"Major controversy sparks from last week's Green Diamond match that caused serious issues for both teams involved as the match was immediately ended following intense injury to Avaldi University's Echo Yun from University of Nevada Las Vegas's captain..."
"Someone claimed seeing a knife, seeing blood even, from Yun and that Baluyot had a knife on him, of all things, but nothing has been confirmed by either team and we are still awaiting statements from the captains as well as the coaches and administrations to see what the actual situation was on that track, seeing as no solid evidence has come up..."
"King is under fire for entering the track in the heat of the attack, many claiming that he should know better than to enter in a round he's not a part of and that Corvus is changing and not for the better..."
"...Rebels without any further comment, and it's rendered much of the fans conflicted on what their responses should be and whether this attack was a motivated one or simply a racing move gone wrong, however without any statements, no one can say for sure..."
"...Stirlings, you are setting that racer up for failure by pitting him against all those haughty, prejudiced Alphas and they knew it, but they did it anyway, but there has to come a point where you gotta admit that activism is not worth someone's life..."
"The question of whether Yun should be on the team not only due to political issues, but now also safety concerns as well, have many pushing for him to be removed from the team once again, but several are saying that the concerns aren't fair considering they're placed in subspecies..."
"There's an excessive amount of these backhanded concerns, clearly the kid can race, I say we let him race, what's the big issue? If he can represent the Stirlings in racing, hell yeah he should race, but hey, what do I know, I'm just..."
"...Anteaters, hasn't said anything about the issue directly, but did repost a Tweet that rooted in favor of Stirling representation in all things that Drachmanns and Huangs currently dominate, with the hashtag 'Abolish the Rank'..."
"This has become more than a sport thing really, it's become a political issue, a question of what it means to be these 'ranks' within the lycan pack, something that has upheld their way of living for so long, but there is a point in its superfluousness, because it discounts so many other things..."
"A witness claims to have seen Baluyot talking with a teammate and inserting something into his sleeve prior to the match's start, but there have been no other affirmations of this, and the police say they will continue further investigating the case and the footage if Corvus agrees to it, however, they've said that there has been no contact with the team whatsoever..."
"Coach Emeline Edwards along with every Corvus member but Echo Yun arrive at Cal State Long Beach in the third Green Diamond match, these might be the time for answers that everyone has long awaited..."
"Corvus takes home another victory against the Long Beach Sharks in their third round of Green Diamond, but decline to make any comment on the match or otherwise. Tensions seem high with this team once more, and many people are calling for Corvus to be checked at their number one spot. One writer crassly states they are the top of the league, and the top of the drama, number one in both..."
"A new witness has come forward against the Rebels with new evidence that has yet to be revealed to the public with nothing more than a statement from the Los Angeles, Avaldi, and Las Vegas Police Departments stating simply that the 'case has been clarified' and they will be 'attempting to take immediate action'. The NCAA board has yet to make their comments..."
_________________________
When I next talked to Corvus, it was over breakfast, and a lot of explaining.
I didn't know exactly what the method of conversation was supposed to be when you just finished recovering from a life-threatening, feverish, lying liar state but I was sure it wasn't anything easy, as it really shouldn't be. I had half a mind to call utter bullshit on my audacity to even leave the room at all, but I was also at a point of a stalemate that entailed that no matter what I did, it was probably, likely, utter bullshit.
Friday came with a vengeful heat wave, the temperatures rising into the hundreds, rendering the top level of the Talon nearly unbearable even with all the air conditioner in the world. Paired with Corvus's intense intolerance for the heat, you can imagine the issues that arose, even from outside the chaos.
"This is why I quit soccer," Rosalie gasped from outside. "This is why I chose the great indoor sport of racing. So why the hell am I sweating out so much fluid it could fill the goddamn Red Sea, I don't know."
"TMI," Diego told her. "Very, very TMI. So TMI that I feel thirsty."
"What the fuck, Diego."
Meredith said, "I propose leaving the vicinity immediately. Nancy's?"
"We have to walk, like, six whole minutes there," Diego whined. "Zahir, hold me. I'm melting. Just fat drops dripping down—"
"Diego," they snapped.
I scoffed from my place at the side of my bed. I'd relegated myself to the floor since, as aforementioned, I'd trapped myself into a box of bullshit with no way out. I figured I could last approximately another week before I began to fade from dehydration, just enough time to write an eloquent note about said box of bullshit I'd constructed for myself.
"There's always Nancy's," I muttered. "Although my appetite is admittedly gone after hearing that."
"What are you licking?" Rosalie screeched. "That is just crass, where are your manners, for fuck's sake."
"Whoa, whoa, keep talking like that and I'll tell Coach to talk to Coach Nelly and get you a gig on the soccer team. Ow. I bruise easily because of you, I'll have you know."
"Don't flatter her," Kenzo said.
"Echo," Kane said. "Get your appetite back. We're getting breakfast."
I gaped. "He's psychic."
"No, you just talk too fucking loud to yourself," Kane called back, and I gasped. "Get your ass up, we're going in five."
"Get your eavesdropping out of here," I muttered.
"I can still hear you."
"You can?" Corvus said.
"You can?" I said.
"This is a conversation I'm not reliving," Kane snapped. "Let's go."
"Hey, the boss hath spoken," Diego said. "Cobayo, oh, cobayo! Come on out here, cutie."
"Well, now I can never go out there," I said.
"You got a PhD in pissing people off?" Kane called. "Get out here."
"I'm not dressed," I tried.
"Good for you. Get out here."
"Good for you, maybe," I muttered to myself as I hauled my ass up.
Diego and Meredith let out a burst of laughter at that followed by a loud smack. Diego whined. "What? I didn't hear anything!"
"Just spare us for one day, all of you," Rosalie said.
Kane said, "Ya!"
I said, "Oy vey," and grabbed a shirt.
Considering Corvus had now seen all there was to see on me, whether I liked it or not, I really had no reason to take the heat with anything but the coolest possible clothing. However, considering all the bandages, not only on my body but my face as well, I was still resistant to go flaunting the bullshit I'd gotten myself into to the whole of Avaldi. But, alas, the sensibles of the world.
Corvus stared at me when I exited the room with jeans and a long sleeve. Kenzo said, "Idiot."
I said, "Probably."
Zahir frowned. "Dude."
Rosalie said, "Go change, you dumbass."
When I hesitated, Kenzo added curtly, "What's there to hide anymore?"
Corvus went quiet at that, and Zahir and Meredith sent him silencing looks. But Kenzo was content to look at me with an emphasis on that accusation, and I knew I'd been bested. I sighed, and turned on my heel.
When I emerged again it was in a thin blue shirt and jean shorts I'd never dared to wear unless in dire situations. A look in the mirror entailed the yellow and purple bruises on my knees, the still-angry scratches on my thighs, the patches over my arms, the gashes on my knuckles, the bruise on my cheekbone, the stitches on my lip and brow, the paper-thin cuts on my biceps, the wrapping around my neck, were going to make this day a lot more interesting than I would've liked.
Still, the heat bloomed and blazed with an urgency, and I left anyway.
Corvus all looked at me with something like pain and something like anger, although at who, I didn't know. Meredith opened her mouth, then closed it again, then tried again with, "Are you sure you're all right to come, Echo?"
I waved her away. "It's all right," I promised, although my appearance was not a very convincing testament to that. "Hungry?"
Kane and Kenzo were the only ones who had steeled their faces into blankness. Kane turned around, back to me, and said, "Let's head out. Before the locals flood it first."
We headed out.
The heat was fresh and seething even at ten in the morning, the waves of it wafting up from the saturated concrete, its smoke curling around us and rendering every innocent body heavy with the yolk of its unforgiving, sunlit fever. Every face was beaded with crystal sweat, every pair of eyes glazed with the hazy morning heat. July's summer storm was dry as the Sahara, potent with flames, raining embers down on the metropolitan desert of Los Angeles County.
Kane had resorted to a top-grade umbrella in an effort to be able to accompany Corvus on their daytime outings, which inadvertently proved to benefit us as it was big enough to shield both all of Kane and a few of us. Nancy's was technically a six minute walk from the Talon, but it was a bit of a hellfest getting there, considering those that we traveled with.
"I can't go any further," Diego gasped, slumping on Zahir's shoulder. "I won't make it. I just won't."
"Keep leaning on me," Zahir said, "and I won't either."
"Why does the sun exist?" Diego lamented. "Why, oh why?"
"It's been three minutes," Meredith said.
"We're only halfway?" Diego exclaimed. "King. Give me one of those."
Kane turned around, his umbrella propped above him and his face remorseless. "Hurry up. Faster we get there, faster it'll be over."
A shadow came overtop me and I frowned, looking up. Kane's umbrella blocked out the sky and sun above me, the heat fading from my body. I said, "You don't have to."
"I didn't," he said. "You're just that short." But he angled the umbrella a little to the right, and I let him.
We got to Nancy's in another several minutes and took the booth closest to the AC vents. I sat pressed between Kane and Meredith, the cool air wafting over our skin. Kane's cheeks were flushed from the dregs of July, his eyes swirling with ever-changing reflections, the scent of silver and soap falling from him. He distributed the menus among us and ordered a round of waters.
I said, "Are you all right?"
Kane said, "What do you want to eat?"
"That's not an answer," I murmured, but tried, "What do you want?"
Kane glanced at the menu, then pushed it towards me. "Not hungry."
"You keep saying that."
"Well, I'm not."
"You're mad at me."
"I'm just not hungry. Order what you want."
"We can share."
"Order what you want."
"You're mad at me."
"Yes," he sighed, and tilted his head back as he closed his eyes. "What do you want to eat?"
I supposed being mad at someone while they were in a less-than-optimal state wasn't within Kane's code of ethics, which was fair considering talking to me about it then would've been a fruitless effort anyway. Guilt was an unkind pit in my stomach, much like a coiled anaconda that just liked to squeeze the hell out of my own code of ethics.
When the waitress came around, sprinkling pixie dust and dry mirth, I settled for a blueberry muffin and a tall glass of guilt. Corvus chatted amongst themselves, avoiding Kane and I for the most part, acting as though nothing had happened in the first place. It was as torturous as it was kind.
"Hey," Diego called to us. "I heard Vann's in town. Let me guess: he invited you and left us all in the dust, that ass."
Kane took a sip of his water. "Yuna and Qi do that. All of them have their pick."
"Because you always pissed Yuna and Qi off," Rosalie said pointedly.
Kane shrugged. "Pissed all of them off at one point."
I said, "Corvus?"
They nodded. Meredith beamed. "They were our upperclassmen when we first got here," she said. "Vann invited you to a game? Without me? What gives?"
I frowned. "He got two ti—"
"Vann is the only one that likes me anyway," Kane sighed, and sent me a look. "All the upperclassmen will invite you out when they come, quit whining to me."
Corvus went awkwardly quiet at that, exchanging glances amongst each other, save for Wynter and Zoe, who looked at me. I shrugged, and turned my eyes down.
The pixie fluttered towards us. "I've got a blueberry muffin?"
He dueled out the respective dishes one by one before leaving us to our food. I took a knife and sliced the muffin down the middle. I pushed one half to Kane.
"It's good," I promised.
Kane didn't look at me. "That's good."
I picked at the crumble on top. "Can't you just yell at me? Bench me or something? Just be mad?"
"You want me to be honest," he deduced.
That stung. I clenched my jaw. I said, "I'm sorry."
"Okay."
"Kane."
"We've had this discussion."
"Just do something."
Kane got to his feet. He pushed the other half of the muffin back to me and grabbed the umbrella. Corvus paused mid-meal. Meredith said, "King, where are—"
"I'll be back in a minute," he promised, then turned around towards the door.
Kenzo glanced at me. He said in Japanese, "What'd you say?"
I grabbed my half of the muffin. "Give me a second."
I didn't bother sticking around to explain.
I found Kane leaned against the wall outside, towards the back corner of Nancy's where an alley led into a vacant parking lot. A cigarette teetered between his fingers, smoke curling up like a gray chimney spine. I pushed my hair back, and headed for him.
Kane placed the cigarette between his teeth, the umbrella shutting out the sun from finding him. I said, "Terrible habit."
Kane didn't answer. He blew the dragon breath from his nose and mouth. I split the muffin's half and took the cigarette from him to replace it with the pastry.
I sighed, the nicotine sweet on my tongue. The summer was a syrupy thing, a creased sepia photograph, the red light of a development room washing the world into a Twilight Zone. I tapped the ashes onto the concrete.
Kenzo was right about the inevitability. But he was wrong about being the one to see it out.
I said, "I did street racing first because I needed the money."
Kane didn't look at me, nor did he answer, but he didn't stop me from speaking. He flicked a crumb from the top of the muffin.
"From who my family is," I went on, "I had to be a bit of a nobody. School to school, no friends, overall discrete. I've got no real file here because I'm not a real person to the systems, couldn't afford to be. I grew up lying. It's how I was able to live." I watched the embers eat the end of the cigarette. "Corvus feels like this privilege, you know? It felt like a chance to be someone other than all the bullshit I had to be. Like a blank slate to start myself over on. I wanted to be a kid that could race, and that's all." I sighed. "I think I got too full of myself in thinking it'd be that easy to keep my past out of it."
Kane said, "I don't want you to trade in your honesty for mine."
"I'm not," I said. "It's not a trade. You don't owe me anything." I handed him the cigarette, and broke a piece of the muffin off. "But I think it's fair you know who's on your team."
Kane chewed his lip. He faced me, eyes piercing into my bones. "I'm not mad you have a past, Echo."
I frowned. "Why are you mad, then?"
He sighed, like the very idea frustrated him. He said, "I wish you would stop only having a past." I stared. Kane leaned his head back. "I know you've lied, and I know you've got secrets. Whether you tell me about them or not is your prerogative, but you're not a nobody. You're not a ghost." I froze. Kane softened. "I don't know who you were before. I just know Echo." His expression was a malleable, gold thing. "I'd take Echo any day."
It struck me from underneath, right where my heart might've been at some point or another, gouging out the arteries to replace it with the hit. I clenched my fists, remembered the cigarette, pretended the burn didn't sting my battered hands.
I said, "I'm sorry I lied."
Kane stared down at the muffin. He gave me one part, and took the other for himself. "Yeah, well," he said with a sad smile, "Me, too."
Did a secret and a secret ever solve each other?
We ate the muffin between cigarette puffs, the morning sunlight failing to find us beneath the shield of Kane's umbrella.
_____________________
Kane had taken it upon himself to try napping, and that was not really in my schedule.
There was to be one more Green Diamond round before the three-week gap between Green and Red relegated square racers to their long-awaited, highly-anticipated vacation periods. Most of Corvus was already in the midst of going back and forth without end to their parents' houses in preparation for their trips. The underclassmen were busy in their own respects seeing as according to Diego, it was common for upperclassmen to take the newbies on trips with them for "team bonding", a tradition that had come into play via Poppy's era. Rosalie had taken it upon herself to invite Zoe on her family's trip to England, and Meredith had subsequently invited Wynter with her to visit relatives in coastal Italy. Diego and Zahir were taking a trip with them and their families somewhere about the region of northern Spain to visit Diego's cousins. Kenzo was to stay with his father's good friend and subsequent pseudo-father in Manhattan with, quote, "no racing in sight". Kane was likely to return to Korea for these alleged cousins and a much-needed break. And me, well, at least I wouldn't have to worry about sneaking out for jobs anymore and could come back as bloody as I liked without questioning.
"I'm going to be visiting my mother at her beach house," Ramos told me as she re-bandaged my hands. "Why don't you come with me? It's very peaceful."
I shook my head. I barely had the money for another muffin, let alone accompanying anyone on a trip that exceeded a five mile radius. "I'm gonna stay here. Coach said I'm covered for the Talon during the break, right?"
Ramos frowned. "Yes, but it's your only break. You should go somewhere, have fun, do something relaxing to get your mind off all of this."
I smiled. "Sleeping it off is the best medicine, Ramos. But thanks."
I was beyond the capacity to lie to Corvus considering the timing, so I'd told them the same thing and was content to remain adamant on it. Kenzo had looked at me with a quizzical face. I said, "What?"
He looked from me to Kane's door, then turned around. "Nothing," he said. "Don't steal anything when we're gone."
No promises.
I pushed open the door to Kane's room. I spotted him lying across his bed, the covers thrown over him with nothing but a cow T-shirt and shorts to keep him cool. I stopped in the doorway at seeing him with his arm thrown back, seemingly sleeping.
Kane didn't turn his head towards me, but he did grunt, "You've infiltrated the inner sanctum. Make your plea."
It took me moment, then I coughed out a scoff. "Screw your plea, man. I thought you were sleeping."
"Was." Kane turned his head to me as if to show me proof of such with his sleep-addled eyes and shadowed face. "What's wrong?"
I shrugged. "Nothing. It's four."
Kane blinked. "Okay."
"When's the match?"
"Eight."
"Ah."
Kane sat up. I pointed at the little dancing cows on his shirt. He said, "Some camp a friend went to. Camp Cowbell?"
I'd never heard of it. I shrugged, turning around to walk about the room. He'd cleaned it up at some point over the weeks, the shoes all lined up in an impressive series of shelves on his wall, the clothes all folded or relegated to the laundry basket, the papers or books shoved into drawers or onto shelving or beside his bed. Most of the stray trash or boxes or crumpled up notes had been trashed. Some things off the wall or bookcases had been stowed away for later memories. I glanced at a framed photo on the furthermost shelf, the date reading nearly three years ago, twelve racers huddled close together to smile brightly at the camera, five of which were strangers to me.
Kane said, "That was our first year."
I said, "Who were your upperclassmen?"
I heard a creak and footsteps. Kane was behind me in a few moments, his chest warm against my shoulder. He rubbed the sleep from his face and squinted.
"Poppy," he said, pointing at the centermost girl, auburn hair in a wild bun, the blooming birthmark on her throat half-hidden under the camera's flash. "Vann. Qi. Yuna. AJ." He pointed at random faces within the group. "Vann was a fifth year, Qi, Yuna, AJ, were seniors. Poppy was a junior."
"I thought you kept in touch with all of the upperclassmen."
He shrugged. "Social media, really. We don't talk a lot."
"Why don't they like you?"
He cocked his head from side to side. "Some people were more forgiving of my behavior than others, I guess." He returned to his bed, flopping back on it with a heavy breath. "Did you come to ask that?"
I shrugged. "Dunno. Just asked. It's four."
"You said that." But he looked amused. He threw an arm over his eyes.
"You wanna get dinner before the match?" I asked.
Kane's laugh was a low, honeyed thing. "You asking me out on a date?"
I scoffed, swatting that away. "Hey, you asked me to the match, I'm just hungry."
Kane propped his arm behind his head. I sat down beside his legs. He sat up. "All right. I'll accept your date."
"It's not a d—"
"Where do you want to eat?"
"Blatant disregard," I muttered. I lied back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets warm and the scent of lavender soap filling my lungs. Kane watched me from behind, then planted both hands on either side of my face upon the bed and leaned over to look down at me. I shook my head. "I'd never date that."
"That's true," he said. "We're doing that non-dating thing."
"That non-dating thing."
"That thing."
"That thing."
"Yeah."
"Yeah."
Kane nudged me and I snickered. A weight lifted itself off my chest, the brick and steel alleviating the pressure that had bore down on my bones for so long and so intensely. I took a breath. I said, "I never thanked you, by the way."
Kane said, "For what?"
I shrugged. "Helping me. During the heat. You didn't have to. I wouldn't have blamed you if you hadn't wanted to."
Kane thought about that. He pushed himself up and away, turning to lie on the bed parallel to me, our shoulders touching, the faintest scent of silver in my nose. "Don't thank me," he told me.
"I should."
"Not really," he said. "I wanted to."
I said, "When you said you shouldn't trust me, what'd you mean?"
Kane shrugged. "That I shouldn't," he said plainly. "That I shouldn't but I do, in some way or another."
"Why?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Why do you?"
Kane considered that. He turned to face me. His rings were cool where they rested between us. He shrugged. "I know what it's like, needing the chance to start over, never really starting over." His face was grim. "I know what it's like to try."
I knew, a little too well, what he meant by that.
I took his hand tentatively, lacing my fingers between his. Kane tugged it lightly towards him, brushing his thumb over the knuckles. When he spoke, his breath hit my fingertips. "You having learned your racing on the street makes sense," he murmured. "All those borderline illegal moves track now."
I snorted. "I guess so." I scooted closer. "I could teach you a few borderline illegal tricks."
"I'll pass."
"Hey, hey. You used one of them."
Kane brought my hand against the side of his mouth, closing his eyes as the sunlight sliced over him. "Street racing is bigger in Asia than here," he murmured. "I used to see kids doing it all the time in Korea, near the countryside. People used to gather at the sides of freeways just to watch. and bet."
"Did you race?"
His smile was a mischievous thing. I laughed. He said, "Only a few times, when I needed an ego boost."
"Kane King needing an ego boost," I repeated. I glanced behind me at the trophies stretching towards the ceiling. "Can't you just look to your left?"
"You think you're funny," he said, and brushed his lips over my hand. His other arm wound around my waist, pulling me against his body, the warmth of him and the sun injecting a sleepiness into my blood by hundreds of milligrams a minute. "Can I ask you something?"
"Since I'm trapped, sure."
Kane hesitated. "How did you get in here, enroll in classes, when you've got no real record anywhere?"
I paused. I rested my forehead against his chest. When it had become so easy to do so, I didn't know.
"There's a few people that work for my family," I explained, and the honesty sent adrenaline into my system, shaking me to my bones. "They have sources to get me where I need and bypass what I have to. They have people in Avaldi. It's the only reason I ended up here, really."
"You never applied?"
"I'm a registered student only in numbers, but my name isn't on any actual documentation," I explained. "The most ID I have from here is that school one, and it's from them, not the school itself. To any real institution of the world, I'm not even a real person."
Kane paused. "Don't you want to be?"
I looked up. "What?"
"Don't you want to be?" he repeated. "A real person, that is."
I'd never wanted anything more. I'd never wanted to own my own name, to be solid and opaque, to have a space in reality, than I had before coming to Corvus. It felt like a pipe dream, a fool's paradise: to be someone at all.
I said, "Racing makes me feel real. Corvus makes me feel real." I pressed a hand against his heart. "I think that answers you."
Kane snaked a hand up my back until his fingers ran through my hair, his palm against the nape of my neck. "I guess so," he murmured, and leaned down.
I kissed him like my life depended on it. In a way, it felt like it did. The kissing, maybe. The feeling, definitely.
When the sun began to threaten its descent, and I'd long tangled my legs in the sheets with Kane above me, camp shirt discarded in favor of leaving his skin and scars facing the sky, I said, "I think we missed the dinner window."
"You say that like it's my fault," he muttered, and pressed his mouth onto my neck.
I rolled my eyes. "What team does this Vann race for anyway?"
Kane went for my collarbone, teeth grazing the thin skin there, hands on my hips. "Vann Janssen," he said, thumbs tugging at the waistband of my shorts. "He races for the Sacramento Bullet Ants."
My eyes shot open. I sat up in an instant.
"He races for the what?" I exclaimed.
______________________
The Sacramento Bullet Ants were a forty-four person square racing team that pulled the top private and public university square racers of the country onto their roster that served as the foundation of their multi-million, award-winning, globally-acclaimed team that ranked in the top fifteen pro racing teams of the entire world. They had an ungodly amount of Grand Square Prix—the annual championships for pro IPRA teams—gems along with several Drag Tournament titles to their name throughout the years. They'd been captained by Class I Huang Alpha NYU business administration graduate Rebecca Lopez and co-captained by Class I Rothrock Alpha Cal State Fullerton graphic arts graduate Jason Jun for the past four years, which had led them on a steady rise in popularity due to their notoriously aggressive offensive line and their notoriously calmer defense. They were to face their long-time rivals, the fifty-two person Los Angeles Angels, at Blue Wing Stadium in the upper artery of LA that Friday night, a face-off all of Los Angeles was eager to see in some effort to prove they could hold their own against the beast of the Bullet Ants without as much failure as they had in their previous years.
The Blue Wing Stadium was an old, blue and black stadium that could seat upwards of 57,000 fans, contained a track that spanned 3.7 miles the entire way around with two jumbo screens for viewership ease, several VIP suites, two VIP towers, and one viewing box for the announcers and refs to take a good look at just what the hell was happening on the track. Two canopies stood at either side of the stadium, big enough to host nearly one hundred racers on each, with wide pits below boasting all types of on-call engineers, crew members, batteries, tires, helmets, armor, gloves, headlights, handlebars, and whatever else you might destroy while racing your ass off at upwards of 120 miles per hour. The stadium lights were brighter than the gates of Heaven, bigger than biblically-accurate angels, the whole venue larger than legendary giants. Banners with skyscraper-sized photographs of racers or their respective mascot hung from the colossal walls, great big screens showcasing their faces in bloody, glorious 4k, team emblems so crisply clear that you could locate them from the stratosphere.
If you've never faced a dream eye to eye before, let me tell you.
It's a hell of an experience.
Kane said, "What do you think?"
I tried to speak, failed, tried again. "I think I'm in awe," I admitted. "I think I'm gonna throw up."
"Yeah, not again, please." Kane pushed me forward in the line. "Go on. We've got to go around."
"Why?"
He held up his phone at me. "Vann gave me smokebox seats."
I nearly choked. "You withhold the valuable information until inconvenient times, I see," I gasped. "Smokebox? As in the goddamn front row? What are you?"
Kane hauled me ahead. "Let's just get checked in already." But he said it with a grin.
I walked with him, the line a slow-moving snake that never ended behind and in front of us. I gazed around us like I could engulf it whole. Kane leaned on my shoulder, squinting at the sights that swallowed us, the Blue Wing a giant of immeasurable depth.
"Unbelievable?" he asked me.
I shook my head. "Unfathomable."
Kane's lip twitched. "Not really, though." He straightened. "It's not a very far off future."
"For you?"
He frowned. "For you."
I could've laughed. I nearly did. No future was really fathomable for me, in a stadium or in a street, maybe only in a ditch. It felt cruelly wonderful to even have the chance to face it, to see everything my brother had that I didn't in real time. My whole chest burned like someone had taken a hatchet to it.
I swallowed hard. "But, also for you, no?"
Kane paused. He looked around, his eyes drinking it in. His silver and black eyes, halfway poisoned, the black metal scars on his neck stretching towards his Adam's apple. A dart panged me in the gut.
"I'm sorry," I said instinctively.
Kane shook his head. "Don't be." He turned a sad smile on me. "It's nice to see."
This version of the world had always been a thousand miles from me. Even with Corvus, I'd never really had a taste of it as intimately as Kane had. I'd never really been promised it, been made and cured for it, been known and renowned for it, like Kane had. How could you bear it? Having something so close only to have it snatched away so fast in the same breath? It was far more cruel to lose what you loved than to lose what you had never met.
We walked the rest of the line in silence.
When Kane had checked in our tickets and we were under the tunnels towards the smokebox, I mustered up some nerves and said, "Hey."
Kane stopped ahead of me. He turned around, his body encased in the shadows. "What?"
"Wanna make a bet?"
Kane blinked. "On what?"
I gazed ahead to the stadium's waiting track. I saw my brother waiting for me, holding my chance in his hand like a precious diamond.
"I'll bet, that the next time I see this track," I said, "you'll be the one racing it."
Kane stared at me. He considered that, turning his gaze out to the waiting crowds, the eight digit victory, the promise of a win.
"Then, I'll bet," he murmured, "you'll be there with me."
Hell found me with promises.
Hell found me with hope.
I said, "I'll take that."
Two cocky collegian square racers in the smokebox seats of a former team member was about as entertaining as you can imagine.
"What the fuck?" we yelled, bursting to our feet.
"Where's the ref?" I called.
"Left elbow foul, run them to the halfway," Kane said.
"There's no goddamn tails on the fronts!"
"There's no regulation on the center!"
"What the fuck?"
"What the fuck?"
"Would you young men please sit down?" the lady next to us cried, face going red.
I jabbed a finger at her. "Hey, lady, we're just stating facts here, if you can't take it, then get out of the kitchen."
"Excuse me?"
Kane hauled me back into my seat. "Front port is slacking on the Angels' side, they need to send in their center tail to yank him in towards the centerback's reach."
"They could always go the other way and take him out by the neck."
"Calm down and stop fucking with the rules, this is pro racing."
"You said that about Corvus, where are we now? And don't tell me to calm down, look at you!"
"I'm calm," he argued, then snapped, "Hey, that's a machinery code four violation, you can't put extra oil on the tire bolts!"
"Fuck the code violation, where's the goddamn defense?"
The surrounding strangers slumped in their seats. I said, "How come you and Corvus don't go to watch matches more often?"
Kane shrugged at that. "We're never free enough to catch them. IPRA and NCAA matches take place at the same times, so even if we have a Friday off, we're all using it to catch up on homework or chores or sleep."
"Former Corvus don't invite you out?"
"They know we're busy, and they're scattered throughout the country anyway. Vann is the only one still in California." He raised a brow at me. "Would you like to go to more?"
"If I say yes, will you take me?" I pointed at the racer flying past us from the Angels. "A weak link, that man doesn't know his left from his right!"
"That's a woman!" someone from the Angels' side yelled.
"Well, tell her to get a goddamn GPS!" I yelled back.
"Say that to my face, you ant-eating scum!"
"Say that to my face, you four-winged, biblically inaccurate—"
"Sit down." Kane yanked me back into my seat. "Like hell I'm taking you to any more games if this is your behavior."
I shrugged. "I was raised without etiquette."
"What were you raised with?" he muttered.
"Crime," I said, and he gaped. I held up my hands. "Kidding."
Kane shook his head, then shot up. "Blatant fucking skull shot, where are the cameras in here?"
"That's what I was saying."
"But now I'm saying it."
I threw my hands up. "Dude."
"Hey, lovebirds," someone adjacent to us snapped. "Shut up and watch the match or else."
We both whirled around and glowered. "Or else what?"
The guy grumbled something to himself before situating his ass back into the chair with a mutter. We faced back forward and I said, "Lovebirds?"
Kane shook his head. "Bullshit—what the hell is with all the fouls out here, is there even a ref to begin with?"
I slumped back and crooked my arms behind my head. "I'm losing years of my life to the stress of this match. Especially the fact there's 29 million dollars on it. Did you hear that? 29 million US dollars? Do you see that?"
Kane said, "Not enough payment to put up with this BS. Hey! Watch the goddamn blind spots!"
Needless to say, we were a sore sight for the remainder of the half. For everyone involved.
A timeout was called in order to switch a few racers around and re-evaluate the teams' strategies. I was already breathless by that point, all wind knocked right out of me just by the sight of it, the smell of burning rubber and smoke, the tingling burns from stray sparks. Not one racer out of place. Not one racer with any hesitation. Not one racer who wasn't meant to race.
I wondered what it was like, to be the one on those bikes, nothing but the track as your friend and foe. Desperately, I wanted badly to know, even if just for a moment. To have a taste of true square racing, to see it from the first person view. A future I could own; it sounded worse than a dream. If anything, a far-off fantasy.
I thought of the clock ticking above my head. I pushed my knuckles into my chest.
Kane grabbed me by the arm and cheered just as the buzzer sounded off. I glanced at him. His face was a blue flame, a neutron star, carbon and oxygen consumed in its light. His smile transformed his face, pressed a dimple into his cheek, creased his eyes into slits. His black and gray eyes were mirrors of the raucous track, a dreamer facing a dream. A racer meant to race.
I tucked it somewhere between my ribs and looked away.
"What did you think?" he asked as we began to make our way out.
I considered that. "I think I know what it means to win."
Kane's smile could have broken the earth in two.
Vann Janssen was number thirty two on the Bullet Ants at twenty seven years old, a prodigious studio art graduate and front starboard from Avaldi University, who had gone from the humble town of Eugene, Oregon to the not-so-humble north and south ends of California all for the sake of his lucrative addiction to the bastardous sport of square racing, something that had only run in his family for about two generations from his father's high school experience to his professional one. As a Class I Hawthorn Alpha, he clocked in at sixty one inches, 185 imperial pounds, sandy blond locks, a full face of freckles, and some serious blood to show for it all.
I knew so. I saw it with my own eyes. It was easy to see which one was him, after all. You just had to listen.
"Kane King, as I live and breathe, is that Kane fuckin' King?"
We stood at the back end of Blue Wing where the parking lot stretched to accommodate private parking or the dreaded Port-A-Potties. The double doors were guarded with several vicious lycans, but they'd taken a look at Kane then me without any question before letting us through to sit in the hallways. It reeked of sweat and linoleum, but it all faded away under the gaze of the colossal wave of Bullet Ants headed our way.
Kane's face lit up. His smile was almost childish. He stood. "Good match. Congrats on your win."
Vann looked fairly young for his build and age, his face a bit too youthful for the domineering leather and metal that covered him. He threw his head back with a cackle, his green eyes alight with amusement at that. His grin was a secretive thing, his face solemn but mirthful. He clapped a hand on Kane's shoulder. "Jeez, kid, did you grow? You're at least two inches taller than when I last saw you, hell." His voice was laced with a European accent I didn't recognize. He frowned, squeezing Kane's arms. "Hey, I thought you were bulking up, you look too scrawny."
Kane waved that off. "You look good." He gestured at the gash and bruise on Vann's face. "Save for that."
Vann waved that off. "It's a trophy, you know?" He ruffled Kane's hair, then gasped. "Whoa, whoa, new dye job, I see!" He pointed at Kane's neck. "Tattoo? Sheesh, kid, what happened to you in that one year, huh?"
Kane hesitated, then grinned, shrugging. "Time flies," he tried. He turned around to cock his head at me. "I brought a rookie."
"A rookie, you say? More rookie than you?" Vann said with a lilt of a joke.
"No one will ever be more rookie than me."
"Ah, ne dis pas ça! Tu es trop dur." More French, then. I swallowed. "Who's the rookie?"
I tugged at my collar. I waved. Vann's brows shot up.
"Double dye job?" he asked.
"I just came like this," I assured. "Fresh out of the box."
"Hey, hey, I don't judge."
"'Hey' is for horses."
Vann snickered. He said, "You two must get along."
Kane side-eyed him, but his smile hadn't left. He looked almost younger, eyes bright under Vann's laugh. My chest hurt.
Vann held out his hand. "Vann Janssen, nice to meet you."
"Echo Yun," I said, taking it firmly. "It's a real name."
He smiled slowly. "Oh, I bet."
I said, "So, Kane was your rookie?"
Vann hummed, glancing between us with a knowing look, before nodding. "The true rookie, really. We used to call him the king rookie. You know, I could tell you a lot of stories about your captain over here. Once, I got a call—"
"Let's talk about you," Kane pleaded.
Vann bursted with a laugh. "What's to know about me?" he said, and lifted his helmet with a humble gesture. "I race, we win, we go home, all over again. I want to know about Corvus." He grinned at me and slung an arm over Kane's shoulders. "What do you think, Echo? How's this knucklehead running shit down there?"
I paused, then smiled. I said, "The best that the best captain in D1 can, I guess."
"Whoa!" Vann laughed. "Best captain? Shit, King, I knew they were all worried for nothing. Look at you go." He righted Kane with a grin like the sun. "How's it feel then?" He looked from him to me. "Being the true king now."
Kane was quiet for a long beat. For a moment, he looked almost pained, sorrowful, like a plea was just there within his grasp, sitting between him and Vann. I thought he'd take it.
He squeezed Vann's arm and laughed. "It's not bad," he said. "Not bad at all."
Vann ruffled his hair. "I knew so. See?" he exclaimed. "I knew you'd nail it right on the head."
Kane had a look in his eyes I'd never seen up until that point. Something dull and dark, a slow-moving knife through his abdomen. His smile looked fabric-like, frayed and two-dimensional. But he held onto Vann like just holding him at all was a privilege.
"Thanks, man," he said. "For everything."
Vann considered him. He said in French, "How are you, really? You don't call much."
Kane glanced at me, then said, "I'm okay. Everything is okay, really. Don't worry about us."
I dug my fists into my pockets and didn't say a word.
Vann nodded quietly at that, then turned to flash me a grin. "New line of Corvus. Let's talk about it, yeah?"
I followed Kane's footsteps. I grinned. "Sure. Yeah."
I said, "Hey."
Kane gave one last wave to Vann as he retreated to the vehicles set to jet them off back to Sacramento. Vann gave him a heart in return, making Kane laugh.
Once Vann's back faced us, he turned to glance at me over his shoulder. "I thought," he said, turning on his heel and pushing his hands into his jacket, "'hey' was for horses."
I blinked up at the dark skies, the muggy buzz of fading July. "Wanna get dinner?"
Kane considered me. He said, "You got somewhere in mind?"
I shrugged. "If you don't mind a train ride."
The train was surprisingly quiet for ten PM on a Friday. It was typically bombarded with the night crawlers of the city, girls in glittering heels and men in bedazzled belts, nails done, hair gelled, shoes polished, lips painted, creatures blazing, humans ogling, the scent of sweet perfume and fresh smoke filling the air. For tonight, it was nothing but the working class commuters, the crewneck college kids, the allegedly-satisfied business loners, the spotty strangers. The train was quiet like indigo, sleepy like violet.
Kane and I sat knee to knee against the window. I gestured at his shoes. Blaring purple things, the soles lugged beyond repair, the edges scratched with time, the laces yellowed with use, the sides embroidered with little dancing crows. I said, "Which ones are those?"
Kane had his head tilted back against the silver railing, but said, "Converse. Run Stars." He looked down at them fondly. "Birthday gift."
"From who?"
He hesitated. "Poppy."
I don't know who you were before.
I just know Echo.
I laid my head against his arm. I said, "Thank you. For taking me."
Kane said, "Thank you. For coming."
"And, thank you for the other thing."
"The other thing?"
I shrugged. "The knowing."
"Knowing what?"
In a way, nothing at all.
"Me," I settled on. "For knowing me."
Fear will kill you faster than hope ever will.
I would not die by my own hand if I had anything to say about it.
Kane lifted his arm. He wrapped it around me, pulling me into his side, my head to his heart, his hand pulling pink and blue hair from my face, the faint scent of skin and cotton in my lungs.
"Then, thank you," he murmured in quiet Korean. "For knowing me, too."
The train sailed through the night, Kane and I in the corner of it, watching the stars wave us goodbye.
Li was on night shift at The Audrey.
She looked wholly unhappy to be doing it, too. Her hair was a wild bun atop her head, her nails clacking away on the counter like she could chip off the last of its paint with it, the flowers dancing on her skin as the chips danced around the counter with no music to genuinely dance to. The lights were golden lanterns in the pitch black darkness of the moonless Splinter. No light could bother to find its way to the caverns of the bottom ranks. They had to make their own.
"Welcome to the Audrey, why do you dare enter at such an—Echo?"
I held up a hand in greeting. "How's it, Li?"
Li pointed at my face and squinted. "Why?"
I stepped aside. Kane bowed. "Hello," he said. "Sorry for intruding on your night."
Li paused, face shifting. She hummed, then leaned back and waved me off. "Alasseo, alasseo. Ppalli! I've got sleep to attend to."
"Witches don't sleep."
"Lycans eat too much, we all have our goddamn quirks, now get your food."
I shrugged. Kane and I threaded through the aisles, looking over the instant foods and drinks. I held up a bowl of ramyun. "Eh?"
He plucked it from me. "Don't get the white people ramyun."
"So picky. Is there a locally-sourced, all-organic ramyun?"
Kane tugged at my ear at that and I snickered. He headed for the end of the aisle and grabbed a non-frying ramyun, then tossed me a black and red bowl. "This one tastes better."
"Then you get it."
Kane shrugged. "I like this one."
I frowned. We headed for the register.
Li crossed her arms. "So. You two come together now, I see?"
"Coincidence," I argued. "Pure coincidence."
"It was his idea," Kane explained.
Li looked me up and down. She leaned over. "I thought we discussed the marriage thing, Yun. What did I say? Only the rich."
"He's worth eight goddamn digits."
Li's brows shot up. "Jalasseo."
"There is no marriage—this is a bowl of ramyun."
"Ah, that's what they all say." She snatched it from us. "First a bowl of ramyun, then a bowl of a prenup."
"What."
"You get white suit. Makes that terrible hair look less terrible."
I sighed. Kane said, "Thank you."
Li grinned. "You have my blessing, pretty boy."
He hesitated. "I meant for the ramyun."
"Ah, sure, sure you did!" she said in scoffing Korean. "That's what they all say! That's how I married my tenth husband."
"Your tenth what?"I said.
"Eat your ramyun, stop bothering your elders!"
We grabbed our things and headed for the hot water situated at the counter.
Once we had filled the bowls and grabbed our chopsticks, we headed outside where the air had cooled to far more bearable temperatures due to the Splinter being far lower below sea level than LA. I set it on a rickety, wire table, the seats too sticky with uncleaned substances and leaving us to stand instead. Without moonlight, the street lights were the only thing to assist our eyes. Kane seemed unhappy with it, squinting at every moving thing nearby, his jaw set.
I said, "No one's gonna mug you."
Kane rolled his eyes. "That's not why I'm looking."
"That's what they all say."
Kane looked wholly unamused at that. He peeled off the cover of his bowl, wailing ghosts of steam rising from the noodles and broth. He said, "What did you think of the match?"
I chewed on the noodles. They were about as good as instant ramyun could be, but in times of need, that could be pretty damn good. I admitted, "I kind of felt like dying."
Kane stared. "Okay."
I shrugged. When I realized he was waiting for an explanation, I tried, "In a good way."
Kane said, "O-kay."
I said, "You ever like something so much you hate it?"
Kane considered that for a moment. He set his chopsticks down, slid beside me to bump his hip against mine. He rifled through his pockets until he withdrew a small back of Lucky Strikes. "That's good."
"Really?"
"Means you want it that badly." He stuck one between his teeth, lit it up with the cartoon crow lighter. "I used to sort of hate watching former Corvus in pro matches. I was proud of them, but I also felt like I wanted so badly to be where they were in that moment."
"You could be."
His shrug was sad. "Maybe."
I took the cigarette from him. The smoke trailed out from his nose, between his sun-dried lips. "Why didn't you ever tell Corvus what really happened to you?"
Kane pursed his lips. "So much shit had already happened. So many things were already going down the drain. With Poppy gone and Coach prompting me to take over, it felt like putting the last nail in the coffin. I couldn't afford to at the time. And once time passed, it felt too late." His sigh was lead heavy. "When Ramos determined that the 607 was the only thing that could help me after Red Diamond last year, I figured picking up some new freshmen for the line would be a good start."
"A good start to your end," I argued. "Nothing's over, Kane."
Kane said, "No. But I'm not one to take a chance." He stole the cigarette back. "Talk about something else, please."
That was fair, albeit not my preference. But, like I was in any position to deny him.
I searched for something different enough. I said, "Gray jeans does nothing for your ass."
Kane took a full second to process that. His laugh stuttered out of him. "What ass?" he muttered. "And who told you to look?"
I shrugged. "I'm calling what I see. Stick to blue jeans, man."
He kicked my ankle. "What about you? Not like any jeans will be helping your ass."
"What ass?" I retorted. "Can't help what isn't there."
Kane threw his head back with a bright laugh that echoed through the Splinter. "It's sort of there."
"Don't lie to my face," I scoffed. "The day I have an ass is the day we quit smoking."
"We could quit."
"Bet. Put that fucker out right here, right now."
Kane dropped the cigarette and stubbed it out under his Converse. He raised a brow at me. I turned around and said, "So?"
Kane's laugh was a honeyed thing, sepia-toned and resonating. He said, "Maybe a bad bet to have placed."
I turned back around and swatted at him. "Fuck off."
Kane snagged my hand and tugged me into him. "Make me."
"We're in public."
"So?" Kane let me go, the scent of smoke in his wake, his smile a smirk now. "I didn't mean it like that. What were you thinking of?"
"Gaslighting in broad daylight. What generation is this?" I brushed myself off, willing the heat to leave my face.
"What generation do you think it is?"
"Stop that."
Kane leaned down. I faced him nearly eye to eye. When he spoke, his breath grazed the corner of my mouth. I held my own air, maybe in fear I wouldn't have the will to get another breath if I let this one go. The air lied across my skin with a bite.
"Make me," he dared.
I shook my head. An ember waited in the back of my tongue, salty and seething. "Don't even, man. It's not like that."
"No," he said. "It's not."
I stared. "You're tricking me."
"Am I?"
"Who died and made you king?"
"That's overdone to death, you know."
"Do I know?"
"Touché."
"Parlay."
He rolled his eyes. "Shut up."
He tugged me into the kiss by my waist. I drank it down like I could live off of it, breathe from it, be undone by it altogether. I pushed my fingers into his hair, brushing his bangs back, feeling the base of his neck with my thumbs. His smile pushed the kiss into the corners of my mouth, onto my cheeks. I felt my body tip backwards with the force of it, and something bubbled up in my chest until it escaped through my teeth. It took me a second to realize I was laughing.
Kane's hands held my waist up and he said, "What's funny?"
I tore out the black scars, the silver threads, the wound in my side, the scars on my knuckles, the bandages on my neck, Vann and Poppy, Corvus and the Bloodhounds, down to the grains of dirt on the Avaldi lawn, to the tire marks on the Corvidae's track, to the mocking stars of the sky.
Kane remained.
"Nothing," I promised. "Nothing."
His hands pushed up my back, fingers warm through my shirt. His mouth was warmer on mine, the taste of cigarettes pressing on my teeth and tongue. My hands held his face, the back of his neck, his skin rough and scarred under mine. I bit his lip like biting a bullet. I kissed him like time had no place between us.
You have to make a choice on whether you will fear it more than you hope for it.
If this was hoping, then hell.
I stood no chance against it.
(ty ty for reading, this makes its way to you less than an hour early because i heavily procrastinated on getting it done, so if it seems a little choppy at its transitions, it's because i wrote this in very short spurts & sessions :) thank u nonetheless for ur support and ur reading, you all are very kind and i appreciate u to the moon and back ! )