chapter four
louis
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I can remember vividly, the way she smiled so bright with the stars of the night sky hidden inbetween her eyes. She was shaking visibly from head to toe, dirt smeared on her pale, frost palms, her cheeks nipped with a hot blush. With her hands intertwined with each other nervously, she kneaded the ground with her shoes. With a bow of her head so whispered, "This is is, this is where it begins."
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"RACERS, TAKE your places at your team headquarters."
The monotonous voice sirened through my ears, my sneakers shuffling across the dirt, leaving a puff of sandy residue behind me as I went. Harry walked in front of me, curls tamed by a blue bandana. Seemingly, he received a few looks from a handful of giddy faced teenage girls, one's with volunteer shirts on. He had been the striker of our team, I learned, which wasn't surprising, everyone had that one guy.
Me, I was more of the average one. No one grinned at me or giggled at the things I said, they more just looked at me just as they looked at Ashton, for example, or Zayn, Niall, and Liam. I didn't take it to heart, since Harry was a nice enough guy, and smart enough not to let those pubescent girls get to his head.
Our team, The Hotfoots, was our branded name, was crowded around in a semi-circle, crossed arms, excited looks, and sweaty foreheads. The team manager, Clarke Richards, held a map in one hand with a clipboard in the other. Behind our wall of young adults were the three rickshaws, which were more or less some glorified scooters with two back wheels, cushioned seats for three, and a roof.
"Okay," Clarke huffed, "Cailin," he looked up at the tall girl, "I want you to drive, and I want Zayn and Ashton to go with you.". Once he got a nod of approval from the trio he let them set up for the long journey ahead. "Louis, you, Liam and Ethel will go in the second rickshaw, and Niall, you drive with Rosa and Harry."
I silently hid a smile, glad Ethel and Liam were going to be with me for the adventure. I also felt ecstatic to be the one actually driving, since I'd never gain so much responsibility in a long time. Back at home, the only thing I'd be really capable would be to go shopping with Beatrice. Thank goodness I would never be doing that ever again.
"Tonight you'll all stop at the 'Maan Lig' Hotel, good luck, guys." Clarke yelled out, the drone of the motors deafening me slightly. Liam grabbed on to the roof of the vehicle, jumping in beside me. Ethel sat in the back, our bags collecting at her feet and under the seat. "Give me a dial if anyone gets hurt or the rickshaws breakdown, so we can get an escort to a hospital or a body shop." Mr. Richards shouted from a distance before disappearing into a small building.
"Oh, I really, really hope no one gets hurt." I heard Ethel's voice murmur, words seized with anxiety and worry. I reached down, yanking the gear stick, making the rickshaw rumble and hum.
"Why so worried, love?" I chuckled over the sound of the engine, glancing back over at her. She looked a little pale, but suddenly smiled, shrugging.
"I hate hospitals, nosocomephobia."
"No-so-co what?" Liam mumbled, arm resting over the back of the seat.
"Nosocomephobia, the phobia of hospitals." She shrugged, lips pouting out a little as she played with a stray line of fabric on her shorts. I'd learned how big of a bad habit that was for her, plus they way she sounded when she was a little distressed, she would squeeze her hands together with her legs and she would have this kind of quick squeak when she spoke. "I've never set foot into a hospital since I was five and -"
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hotfoot - tomlinson
Fanfiction" in which dreamers race across the depths of africa in three glorified rickshaws. "
