Primal Threat - Earl Emerson [43]
“It was always this struggle, this big argument, and then I would give in, if only to get some peace, and afterward he would drive me home with this self-satisfied smirk on his face. You must think I’m horrible.”
“I think you did everything you could to remain within the boundaries of your faith.”
“Despite how much he says he loves me, sometimes I feel Scooter really hates me.”
When Zak put his arm around Nadine’s shoulders, she collapsed against him. They sat that way for a long time, breathing in concert.
“One time,” Nadine said, “I was getting the flu, and I told him I could hardly breathe and I was feeling sick and I didn’t want to, but he grabbed me by the hair and forced me. I threw up in his car and then he got really angry. I said I was going to tell my father, and he said if I ever told anybody he would kill them and then he’d kill me. I was so upset and sick I wasn’t sure I was even hearing him right. I’m still not sure that’s what he really said.”
Zak was sure.
18
August
“Remember,” said Giancarlo. “It’s wider than it looks, and it’s off camber for the first part.”
“Okay,” Zak said.
As he waited, he could feel the blood pumping in his veins. He couldn’t quite believe how nervous he’d gotten in the past few minutes, or how angry he was at Scooter for slapping Hugh, for his comments about Nadine, for his general air of contempt and superiority. There were a lot of things that could go wrong in a race. He might get a flat tire. He might screw up and fly off the road. Zak was good at descending, but he didn’t have a genius for it like Giancarlo. And Scooter had already had one practice run.
“Get ready, boys,” said Roger Bloomquist, who would be the starter this time. “Remember. It’s a ten-second gap.”
“What?” Zak said.
“Fifteen was too long. He never even saw the bike. Ten’s more fair.”
“That’ll put us too close if something happens.”
“Five, four, three, two, go,” shouted Bloomquist, dropping the makeshift flag.
Stephens, who had been holding Zak upright, merely let go instead of giving him the same shove Zak had given Giancarlo, forcing Zak to push hard on the pedals for ten or fifteen revolutions of the cranks. It wasn’t a lot of lost time, but it was a short race and the start was crucial. They should have talked it over, but Scooter had been rushing things. Now, with the hot wind screaming past his face, nothing mattered except staying on the road and maintaining the highest speed possible. He knew as long as he could keep his fingers away from the brakes, he would be okay.
The key was to stay focused.
He let the speed build on the first slope, marveling at how fast he was traveling, then touched the brakes, scrubbing off more speed than he’d intended. He hit a washboard section and held on for dear life, then was out of it before he knew it, heading down the straights where he could see two blurred figures standing at the top of the first sharp right-hand curve. The road surface was all rock here, off camber, but when he put his weight to the inside and let the bike fly, he felt momentarily as if he were on rails. Vaguely, he could see the logged-off fields below.
The corner was tight and included a steep portion that was like a parachute drop, but he held on and stared at the line he wanted to take, feeling the centrifugal force of his weight carrying him farther and farther to the outer edge of the corner until he thought for sure he was going to smash into the rocks. Still, he did not touch the brakes. The worst time to hit the brakes was in a corner. You did your braking prior to the turn, then trusted your judgment. He could hear excited shouts from the bystanders who’d placed themselves at the apex of the corner. Then all he heard was the wind.
He was out of the turn, surprised that he was still alive, focusing on the next hazard, dips in the road followed by a washboard section he would fly over even faster than the previous one. He had the confidence now and was picking up phenomenal speed. The only thing left to worry about was the