Page 24 of Crash Course Omega
“Maddock, you’re going to blow your fucking tires if you push too hard. P3 is two seconds behind. Just take the P2; you don’t need to win this to get a place in the championships.”
But it isn’t about that. It’s about getting back to his sister, the girl with the ginger hair and green eyes so clear they hurt, and to the one who never explained why she left me.
“I told you I’m going for it. So, shut the fuck up, and let me drive.”
Jaxx
I don’t know what the hell Maddock is doing, but I need to catch up with him. I manage to crawl up two places. Still, even two cars back from him in P4, I can see that he’s driving too recklessly.
Something must have happened, and it isn’t just because we were coming into those tense last laps.
Even when he’s going crazy and pushing as hard as he can, he still doesn’t drive like a mad thing.
And the Vegas circuit isn’t to be messed with. He should know that more than anyone after the crash he had last year in Singapore when he took the corner right before the flags like a loose cannon.
I have to catch up with him. I have to make sure he’s okay.
I climb through the race positions, forcing my car to go harder, overtaking twice so I can see his tail at the far end of the straight.
People call me a smooth and steady driver. I prefer to say I’m sleek. I like easily working my way up the pack as the race goes on instead of tearing out in front to hold my position. Where’s the fun in stressing when we’re here to race?
But I won’t let Maddock freak out at the top of the pack when he’s driving like that.
“What’s happened to Maddock? What’s he doing?” I ask my race engineer, the person who works with me directly when I’m out on the track.
“I don’t know. Sorry, Jaxx. He’s unresponsive.”
“Dammit. How far ahead is he?”
“You’re P4, Jaxx. He’s five seconds ahead; you’re not catching him like that.”
I grit my teeth as I put my foot down. I might not get up to third, but I can at least be near him when he crosses the line. If something happens to him when I’m not close to him, I’ll never forgive myself.
Because I lost my friend the exact same way.
There’s silence on the other end, so it looks like they expect me to stay here.
We have one more lap to go. The crowd has picked up along with my heart, nerves bouncing through me.
If Maddock crosses the line in P1, then maybe he will stop being so goddamn grumpy all the time.
“What’s happening now?” I ask ten seconds later as we speed toward the ninety-degree turn in Sector 2. “Where’s Maddock?”
“He’s caught up to P1, half a lap to go,” he says breathlessly.
I keep myself stone-quiet after that. They need to focus on Maddock, because we all know what that means. If there’s even the tiniest chance Maddock could safely win a race, the Grace favoritism kicks in.
Though I can still see him storming ahead, his movements are all over the place. He isn’t the kind of driver to veer on a straight unless he’s looking for a fight.
And I can see from a mile away that he’s braking too hard and too fast.
I can’t leave it. I need to catch up to him. If I lose him the same way I lost Carl…
Gritting my jaw, I crank the engine, humming as she roars, and start climbing the gears. Taking risks sets me on edge, but Maddock has a penchant for crashing when he’s riding high.
I glance at the screen on my steering wheel. I have enough battery to get me through the speed trap, a nice stretch of track where we can race as fast as possible, but there is always a risk of draining my battery and damaging my tires. I just need to go after the pesky Cuba Libre in front.
With my foot on the floor, I zoom off into the straight. I have to get closer just in case Maddock fumbles.
