Page 8 of Broken Track
I cross the finish line in second place, which isn't what I want, but it's good enough to keep my points up. As I pull off the track and roll into the pits, the buzz of victory is already wearing off. As soon as I climb out of the car, I see her.
Izzy stands near the trailers, arms crossed, her expression distant. She’s not alone. A group of girls stands nearby, whispering and casting looks her way. They’re wannabe racers, and they remind me of Regina George from Mean Girls. A couple of them are regulars at the track, while others are here for the scene. I don’t like the way they’re watching her. I don’t like the way she looks away, her jaw tightening as if bracing for impact.
Something twists in my gut.
I start toward her, but before I can get close, Nolan steps in front of me. “Wait,” he whispers, keeping his voice low.
“What?” I snap, eyes still locked on Izzy.
He shifts, uneasy. “You don’t see what’s been happening, do you?”
I drag my gaze away from her and look at him. “What are you talking about?”
Nolan exhales sharply, glancing at the group of girls, then lowers his voice. “They’ve been messing with her. Bad. Talking shit, spreading rumors, making sure she feels like she doesn’tbelong here.” His jaw clenches. “It’s been going on for a while. I thought you knew.”
My stomach drops. I didn’t know. I knew something was wrong, but I never thought, never realized, that this is why she’s pulling away.
“They’ve been running her off, Xavier,” Nolan continues, his voice hard. “Izzy used to be one of the best out here, but now? She’s not even racing half the time. She acts like she doesn’t care, but I see it. They’re getting to her.”
I glance back at her. She’s staring at the ground now, her fingers digging into her arms. The girls laugh at something I’m pretty damn sure is about her.
A slow, burning anger builds in my chest. I don’t know exactly what they’ve been saying or every detail of what they’ve done. But I know enough, and I’m done standing by while she fights this alone. Izzy has been my best friend since we were kids, and these bitches messed with the wrong woman.
I move before I even think, heading straight for Izzy. Her head snaps up when she sees me coming, but she doesn’t move or run. She watches, her eyes guarded, bracing for whatever I’m about to say.
I stop in front of her, close enough that she can’t pretend not to hear me. “You don’t have to do this alone,” I say, my voice firm. “Whatever’s going on, whatever they’ve been saying, I see it now. I’m not letting them push you out of this.”
Izzy’s lips part slightly, surprise flickering across her face. She opens her mouth as if to argue, to tell me I’m wrong, but no words come out.
For the first time in weeks, she doesn’t shut me out, and that’s all the opening I need. She exhales sharply, looking away, and I can see how she’s holding herself together, as if letting even one crack show would make the whole damn wall break.
“I don’t need your help, X,” she breathes, but her voice lacks fight.
I take a step closer, lowering my voice. “Yeah? Then why aren’t you racing?”
Izzy’s jaw tightens.
I press on. “You love this, Izzy. You were born for it. But you’re letting them get to you.” I glance at the girls, my fists clenching at their smug looks. “And they want that. They want you to back down.”
She flinches at that, just a tiny bit, but enough for me to know I hit the truth dead center. “I didn’t back down,” she mutters, but it’s more for herself than me.
“No?” I raise an eyebrow. “Then why the hell are you letting them win?”
Izzy looks up at me then, and for the first time tonight, fire burns in her eyes. “You think this is that simple?” she snaps, her voice sharp, cutting through the hum of engines and the conversation around us. “That I’m just… letting them win?”
I cross my arms. “That’s exactly what I think.”
She huffs out a bitter laugh. “You have no idea what it’s been like.”
“Then tell me.”
Her eyes dart around, making sure no one else is close enough to hear. When she finally speaks again, her voice is quieter, strained. “They’re not talking shit, Xavier. They’ve messed with my car, slashed my tires, and started rumors that I…” She hesitates, swallowing hard. “That I sleep my way into races. That I don’t deserve to be here. They make sure I get boxed out on the track, and if I fight back, it gets worse.”
My blood runs hot. “Who?”
She lets out a tired breath. “It doesn’t matter.”
“The hell it doesn’t,” I growl, my hands curling into fists. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
