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Part 1
The Accident
Three years ago
The heat coming off the asphalt makes everything around us look distorted.
It’s a perfect summer day, and everyone I know must have had the same idea. The strip is humming with the rev of engines, and the smell of gasoline permeates the air.
I love it.
Approaching the sidelines, I bring the plastic bottle in my hands to my lips, downing the last of the water before tossing it in the trash.
Milo’s race is up next, and we spent all week prepping his ride for this moment. I watch him climb into the driver’s seat and nod my head in his direction when his eyes lift to mine. He returns the gesture, ignoring the dickhead to his right. The punk ass thought he could just call out my best friend without Milo doing anything to shut him up.
Wrong.
People forget that despite Milo’s middle-class upbringing, he grew up under the hood of a car. There isn’t anything he doesn’t know about an engine, and this other guy is about to find out.
Both cars pull up into position, the pre-stage lights turning yellow. The crowd cheers for the drivers, and my grip on the barrier in front of me tightens. The amber lights count down, three, two, one… and Milo guns it on the green, getting at least a car’s length out in front of the other guy. Just over eight seconds later, Milo crosses the finish line, leaving him in the dust.
“Hell yeah,” I yell, throwing my fist in the air and high-fiving the guy next to me.
I cut through the crowd, ready to meet Milo on his way back, when my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket, seeing my Uncle Rob’s name flash across the screen, and swipe up to answer it.
“Hey, old man, what’s up?” I ask, still grinning like a madman over Milo’s win.
“T.J.’s been in an accident,” he says, getting straight to the point. His labored breaths echo loudly in my ear.
“What?” I ask, stopping dead in my tracks.
“The car flipped…” he continues speaking, but I don’t hear any of it; my mind closes off. A high-pitched ringing fills my ears and the sounds of the drag race behind me fade away to nothing.
My heart squeezes in my chest and my stomach drops.
Am I having a heart attack?
Bending over, I place my hand on my knee, suddenly feeling extremely light-headed. I think I’m going to pass out.
Why would he call me about an accident? Tommy has been in countless accidents. All the drivers have. It’s such a regular occurrence that Tommy laughed once over dinner, talking about how it would be a miracle if they could get through one race without someone wrecking.
“Bodhi.”
“What?” I try to focus, pushing myself upright and covering my other ear to better hear.
“T.J. was in an accident, Bodhi,” Uncle Rob repeats himself, panting.
“Okay… why are you calling me?”
“They airlifted him to Ocean Front,” he says, unable to hide the tremor in his quiet and tense voice.
“What does that mean?” I ask, my mind racing and unable to come up with a single reason why my older brother was being taken to the hospital.
“Where are you, son?”
Son.
The word sinks in my stomach. It’s not a word my uncle uses lightly. Not since my dad blew up over it, driving the wedge that now separates Rob’s family from mine. I never understood what the big deal was, only that Rob stopped referring to me in that way.
