Page 52 of The Fast Track

The carnival is held at the National Bowl, a grassy events venue ten minutes from Orbital Campus. The evening sky is lit upbright orange, summer breeze balmy with honeysuckle. The faint aroma of salted popcorn and fried foods lingers in the air.

Cameron and I make our way from the parking lot toward the mishmash of pin-striped tents and twinkling carnival rides. I make us stop at the first cotton candy booth we come across. The vendor swirls a giant pink cloud on a stick for me.

I take a bite and moan, the fluffy sweetness melting in my mouth. “It’s been too long.”

“Such a little child.” Cameron shakes his head, but he’s smiling from ear to ear. “I haven’t eaten one of those since primary.”

“Well then, you, my friend”—I shove the stick at him until it’s almost touching his nose—“have been missing out.”

He gives me a slight eye roll, then shrugs and eats a piece. “This isn’t bad, actually.”

“Told you.”

“Much better than I remember.” Cameron peels a strip of cloudy pink fluff off and slurps it down.

“That’s enough.” I pull the stick away. “Leave some for me.”

“But how will you reintroduce me to the joys of cotton candy without letting me properly sample?” He grins devilishly. While my heart’s distracted skipping a beat, he snatches another chunk off my stick.

“Quit it, get your own.” I swat away his arm.

“Fine.” He taps my nose softly with the tip of his finger. It’s warm and smells like the best combination of his fresh-grass scent and delicious sugary confectionery.

“Cam, there you are!” Pat calls over the crowd. His Canadian accent cuts through the tangle of British voices like a foghorn.

He emerges around the carousel, followed by Georgios and two intimidatingly pretty girls. I’m suddenly very conscious of my sweatpants, still streaked with grease and grime from earlier.

“All right?” Cameron exchanges a series of complicated high fives and fist bumps with Pat and Georgios. If the guys wonder what I’m doing here crashing their hangout, neither of them asks.

“Justine, this is Savannah and Chloe,” Pat says.

“You race with Orbital too, right?” The girl that’s next to Pat—Savannah—asks. She, like her friend, is model gorgeous with Bambi eyes and long wavy hair.

I nod, and they both let out excited squeals.

“I thought that was you.” Chloe smiles. “My little sister karts. She’s obsessed with you.”

“Really?” My heart flutters. I have fans—I know that from my social media and Orbital-arranged meet and greets—but this is the first time someone has brought it up outside of a racing function.

“You should see our pantry.” Chloe giggles. “She hunted down a box of those special-edition energy bars with your picture on it. She won’t let any of us eat one, so I guess they’re sitting there till they expire.”

The Orbital x Girls campaign Britt strong-armed me into.I remember feeling humiliated at being tapped on the shoulder to step out for a photoshoot in the middle of simulators—the way the guys raised their eyebrows knowingly at each other still haunts me. I’m pleasantly taken aback that a cheesy, gratuitous ad campaign actually wound up being meaningful to someone.

“Justine,” Savannah says, interrupting my train of thought. “Youmustgive us all the inside tea.”

“I can give you tea,” Pat says, slinging an arm around her. “Did you guys hear about the wrecked golf cart they found on the outer campus?”

I freeze. I haven’t thought about that for weeks. Well. I’ve thought about that day—mainly the part where Cameron and I were pressed together on the ground, not the part where we destroyed a golf cart and threw it over some hedges.

Cameron gives me abe coollook. I realize I’m holding my breath and clinging onto the remnants of my cotton candy for dear life, the picture of guilt.

“N-no, I haven’t,” I say, as innocently as I can. I try to casually lob the cotton candy stick into the closest bin, but the evening breeze blows it right back onto Savannah’s dress. “Omigod, I’m so sorry.”

“It was apparently sitting behind some bushes,” Pat says, peeling the thin stick off Savannah and dropping it into the garbage. “Carolina told me maintenance thinks it can’t have been that long ago; it’s a pretty new cart.”

“Are they gonna check security cameras?” Cameron asksso smoothly I have to remind myself he did, in fact, partake in this.

Pat shrugs. “They don’t have surveillance that far out, apparently. Anyway, pretty random, right?”