Girl on Track

33| Something real

The second I turn to Rico, I wish that I hadn't. His smile is gone, that pride he'd shown only moments before now replaced with disappointment. He gets to his feet, his mouth a thin line as he watches Tyler dejectedly push his bike.

"Shit," Alex mutters. Her dark eyes have softened, her mouth a thin line as she bites on her lip. Something tells me if she's worried about Tyler, things have got to be bad.

I lean against the railing and wait, my throat tight and scratchy as he parks up his bike. I'm almost certain that I don't want to witness what comes next, but like a car crash, I can't look away.

Reluctantly, Tyler runs up the steps and pauses. His eyes meet his father's, and I can tell he's considering turning back around when his father beckons him over. He takes off his helmet, running a hand through the thick of his dark hair before heading on over.

There's a second of silence as he stands before his father like a criminal awaiting his sentence. And then, "What was that?" Rico asks. A second passes. Then another. When his question doesn't elicit a response, he says, "You were better than him, Ty. How did he manage to gain on you like that?"

Tyler doesn't say anything, just stares at his dad with a stony expression. My heart hurts, and even though things are complex between us, I want nothing more than to hug him.  

"I'm talking to you, Ty," Rico says. "What the hell happened out there?"

Still silence. The others are watching with bated breath, but I can't take it anymore. If no one is going to jump to his defense – not even Alex – then I will.

"I think he did great," I say.

Tyler lifts his gaze from the floor to focus on me. He tilts his head, his eyes still dark as they carefully take me in. Then, so quickly I'm almost unsure if it happened, I'm met with a ghost of a smile.

"Great doesn't win championships," Rico says. "What was all that training for if you can't even come first in a practice circuit, Ty?"

I look between them, watching Tyler's jaw contract. He's on the verge of losing it, but somehow is managing to maintain composed. My eyes flit to Rico, who is mirroring the same expression, his jaw a hard, narrow line. It's like looking at two versions of the exact same man: one stubborn and desperate to prove himself, the other jaded and desperate to relive his past – both at the expense of each other.

"I messed up." Tyler's voice comes low, quiet, and I can hear the pain behind his words. The hurt at disappointing his father.

"Race again," Rico says. "You need to let everyone know it was a one-off."

Tyler's eyes darken. "Dad–"

"Come on, Ty," his dad pleads. "Race again."

His friends are behind him, giving each other these quick little smirks, and it finally hits me: Rico is embarrassed. He's no doubt used to bragging about his son, rubbing his wins in the faces of his friends, and now here he is, forced to watch his own son lose in front of them. And instead of being a father to Tyler in the face of his defeat, Rico is choosing to put his pride first. 

Tyler straightens up a little. Jaw clenched, he says, "Fine," before sliding on his helmet. He doesn't look back as he takes off down the steps toward the track.

"Come on," Alex says to me. "We should get back to work." She turns and heads to another table, but I can't. All I can do is nervously watch as Tyler takes his position again, this funny lump in my throat.

"Looks like your boy isn't doing so well," says a voice behind me.

"Do you ever go away?" I ask.

"This is my track," Sam says, "and Tyler's about to get his ass beat for the second time. You really think I'd miss this?"