Page 77 of Crash Course

My brother’s eyes widen, but he recovers quickly. Theo’s adaptation skills are second to none. “You know she spent the whole weekend crying over a fight with her dad. You, go figure, were nowhere to be found.”

My feverish memories fade. That’s why she went to Theo. I kept her away from the car. Gave her shit. Made her life harder.

Theo was the one to comfort her. I should feel guilty, not jealous.

“You might be a fast driver, Jamie,” he goes on. “But I know how to make a girl happy. And if you’re thinking I’m going to concede, you’re wrong.”

Anger rises up. The kind I can normally manage, but he’s not the only one on edge this week.

I round on him, shoving his shoulder hard enough he trips back toward the wall. “Your life is hard. I get it. I’ve done everything I can to make it better, and you know exactly what I mean.” His eyes widen, but I continue. “You don’t always have to make me the villain.”

Theo’s smile returns. Slow, and more assured than before.

“No.” He brushes an invisible piece of lint off my shirt before meeting my eyes. “All I have to do is leave you to your own devices and you’ll make yourself one.”

24

Shay

“Damn. You’re feral.” Megan sings her approval as I go to town on the villain on the screen.

“Is this not how you’re supposed to play video games?” I grit my teeth.

“You’ve never played one?” Megan tosses me a surprised look from her seat on the couch next to me. “You really did grow up under the hood of a car.”

I throw a chip at her, then keep mashing buttons like stubborn persistence will get me somewhere.

It’s not working in any other part of my life.

In the week since the race, I’ve been crashing at Megan’s in the two-bedroom apartment off campus she shares with Raj. I’m sleeping on an air mattress in her room, trying to act as if my life is normal and it’s not eating me up that Dad and I have barely spoken since last weekend.

I tried calling him on our way home from the race, but he was so angry, insisting I leave the garage and drop out of school. The only time I saw him was when I went to the house to pick up some clothes.

He didn’t look at me. Not once.

Almost like if he did, he’d say something he couldn’t take back.

Keane told me Dad’s insisting on returning to work, even though it’s too soon.

But what’s currently pulling most of my attention is Jameson.

The entire week following the race was torture. He wasn’t in class, and the few times I saw him, he was trailed by media. He looked cool as ever.

I considered texting him but couldn’t decide what to say.

Are you still thinking about it at least a hundred times a day like I am?

The next Monday, I was getting coffee at the cafeteria before class—my first one from The Junction was gone in a flash—when I felt tingles up my spine. I looked up to find Jameson watching me from the doorway.

“Hi.” His hand brushed my arm when he joined me in line. My heart started to hammer.

“Hi. Didn’t know you drank coffee.”

“I don’t.” He bought mine without even asking.

I know how to act when he’s provoking and derisive. This was…weirder. I needed some semblance of our old banter to feel like my world isn’t off its axis.

“Bored with your adoring fans?” I asked Tuesday in Vogel’s class after he ignored two objectively attractive girls trying to attach themselves to him in the hallway.