Revealed (Unbound, Book 5)

Chapter Eight

We shot out of the pit and onto the tracks, immediately rounding the first corner.

I took the lead, nearly hitting the meridian along the side as I squeezed through the inside of the turn. The front of Maible's cart rubbed the back of mine, and I barely managed to avoid a spin-out, the steering wheel vibrating beneath my hands as I fought for and won control. My foot lifted from the throttle to slow the kart, then stomped down to gain speed once my kart was on track again.

Maible crept up while I recovered, and we were approaching the second curve side-by-side. Again, to avoid a collision, I eased up. Maible took the lead. She must have realized that going in fast wouldn't benefit her chances to win and was slower to come out of the turn. Going in slow allowed me to boost my speed, and we were once again even approaching the last turn in the course before the pit reappeared.

Nearly one lap done, thirteen to go.

I gripped the wheel and started to slow so I could once again navigate it without crashing into the side of the raceway. Maible did the same. We whizzed past the exit to the pit together. I relaxed into the rhythm of our race—slow, fast, slow, fast—and completed three more laps beside Maible. After the first turn on the fourth lap, Maible inched a car length ahead of me, and even farther with the third turn. I stomped down the pedal but couldn't gain any ground. There was no way she could be that far ahead in the machine we'd been given.

The fun I'd been having once I let go and enjoyed the freedom racing provided vanished.

Either my kart was defective or Maible was using magic to win.

She was going too fast for me to prove it, and I was too far from her to sense it. She'd picked up so much speed, I lost sight of her in front of me. I wished the helmet didn't have built-in speakers so that I could think without the screaming music in my head. Every time I sped up after turning a corner, I swore I could see a glimpse of her backend.

Until the eighth lap.

On the second turn, I saw Maible creeping up on me from behind and, even as I slowed down, she continued to go faster. I steered to the right side of the raceway, hoping she'd take the opportunity to pass me on the left. Instead, Maible's kart veered in the same direction as I'd taken. Rather than bumping me like she had before, the excess speed she had gained caused the front of her cart to crash into the back of mine, and then lift like my kart was working as a ramp.

I inhaled, my body freezing.

The bottom of Maible's cart scraped against the top of my helmet, and I felt the weight press down until it felt like my neck was being pushed into my shoulders.

A second later, the kart Maible was in landed in front of mine.

In shock, I pressed down on the accelerator instead of braking, and the front of my kart hit the backend of Maible's. I felt my kart begin to lift from the front. Maible must have tried to speed up again. Suddenly, my cart was on its side, and I knew it was going to tip to land on me. I squeezed my eyes shut and tightened my grip on the wheel, simultaneously worrying about the statistics the boy had told us before we'd begun—nearly 11,000 injuries brought to the hospital in a year because of go-karting—and visualizing my kart landing upright.

It continued to tip.

It's like the rollbars weren't there for all the protection they didn't provide.

My shoulder hit the raceway, then my helmet, stretching my neck as it forced my head against my opposite shoulder.

I pictured the kart again, willing it to land on its wheels.

It began to follow my will but hit the inner barricade of the course before bouncing off and sending me in the opposite direction. The side of the kart scratched the ground but thankfully didn't overcompensate by falling in the opposite direction and crushing me. My teeth grit against the pain in my shoulder.