It had been a little over a week since Adali
ne disappeared. She’d called and left a message on her father’s voicemail during the last race. She knew he wouldn’t be able to answer it. The only thing she said was that she was fine and had sent Mr. Elliot an email giving her notice for personal reasons.
My mind was a blur. I couldn’t sleep, eat or think clearly ever since Adaline left.
“Emmit, you’ve got to stay focused. You’re all over the place.” Waldo’s voice said as it echoed in my helmet.
“Yeah well if that little fucker Newbury would stop bumping me, maybe I wouldn’t get loose. I’m going to pound his fucking face in when I get out of this goddamn racecar.”
“Okay, well I know you’re angry, but try to focus through the anger.”
The spotters voice was next. “Bumper, door, door, bumper, clear.”
I hit the gas and passed another driver. I’d never driven like this before. I was on a mission. I’d never won at Chicago and today I was going to change that.
“Emmit, let’s remember to conserve gas,” Waldo said as his voice invaded my thoughts.
“It’s the chase, Waldo. I’m going to win this.”
Not two seconds later, fucking Malcolm Wallace bumped into my right rear, causing me to slide up the track just enough for that ass hole to get past me. He was now in second and I was running in third.
“That motherfucker!” I shouted as I hit the gas and hit his bumper.
Waldo yelled, “Let’s calm down, buddy.”
“He fucking pushed me out of his way, Waldo.”
My spotter came over the radio again, but I didn’t hear a damn thing he said. All I could focus on was the rear of Malcolm’s car. If I couldn’t pay him back on the track, I’d do it after the race.
“There’s a caution, let’s see what everyone else does. We only have ten laps to go.”
“I’m staying out,” I said matter of fact.
The silence in my car would have been deafening two weeks ago, now I welcomed it.
“Emmit, you need to come in. With four fresh tires, we could take this thing.”
I watched Malcolm as we rounded the turn. Whatever he did, I was doing. Jerking his wheel to make it seem like he was pitting, Malcolm stayed out at the last minute.
So did I.
I could hear Waldo cursing over the radio, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything anymore.
The only thing I cared about left me.
Again.
“You just cost yourself the race, Emmit,” Waldo said with anger in his voice.
I knew my head wasn’t in this race. If I didn’t snap out of it soon, things would turn dangerous.
MY MOUTH DROPPED OPEN WHEN I saw Emmit didn’t pit. I had the team communications pulled up on my phone as my eyes stayed glued to the TV. Glancing down at my phone, I saw my voicemail with one unread message.
It was Stephanie. Why she was calling, I had no idea. Emmit called at least ten times a day, each time leaving a message I had yet to listen to. I needed to clear my head and the more time I had to think about what I saw, the more I questioned what I saw.
The one thing I knew for sure was, Emmit hadn’t been driving well since I left and that filled me with guilt. I’d missed two races since I abruptly left.
“What in the fuck are you doing, Emmit!” my father screamed. “I told you to bring your ass in!”