Page 22 of Furious

“Shit,” I swear, dropping to my knees and crawling under the table to pick them up. Tears fill my eyes. This is why I don’t think about the crash. Why I work so hard to keep racing separate from that day in my mind. Because if I think too closely about it, I’ll never get into a car again.

And that’s just not acceptable.

Mom wouldn’t have wanted that and she always knew how dangerous racing could be. “That’s part of why I do it,” she had told me. “Because it makes me feel alive. Even when it could kill me. There’s a certain feeling that I’m always chasing.”

Another cheer fills the room. I stop trying to catch rolling beads and look up. On the TV, somehow, the Haas driver stumbles out of the still-burning car. He waves his hand, and moves toward the safety crew that’s been dispatched.

Lucky bastard. Why did he get to walk away and Mom didn’t? Who decides these things?

Fuck. It’s just so unfair.

“You missed some,” a familiar voice behind me says.

I swipe at my tears as El appears beside me on the ground under the table, holding a handful of blue and teal beads. She glances at the TV and understanding crosses her face.

“I was wondering if you still watched races,” she says softly.

“Sometimes.” There’s too much ache in my chest to lie.

“Do you miss it?”

“Always.”

“But not the crashes.”

“Not the crashes.”

She takes my hand, opening my clenched fingers. The beads fall from her palm into mine, hitting the others gently. Her hand lingers as she closes my fingers over the beads. “It’s okay to not be okay. I know people always say things like that, but it’s true.”

Before I can reply, Delores pops her head below the table. “What are you two doing down there?” She eyes the closeness between us suspiciously. “We’re making bracelets here, not gabbing all day.”

“Be right there, Mrs. Russell,” El says. “I brought you some new charms from the craft store.” She fishes a small brown paper bag from the pocket of her shorts and holds it out.

Delores takes it eagerly and turns away, leaving me and El beneath the table.

“Did you think of anything yet?” I ask El. “So we can race Riley?”

“Not really. I wish we had a fast car, but I hardly think the Oat-mobile will beat him. He probably wouldn’t want it anyway.”

As soon as she says it, I decide what to do. And I think Mom would approve. Her words whisper in my mind: There’s a certain feeling that I’m always chasing.

Maybe helping El will bring me that feeling.

I let out a deep breath. “I have an idea of where we can get a car, but it’s going to take some planning. And some work, since it currently doesn’t run.”

El raises an eyebrow. “Want to come over to my house tonight to figure it out?”

I definitely do.

“Yes.”

“Come by at seven. My parents are going out to dinner.”

“GIRLS!” Delores is decidedly not happy that we’re still under the table.

El shoots me a knee-melting grin and clambers out of my space, leaving me a little breathless.

There’s a certain feeling that I’m always chasing.