Girl on Track

64| Brink of glory

Several families have already set up shop by the track. I push through the bodies, taking in the hordes of people overhanging the cafe balcony. I'd known Parkwood's annual racing tournament was somewhat of a big deal, but I hadn't expected this. It's like I'm swept up by the sea of unfamiliar faces, fighting to stay above water. Any second now, and I'll be lost to the current.

As I push through the crowd, electricity fills the air, a buzz of excitement on par with Dad's old races; it's both comforting and terrifying. I continue on, almost ready to give up and go back, when I catch a glimpse of a familiar silhouette in the distance.

Tyler.

He parks his bike in one of the bays and then turns, his expensive black gear shining brightly under the morning sun. I can't see his face – he's still wearing his helmet – but the moment he lifts it, I breathe.

At first, he doesn't notice me. He looks into the distance, past the crowd of fussing families, and over to the trees on the other side of the track. The sun peeks through them, coating the track in the same orange haze I saw the first day I turned up.

I stare at it, too, overcome by its tranquility amid what feels like chaos. It winks back at me, taking me back to the first time those riders had bound across the hills, lit up by a golden hue. And more than anything, it's this that calms me: the sunlight over the track. Familiar. Warm. For the first time all morning, I feel like I'm home.

Finally, his eyes meet mine. Several emotions cross his face, none of which I can pinpoint. But I'm drawing ever closer, wading through the countless bodies until I'm standing before him, away from the chaos near the track. And then, with a split second's pause, I throw my arms around him.

His arms envelop me at the same time my body molds to his. Each nerve beneath my skin seems to spring into action. Gone are the nerves I'd felt just a moment ago, replaced with a dopamine rush. After several long seconds, he reaches down and tucks back my hair, a lopsided grin on his face.

"Thought you might have got cold feet," he says, stepping closer. His voice is low and strangely hypnotic; my heart skips a beat.

"And give up my one chance to beat you?" I tease. "Not in a million years."

"Figured that would be the case. Come on," he says, grabbing my hand, "we need to get ready."

A wave of nausea runs through me. I'm not usually this nervous, but knowing that everything we've done has led to this is more pressure than I can handle. With a brief nod, I give Tyler one last kiss before the pair of us get to work, signing in and checking our bikes before going over the rules.

Throughout the process, my heart beats like a drum in my chest. As hard as I try to ignore it, it's a constant reminder that today is the day I've spent several months waiting for: the day I either leave here a champion or a loser.

I'm terrified.

"Hey," Tyler says before grabbing my hand, "whatever happens, nothing changes, sirenita. Remember?"

I nod and lace my fingers through his. Despite the fact competing against him is nerve-wracking, a part of me is glad that we're doing this together. He'll be right by my side through every jump and turn: I like the thought of that.

Sam and his friends appear in the distance and make a beeline toward us as we're finishing up. I am instantly tense. Catching my change in demeanor, Tyler turns away from the table and follows my gaze to Sam. He tenses too, his jaw contracted as Sam stops before us with an unpleasant smile.

"Today's the big day, kids," he says, "how are you lovebirds coping?"

Tyler steps between Sam and me. It makes me nervous, as though he's about to do something stupid that might get him disqualified. Violence at the track is not usually tolerated, especially at an event like this. Tyler's dreams of winning the championship will be over before they start.