Motocross Me

by Cheyanne Young

  Ash jumps as Hello Kitty thuds to the ground within an inch of his feet. I know he recognizes my keychain. He turns to me, his lips quivering as he holds back a smile. The texting girl doesn’t notice but the blond sees everything. She crinkles her nose at me. Her hand goes to her hip and she taps her toe like an annoyed schoolteacher. I blush a color deeper than the sunburn I got on my first day of work.

  Ash picks up my projectile and raises his eyebrows at me. I manage a weak, “oops” but refuse to take my keys back in front of the girls.

  “Hey, you.” He does his head nod thing to acknowledge me. It’s the most informal way to say hi to someone. Great, he doesn’t like me at all anymore. How could he, when Blondie over there outshines me by a thousand-million percent? “Ladies, this is Hana Fisher. Have you met her?”

  “No,” they say in unison. Guess the texter is paying attention after all.

  “She works here.” He touches the lower part of my back for a micro second. Electricity shoots through my spine. If he does it again, I may be paralyzed for life. “Jim is her dad.”

  “Oh my god, you actually work here?” She covers her mouth with her hand. “Daddy doesn’t make me work at his track.”

  The electricity in my spine turns to sheer hatred. I’m not some filthy minimum-wage employee – I am the owner’s daughter, and she is on my territory now.

  “My daddy owns this track.” I mock her fairy princess tone. “I work for fun.”

  Two whole seconds pass. I am desperate to see Ash’s reaction to our mini-staring contest but I can’t break eye contact with her to look at him.

  “What can I get for ya, little lady?” Frank’s bald head pokes out of the window of the stand, saving me from her condescending glare.

  “Two pickles please.” She hands him two dollars.

  “Two pickly-pickled-pickles for two pretty pears,” he says. Frank’s nonsense breaks the thick air as he ducks back inside to retrieve the pickles. Most of the things Frank says doesn’t make any sense, but everyone loves him anyway. His favorite name for the track is MMXP – an acronym no one uses but him.

  “So Ash.” The pickle-lover turns back to us. “Oak Creek would suit you better. Plus it’s only a few minutes away from my house.” She says the last part with a coy smile she passes off as innocence. Ash won’t fall for that, will he? I suck in my stomach a little, look up at him and try not to make a puppy face.

  “I don’t know about that.” He jiggles the keys in his hand. “This track is very close to my house. And other things.”

  He slides the keys into my pocket and gives her the quick head nod this time. “See ya around ladies. Frank, I want some nachos.”

  Frank salutes him and flips on the nacho cheese warmer. The girls walk away, but I don’t turn to see if they look back at me. I just give Ash a sheepish grin, knowing I won that round. Frank whistles the tune of Yankee Doodle while he fills a plastic tray with chips.

  Ash asks if I want anything to eat. I shake my head.

  “Are you sure?” He looks down to meet my eyes. “Because I’ll be happy to get you your own nachos, but I’m not sharing mine. I’m starving.” Ash’s navy blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. My toes feel light every time we stand this close.

  “No.” I wiggle my toes to give them feeling again. “It’s not even ten in the morning yet, you pig.” I poke his stomach with my finger to prove my point but it doesn’t jab into flesh, only muscle. Ash clenches a hand to his heart and gasps, pretending to be insulted.

  Frank speaks up from inside the concession stand, giving us his two cents. He loves giving out unsolicited advice. “Shoot, honey you can have nachos any damn time of the day.” He leans out of the window and presents Ash with a hot tray of chips and melted imitation cheese product. Or, as I call it: Heaven.

  As we walk through the pits, I recognize a silver Toyota and pull Ash over to say hi to Kasey and Lauren.

  “Whoa, dude. You look so cute in normal clothes,” Kasey says. Lauren whistles at him. Unlike those trampy concession stand girls, Lauren isn’t threatening. She flirts with everyone.

  They ask Ash why he isn’t racing. He shrugs and says it doesn’t feel right to be racing today. Lauren’s eyes fill up with tears. She wraps Ash in a bear hug. He towers over her small frame so he has to bend down to return her hug. Kasey hugs the other side of him and then puts an arm around me.

  “We’ll get through this, guys,” Kasey says. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  We’re almost at Ash’s truck when Marty announces through the PA system that the National Anthem is about to start. Ash puts his nachos behind his back, winks at me, and puts the other hand across his chest. We stop in the middle of the pits and face the American flag while Allyson steps onto the finish-line podium and sings.

  Unlike Ryan’s massive truck, Ash’s Mazda is small and manageable. When I sit on the tailgate, my feet touch the ground. The races start. Ash is parked in a great spot that’s was close enough to see the track without going to the bleachers. Shelby joins us. “I need you to move over,” she says, giving me this mysterious look. I scoot over a few inches. “More, please.” I scoot over again, this time touching shoulders with Ash. “Perfect.” She smiles, pleased with herself. There are empty lawn chairs around us. She probably thinks she is torturing me by making me move closer to her brother, but I like it more than she knows.

  The third moto comes and before I’m ready for it, Teig’s race is next. I squint in the sunlight to make out the number fourteen bike. He’s at the end of the gate; it must he his lucky day. Teig always wants the spot at the end because it is the best one for getting the holeshot. He lines up his bike in the slot, while Dad hovers over him giving him advice. Dad’s hands go up and down, mimicking the jumps and turns. Teig’s helmet bobs in reply.

  The thirty-second girl runs out on the track, holding a huge board. When she holds it up, it means the race starts in thirty seconds. When she turns it sideways and runs off the track, it means get ready because the gate is about to drop.

  She turns the sign sideways. My heart batters in my chest. Teig is a good rider. He’s way better than Shawn. But this isn’t a baby track, this is the real deal. It’s almost too exciting and terrifying to watch.

  The gate drops.

  “Your butt is ringing.” Ash nudges me with his shoulder.

  “Huh?” I reach in my back pocket for my phone. It is ringing but I hadn’t heard it over the roar of a dozen dirt bikes blazing past us. I cover one ear with my hand and put my phone to the other.

  “Hello?”

  “Hana, baby, I’m so sorry.” It’s Mom.

  “Um…yeah me too.” What else am I supposed to say? The checkered flag waves the final third moto racer off the track.

  “I’m sorry I yelled at you honey, but Danny wants to buy you a plane ticket, and you could be here just in time for the reception.”

  “I don’t…” Teig pins the gas and takes the holeshot. “YES!”

  “Great, so you’ll come?”

  “No, Mom, I’m sorry that was for Teig.” I struggle to speak and watch my brother race. “I can’t go Mom. It’s too late.”

  “How is this going to make me look in front of my friends?”

  The second place rider gains on Teig. I’m on the edge of Ash’s tailgate, holding my breath in anticipation. Come on Teig, don’t slow down under the pressure. They turn out of sight, giving me time to digest what Mom just said. So she doesn’t care about me being there as much as she cares what her friends will think.

  “You only want me there to impress your friends? Seriously, Mom?” I glance at Ash. He’s not watching the race, he’s watching me. He should mind his own freaking business.

  “I want you there to support me.” Her voice is softer now. “Is that too much to ask?”

  The white flag waves. Only one more lap to go, and Teig is still in front.

  “I can’t support you marrying a man you hardly know, Mom.” I dare to look at Ash again and his eyes w
ere wide with anger. Or, fear? None of those emotions make sense to me. There isn’t enough room in my heart to juggle anticipation for Teig, worry for Teig, annoyance with Mom, and hardcore crush syndrome with Ash.

  “Well you should. I am your mother. I raised you, you know.”

  “Yeah but you didn’t do a good job.”

  “Excuse me? I gave you everything you ever wanted!” She is yelling now, on the verge of tears from the sound of it. I should apologize I guess. Forgive and forget. But as she rambles on telling me how spoiled and selfish I am, I zone it all out and watch Teig cross over the finish line. Dad leaps into the air and runs alongside Teig’s bike as he leaves the track and heads to the tower. Dad’s wearing his stupid Mixon Motocross shirt. Mom’s wearing her fifth wedding dress.

  Mixon is where my heart is now, not Dallas.

  “I’m sorry Mom. I can’t talk anymore.”

  “I can’t believe you,” she says. I hang up.

  Teig runs up to me carrying a first place trophy and smiling, quite literally from ear to ear. His cheeks are red, his hair is soaked and he’s panting like a dog. Shelby high-fives him.

  “Good race kid.” Ash fist-bumps Teig’s gloved hand.

  “You were awesome,” I say, ruffling his hair and regretting it when my hand comes out all wet and stinky. Teig hands me his trophy. “I won this for you.”

  I take it and stare at the golden plastic dirt bike at the top of the trophy.

  Yep. Mixon is my home now.

  Chapter 13

  Shelby stands pigeon-toed staring into the full-length mirror in my closet. She lets her shoulders slouch and the silver strap of my Chanel camisole slides down her arm. She doesn’t bother to pull it up, but she does sigh for the millionth time.

  She tilts her head to the left, then to the right. Then she tousles her hair and groans. “This isn’t going to work.” She pulls her hair back and examines both sides of her head in a ponytail before letting it fall around her shoulders again. Now she looks down at my pair of incredibly expensive jeans she’s wearing and curls her lip.

  “I’ll thank you not to look at my three hundred dollar jeans that way.” I shove her to the left with my hip so we can share the mirror. I can’t decide on a pair of black flats or black strappy sandals, so one of each are on my feet. I twirl and look at my dainty feet in the reflection. Well, the left foot is dainty. The right one is, at best, meh. Black flats it is.

  Heels would have been perfect, as Ash is incredibly tall, but Shawn’s welcome home party is in the Carters’ backyard. I’ve learned the hard way at the track that heels and Texas ground don’t mix well. I nearly ruined a pair of leather heels on the rocks and thorny weeds last month.

  Visions of those thorny weeds make me kick off the flats and step into rain boots. I pose and pout into the mirror and then fake-punch Shelby when she laughs at me. Ridiculous face-making in front of mirrors is one of my favorite pastimes. Plus I look amazing in these dark blue skinny jeans and a black slouchy tank top with a hole in the back that goes down to the waistband on my jeans.

  I had us dressed in casual yet sexy outfits, perfect for a barbeque party half of the racers of Mixon MX Park are attending. I only care about one of those racers. At the moment, his identical counterpart watches me through the mirror, upset about something.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  She talks to me through our reflection in the mirror, looking at my outfit and then hers. “I feel ugly. I can’t pull off this look.”

  “You look great.” I put my arm around her and grab her chin with my other hand. “You look exactly like Ash.” I nudge her with my elbow like the dork that I am. “And I know for a fact that boy’s not ugly.”

  “I look stupid. But I am happy you finally came around about my brother.”

  It’s been a week since the fundraiser race. Ash spent his days working at the shop and his evenings with me. He would stop by the track if I was working and hang out with me until dark. Two days ago, we sat on the bridge in my back yard and talked about motocross. He has a lot of free time now that he isn’t riding. Good for me, but bad for him. The boys is a mess without motocross.

  When Shelby had walked in Ash’s room last night and found him watching TV with me passed out on his shoulder, she knew I had succumbed to the attraction of her clever and adorable brother. As embarrassing as it was, I’m glad she found out that way. There’s no way I’d have gotten the guts to tell her myself. At least she was nice about it. If I was her, I would have gloated and sang the I was right and you were wrong song.

  Now my only problem is getting Ash to make his move. He still hasn’t kissed me, held my hand, or asked me out on another date. But tonight will be the night we seal the deal. I can feel it.

  Shelby says something negative about her appearance and it pulls me out of my daydream of holding Ash’s hand on a desolate beach in Hawaii. I follow her out of my closet and watch her fall on my bed and stare out the window. I clear my throat and put a hand on my hip.

  “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  “Yes.” That was easy. Too easy. Most girls would say “No, I’m fine” and make you work much harder to coerce them into talking. Shelby must really want me to know her secret. I try my luck again. “Wanna tell me?”

  She practically somersaults into a sitting position and nods. This is the first time I’ve seen a smile this juicy on her face. I have to know whatever she’s hiding. Knowing Shelby, it won’t be anything scandalous, but I’m excited anyhow. I jump on my bed and tell her to spill.

  “So a lot of Ash’s friends are coming tonight,” she says. Ash has friends? She must have meant fellow racers Ash happens to know.

  “And you like one of them?” I guess the obvious.

  “How did you know?”

  “You’ve been complaining about your looks all night,” I say, holding up one finger. “And looks only matter for one thing.” She blushes. “Boys.”

  “His name is Jake, and he’s seventeen.” Shelby plays with the ripples in my satin comforter. She’s so freaking excited and sheepish. It’s cool to be the listener for once in this friendship.

  In my bathroom, she tells me about him as I put on makeup. I go for the whole face route, from lips to eyes to cheeks, and I still feel naked. If this is the night I’m becoming Ash’s girlfriend, I need to be perfect so in fifty years when Ash tells our grandkids about our first kiss he can say, “Your grandmother looked so beautiful that night…”

  Shelby tells me about Jake’s adorable dimples as I add curls around her face with my flat iron. This is Jake’s first year to race in the Pro class, so he isn’t nearly as fast as Ash and Ryan. But Shelby doesn’t care about racing stats as much as I do. She cares about deeper things like personality and moral ethics.

  Fine, I care about those things to. Just, you know, secondly.

  Molly’s voice filters in from the hallway. “We’re leaving in a couple minutes. Are you riding with us or driving yourself?”

  “I’m driving and Teig wants to ride with me too,” I yell back.

  I look at Shelby. “So on a scale of one to sexy, what would you say Jake is?” Molly’s perfume catches my attention before the figure approaching us does. Shelby’s eyes almost pop out of her head. She shakes her head frantically, signaling for me to shut up now that an adult is in the room. GOD FORBID an adult hears me gushing about guys. Shelby is so shy it is painful.

  I look up at Molly’s blank expression. She didn’t hear me say anything. She looks beautiful in a purple sundress that shows cleavage – a look I have yet to see on my step mom who wears casual clothes every day. She is proof that mothers can be beautiful and not wear clothing from the juniors section of the department store. She wears just a layer of mascara that trumps my entire face of makeup. I envy her natural beauty.

  She stops in the bathroom doorway and gives us an odd look. Her eyes look as if she’s about to ask something, but she doesn’t. I ask it for her. “What’s up?”


  She shakes her head and points at Shelby. “She looks like she’s seen a ghost.” She looks back at me. “And you’re looking at me like I’m a freak.”

  Shelby and I shrug.

  “Was this dress a bad idea? I knew it! I can’t wear stuff like this.” Whether she is aware of it or not, Molly has just entered the room with two insecure teenagers and had magically been transformed into one herself. I put down the flat iron and give her the hug she needs.

  “You look great.”

  She only half-hugs me back because she’s staring over my shoulder into the mirror behind me. Shelby is also looking at the damn mirror. I think the three of us are done being so harsh on ourselves.

  “What is wrong with us?” I demand. “Molly, you look hot. And Shelby you are always hot.” I glance in the mirror for emphasis. “And I’m hot. So let’s all just shut up and enjoy the night.”

  We arrive at Shelby’s house late enough to make a small entrance, but not a cocky one. I want Ash to be waiting for me, and dare I say it, wondering if I’m coming or not. Paper lanterns line the back porch and tall tiki candles light up the back yard. Flames dance around the grill. There are a dozen cars in the driveway and several more parked in the grass. I park behind Ash’s truck. Before I have time to cut the engine, Teig reaches over my seat, opens the door, dashes out of the backseat and sprints to their backyard.

  “He’s stoked to see Shawn,” Shelby answers in reply to my confused look.

  We go past the shop to their back yard. Shelby clutches my elbow as if she is walking her last steps on death row. She must really like this guy because, like Ash, she rarely loses her cool demeanor. She’s being so pathetic, it makes me cringe. A ponytail of dirty blond dreadlocks appears ten feet away. My stomach knots up and I might as well join Shelby in the Pathetic Girl Brigade.

  Shelby tightens her grip. “There’s Jake.” She nods to the left where a lanky guy in ripped jeans and a motocross shirt lifts the hood of an old Mustang. Two other guys who are about our age gasp at what’s under the hood. They are so mesmerized I would believe a pile of cash or three naked girls were in there instead of a shiny new engine.