― twelve: maybe

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[ CHAPTER 12 : MAYBE : 'cause sometimes you just feel tired, feel weak. and when you feel weak, you feel like you wanna just give up. but you gotta search within you, and gotta find that inner strength. and just pull that shit out of you, and get that motivation to not give up. and not be a quitter, no matter how bad you wanna just fall flat on your face, and collapse.]

★★★★★


          MAIN STREET IS BUSY this morning. Or so Parker figures, as the two keep winding up in traffic. Did someone famous roll through town? Doubtful. Is the President in town? Probably not. Is it the country fair again? On a Tuesday, unlikely. So, what is it that keeps causing Leo and her to get caught behind more and more cars. And also, really, slow cars. Which is a common in this town as there are so many elders that live in Arcadia. Also, a lot of meth heads, and alcoholics―it's a split town, either you're super rich or super poor (because of that, they deal themselves into problems)―who drive like maniacs.

          "Are you alright?" Leo asks, glancing at her.

          Parker keeps silent and nods as she tries to get comfortable in the passenger seat. After riding in this thing for less than thirty minutes, she realizes how uncomfortable Jeeps are. Constantly feel every bump, and pothole but times more than the average car. She hates Jeeps. She's also incredibly frustrated from earlier with her family. Wishing that everything that went down (the pure unadulterated embarrassment) didn't happen. That way, she wouldn't feel so awkward sitting next to Leo.

          "Are you sure?" He questions, while drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. Parker nods again, still staying silent and virtually unmoving. He's not sure whether that's odd or not but he quickly pays attention to the way she's stiff. Unnatural to the way she is in class. She may be rude, in class, but she's not firm or robotic the way she is now. Unlike Parker, he feels like he should say something to make things less awkward and tense.

          "I do motocross, up in the mountains near Lakewood―above the Bay, you know?" Leo chews on his bottom lip as he looks at her, his smile slipping when he sees her still unmoving and with her jaw clenched and her lips pursed. "Having ADHD, my mom wanted to find something that would exhaust me; but I wasn't much interested in sports. I liked dirt bikes though, and even though found it inherently dangerous, she let me start go on Motocross tracks,"

          Parker glances at him, eyebrows furrowed. "Isn't there a lot of gear, how is it dangerous?" Leo's ears perk up, as he straightens in his seat―seemingly excited to talk about his favorite thing. Not to mention able to get Parker to stop being so stiff.

          "There's always a risk. A lot of kids start off racing without adequate medical insurance or having the right equipment, you know? They get seriously injured and their insurance doesn't cover catastrophic injury. Other's don't have the right machine for their classification, or not enough gear―they go in, thinking it's a fashion show but they don't realize they should be more concerned with wearing as much protection as possible: especially young amateur riders. In the end, you ride at your own risk,"

          Leo pauses to look at her as they get stopped at another red light. She still looks confused, as if she'd ever be a part of something like motocross. A few chuckles leave his mouth. "Look, motocross racing is a good sport. It teaches discipline, maturity, preparation, goal setting, and personal responsibility because it's an individual sport. But it's also a team sport if you get sponsored along with others."

          "And you do it because of your ADHD?" Parker questions, looking apprehensive.

          Leo shrugs, "At first, yeah but, but now I do it because I love it," His eyes snap back toward her to see her nodding. She supposes that it must've been hard for his mother to deal with crazy Leo and his ADHD. If he's hyper now, he must've been nuts as a child. Imagine being a single mother and dealing with a hyperactive son with no outlet but a dangerous sport. "Do you do anything fun, like that?" He asks, peering at her.

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