Shifting Gears

4. I Immediately Dislike You

"So, Lawson, how do you feel about Ryvers?"

I pursed my lips as Clay grit his teeth, his hand tightening on his plastic water bottle. I shot a quick warning glare at Glen, and the racer raised his eyebrow in question. Glen, Becka, Clay, Reid and I were sitting on the bleachers in the early morning. Practices for the competition were finally starting. There would be a day of practices today, and then the qualifying races the next day. We watched as the excavators finished up with the track.

The party that happened a couple nights ago had circulated quickly, and now everyone knew the names of the three who were disqualified, names I didn't recognize. Some people were upset, understandably so. There were definitely more than three who were drinking, but only three were caught.

I heard Spencer's name thrown in there—the bully of the track. He was by far the the jerkiest of jerks that raced at Raven Heights, and supposedly he was the supplier of said alcohol.

I also heard "Greyson Ryvers" being tossed out as I walked around that morning. I rolled my eyes. I hardly knew him, but Clay's hatred for him sparked my own. Looks like he was a partier himself.

"What about him?" Clay asked, pulling me out of my thoughts as he glanced up at his fellow racer. I saw Reid rolling his eyes at Clay's tone.

"Well, he kept up with you at the practice—you worried at all?" Glen said. I mentally face-palmed.

"Nope, he's good," I answered for my brother.

But my older brother ignored me. "I'm not worried. I've raced against him before—and I beat him."

"That was seven years ago," Reid commented, shifting in his position on the cold, metal bleachers. The chill of the cool morning hadn't faded yet, and I hugged myself, wishing the sun would warm up a bit.

"Plus, you guys were, like, fifteen years old. Why'd he move away?" Glen wondered.

"Circumstances encouraged it," Clay replied shortly. The water bottle wheezed as the grip around it clenched.

"But he was doing fine here, I've heard," Glen said. He hadn't raced here when Greyson was at Raven Heights—Glen had only moved here a few years ago. "Why'd he move so far away?"

"Like I said, circumstances encouraged it."

I frowned, my own curiosity spiking. "Like what?"

Reid took a deep breath. "Let's just say Clay and Greyson really didn't get along."

"Even as just little teenagers?" Becka, who was sitting next to Glen, asked with a cocked head. Her long black hair was thrown up into a messy ponytail that glinted in the early sun.

Clay's best friend nodded. "Yep. They got in a fight on the track once."

I rolled my eyes. "Let's not reciprocate that incident, okay, Clay?"

"No promises."

I let out an exasperated sigh at my brother's grunted reply, giving up. I tapped the home screen on my phone and looked at my brother. "Eight thirty-two. We better head back. You'll need to get up to the gate soon."

Clay nodded, standing up and stretching. Reid followed suit, cracking his neck before the two of them jumped with a thud onto the walkway. Their boots flashed in the rising sun as they made their way off the bleachers.

"Thanks for waiting, boys," I muttered under my breath as I got up.

Becka laughed, her southern accent peeking out as she called, "Goodbye, Cory!"

I nodded to her with a smile before jogging off towards the boys. When I reached the small set of stairs, I saw Clay waiting at the bottom. Reid's crimson jersey glinted as he walked, the white "58" shining on his back.