SHOW ME HOW

Chapter 11

I'd been stifling yawns for the past fifteen minutes since we arrived at the old racetrack—a place that looked like it hadn't seen a legitimate race in years. On the drive over, Emily mentioned it was only used for illegal street races now.

The place was packed—some faces I recognized from school, others were complete strangers.

"Want one?" Emily asked, pulling a can of Coke from the small, pink cooler in her trunk.

"No thanks, I'm good," I replied with a polite smile.

"Really? You sure?" she pressed, holding it out again.

"I'm sure, EM. But you go ahead," I said, reassuring her.

"You never eat or drink junk. You're way too health-conscious," she teased with a playful grin.

I smirked. "How often do these races happen, anyway?" I asked, shifting the conversation.

"Every Sunday—but never in the same spot," she explained. "The cops usually bust these races, so we've got to be ready to bolt at any second." Just then, something behind me caught her attention. "Look," she murmured, leaning in slightly, "Lorenzo and his crew are pulling in." Three sleek black sports cars slid into parking spaces a few spots to our left. Two other vehicles parked between us and them, partially obscuring their view—no wonder they hadn't spotted us yet.

I stole a quick glance in his direction and caught him stepping out of his car—white T-shirt clinging to him, hair damp, cigarette between his fingers as he took slow, deliberate drags. From the passenger side, a stunning girl with long black hair emerged, wearing black denim shorts and knee-high boots. She was striking.

"Who's the girl?" I asked Emily, figuring she'd know more than I did.

"Who, her? Oh, you mean the ones who showed up with them?"

"Yeah—do you know them?"

"I know of them, but not personally," Emily replied. "The one with the long black hair who got out of Lorenzo's car. That's Lola. The other two—Sage and Avery—came with Mitchell and Ryan. All three are the 'it' girls from Fairmont High. There's talk that Lola and Lorenzo are a thing, but honestly, I don't put much stock in rumors. They could just be friends for all I know. I'm just relieved they don't go to our school. We've already got an Emma—add three more like them and our fragile peace would be completely shattered," she laughed.

I didn't say anything more about them, choosing instead to focus on the cars tearing around the track, tuning out the bursts of laughter coming from a few spots down.

"Can I ask you something?" Emily said after a moment.

"Yeah, of course," I replied, turning to face her.

"Will you be honest with me?"

"That depends," I said with a half-smile. "What do you want to ask? Just say it."

"You and Lorenzo..."

"There is no 'me and Lorenzo,'" I said plainly. "But if there's something you want to know, ask. I'll tell you the truth."

"That day in the parking lot—when you and Lorenzo drove off—and then later, his friends pulling you aside at school? And the way you stopped him from going any further when he was beating that guy? Let's just say, no one stops Lorenzo when he's that angry," she said, her tone laced with curiosity.

For a moment, I considered going back on my promise and feeding her a lie. But something about it didn't sit right. If we were building a real friendship, it couldn't be founded on half-truths.

"I ran into Lorenzo one night after he'd gotten into a fight," I began. "He was bleeding—from a stab wound he got earlier that day—and was losing a lot of blood. He passed out just after I got him into my car. I called his friends, and they came to get him. I drove him back to where we'd left his car the night before, which is why he got into mine at school the next day."