Motocross Me (Motocross Me 1)
sh cross together, prompting me to write ninety-six with three-three-six on top of instead of next to it. Marty speaks faster with each second.
“WHOA! Ash Carter has taken the lead again,” he bellows. I struggle to find a gap in the riders so I can watch some of the race, but it’s never more than a few seconds before someone else zooms over the finish line. I scribble their nuisance of a number and try to catch another second of Ryan battling for first place.
The checker flag soars and a blurred three-three-six flies across the finish jump – a victory for Ash. Shelby must be jumping around, totally ecstatic.
Trophies are awarded after the races and the smaller kids are always first in line to claim theirs. Kids are excited to get a trophy, regardless of how big or small they are.
The winner of the women’s class claims her trophy and introduces herself as Kasey. She’s short and thin, with braided hair that’s messy from wearing a helmet all day. She has pink riding gear with plastic butterfly-shaped elbow guards on her jersey, which is the first feminine aspect of this sport I’ve seen.
“Shelby told me you’re Mr. Fisher’s daughter?” she asks, tucking the trophy under her arm as she shakes my hand.
“That’s me,” I say. A girl appears behind her and pushes her way next to Kasey in front of the window. She’s also wearing riding boots and pants but she’s replaced her jersey with a tank top. This new girl is stocky and with black cropped hair.
“Dude, Kasey, just take your dumb trophy and get out of here,” she says, tossing a wink toward me. Kasey holds out her trophy and admires it. “This is so much nicer than the second place one, don’t you think so, Hana?”
I shrug. The younger girl asks for her second place trophy and promises Kasey she’ll win the next race. Kasey leans toward me and fake-whispers, “She wishes.” I laugh as I watch them go back downstairs, taking turns shoving each other into the railing.
“I believe you have something for the winner of today’s Pro race,” Ash says into the window hole as I’m focused on the papers in front of me. I take my sweet time acknowledging him. When I finally make eye contact, I see the smirk in his voice is also plastered on his face.
“Yes I do, but let me see who won today.” I pretend to look through an imaginary clipboard. He plays along, pointing to a place in thin air. “There it is, Ash Carter, first place. That’s me.” He holds my gaze for a moment as I think of something clever to say.
“I’m gonna have to see some identification.”
He turns around and points to the back of his jersey, where his last name spans across the top with his number in large numbers underneath. “Three-three-six,” he says.
I give him the envelope with the winning prize money. “Five hundred dollars, ugh you’re so lucky.” I sigh, resting my chin in my hand.
He takes the envelope and puts his hands on either side of the window, leaning in a bit so we’re at the same eye level. “Do you think this will buy dinner for two around here?” he asks, entirely too amused with himself.
“In this town, you could probably buy the whole restaurant with that much money.” My heart gets light in my chest. Is he doing what I think he’s doing?
“So…” The calm and collected Ash Carter is starting to rip away in pieces as his fingers tap nervously on the wooden frame. “Could I take you to dinner sometime?”
I draw in a breath, unsure of what to say. I might have said yes if my heart wasn’t already set on Ryan. He bites his lip. It feels like an hour goes by.
“Actually, I’m kind of seeing someone.” There, I said it. Wait, why did I say that? Inescapable shock flashes across his face.
“Really? This soon?”
I start to reply but he stops me. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.” He forces a smile and backs away from the window.
I don’t belong in this chair. I belong under a rock. I hurt his feelings and things will never be the same between us. “I’m sorry, Ash.”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he says, walking away and down the stairs. I watch his silhouette disappear into the setting sun and try to ignore my conscious telling me I’m going to regret this one day.
Brrrr-rrrrrr-rrr. I fling an arm out of my warm comforter and feel around the nightstand for my phone. Who would send me a text message at this hour? Ryan, hopefully. Maybe he’ll have an excuse for not talking to me at the race.
I slide it open and squint at the bright glare on my screen.
Mom Cell
I sit up, blinking to make sure I’m not dreaming and read the name again. Mom? My mother, who hadn’t talked to me in two weeks and never replied to my voice mail, is sending me a text message at three in the freaking morning? I click to open it.
Danny and I are eloping! I wish you were here, Vegas is beautiful. Xoxoxo
Chapter 9
Shelby’s eyes are wider than an owl’s when she reads the text on my phone.