of year with Christmas coming in a couple of weeks. But maybe we get them excited about some last-minute tax deductions?” Rory said with a glance at Marty.

Marty stopped tapping her fingers on the table and shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

We spent the next hour making a list of employers and agreed to check in with one another tomorrow to determine if we were getting any nibbles.

One by one we said our goodbyes after our first round. No one wanted to reject Patti’s offer of free drinks for the night, but none of us felt right about taking advantage either.

For a few minutes, at least…while we made the list, a buzz of excitement hummed over our group.

We could do this. We had a starting point.

By the time the list was made, and we all stared down at it, the buzz had morphed into the worry settling over us. Like we all knew this might be our only decent shot.

None of us mentioned the obstacles with our plan. How some companies had a process for this and getting an answer could take months or longer. Time the kids didn’t have.

This was it. We had no plan B.

I took a trembling breath.

When you didn’t have a plan B, you ended up at the mercy of others. You ended up packing your meager belongings and piling them high in the trunk and back seat of a rusted-out sedan.

With no plan B, your mother tells you this is another adventure. New places. New people.

She tells you that you’ll love a new school.

You’ll have a blast making new friends.

But really, your stomach gnaws on itself in the dark while you try to keep yourself from throwing up the generic SpaghettiOs you had three hours before.

You force a smile.

You pretend to be asleep so you don’t have to lie about being excited.

When really, you’re one mile closer to the unknown and one mile farther from that little girl who thought she might have finally convinced her mom to let you sleep over. The girl you didn’t dare tell your mom about until you knew for sure.

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