Girl on Track

42| Secrets and lies

I'm jerked awake from a terrible nightmare by a pain in my chest. I try to sit up, gently at first, but this proves too painful. Laying back down, I stare at the ceiling and try to breathe in before wincing.

I'd dreamt of that night again, replaying the way Dad flew off his bike and straight into the barrier. The way he'd been rushed to the hospital, barely alive. Last night that could have been me. The thought should be enough to want to lock away my bike and never ride again, but either I'm reckless or plain stupid because I can't just walk away.

Instead, I find the strength to pull myself up, ignore the pain, and tiptoe downstairs. It's early enough that my parents are fast asleep in their room, so I head into the kitchen and rummage through the cupboard for some painkillers.

Maybe it's the ten hours of sleep I'd managed to get, but the pain isn't as bad this morning. I convince myself that riding will be fine, that I won't push myself too hard, and swallow down my painkillers. Then I head to the bathroom and lift up my tank top, wincing at the sight of my ribs. Even if the pain has lessened, my stomach looks worse than ever –a canvas of mottled bruises that sit like poison beneath my skin. I swallow hard and pull down top, suddenly feeling sick. If my parents were to see me now, I'd never be let out of their sight.

The rest of the morning goes by in a blur. Tyler messages several times to see if I'm okay, and I lie every time, telling him I'm just a little bruised – nothing that won't heal within a day or two. He tells me we'll take it easy for today but to still meet him at the track tonight, which is fine with me. I'm praying that the less I do today, the less it will hurt tomorrow.

When my parents wake up, Mom cooks up a hearty breakfast of pancakes while Dad quizzes me further about last night's race. I tell them I don't want to talk about it anymore – reliving that crash is more than I can handle –  so Mom changes the subject to her cupcakes. One of her clients is throwing a bachelor party and wants the cakes to resemble boobs. When Dad says he's happy to lend a helping hand, Mom swats him with the spatula.

"I'm taking your father for a checkup today," Mom says, "but we were thinking of grabbing some food after. Want to come?"

I glance at Dad, who almost looks hopeful at the thought of his checkup. Mom's started to convince him that maybe there's hope, and maybe there is, but if there isn't, it's going to break him.

"Yeah," I say, "sure. Just call me when you're finished."

The pair go back to discussing cupcakes, and when I've finished my breakfast, I wait until they've turned around before hoisting myself off my stool. The painkillers have kicked in so it doesn't hurt as bad, but I still can't help but wince.

"Have a good day at school, honey," Mom says.

"Go get 'em, tiger," Dad says after.

I roll my eyes and head into the garage before pulling out my bike. It takes a few moments to gather the courage, but then I slip on my helmet and climb onto the seat, letting out a hiss of air. Settling into position, I wait a few minutes for the pain to subside and kickstart my bike.

As soon as I pull onto the street, I find my rhythm. The pain, to my surprise, isn't so bad and only kicks in when I shift out of position, so I keep my back stiff and try to keep the pressure off. This is fine, I think as I pick up my speed. Everything is fine.

At lunch, Vanessa and Niko spent what feels like hours quizzing me about the race, and while I'd planned to keep what happened to myself, they finally break me.

"Fine, I lost," I say to my plate full of fries, because clearly my ego is bruised. Maybe Tyler is right after all – my pride is going to get me in trouble one day – no doubt sooner than I think. "I came off my bike, and I lost. Now all of the other riders are going to think I'm weak." Their faces soften, and I can see the flash of pity in their eyes as I continue to nibble on my food.