I thought my brother would want to skip the next race, seeing as he was banned from participating. But he came the stairs the morning of—a Tuesday, as they had to push the race back again until the rain finally stopped—dressed with his keys in his hands.
"Where are you going?" I questioned.
"The race."
His response was short, and I pursed my lips at him, about to just ignore him and turn back to my book I was reading on the couch. Since my conversation with Audrey a couple of days ago, that's about how all conversations between Clay and I had been the past few days. I didn't want to talk to him, or really be with him. Unfortunately, the rain persisted, and kept us cooped up here in this musty house.
On that thought, it might be nice to get out.
So I snapped my book shut, skirting around the ottoman on the plush rug to walk up to him. "I'm coming with you."
He had just finished pulling his shoes on, and he stood up, eyeing me. He had the top half of his gear on, apparently wanting to be as part of the race as he could, the light royal blue and black clashing terribly with the yellowed purple bruise on his cheek.
"Why?"
"Why are you still going?" I threw back at him, grabbing my vans and sliding them on.
He frowned down at me. "Because I—I need to check on something."
Okay, he could have just said he wants to be at the races and I'd not question it, but that was a weird answer. I frowned back at him. "What? What do you mean? What do you need to check?"
He averted his eyes. "I just did something, and I want to make sure it's followed through on."
"Did what?" I pushed, standing up straight and blowing hair out of my face.
He looked back toward me, and I thought I actually saw delight in his eyes. It was smothered, and hidden, and definitely an evil delight, but something had happened—or something would happen—that Clay wanted to get to the track and see.
I rolled my eyes. I didn't even press him, because I knew I wouldn't get an answer anyway. I'd just find out for myself.
"Well, I'm coming, because I could use some fresh air, and I want to make sure you don't do anything stupid again."
He looked like he might try to discourage it, but then he just shook his head, resigning himself to the fact that he had a stubborn sister, and walked out the door, leaving me to follow him.
— - — @ — - —
Word had spread quickly that Clay and Greyson were out of this race. There was an eagerness among the racers as they felt it was their time to shine, hungry for a chance to finally claim first and get the high points that top performers get. They nodded to Clay as we walked into the racing grounds, expressing sympathy but I could hear in their tone they were excited to have the chance to be the star today.
A few officials cast wary looks over to my brother, but relaxed when seeing he wasn't here to cause trouble or complain. Clay ditched me quickly to walk to the shop, apparently needing to tell Uncle Phil something.
So I watched the first race with Becka. Glen placed first, much to his girlfriend's delight. I smiled as I watched her jump up and down and run to the fenceline to give him a hug as he drove out. Glen had been doing well in this competition, he'd definitely make it to the final race.
As the last of the racers crossed the finish line, their gear muddy but the fierce sun drying it quickly, feedback squeaked in the air as the announcer tuned in.
"Ladies and gentleman, that's the first race! Congratulations to the winner, be sure to log your place at the Shop by the end of the day to get those points. Just a public announcement, the second race today is going to be delayed," the announcer stated. I frowned at the strange tone he was using, looking toward the tower I knew he was in. "We, uh—I mean, the officials, need to check up on the track and make sure it's good to go. Second race is now scheduled for three this afternoon."
My eyebrows furrowed farther at the stammering, but everyone else didn't seem to care. Reid was in this second race, so I knew my brother and I would be sticking around until then. So deciding to go chill at the trailer, I stood and stretched, enjoying the warmth on my bare arms. The forecast was slated for more rain later this week, so everyone was soaking up the sunlight like it hadn't been the only thing we'd seen for months before this constant bout of rain.
I made my way down the stands, casting a glance around to see if I could find Clay or Reid. Or Greyson.
I didn't find any of them with my quick search, so I just made my way back to the field to where Reid and Clay were parked next to each other. Clay had left his trailer here, he wasn't going to be out that long. He was already determinedly telling my parents that he was going to start practicing again this week, much to my dad's frustration.
I dodged puddles of mud that hadn't dried from the sun quite yet, and waved at a few racers I knew. Becka and Glen were back at his trailer, and I sent her another smile.
Reid was leaning over his bike that was held up by a bright metal stand, straightening his handlebars. He had taken his shirt off in the heat, and the abandoned racing top was tucked into his waistband and a sheen of perspiration coated his tan back. "Laid it down?" I asked as I got closer.
He cast a glance over his shoulder toward me, and offered me a small smile. "Hey. Yeah, during practice the other day."
"Well, at least you got extra time to fix it," I stated, walking around to Clay's trailer to pull the door open, grabbing a lawn chair. I spread it out under the small tent they had set up. When I plopped into it, I felt the feet sink slightly into the mucky ground. I was grateful to be out of the sun—the humidity hit you like a wall when you stepped outside, and sweat was already dotting my forehead. My hair curled around my temples, and I pulled it back into a ponytail, watching as Reid pulled at his bike. "Do you know why they actually delayed the races?"
He shook his head. "No idea. But the track didn't look too badly messed up, so I doubt it was just to fix it."
"Have you seen Clay?"
Another shake of his head. "Last I saw, he was at the Shop talking to Phil about something. He seems to be doing better, but he was pretty jittery when I saw him."
I wondered what it was that Clay was anticipating to happen. Reid seemed to have no knowledge of it, so I didn't say anything. We lapsed into silence—it wasn't uncomfortable, which I was grateful for. I got up again, walking to the truck. With the extra waiting we had, I was grateful I brought my book, grabbing it and settling back into the chair with legs crossed.
We sat together for another twenty minutes or so in quiet, save for the clinking of his tools against his bike and the raspy sound of my pages turning.
Something pulled me out of my book trance, but I didn't know what. I looked up and glanced around, frowning. People were milling about the field, chatting. Reid was still clanking on his bike. I looked back down to my book.
Then my attention was broken again. The sound was clearer, and I looked up again.
Sirens.
Reid now heard, his hands freezing, and his gaze coming up to look down the main road toward the Shop, leaning back slightly on his heels.
The ringing was slowly getting louder. The sirens were approaching the track. Reid stood slowly, squinting in the sunlight, and I leaned over the edge of my seat to look down the main road too. A crowd was at the Shop—which wasn't that out of the ordinary but it did seem to be growing.
Reid grabbed a dirty rag nearby to clean off his hands, then slipped his gear over his top half. I closed my book, standing also to follow. The sirens were louder now. More and more people joined Reid and me as we jogged toward the Shop.
The crowd had grown considerably in the time it took us to get there. Some shouting mixed with the sirens coming closer, and Reid took the liberty to push people in the crowd to the side, paving a way.
We finally broke through and came to the edge of the ring.
At least, that's what it looked like.
The crowd had surged then rounded, leaving a clearing the shape of a circle. Reid and I skidded to a stop, joining the edge, and I froze with eyes wide as I saw the figures the circle had formed around.
My brother stood tall and straight, his nose turned up but his eyes wary.
However, that dignity was erased as he stumbled quickly to the side to dodge a punch that was thrown at his face.
My frozen posture melted like lava had just hit me, and my hands shot to my mouth as I gasped, flinching at the near-miss.
Spencer went flying forward with his momentum, his fist that had expected an impact swinging through air and sending him floundering. But he regained his composure quickly, turning. I could feel fumes of anger radiating off of him. His long blond hair was falling loose from the ever-present man bun, and his eyes were alight with emotion. He looked crazed, and it was all focused on my brother.
Spencer then spat at the ground toward my brother, who stood with his own emotions barely held back.
"Just gonna stand there and play the official's favorite, huh?" Spencer threw at him, his shoulders tensing against the dirty wife-beater. "You don't get disqualified for breaking the rules, but then you go tattle-tale to the heads, whining about other racers, and they listen to the pretty-boy?"
He took another step toward Clay, who, much to my gratitude, didn't retaliate but stepped back and held up a hand. "Spencer, calm down," Clay said through gritted teeth.
Spencer scoffed, and snapped, "You're so full of it, Lawson. You think you can get away with anything. There's dirt I got on you and so many others, I know things you don't. You'll regret this."
I cast my eyes around quickly, looking for officials. I saw one, but he was struggling to get past the crowd on the far side, so he couldn't quite see what was going on. I saw it was Spencer's buddies, faking ignorance as they stood, blocking the official and others from breaking the ring and stopping what was happening.
Anxiously turning back, I grabbed Reid's arm, saying quickly, "What are they talking about? What's going on?"
Reid shrugged, but someone beside us, another racer with dark ebony hair and wide eyes, answered instead, his voice squeaky and worried about the looming brawl. "Spencer got busted for drugs. I guess Lawson found some in his trailer and reported it to the officials."
"What?" I asked incredulously, looking back at Spencer. That's what my brother was talking about this morning? He was reporting drugs? To get Spencer disqualified?
As much as I hated Spencer, even I thought that was a low-blow, considering my brother was just graciously let off the hook.
The sirens were piercing and I knew they had entered the parking lot outside. Officials were almost cutting through the line, but Spencer's cronies were now visibly holding them back. Tension and ramblings were rising among the crowd, but nobody wanted to intervene.
Spencer started walking to the side, circling Clay like he was ready to pounce. "You're such a piece, Lawson. You'll do anything to win this competition while making other racers' lives hell." He came a little closer to Clay, and lowered his voice. I could hardly hear it over the growing ruckus.
"You're not the only one going to extremes to win. There's other racers that I know are going to extremes to cut you down. Even if you take me out, my goal won't be winning but will be helping them cut you down so you can't. I swear it'll happen."
Cop cars chirped, the sirens shutting off. They'd be in here soon.
Clay finally opened his mouth, and I shook my head in disdain as my brother egged on the already riled up racer. "At least you won't have to eat my dirt anymore."
I opened my mouth, shouting sternly, "Clay, stop it."
Clay's eyes glanced over to me, only for a split second. But Spencer used this, and I watched as his fist came up, flashing as it finally connected with my brother's jaw.
Clay fell to the side, and the crowd started all-out yelling, racers behind me shouting that the cops were here. Clay didn't straighten up—to my horror he stayed bent over, shaking his head and holding his hands out, as if he could hardly stand on his own two feet. Reid moved forward, but a couple of Spencer's friends stepped in front of him, pushing him back roughly.
My heart sank as I saw Spencer approach my brother again. Clay was in no shape to defend himself. I took a step forward, unsure of what my plan was, but just as Spencer raised his hand again for another blow, someone grabbed his elbow and yanked.
Spencer fell back slightly, enough for Greyson to step in front of him and shove harshly, sending Spencer to his rear on the ground. Greyson then took a stance in front of my brother, his fists clenched and the muscles in his back tensing under his black shirt. He was tall, menacing, and even Spencer hesitated before getting back to his feet. But he did, mud coating his back, and glared at my brother's protector.
Greyson stepped forward again, hands outstretched and shoving Spencer once more, but not hard enough to send him sprawling. Just hard enough to get him away from my brother, who had now fallen to the ground, clutching his head. I ran to Clay, grabbing his shoulder and kneeling in front of him.
More shouting joined the cacophony of noises, but these newcomers shouted with authority. I watched as at least five policemen flooded into the mix of racers and officials, running up to Greyson and grabbing Spencer. The officials had finally gotten around the racers, and they went up to Spencer too. I saw Phil grab Greyson and pull him to the side, out of the way.
Suddenly Clay started standing, and I looked back to find it was Reid who slung his arms under Clay's shoulders and was pulling him up. "Come on, let's get him out of here," Reid said lowly to me under the voices of everyone else.
I nodded, assisting him with Clay as we dragged my brother up and away from the commotion. Officials were now trying to break up the crowd, telling everyone to get lost and go back to their trailer.
Clay was grunting in pain as he let himself be led away, down the road and to his trailer. Halfway there he seemed to regain his balance and shook our hands off, walking stubbornly himself. I grit my teeth, following him to the trailer. When he got there he shrunk down into the chair I had just been reading in, holding his head in his hands, his fingers pulling at the grown out dirty-blond hair.
"Clay, what were you thinking?" I started, shaking my head at him.
Clay groaned. "Do you ever stop yelling at me?"
I rolled my eyes, throwing my hands up and looking to Reid. Reid pursed his lips, his blue eyes showing that he himself didn't altogether approve of Clay's actions either.
"I'm going to go see if the second race is still on for today."
I glared at Reid's back as he walked away, leaving me alone with Clay.
"How are you feeling?" I asked, trying to soften my tone. I walked past him and grabbed a water from the cooler by his truck, coming back to hand it to him.
"I'm fine, just a headache."
I sighed. "You need to stop getting punched."
It wasn't out of the ordinary. Clay did have a temper, and there was hardly a summer that passed without him getting into a fight or coming home with a black eye. But this summer was different—he needed to be more careful.
"Thanks, I'll take that into consideration."
I felt, more than heard, someone behind me, and I turned to find Greyson standing there. He met my eyes briefly, then let them drop. His dark brown hair floated in the breeze, turning golden in the sunlight. He awkwardly put his hands into the pockets of his shorts.
I stood up from crouching beside Clay, facing the racer. My brother noticed my silence, and he looked up and followed my gaze.
"How, uh—how are you feeling?" Greyson directed his words at my brother. I raised my eyebrows at the the plain tone. Note the date and time, Greyson wasn't dissing my brother.
"Just peachy," Clay snapped. Apparently he wasn't going to break his side of the trend.
"Spencer's out, the cops took him. The officials think he'll just get probation, depending on whatever drugs they were, but he's definitely out of the competition." Greyson seemed to rush his words, like he was trying to fill the weird space between the three of us.
We stood there in quiet for a moment, then I said, "Thank you." My words were tight, but genuine. "For stopping Spencer." I don't know why he did. As far as I knew, Greyson should've been happy to let Spencer finish the job that was started a few days ago on the track.
But I do know that if Greyson hadn't intervened, my brother would be in a lot worse shape than he was now.
Greyson met my eyes again, his gaze unreadable, then he dipped his head.
"Don't thank him," Clay growled. "He's done enough already."
"If I remember correctly, you were the one that caused your guys' little tussle on the track," I said sourly, looking down toward my brother, who put his head back in his hands.
"I'm not talking about that," Clay muttered.
"I just came here to check if you were okay," Greyson's words were clipped. "Didn't mean to cause something, but you always take it there anyway."
"Coming from the one—"
I let out a loud noise of frustration and cut my brother off. "You two have to be the most insufferable human beings alive."
"Just forget it, should've let Spencer deck you," Greyson mumbled, glaring at my brother and turning on his heel.
I watched him walk away, then I faced my brother.
"Are you ever going to tell me what happened?" I said shortly, making him look at me. He looked like he got no sleep last night, and the bruise on his face was starting to match the light blond highlights of his hair, just a greener yellow.
"Will you just let it go, Cory?" Clay pleaded bitterly. "Why do you even come to the races anymore if all we're going to do is get mad at each other?"
So, there was my answer—no, he wasn't going to tell me.
Fine. If I couldn't make my brother crack, I'd chase down the other side.
Reid appeared beside us. "They're still having the next race, and they're moving it up now, to try and get people to stop crowding at the Shop and get things back to normal. Cory, can you help me at the gate, since Clay is..." he trailed off, looking at my brother who was was rolling his neck and kneading his head, looking like he was drunk. "Occupied."
I nodded, standing up to follow Reid. I glanced down the road, but Greyson had vanished. Sighing, I decided to wait for today—but enough was enough. I was going to get the story out, no matter what.
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A/N: Hi folks! It would me so much to me if you just dropped a quick comment letting me know what you think of the story so far--would seriously mean the world. Thanks for reading:)