Page 12 of The Step Bet

I’ve always enjoyed his smell, even back in high school. Something he never needs to fucking know.

I smell it again, and a growl rises from my chest, like a hound being given the scent of its prey.

That extra whiff somehow makes things click into place.

I’m brimming with pride because I figured what he did: fucking sold the alternator to AAMCO. He’s been around the shop enough to hear the guys complaining about all the business that franchise’s been draining from our little mom-and-pop. I bet he got it in his head that the best way to fuck with me is to sell to them. Maybe he was even able to get more cash from them.

No, Atlas wouldn’t do something like that for cash or even just to piss me off. But then, why would he buy the damned alternator?

This is so Atlas—my messy, incoherent map. One minute we’re at McDonald’s, bonding over our shit parents, and it’s like I’m on a clear path to Phoenix. Next thing I know, I’m lost in fucking Siberia.

*

“You’re gonna befine,” my buddy Colin assures me.

After returning home from the metal yard, I took a shower to decompress before inviting him into my room to vent about my Thermo test.

In gym shorts and a crop top, I lie on my bed, tossing a football back and forth with Colin, who stands by my desk, sporting pajama bottoms and a mesh cap. As I spin the ball back to him, the tension in my chest eases. Throwing a ball around is my version of meditation.

“Yeah? What tests haveyoufailed so far?”

“All right, none, but how many more tests do you have in that class?”

“Five. And there’s a project that counts for twenty-five percent of my grade.”

“Okay, well, I know you don’t suck at math, so you know that’s more than enough to get your grade up. You don’t have to withdraw over that.”

“Colin, I was already struggling on the quizzes and homework. Thermo is a different way of thinking than I’m used to. It’s abstract, and some of this shit is damn right counterintuitive. I thought if I was good at Calc, everything else would be easy, but…”

“Yeah, you’re right. You probably just found something you suck at.”

As I catch the football, I notice the grin stretch across his face. He knows me well enough to know that’s just the sort of thing that will kick my ass into gear.

“I’m gonna think on it,” I tell him, sending the ball back to him.

There’s a knock at my door, and I call out, “Come in!”

The door opens, and a head pokes inside—Colin’s stepbrother, Ash. It’s not random chance that Colin and I became so close in high school. He knows what it’s like to have some messy family shit to deal with, and it’s what bonded us. Although, he and Ash have a totally different relationship than Atlas and me.

“Ash Ketchum!” I call out as he steps into my room. I’ve called him that since he was a freshman in high school, after he attended more than a few costume parties dressed as the renowned Pokémon-catching hottie.

Ash’s eyes widen behind his thick-rimmed glasses before he says, “Did you convert your Alpha Theta Mu shirt into a crop top?”

“We got a bad batch of spirit-wear last week, with the letters too high. I made ’em work.”

“You certainly did,” Ash says, his eyes drinking me in. Ash is bi and recently single from the girl he was seeing throughfreshman year, so I’ve noticed him doing a lot more looking around lately.

“Did you just come in here to compliment his shirt?” Colin asks.

“Ooh, so jealous.” Ash winks. “I actually need you for one of my TaskFrat challenges,” he tells Colin.

TaskFrat is a series of task games orchestrated by the Peach State frats, largely inspired by the British television seriesTaskmaster. Ash is a real whiz and participates in all the major events, but I usually stick to the big TaskFrat Xtreme Games in the spring.

Speaking of whiz…

“Hey, Ash, know any brainiacs who passed Thermo?”

A cocky smirk sweeps across his face. “You’re looking at a brainiac who passed Thermo.”

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