Rossi wasted no time; she jumped up and limped back to her bike, her arms held close to her chest.
transcendence: existence beyond the normal or physical level; excellence
According to The Great Ones, there have been several instances in which athletes have competed with serious physical injuries. In 1956, goalie Bert Trautmann finished the FA Cup with a broken neck. In 1985, football player Ronnie Lott played a game with a crushed finger that later had to be amputated. In 1996, Kerri Strug performed the vault with an injured ankle, ensuring her team won the Olympic gold medal.
And in the year I was about to start eighth grade—though it wouldn’t be written about in any book—on that last scorching day of summer vacation, thirteen-year-old Rossi Scott finished a race almost no one in the world knew or cared about with a sprained ankle, a dislocated thumb, and two fractured ribs.
But the handful of people who did know about it cared enough for the whole world.
Bo ran to his own bike and jumped on. And then he was in front of her again. I felt a sinking in my stomach. Every time she tried to pass, he cut her off. I could tell she was hurt. She didn’t seem to have the strength left in her to get around him.
As they rounded the last corner, she tried one more time to pass. He blocked her. That was it. There were no more chances.
And then she turned to the right and drove straight into the loose silt.
Matthew threw up his hands. “She’s done. That’s it. It’s over.”
The fineness of the silt caused a giant, thick cloud of dust that obscured both Rossi and Bo.
“I can’t see what’s happening,” I cried. “Where are they?” I had seen a lot of riders hit the silt, and a massive dust cloud always erupted when that happened. But this was like a nuclear bomb had gone off.
It felt like hours passed as we ran along the edge of the basin, following the growing cloud, steadily moving toward the finish line like a dust storm headed into town. What was happening in there? The heat pounded down on me to the point where I could no longer run, no longer move, no longer breathe. I used my last remnant of air to call out her name.
She emerged from the cloud and back onto the compacted dirt. She gunned her bike and moved in front of Bo, kicking up dirt right in his face.
Matthew pumped his fist in the air. “Did you see how she just roosted him?”
And then I had the strength to move again. Matthew and I followed her to the end.
Rossi crossed in front of Bo. Just barely. But it was enough.
We ran down to the finish line to meet her. Rossi eased off her bike, removed her helmet and goggles, and limped to us. She was so covered in silt, she looked like she had been dipped in it up to her neck. Her brown eyes sparkled, the outline of her goggles sharp around them.
“You cheated!” Bo spat as he stomped toward us, his boots kicking up so much dust, it looked like he was being followed by a dust devil.
“She did not.” I stepped in front of Rossi. “No one ever said you can’t ride in the silt. If anyone cheated, it was you. You grabbed her brakes.”
“Stay out of this before I put your face in another cactus.” He turned to Matthew. “And what’s the matter with you?”
Matthew stepped back, putting more distance between himself and Bo. “What?”
“Letting her use your bike. What the heck, man?”
Matthew stood up a little straighter and stuck out his chest. “You shouldn’t have gone back on your deal, Bo.” He gulped. “You’re a liar.”
Bo went at him, but now I jumped in front of Matthew. “Leave him alone.”
Bo looked surprised for a split second, then he laughed. “Are you going to protect him, you spineless piece of trailer trash?”
“We all live in trailers,” I said. “But you’re the only trash here, Bo.”
And then I did something I had never, ever done before.
I thought of scaling the mountain of rubble in the mine, thinking I would die. I thought of untangling the bat from Rossi’s hair, of fighting off the mountain lion with nothing but my backpack, of pulling Rossi from the water when I’d had no strength left. I summoned it all as I pulled back my arm and swung at Bo with everything I had.
And completely missed Bo’s face.
Completely. Missed.
By like a whole foot.
And I stumbled a little.
Okay. A lot.
Cut me some slack; I wasn’t used to fighting back.
Bo wasted no time. He raised his fist and landed it full-force on my nose. I heard a nauseating crunch and fell to the ground. Warmth trickled down my mouth and chin. I touched it: blood.
I was pretty sure Bo had broken my nose, but I stood back up and faced him. “Is that all you got?” I spit blood on the ground like I was the toughest cowboy in a Western, when really I felt like I was going to throw up.
Bo came at me again, and I swung my arms wildly before he was even close to reaching me. I batted at the empty air, screaming like a madman, my arms two out of control windmills. I was a whirlwind of fists and fury. I was a cyclone of glory and grit. I was a tornado of tough and turpentine. I had my eyes closed, so I’m not totally sure what Bo’s reaction was, but I like to think he was at least a tiny bit afraid. Or at least, afraid I had gone insane.
Then we heard a gruff voice shout, “Enough!”
I stopped my threatening display, and we all turned to see Jack walking toward us. “She cheated,” Bo whined.
Jack grabbed Bo by his hair. “What’s the matter with you? You can’t beat a girl at dirt bike racing, and now you’re pounding on weaklings?”
I rolled my eyes. Really? Did my windmill arms accomplish nothing?
Jack let go of Bo’s hair, shoving his head at the same time. Bo stumbled and picked up his helmet. “You want to end up in the Center like me?” Jack barked. “Or worse, you want to end up like Dad?”
It was weird to see Bo cower in front of someone. He stared at the ground and shook his head. “Get your stuff together and get your butt home,” Jack ordered. Then he looked at Rossi. He nodded slightly to acknowledge her, as though she had earned that nod. He didn’t bother with the rest of us. Instead he turned and stomped off, Bo following closely behind.
I knew we’d pick this back up tomorrow at school. But I found I wasn’t really all that scared. After all I’d gone through, what more could Bo possibly do to me?
A man walked up to us, and both Rossi’s and Matthew’s faces went slack-jawed. “You’re . . . you’re . . . ” Rossi mumbled.
The man’s face looked equally surprised as he reached his hand out. Rossi held one arm to her chest and stuck the other out to shake his hand. “You’re a girl,” the man exclaimed.
Rossi shut her mouth, the adulation gone from her face. She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her eyebrows, still shaking the man’s hand. “Did you come all the way here to tell me that?”
The man laughed and finally released Rossi’s hand. “I think it’s awesome you’re a girl. Sorry. I was just surprised. I’ve never seen racing like that from someone so young.”
“What are you doing here?” Rossi asked.
“Mayor Handsome told me there were some pretty sweet races going on in this little town. Thought I’d check it out. I love finding talent in strange places.”
“You know Mayor Handsome?” Matthew finally piped up.
“Oh yeah,” Mayor Handsome said, walking up to us. “Vee go vay back.”
“No way,” Matthew whispered.
“Vhy you dink I vant to live here?” Mayor Handsome said. “Best dirt bike racing anyvhere. Best climate for my ostriches.” He gave us a sly look. “And udder interesting dings.”
The man looked at Rossi. “So I’ll see you at camp then . . . ?”
“Rossi,” she said.
The man laughed. “I love it. I’ll see you at camp, Rossi. I’ll have your new bike ready for you.”
We all watched him walk away. “I can’t believe it,” Matth
ew whispered. “No way.”
“So who was that?” I said.
Both Rossi and Matthew looked at me, their mouths agape. “Seriously, Gus?” Matthew said. “That was the Breaker himself! I can’t believe it!”
I smiled at Rossi. Her eyes absolutely dazzled. “Not impossible,” I said.
Mayor Handsome lifted my chin, inspecting my face. He sighed. “I guess vee go to dee hospital now.”
Matthew, Rossi, and I sat in the waiting room quietly together until Matthew started to nod off and fell forward out of his chair. He got back into it, and we giggled together. Matthew rubbed his head where he’d hit it on the tiled floor. “I want a bed,” he complained.
“I could sleep for days,” I said. “I can’t believe we have to go to school in the morning.”
“I can’t believe . . .” Rossi began. Then she got up out of her chair and limped to a man who had just come through the automatic sliding doors to the emergency room, an anxious look on his face. He wrapped his arms around her, and Rossi winced. “Hi, Dad.”
He relaxed his grip. “What’d you do to yourself?”
“I crashed.”
He put his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. “My Rossi? Crash? I don’t believe it.”
“She was sabotaged,” Matthew said. “But she still won.”
Rossi’s dad looked at Matthew, his eyes widening in surprise at his appearance. He turned his attention back to Rossi. “That sounds more like it.” He scanned her up and down, probably taking in her dirt-stained, ripped clothing and many scrapes and scratches. “Are you okay?”
She nodded.
“I thought maybe you’d spent the night at the Navarros’ place when I got home late last night, but Mrs. Navarro informs me that’s not the case.” He looked at Rossi expectantly, but she stayed quiet. “She says you have quite a story to tell me.” He raked a hand through his dark hair. “About where you were last night.”
A woman in scrubs walked into the waiting room just then and called Rossi’s name.
Rossi looked at her father. “Do you want to go in with me?”
“I thought I’d at least stay long enough to make sure you’re okay,” he told her. He glanced at us. “But first I want to have a word with these two grubby guys.”
Matthew shifted in his seat as Rossi disappeared through the doors with the nurse. “Uh-oh,” he muttered.
Mr. Scott stood over us, his rumpled suit covered in dust smudges from hugging his daughter. “You two look like you’ve been in battle.”
Matthew stuck his chest out. “We have.”
Mr. Scott rubbed at his forehead. “You were with Rossi last night?”
We both nodded.
He let out a tired sigh. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“We’re Rossi’s friends,” I told him.
“I didn’t know she’d made friends.”
“I think there’s a lot you don’t know,” I said.
He stopped rubbing at his forehead. He looked shocked at my statement. He opened his mouth to say something, but a sweaty, pink-cheeked baby let out a scream a few seats down.
Matthew and I jumped at the sound.
“As much as I’d like to stay here talking to you two,” Mr. Scott said over the wails of the baby, “I’d better go see how Rossi’s doing before I’m needed back at work.”
He started to walk away, but I summoned all my courage and cried out, “She needs you, too, you know.” I was kind of impressed with the level of attitude I’d managed to convey.
He halted. Then he turned around and walked back to us. He looked down at me. “I don’t think you know her very well. My Rossi is the strongest person I know. She can fend for herself. She doesn’t need anybody.”
The mom shoved a pacifier into the baby’s mouth and it finally quieted. I stared at Mr. Scott. “Needing her dad doesn’t make her weak.”
His head shot back in surprise at my words. The baby spit the pacifier out, and it landed at his feet. He stared at it a moment before picking it up and handing it back to the woman, who mumbled a tired thanks.
He turned back to me, a pained look on his face, as the baby started wailing again. “Thanks for the tip,” he finally said softly before rejoining his daughter on the other side of the doors.
headway: progress, especially when circumstances make it slow or difficult
The doctor moved my head gently from side to side, carefully examining my mutilated face. “You should see the other guy,” I told him. He gave me a skeptical look. I lowered my eyes. “Yeah, he’s completely fine.”
“Your nose is broken.” Now that was a shock, especially since my nose looked like it had been stapled sideways to my cheek. And then there was the bucket of blood that had come out. And, you know, the pain. “I’ll have to set it.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and, still humming from my earlier adrenaline rush, told him, “Just do it.”
He pushed my nose to one side, and there was another crunch.
excruciation: severe pain; agony; torture
I whimpered loud enough that I was sure Matthew and Rossi could hear me from wherever they were—whatever gains I had made with my bravery earlier were probably being erased.
I swooned to one side, and the doctor held me up. “You okay?”
The room spun. I turned my head and vomited on the table. At least it was covered in paper, but I felt bad about not having attempted to make it to the sink or trash can.
I wiped at my mouth. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” the doctor said, like this was a normal occurrence in the emergency room. I guess it probably was. He gave me instructions for caring for my broken nose. A nurse cleaned me up and let me rinse my mouth out in the sink.
I found Rossi and Matthew waiting for me in the hallway. “Everything okay?” Rossi said, her face creased with worry.
“No big deal.” I shrugged casually. “Just a broken nose. I totally handled it.”
Matthew raised an eyebrow at me, then smiled. “Of course you did.”
Rossi’s ankle was wrapped with tape. I saw the crutches propped against the wall. “What did they say about your ankle?”
“Sprained. I’ll be off it for a while.”
Her hand was also wrapped in tape. “What about your hand?”
“Dislocated thumb.”
“And the doctor says a couple of her ribs are fractured,” Matthew said. “But there’s nothing they can do about that.”
My broken nose didn’t seem so tough anymore.
“Where’s your dad?” I asked.
“Just left,” Rossi said. “Back to work. As usual.”
Jessie’s mom walked up to us. “You can see him now.” We started to enter the room, but she stopped me. “Not you, Gus.”
I faced her. She was visibly shocked at my appearance. I must have been quite a sight—all spots and blood and dirt and black eyes. “Now what happened to you?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Jessie’s been shot and smells like he slept in a sewer, Rossi is incredibly beat up, and you look like you’ve been put through a dirt blender.”
“Just got in a fight.” I pushed my shoulders back. “I almost didn’t lose,” I said, maybe a little arrogantly.
“But what happened last night? I just about called the police this morning when I couldn’t find Jessie.”
“What did he tell you?”
She shook her head. “Oh no. Nuh-uh. What’s your story?”
I didn’t have the energy to lie. I told her a very abbreviated version of what had happened, leaving out the part about the gold.
She shook her head. “Yep. That’s just what he told me. You know, you guys could have gotten yourselves killed. Whatever possessed you to be so reckless?”
I turned my head and saw Rossi sitting on the bed next to Jessie. She was nodding at something he was saying to her. I smiled. “Justice.” I put my hands on my hips and faced Mrs. Navarro. “I had to fight for justice.”
Mrs.
Navarro rolled her eyes and waved a hand at me. “You’re something else, Gus. Listen, I’m very sorry, but I’ll have to tell your grandma about all this.”
I groaned. She’d probably nail my window shut. “No,” I pleaded with Mrs. Navarro.
“Yes,” she said firmly. “The hospital will be calling her anyway. How did you plan on explaining this?” She gestured wildly at my entire body and face.
“I kind of hoped she wouldn’t notice.”
Mrs. Navarro laughed. “Even if she miraculously didn’t notice that you’ve turned into steak picado overnight, she’s going to notice the hospital bill when it shows up in her mailbox.” Her face fell. “I don’t know how we’re going to pay all these bills—Jessie’s and Rossi’s and yours. None of us can afford this.” She closed her eyes and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “I can’t even think about it right now.
“Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll figure out a way to pay for it.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “We?”
I smiled. “It will work out.”
“I’ve missed you, Gus.” She ruffled my filthy hair, then looked at her hand in disgust. “You really are something else.” She wiped her hand off on her jeans. “All right, you’d better go in and see him. He’s going to be okay and can leave as soon as they discharge him. Of course you’d think he shot off his entire leg by the way he was acting when he came in here.”
“Typical Jessie,” I said.
“Typical Jessie,” she agreed. I watched as she walked down the hallway to a desk where a woman handed her a clipboard with some paperwork to fill out.
I stepped into the room. The three of them were laughing. “I’m not a whole man anymore, Gus,” Jessie announced. “I have a missing limb.”
I looked in shock at his foot. “But, I thought . . .”
“Pinky toe, man,” Jessie said with pride, raising his fatly wrapped foot. “I lost my pinky toe. And since it’s probably stuck to the wall of the cave, I will just have to go without. You think the girls will dig it?”
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