Racing to You ✓

14 | turbulence

The days flew by, and I fell into a rhythm of going to school, rehearsing Grease, catching up on school work, practicing a song or vlogging for YouTube, spending time with family and friends, and even occasionally visiting Deandre and his Gramps. My parents still hadn't warmed up enough to Deandre to invite him over to our place yet, but Makua and I were going to watch his mock-race this evening, so that was a start. 

For now, though, I was stuck in more musical rehearsals. 

We were practicing musical numbers today, with the guys performing Greased Lightning, and the Pink Ladies performing Look at Me, I'm Sandra Dee. Rizzo sang most of the song in that one, and in addition to climbing over furniture, but my experiences with breath control came in handy. 

"And to think that Hairspray had such demanding dances," Imran moaned, flopping onto the ground after his dance. He had to run onto a car while singing, which was makeshift from benches as of now, and he had nearly tripped. "I think I pulled a muscle or two." 

"I loved Hairspray," I defended, even though You Can't Stop the Beat definitely was more like you-can't-stop-to-breathe. 

"I wish we could do Hamilton," Yulissa chimed in. "Imagine how out of breath we'd be, though." 

"Yeah, nah," Joy dismissed quickly. "We would definitely need Justin for that."

"Speaking of Justin, anyone been keeping in touch with him?" Imran asked. "I mean, we always knew he was going to be a superstar, but watching someone who was sitting right next to you perform at that scale in reality... feels kinda strange."

"So much has changed, eh?" Yulissa agreed. "He's already out there." 

Joy shook her head. "Only news of him -- he's started touring already." 

Archie shrugged. "He told me he might have his 18th birthday party in Montreal or something. Since NYC is the last stop, and he'll be of drinking age there, lol." 

Imran propped himself up. "We should have our own party. Why don't we go for some pizza tonight?"

Joy perked up. "I'm down." 

"Me too," Archie said, looking at Yulissa and I. "How 'bout y'all?" 

"I could do some nuggets," Yulissa replied. 

I rolled my shoulders back and cleared my throat, forcing my awkwardness down. "It sounds yum, guys, but I'm so sorry -- I've got to miss this time." 

Joy frowned. "You really can't come?"

"My dad and I are watching some dirt bike race," I told them the half-truth. 

"Since when were you into that?" Joy grilled me. 

I huffed a dismissive laugh. "My dad's been influencing me, I guess." 

Yulissa regarded me a split second longer than the others, but thankfully didn't push it further. 

Imran shrugged. "Have fun. I wish I could add some insightful comments, but I can't even pretend I know anything about dirt bikes." 

"Ironic, cuz you're playing a greaser," Joy rebuffed. 

Archie guffawed. "Go on, Lani. Join us next time. Drag Justin along if you can too." 

I nodded, momentarily relieved that I could make my escape. I plastered on an apologetic look and used everything in me to swallow the guilt of having to hide my association with Deandre. 

***

By the time Makua and I made it to the track, I felt a little bit better, but my intrusive thoughts were definitely still there in the background. I knew someone like Sasha would tell me to work through them, but right now, flight seemed much better than fight. 

"Do you see the caretaker?" Makua asked me, craning his neck over the decent sized crowd. 

I double-checked the blurry photo Giorgi had attempted to send to me with 3G mobile data. "I think I know where he is." 

We found him with Gramps sitting on the front row seats where I had watched Deandre from last time I was at the track. 

"Hi, I'm Giorgi," Giorgi greeted Makua merrily. "And this is Dante." 

"Nice to meet you two," Makua replied just as brightly. "Call me Koa. I'm Leilani's super protective dad." 

Giorgi chuckled. "As a girl-dad myself, I understand. Although I sometimes think of Deandre as my own as well, given how much time I've been spending over at the Williams' place lately." 

He glanced towards Gramps, who was staring off in a distance with a glazed look in his eyes. Giorgi let out a soft sigh. "Sorry, it's a bad day for him. Usually he'd at least mistake Deandre for his son -- Deandre's father -- but today he didn't recognise Deandre at all." 

Makua whistled lowly. "Must've been a rough morning." 

Giorgi offered a sad smile. "The least I could do was offer this old man a change in scenery. And it's even rougher on Deandre -- his Gramps is all he's got left." 

I gestured towards the track, trying to change the subject. "It's nice of you to come and watch him." 

"Which one is Deandre?" Makua asked as the bikes revved before us.

"The one on the black and green bike," I replied. 

"He's lucky his old coach took him back," Giorgi commented, his tone gentle. "Gave the boy some purpose. Dirt biking ain't cheap though, so he's been definitely working hard in every aspect." 

Makua looked wistfully in Deandre's direction. "He's been through quite a bit, hasn't he." 

"He's a good kid," Giorgi continued quietly. "Just didn't have the right people around him when he fell. I try to look out for him sometimes, but my main focus is Dante, obviously. I was getting a bit worried about the boy, but it seems like he's perked up a little since meeting Leilani." 

Makua looked at me thoughtfully, but before he could say anything, the revving of the bikes got the crowd on their feet, cheering excitedly.

I stood up subconsciously, and craned my neck to catch a glimpse of Deandre. 

And they were off. I kept my eyes on his bike -- through every overtake, and him being overtaken. I watched the way he took on corners and bumps. From all the dirt bike racing I had watched thanks to Makua, I could tell Deandre was stable, solid -- but it did show that he had not been racing for a while. 

As if reading my thoughts, Makua distractedly asked, "How long was he away from racing again?" 

Giorgi paused. "Nearly a year." 

Makua nodded. "He's doing not bad after such a long break."

Giorgi sighed. "Knowing the kid though, he'll be beating himself up over this." 

Just like a long distance race, the gaps between the riders gradually got bigger. Deandre was still within the top three places, but I could see how physically demanding it was on him as he ended up as #5 on the final lap. 

Giorgi, Makua and I cheered anyways as he trudged back towards us, his head hanging a little low. But he inclined his head when he addressed Makua. "Thank you for coming, sir." 

"Good race, son," Makua praised. 

"You've improved a lot since the first time you rode last month," Giorgi added. 

I was about to offer a supportive comment of my own, but my phone was vibrating non-stop, so out of mild irritation, I glanced at the screen. It was from Joy. 

👱🏻‍♀️: SIS 

👱🏻‍♀️: ISTHAT U 

👱🏻‍♀️: WITHJ WILLIASM

👱🏻‍♀️: ????????