Adrenaline Racer

Chapter 9

Things had been happening so fast, I wasn't really sure if this was good or bad at the moment. It had only been about a week, maybe even less, that I have been accepted as a real racer, and it seemed too soon.

It seemed way too real.

To me, it felt like life was moving on too fast. It felt like I was moving on too fast.

Darn, why couldn't I be happy about this? Why had it been stressing me out?

I let out a deep breathe, shifting my race car into another gear. I clear the turn, the tail of my Chevy turning inward a little, closer to the wall of the track. My car began to turn, turning more diagonally across the race track.

I grit my teeth, my knuckles white on the steering wheel through the black gloves I wore.

My foot slips off the gas, crashing into the brake pedal. I jerk the steering wheel as I exit the turn, righting the car until I am facing straight again. I let my thoughts escape my mind, needing some sort of exit from the worries I was creating.

I needed someone to talk to.

I quickly turn the car towards the pit stops, parking the car sloppily in the pit stop labelled for me.

Mr. Montgomery stands there, his face drawn in confusion as he watches me park beside him. His son stood behind him, cleaning tools from the toolboxes lying around. He glances over at me as I pull myself out of the car, his blue eyes looking me up and down.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Montgomery asks, approaching me. We had been practicing for weeks, and though I was improving, I still wasn't anywhere close to be ready to race in a real race.

I look up at him, completely in my thoughts, and push past him. He lets me go, watching me walk away quickly.

"I need to be alone," I mumble to him, and he tosses his hands in the air, letting them fall by his sides.

I walk faster, my sneaker heels clicking on the floor as I fast-walk away from all the people watching me. I walk past Ashton, but don't get very far before I feel his warm hand clamp around my wrist.

I whirl around to face him, my teeth gritted in anger. I bite back my snarky comment, not wanting to upset people.

"You need to talk?" he asks, looking up at me. But, looking into those eyes, I could tell he didn't really seem to care.

I jerk my arm away from him, out of his grip. I don't say anything, just glare down at him. He responds with one of his stupid smirks, and continues to watch me walk away.

I ran my fingers through my hair, letting out an exasperated sigh, as I turn the knob on the door and practically race out into the parking lot.

I ran as best i could in my heels, practically slamming into the hood of my car. Pressure was pressing in on me, of the races and trying to stay close with friends and family.

The world pressed in on me, and I stumbled to the door of my Toyota. I pulled the door open, falling into the empty seat and taking in the smell of my favorite car.

I slam the door closed, turning on the engine. My heart was beating fast in my ears, tears stung the corners of my eyes.

What was wrong with me?

I throw my foot on the gas, and my car tears out of the parking lot.