WHAT LIES BENEATH THE GRAVESTONE

chapter 14: The race against time

The park was alive with the energy of the upcoming race, the air electric with anticipation, as 'The Blitz Bros'-Jamie, Grant, and Travis-found a moment of calm on a bench, their track suits adorned with their respective numbers: 4, 11, and 6, like badges of honor on their sleeves.

The sight of Grant's freshly shaved head drew a burst of laughter from Jamie and Travis, their eyes widening in unison like two cameras snapping a photo. "You actually went through with it!" Jamie exclaimed, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement, like a clown horn honking in a circus.

Grant shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face like a sunrise breaking over a new horizon. "A bet's a bet, isn't it?" he said, his tone a gentle, resigned acceptance, like a gambler paying off a debt.

Travis, trying to stifle his chuckles, managed to get out, "Did your folks actually let you shave it all off?" his voice a strangled, snorting sound, like a pig trying to hold its breath.

"I just told them I was looking for a change," Grant replied, his smile growing as he rubbed his hand over his smooth scalp, like a proud owner polishing a new car.

Jamie, wiping tears from his eyes, shook his head, his laughter finally subsiding like a storm clearing. "Nah, man. But hey, I'm still up for that movie tomorrow. It's a date," he said, his voice a warm, friendly promise, like a handshake sealing a deal.

Grant's smile didn't fade, his eyes still sparkling with amusement, like a lingering ember from a fire that refused to die. "Looking forward to it," he replied, his voice a gentle, anticipatory whisper, like a promise of good things to come.

Jamie then turned to Travis, his gaze shifting like a camera lens refocusing on a new subject. "What about you, Travis? You in?" he asked, his voice a friendly, inclusive query, like a wave inviting someone to join the surf.

Travis shook his head, his ponytail swaying like a pendulum, a gentle, negative motion. "Nah, I've got plans to help my mom in the garden," he said, his voice a soft, filial devotion, like a son committed to family duty.

Jamie nodded, his expression understanding, like a friend acknowledging a prior commitment. "Guess it's just you and me then, Grant," he said, his voice a warm, conspiratorial whisper, like two partners in crime hatching a plan.

Travis and Grant exchanged a knowing glance, an unspoken conversation passing between them like a secret handshake, a silent understanding that only they shared. They all settled into the pre-race atmosphere, each lost in their own thoughts about the day ahead and the commitments they'd made, like three ships sailing separate courses, yet bound together by a shared destiny.

The park buzzed with the pre-race excitement, like a beehive humming with anticipation, as the loudspeaker crackled to life, announcing the ten-minute mark before the start. Jamie sprang up from the bench, energized, like a jackrabbit bursting from its burrow. "Time to gear up, guys," he exclaimed, his voice a rallying cry, like a general leading his troops into battle.

Grant glanced at their bags, a bit uncertain, his eyes scanning the area like a navigator searching for a safe harbor. "Where should we stash these?" he asked, his voice a gentle, questioning inquiry, like a sailor seeking guidance from a trusted chart.

Travis, ever practical, patted his bag, a reassuring gesture, like a pilot patting the dashboard of his plane. "Got just my towel, water, and EpiPen," he said, his voice a calm, measured tone, like a doctor listing a patient's vital signs. "Let's just leave them here. We'll swing back after the race."

Agreeing, they left their belongings, like travelers shedding unnecessary baggage, and made their way to the starting line, their footsteps echoing through the park, like a drumbeat signaling the start of a grand adventure.