by Amy Sparling
Copyright © 2018 Amy Sparling
All rights reserved.
First Edition October 2018
Cover design by Amy Sparling
Cover images from bigstockphoto.com
Typography from Font Squirrel
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems -except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews-without permission in writing from the author at [email protected].
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are products of the author’s imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Epilogue
Coming Soon!
About the Author
Chapter 1
Whatever I thought life would be like after graduating high school—I was wrong. You grow up thinking you’ll graduate and suddenly be an adult. That you have life all figured out and you’ll be on your own and it’ll be amazing. That is not how it’s working out for me.
These last few months of summer were pretty normal. I fulfilled the fantasy of sleeping in late for days at a time. Back when I was still in school and had to wake up at five-thirty in the morning just to drive across town and get to school on time, sleeping in late had been my ultimate dream. But, technically, I do that every summer. And, technically, this isn’t summer break anymore. I won’t be going back to high school in the fall because high school is officially over forever now.
The first few weeks after graduation were fun. I did all the lounging around that I wanted, until I kind of got bored of it. I hit up the movies with my friends and went out for dinner until I ran out of money. Then I got a job as a cashier at the local grocery store, and I told myself it was temporary because working as a cashier would not be my ultimate life’s goal. I haven’t enrolled in college yet and my parents aren’t too thrilled with me. I just don’t know what I want to do. I decided to take a gap year, which is a term I heard on a movie once. You skip a year after high school and before you start college. It’s supposed to be a way to “find yourself” or whatever.
By July, my friends had all become consumed with buying stuff for their college dorms, and planning epic end-of-summer parties so they could have one last blow out before starting a life of higher education. My best friend, Mandy, got accepted into NYU—freaking NYU—and promptly became completely obsessed with New York and college and her fancy new life that would be fifteen hundred miles away from me. This freaking sucks. I’m happy for her—she’s living her dream, after all, and I am her best friend, so I have to be happy for her.
I guess I’m just sad for me.
Taking this gap year was supposed to be some amazing life-changing experience. At least that’s how it’s portrayed on literally every movie ever. The pathetic small town girl (that’s me, Avery Dunn) takes a year off after high school and finds out the true meaning of her life. If I were in a movie, surely that would happen to me. I’d do some epic soul searching and end up on adventures and go on this amazing journey that would lead me to what I’m supposed to do with my life. I’d find out my true purpose. I’d come back home with this renewed sense of being, and I’d smile at my parents and they’d see how wise and grown up I got, and we’d all think this gap year was a great idea.
My gap year technically started in August when all my friends went off to college and I stayed here in Green Leaf, Texas. Now it’s the end of November and I’m four months into this gap year and haven’t done squat.
I got a fifty cents an hour promotion at the Shop Mart, but that’s hardly life-changing. Maybe the fates are telling me that I’m doomed to a life of wearing a blue apron and working at a small town grocery store. Maybe I’ll become assistant manager one day and then I’ll never leave!
Ugh.
A chilly breeze makes me shiver, and I pull my flannel blanket tighter around me. It’s Sunday, the last week of November, and I’m wasting the day away by sitting on the porch swing in front of my house. It’s not as nice as it sounds because this porch swing sucks.
I live with my parents in their two-story boring square of a house that looks like it maybe wanted to be a Victorian-style home, but it just ended up as a huge cube with a wraparound porch. My mom tries so hard to spruce up the curb appeal, but it’s just an ugly house. Not much you can do about it.
It only got worse when a few months ago, the porch swing broke. It had been there since I was a little kid, so I guess its lifespan had reached full capacity. The wood was rotted through and the metal chains were rusted, and the whole thing just fell apart one day. Instead of replacing it with a new wooden swing that hangs from the porch ceiling, my dad bought some cheap metal and canvas thing that we spent hours putting together using the instruction manual that wasn’t very helpful. It squeaks every time you swing on it, and the metal gets cold and it’s not even close to being as fun as the old wooden swing. I feel like this dumb new swing is kind of a metaphor for my entire life right now.
It also exactly describes my parents. I love them, I totally do, but my mom and dad have grown up in this tiny little town. They got married right after high school, then went to college together and they both became teachers. Now my mom teaches high school English and Dad teaches junior high History and they just totally love their boring life.
All my friends think my parents are the cutest couple ever. But I think they’re weird. I mean, who can live their whole life in the same town? I’ve only been here eighteen years and I’m completely stir crazy. I want to see the world. I want to do stuff. I want to meet people I haven’t already known my entire life.
But I have no clue how to do any of that. My parents were semi-supportive of me taking a gap year, probably because they know I’m good for it. I’ll sign up for classes at the community college next year, and hopefully I will have decided on a major by then. It seems like I’m the only person who graduated Green Leaf High without a plan for my future.
And now, seven months after I walked across that graduation stage, I still have no idea what I want to do with my life.
I just know I don’t want to be here.
Mom’s black sedan pulls into the driveway. If she’s already back from her Sunday lunch with her teacher friends, I must have been out here a lot longer than I thought. Maybe that’s how people stay in this town for so long—time just slips by when you’re not doing anything, and before you know it, your whole life is gone.
Mom waves at me as she gets out of her car and walks to the trunk. “Avery, come help,” she calls out.
I grudgingly get off the swing, which finally stops squeaking, and leave my blanket on the seat. The entire trunk of Mom’s car is filled with boxes and plastic bins of teacher crap.
“What’s all this?” I ask.
“Janice Montgomery is retiring,” Mom says, her eyes wide with excite
ment. “She let me take anything I wanted from her classroom. Look at all this great stuff!”
“That’s cool,” I say, giving her a smile before loading my arms up with boxes of stuff. Teachers have to pay out of their own pockets to decorate their classrooms, so free teaching supplies are always appreciated. My mom is like a kid in a candy store when she gets stuff like this, or when she finds supplies on clearance at Target. I help her carry in all of the stuff and then she gets a call from Grandma, and I’m suddenly bored and alone again.
I head upstairs to my bedroom and sit on the bay window that overlooks the backyard. We have a few acres of land, but the wooded property behind our house makes for a nice view beyond my own backyard. I sit on the large windowsill like I have a million times before, and gaze out at the unchanging landscape. We’re too far north of the Texas hill country, but the land still slopes just a bit. It’s enough to let you see for miles.
I wonder what’s out there. Besides just the Texas landscape, of course. What else is there to life?
And how can I possibly find it for myself?
A little voice inside my head mocks me. Obviously the answer is to leave the damn house, Avery. Leave the house. Leave the town. Go somewhere you haven’t been before.
That’s how you get out. That’s how you have an adventure.
But real life doesn’t work that way. I’d need money and a place to stay, and some kind of plan. I can’t just hop in the car and drive for hours. Mostly because I share a car with Mom, and that would be rude to just take it, but even if I had my own car, what would I even do?
A new Snapchat alert pops up on my phone. It’s a photo from Mandy. She’s sitting cross-legged on her bed in her dorm. An NYU pennant is taped to the wall behind her. She’s got a textbook open in her lap and she’s frowning.
Studying for a test. Kill me!
I Snap her back a video of myself rolling my eyes. You’ve got this! I write as the caption.
My chest hurts every time I see Mandy living her new fancy life in New York. She’s not only going to college, but she sees incredible new things every day. NYC is a big place with more adventures than one person could ever have. But that’s her adventure. It doesn’t feel like the place I should go.
But the thing is, nothing is calling out to me. I know I want to go somewhere, but I don’t know where.
Later, when I’ve finished eating dinner with my parents, I find myself sitting on my windowsill once again. The night sky is a clear deep blue, little stars sparkling over the Texas landscape. I gaze out, feeling such an overwhelming sense of wanting to be somewhere else, wanting to do something else.
But what?
I lean over and get my laptop from the bed and open a blank Google search. I stare at my blinking cursor for a few minutes, wondering what exact combination of words I’m looking for.
I don’t want to just be some traveling nomad who wanders around pointlessly. I want to work toward a goal of achieving something. I want to figure out what I want to do with my life. I need a purpose.
I bite my lip and type: internships that travel around the country
I scroll through pages of search results that aren’t exactly appealing. I think an internship would be a good idea because there’s no long-term commitment, and I can still go to college when the next school year starts. It’s also more likely that I can get something like that instead of a job, because when it comes to jobs, I have no college degree and my only experience is in checking out groceries. If there happens to be some traveling job that requires you to have all 400 produce codes memorized, then sign me up.
I’m about to give up on my search when something catches my eye.
OPEN INTERNSHIP FOR TEAM LOCO MOTOCROSS.
Motocross? Isn’t that dirt bikes? I remember Mandy’s little brother Sam went through a phase in junior high where he wanted a dirt bike so bad that it’s all he ever talked about. His parents wouldn’t get him one, but they did take us to a motocross race in Dallas. Mandy and I tagged along for fun, and the race was held at a football stadium. There were thousands of people there cheering for their favorite racers.
Before the races started, we got pit passes and got to walk around and see all the professional racers decked out in their colorful riding gear. Sam stood in line to get a ton of autographs on posters, but Mandy and I didn’t really care about it since we knew nothing of the sport.
I do remember that the guys were cute and the whole atmosphere was fun. They traveled around to different cities every week for a new race. They come to Dallas once a year.
I click on the link and I’m brought to a blue and silver website called Team Loco Racing. There’s a page on here for an internship. I skim through the post and I seem to fit all of the requirements.
The intern will shadow Marcus, team manager. You travel to each racing location and help the team with administrative duties. It’s an unpaid internship, but travel and lodging are covered as well as a thirty dollar a day per diem for food expenses.
This sounds awesome.
I click the link to apply and find that the deadline to apply is tomorrow. What are the odds?
I feel this giddy excitement in my veins, even though I know it’s a long shot. They probably won’t hire me—I have no skills or experience at all. I gaze outside and watch the tiny dots of car headlights driving down the county road behind my house. All those people are going somewhere.
I’ll never get out of here if I don’t at least try.
I take a deep breath and fill out the application.
Chapter 2
I pour the last bit of Cinnamon Toast Crunch into my bowl and then frown as I set the empty box on the coffee table. Damn. I just bought this three days ago, and I already need to go grocery shopping again.
“What’s that sound?” Jett’s voice fills the room, coming from my cell phone, which is on speaker next to my cereal bowl.
“Cereal,” I say, taking the bowl.
“Dude, are you still eating?”
“I’m always eating,” I say, taking a bite and sitting back on the couch.
“Hold on guys,” Marcus says, his voice deeper than Jett’s, with the rasp of an ex-chain-smoker. “I’m getting Aiden and Zach on the line.”
Marcus is the manager of this merry band of dudes that are both my teammates and best friends. He’s in his forties, with brown hair that he still gets highlighted for whatever reason—I think he still thinks he’s in the 2000’s and it’s cool to look like that guy from Smashmouth. It doesn’t just stop at the hair, though. Marcus wears skinny jeans and Odd Future shirts that he often pairs with his old Nikes, and I just don’t know what the guy is thinking when he gets dressed every morning. It’s like he’s trying to be cool so he gets his clothing at skate shops in the mall, but he’s still old as hell and he can’t hide that no matter what.
Regardless, he’s our leader. We love him because he swooped in, signed us to Team Loco and changed our lives.
That’s why we put up with these dumbass conference calls. I spend forty weeks a year with these guys, but in the offseason Marcus insists on weekly conference calls to keep us up to date.
“Hey,” Zach says as he comes on the line. “Who’s all here?”
“We’re missing golden boy,” Jett says.
“I thought you were the golden boy,” Zach says, sounding confused. I can’t say I blame him. Jett is the golden boy.
“Not anymore,” Jett says with a laugh. “Aiden is our resident heartthrob now.”
Now that Aiden recently got attached to a girl he met in Louisiana, he’s become about fifty times more popular with our fans. They all love him even more because he’s got a sensitive side. Gross.
Zach laughs. “Aiden is definitely the golden boy now.”
“Hey, I heard that,” Aiden says.
“Good, we’re all here,” Marcus says. “Let’s get to business.”
“Just a second, boss,” Aiden says. “I’d like it to be known that I am the golden ma
n, not the golden boy.”
We all laugh. I finish my bowl of cereal and set it down on the coffee table, then pick up my phone. My tiny studio apartment makes everyone sound like they’re right here in the room with me. Luckily they aren’t, because this 400 square foot place of mine doesn’t have nearly enough room for five people.
“How’s the wrist?” Marcus asks.
“Good as new,” Aiden replies.
“Good stuff. So listen, guys. I have some exciting news.”
I crinkle my brow. From past experience, I know that what Marcus considers “exciting news” is very rarely actually exciting. In my first year as a Team Loco motocross racer, the team got sent on an all-expenses paid vacation to Hawaii to celebrate our series win. That was the only exciting news Marcus has ever had.
Pretty much everything since then has been some obligation we have to fulfill thanks to our contracts. TV interviews, magazine photoshoots—all of that awful stuff. I just want to ride. I just want to be on the bike, tires in the dirt, wind in my face. But unfortunately, the only way you can get paid to ride dirt bikes is to agree to the rest of the crap that comes with it.
Marcus’ raspy voice fills my small living room. “Since there are no races in the month of December, I’ve been in meetings with the execs and we’ve been looking for ways to keep you in the public’s eye.”
I roll my eyes. What kind of fresh hell is this going to be?
Marcus continues, “As you know, our rival team, Freeze Frame, just got all that bad PR with their parties getting busted for drugs, and the Cycle X team has two sexual assault allegations, not to mention Team Cyclone and how they can’t hire a racer who isn’t on steroids to save their lives…”
He snorts and I can tell he’s taking great pleasure in knowing that the team he manages is currently the best in all of professional motocross. “Anyway, we want to do something to hype you guys up more. Team Loco is being considered the family-friendly, wholesome team.”