Page 30 of Wrecking Boundaries


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I pull down pit row and into my box. The best spot is reserved for the driver who takes the pole. It means another second or two, and that matters.

“Let’s go,” Mike yells into the radio. “Tire. Tire. Let’s go.”

I stay quiet for five long seconds. “Fucking hell. Gas. Let’s go.”

I get the tap and push the throttle.

Nine seconds.

“Mike, please pass on my thanks to the rest of the crew. That might be our best time this season.”

“Confirmed,” he says. “Will convey.”

“Could you sound a little excited when you do?” I say, knowing he won’t respond.

Once I return to the course, Derek says, “The 5 and 22 are back at it.”

“What’s my position?” Nine seconds is quick, and it’s also longer than forever.

“You lost thirteen spots,” Derek answers. “The 5 is getting loose. He’s twisting and hit the 22. The 38 is stuck in the mess. Coming up on the backstretch.”

I finish the turn and get through the wreck. “Counted four cars,” I say, and then forget about it because the yellow flag is out.

My lucky caution.

The field goes in for a final pit, and I shoot to the front. It’ll be a fight at the end, but a battle makes for excellent racing.

“You’re coming up on the 19,” Derek says again.

Bob Mason lost a tire early and has been down ever since. “Nothing to worry about.” There was not enough time for him to gain, and he’s experienced enough not to wreck me at the end.

Five laps later, the flag turns green.

“Let’s go, boys,” I say.

“You’re in great shape,” Mike says. “Increase throttle.”

I do, and the number of laps finished grows.

“You have the 29 on your left,” Derek says

Shit. That’s Boone Rivers, my future brother-in-law. “Let’smake him work for it.” Future relationship or not, I will not give way to that asshole.

Two laps remain.

I pull ahead, and Boone goes high. I follow, and he falls back.

“He’s gaining,” I say.

He pulls up, and we cross the line.

I suck in a breath. “How did we do?”

“Third place today. That’s a good finish. Rivers in 2nd with the 29.”

“Papa, I’m coming home,” I say, and Mike ignores that, too.

Rainbows out of my ass.

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