Page 23 of Until The Lights Go Out

“Theodore.” My father’s voice dropped low beside me. “You are faster than that girl.” His voice stretched over the last word like it was sickening for him. I hated it. The words weren’t encouragement, they were a command. “Don’t forget it.”

I nodded once and pulled my helmet over my head. The world immediately became smaller and quieter, just the hum of engines and the soft patter of rain hitting the visor. A marshal walked down the line, pointing to each kart. Engines revved higher as my hands tightened around the wheel, and the green flag dropped.

The start was chaos, as it usually was. Dark, angry rain clouds overhead made the world darker. Water sprayed up from the tires ahead of me, turning the straight into a wall of mist. Karts darted left and right, trying to gain positions before the first corner.

Maisey slipped into the lead almost immediately.

I tucked in behind her.

Lap after lap, we circled the soaked track, the rain splashing against my visor as her tires kicked water back at me. She drove differently in the rain—smoother than everyone else, like she wasn’t fighting the kart at all. I stayed right on her bumper, waiting for the moment I could go for the pass. On the sixth lap, she slid a little wide, exiting Turn 3. I saw the opening. I dove inside. For half a second, we were side by side, wheels nearly touching as we shot down the short straight. Then, she did something I didn’t expect. She backed off just enough to let me take the corner. And cut underneath me on the exit. Her kart shot forward like a slingshot. By the time I straightened the wheel, she was already two lengths ahead. I pushed harder, but the gap stayed.

The checkered flag waved above the start line.

Maisey crossed first.

I crossed second.

When I pulled into the paddock, the rain had slowed to a mist. My father was already waiting.

“You had the inside line,” he said immediately, disappointment clear.

I pulled my helmet off and scrambled to try and defend myself. “She—she cut back under⁠—”

“You hesitated.” His voice was sharp enough to slice straight through me. “Great drivers don’t hesitate.” He grabbed the kart and began pushing it back toward the trailer. “We’ll talk about it later.”

He didn’t even look at me again. I stood there for a moment, left to my thoughts, helmet feeling like a dead weight in my hands.

“Hey!”

I turned and saw Maisey jogging toward me across the wet pavement, helmet tucked under one arm. Her red hair was damp now, sticking to her cheeks. The pink ribbon at the end of her braid had come loose and was dangling halfway down.

“That was awesome!” she said breathlessly.

I blinked at her. “You won.”

“Yeah,” she said with a shrug, like that wasn’t the point. “You almost had me in Turn 3 though.” She nudged my shoulder lightly. “I thought you were going to take it.”

I stared at her.

Most drivers would have been bragging, or gloating, or ignoring me completely. But Maisey just looked excited.

“You’re really fast in the rain,” she continued. “That was fun.”

Fun.

No one had ever described racing like that before. She started walking backward toward the crowd gathering near the podium. “Next time, I’ll make it harder for you though, Bauer!” Then she pointed at me with a grin. “Try not to look so serious all the time, okay?”

I watched her jog away.

Weird.

Still weird.

But as I stood there, rain dripping off the edge of my helmet, I was entranced by her, despite it all.

The small garages near each team’s makeshift trailers had started buzzing again—parents packing up toolboxes, karts being pushed across the asphalt, kids still in their racing suits chasing each other through the rows of trailers. Someone nearby was arguing loudly about a penalty call while the snack stand blasted tinny music through a cheap speaker.

My father was already halfway through loading the kart when I got back.