Girl on Track

46| Replaceable

The next few days are spent recovering in bed – not just from my accident, but from everything that happened with Tyler. I keep replaying that night in the parking lot on repeat, scrutinizing every word he'd said. While the logic part of me knows that deep down he's in the right, we could have worked things out. But the fact he chose to leave after telling me I could trust him proves what I've known all along: falling for Tyler was a mistake.

Mom comes in at one point to ask if I'm well enough for school, but I barely utter a mumble. I feel bruised and pathetic as I curl in a ball, which is everything I've tried to avoid. My focus should be on racing, on finding a way to win the upcoming tournament, but instead, my thoughts are overrun by him.

Mom perches herself on the edge of my bed, silent at first, then reaches out to brush back my hair. "Does this have anything to do with that boy we caught you in the kitchen with?"

"No."

"Because if it does, one word from you and I'll send a hitman to his house."

I lift my head a little. Hating Tyler would certainly make things easier. I could focus my energy on racing instead, using my hatred to beat him. But knowing I'm the one who wrecked this makes hating him impossible  – the only one I hate is myself.

I settle back down into the folds of my duvet. "If you've got a hitman on speed dial, we've got bigger problems."

She smiles a little, but it's hard not to see the concern behind her eyes. "Well, you can have the day off today, and whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Thanks." I pause, and then, "How's Dad doing?" The checkup they'd gone to hadn't quite gone as well as they'd hoped, and while Mom has tried her best to stay optimistic, the doctor made it clear that walking again may not be in Dad's future. As a result, he's confined himself to his bedroom.

"Not so good," she says, "but we'll get through it. We always do."

We always do. She sounds so certain, like any other outcome is downright impossible, but what if we don't? What happens when the day comes that hope gives way to despair? I'm not sure my mother would cope.

"You know, I think I will go to school," I say. Anything beats sitting around overthinking.

"Good," Mom says, getting to her feet, "because my daughter is not the type to mope in bed over a boy. Plus, breakfast is ready."

As soon as she leaves, I climb out of bed, this time without as much pain, and throw on some clothes before heading downstairs. Breakfast is French toast – my favorite – with freshly squeezed orange juice, and as I take my seat, watching as my mom arranges  Dad's breakfast on a tray, I realize we don't deserve her.

"I love you," I say as she sidesteps past me, and she stops to turn on her heel. "And no, I haven't done anything wrong," I add. "I just feel like you don't hear it enough."

Her face brightens in a way I haven't seen in a while. Sometimes, in the chaos, it's easy to forget how much others are suffering, too. How much we take for granted.

"Well, I love you too," she says, and she carries Dad's breakfast to his room with a spring in her step.

***

To my relief, school provides the distraction I've sorely needed. The morning passes in a dissociative blur like I'm here but not really here. Between Tyler, my dad, and the tournament, it feels like I'm one push away from falling off a cliff.

At lunch, I head to my locker to put away my things and find Vanessa and Niko waiting for me. They're wearing the same match expression of concern, so I know something's up.