Page 38 of The Mechanics of Broomstick Racing

Levina snatched the broom back, but Zephyr attributed that to nerves. The teen declared, “Let’s go. I want to sit and stare at the track. In silence.”

“If you’re insinuating that I talk too much, I have a monologue that will change your mind.”

Levina walked a little faster toward the start of the racetrack.

IN A PROFESSIONAL AIR RACE, Zephyr and Levina would both have headsets to communicate with each other. Zephyr would give Levina directions, weather updates, and encouragement while she flew. But since the race was in a small town and the racers were mostly teenagers, Zephyr had to sit back and just watch. At least a few airborne familiars would be following the racers to make sure no one fell behind or was hurt. Dale would be following Levina, though he wasn’t the speediest familiar of the bunch.

“Hey.”

Zephyr glanced up from her perch on an icy and mostly empty bleacher scattered with parents and racing enthusiasts from the Hollow. It was dreadfully early so most of the Hollow was still warm in bed and dreaming. Neil approached with his grandmother on his arm. He carried a camping chair in his other arm, and he flicked that open and settled Hattie inside of it. She quickly sank into the seat, pulling the collar of her coat up and over her ears as she muttered about the early hour. “And it looks like rain,” Hattie cursed.

Zephyr blinked at the bright blue sky, completely cloud-free, and still held her tongue. She would never, even at her cockiest, argue with a witch Hattie’s age. Age didn’t always equal wisdom, but in Zephyr’s experience, the older the witch, the nastier the hexes they knew.

Neil stood next to Zephyr, scanning the starting line where Levina sat cross-legged in the grass, her bat bag on her lap. “Karah is right behind me. She’s on the phone arguing with her lesser and former half.”

“Levina mentioned something about that,” Zephyr admitted.

“She’s really opened up to you, hasn’t she?” Neil didn’t smile, but his eyes crinkled. Zephyr had to look away so she could concentrate on the flight map in her hands.

“It’s strange, not being able to watch the entire race,” she said. Her fingers traced out each of the stops, places where parents and the audience would hike over and wait to see the racers fly by. There were five stops between the starting line and the finish line. “I should have worn hiking boots.”

“Next time,” Neil said easily. He sounded completely certain she’d be there for the next time, whenever that was. He added, just as relaxed, “You look good.”

“I know.”

He laughed, but his mood quickly shifted. “What is he still doing here?”

His tone revealed the interruption’s identity. Zephyr refused to follow Neil’s gaze and told herself it wasn’t because she was afraid.

“Thirty-three!” Jaxon called out. When they were rivals, bickering and bantering as they fought for first position, he had never used her actual name. Just her number. Another obvious red flag she had missed. Once Zephyr had pulled ahead of him in the rankings, and they no longer traded who won first place, suddenly Jaxon’s insults had turned to flirtations.

Jaxon entered her line of sight, blocking her view of Levina just as the announcer instructed the racers to get into position. He announced, “My flight leaves tomorrow. Think about what you’re giving up. Don’t refuse just to spite me.”

Had he heard nothing she had said? She had confessed her greatest shame to him, that she was afraid to race, and still Jaxon made it all about himself. She snapped, “Get out of the way, Jaxon!” He wore his racing jacket, too. It was so golden, it hurt to view it in direct sunlight. Maybe that was why he never took off his damn sunglasses. He even had his racing broom clasped in one hand. It was just as gaudy as he was; the handle a metallic gold with brown bristles. He just couldn’t miss an opportunity for attention, even from a town he looked down on.

Jaxon blocked Neil’s view, too, and the storm witch stood suddenly, grabbing the front of Jaxon’s jacket and hauling him out of their sight. Just in time for them to see Levina mount her broom.

It took Zephyr far too long to realize what was happening. Levina’s red bristle broom, easily identifiable, was not the one she was riding today. Dumbly, Zephyr asked Neil, “Did Karah buy Levina a new broom? I really should have looked it over before the race. It can make such a difference. Why wouldn’t she tell me?”

“I don’t think…” Neil dropped his hold on Jaxon and took a step forward, hand outstretched toward the racers. His shout was lost as the announcer shot off a ray of sparks from his wand, signaling the start of the race. Levina and the others were out of sight in seconds. Neil said, both hands clutching his hair, “She grabbed your broom. She must have snuck it out of the shop this morning.”

He wasn’t making any damn sense. Zephyr scoffed, “What do you mean she has my broom?” Levina would never win the race with that old thing.

Neil corrected her, “She has your old broom. Your broken broom. I fixed it, but something’s still wrong with it. It isn’t done. It’s untested.” He was coming very close to babbling. “Gods, where is Karah?!” he asked wildly. The crowd left the benches in a horde, all racing to get to the next meeting point. He shoved his way through, shouting his sister’s name.

Zephyr tried to follow him, still lost, when Jaxon spun her to face him. His hands grabbed the sides of her face, pinning her there as she cried out in a mixture of pain and surprise.

Jaxon shook her. “Was that your fucking broom? Why does that girl have your broom? What have you done?”

“What in the hells are you doing?” Zephyr shoved at his chest, but he held her firm.

“Stop the race. That girl’s going to crash.”

She froze. He sounded so certain. “What are you talking about?”

“Do as I say,” he warned her.

“Explain what you’re talking about,” she snapped. “Now.”