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Boone practically sprints off. If we were in the desert, there would be dust clouds behind him.
I stare at Jake, who takes the hint. “First, we didn’t fight, which is amazing progress. Second, I’m not wanted here, so I’ll give you two a minute.”
“The money raised has nothing to do with our performance today, correct?” Maddie asks as soon as we’re alone.
“We already raised it; this is just the performance that justifies it. Why?”
“If you still intend to break the news later tonight, it makes sense to diffuse anything that might develop between them,” she explains.
“They don’t like each other, do they?” The question hurts because I already know the answer.
“They will. It’ll happen, even if it isn’t a straightforward path to get there. Two competitive men who keep choosing to escalate for silly reasons,” she says.
“Then let’s make this a different sort of competition since we’re the ones driving, and I do not care about winning at all, not even a little.”
“Which one of us do you think is worse?” she asks.
“Let’s find out,” I say. “My ability to slam into walls and mix up the pedals is legendary.”
“I only learned how to drive a year ago. We’ll be lucky if I manage a turn.”
They’ll be livid when they realize, but it’s better that it’s aimed at us than at each other.
I offer my hand and say, “May the worst driver lose.”
“It will be an epic race to the bottom. We’ll cover ourselves in shame together.”
We shake on it.
31-Sarah
“Drivers, to your vehicles,” says the tinny voice over the loudspeaker.
We’re at an outdoor track, one hastily assembled with wood planks and hale bales in keeping with the event’s casual nature. It’s also a lovely spring day, perfect for a poor race performance.
“You ready to win this thing?” Jake asks me.
“I’ll do my best,” I say, crossing my fingers behind my back.
“Let’s bring home the trophy,” he says with so much excitement I almost feel guilty.
I only feel a little silly climbing in the go-kart. It’s a light-hearted event meant for laughs, and I will take it to new levels of embarrassment. Jake’s head might even explode.
“Can you hear me?” Jake asks.
Each team has its own microphone to communicate during the race. He’ll be on the spotter’s platform while I’m on the track.
“Echo, echo. Roger that. This is Alpha One, reading you loud and clear, Alpha Two.” I even throw in a hissing sound for good measure.
“Sarah, this is serious.” Poor Jake has no idea.
“Roger that Alpha Two. I know how to use a headset. They aren’t complicated. Alpha One out.”
Jake’s heavy sigh nearly hurts my ears. “So, it’s going to be like that, huh? Okay, then, Alpha One, this is no different thanpractice. I’ll guide you through the turns and tell you when to press on the throttle or brake. You did great then, and I think we have a real shot today.”
“It’s going to be a fantastic race,” I say, hoping my tone is both positive and noncommittal.
“You got this.”
