Breakdown (Crash into Me) (11 page)

Chapter Five

We walked for a minute side by side in silence. I didn’t dislike it so much that I felt uncomfortable. It had been years since I had tried to make a friend, and the ones I did have either had parents who were friends with my parents or I went to school with, forcing us to cognate with one another.

“That over there is a steward. We call all of them Stews.” She pointed up to a shed roof where the man with the walkie-talkie tried to look down women’s shirts. She leaned in just a little closer to reveal this last part to me. “If I were you, I’d stay away from that one. He’s the sort of guy you expect to see on America’s Most Wanted on any given week.”

I laughed along with Tabby, even if it was delayed. It was as though my brain and heart were unattached, and because of that couldn’t define what was funny.

“The stewards are the lookouts then?”

For the first time, Tabby looked at me like I had two heads. “Billy really didn’t tell you anything, did he? Damn…” The last comment was almost a whisper to herself, and not knowing how to comment, I let it pass.

“Okay,” she said, pointing out another man I could not see. “That’s the flagman—or girl rather. She’s the one who signals off the beginning of the race.”

“How do you know it’s her? I mean, how do you all pick who is going to be the flagperson?”

“It changes from week to week.” She shrugged. “Usually whoever wins the most races gets to choose.”

I nodded, but otherwise said nothing.

“Girls get really excited about it,” Tabby continued. “It’s all very high school, but guys tend to choose their girlfriends to flag. It kind of how relationships are announced—or denounced.”

I nodded again, making a mental note for later.

Tabby and I increased our pace, walking from the end of the park to a trail line where a grove of trees once laid. There, where roots and the remainder of stumps lay, an artificial line with yellow spray paint had been set up—growing out just beyond the grass. While we were far away, I could still see two men arguing over the line itself, one of them even pulling out a tape measure while the other one swore loudly. My eyes searched for signs of William, his accent, or even that stupid car he loved so much. Despite my search, however, I saw nothing but more tricked out cars and mini-skirts that defied laws of nature.

“Because of the new laws set up, we mostly just do cannonballs” I heard Tabby say over my thoughts. “It’s hard to close off all the roads to do a full run.”

I unwrapped my arm from hers. Maybe, I thought, if I could get a few steps to the side I’d have a better chance of seeing William. “What’s a cannonball exactly?”

Tabby remained ever patient with me. “It’s just a drag race—a fourth of a mile. It’s the best way to see how a car accelerates while keeping the risk of getting noticed by the cops pretty low.”

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I noticed that part. This is technically on state property. How do—”

“One of the hustlers also works for the park department. Obviously we can’t have races here every week, but if we keep it limited to a couple times a year it works out.”

“How do you guys determine the winner?” I asked. “It seems like both cars always reach the finish line at the same time.”

“Sometimes the photographers figure that out through their cameras. Most of the time though, they decide it through the point system.”

“T-the point system?”

“Cars in crummy condition get a handicap—”

“Like golf?”

“Yeah.” Her voice was soft as she examined her nails and I decided not to push my luck further. “Something like that.”

Without me interrupting to ask any more questions, Tabby continued talking, telling me things about racing that I should have been listening to. As many times as I told my brain to focus, however, my curiosity about William kept popping up, forcing my eyes to look for him, even though I knew it was rude to ignore Tabby so openly. 

“Did you guys come here together?”

The sound of her voice snapped me back to reality. Yet if she was offended by what I was so obviously doing, her tone didn’t project it. Instead, she sort of laughed at me and shook her head as I blushed at having been caught. I wrapped my arms back myself and tried to focus. “Huh?”

“You and Billy.” She laughed. “Did the two of you come here together, or were you supposed to meet up somewhere?”

“Separately.” I coughed and pretended to look at an aluminum sign of Smokey the Bear. “We came here separately.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Can’t say I’m surprised. He comes to these things every week with a different girl—no offense,” she added this part quickly, her hand flaying out in front of herself.

I grimaced and found a spot on my shoelaces to focus on. I couldn’t say that I was shocked by this news or anything—had expected it really. Considering the way William looked and what seemed to be a genuine tendency to help people, it was no mystery that he had racing groupies falling over him left and right. Still, despite my awareness of this and the fact that I was homely at best, a twinge of disappoint ran through me.

I squashed it down as best I could, but it still, didn’t seem to be enough.

“We’re, ah, not like that. I just met him yesterday.”

She laughed like I had said something hilarious. “It usually doesn’t take that long with Billy. Personally, he’s not my type, but a lot of these skanks like him.” Tabby leaned closer to me and pointed out something by a grove of trees. “You have to be careful when you’re with a racer. Whores throw themselves at them all the time. I’ve had to bust my heels on a bitch more than a few times when it comes to Eggs.”

I was still reeling over the fact that she called her boyfriend Eggs and that people who took their clothes off for a living could be in monogamous relationships when we walked up a short hill that led to a pathway of thin pavement and streetlamps. It gave me the impression to be more of an oversized bike trail rather than a racing strip, and when I saw the large novelty fire hydrant I realized we were standing in what was intended to be a dog park. From that point on, I decided to double check before I put my foot down.

Two cars roared past us just then, inciting a stampede of cheers from the spectators who stood or sat on the hill. It was like a cloud of bees came and went in an instant, shaking up the leaves on the ground and kicking dust into the air.

Tabby said something about ear plugs and laughed.

I wanted to continue talking with her, to ask questions and try to have a normal human interaction, yet the whirlwind of excitement that I felt the night before found me once again, and I was lost to it.

Everything looked brighter, felt wider and freer as a racer on a motorcycle zoomed past us. I hadn’t realized until that most just how confined my depression had been keeping me, creating a constant feel of claustrophobia everywhere I went. But at that moment, in front of hustlers, groupies, drivers and flagmen, I felt as though I could see for the first time in months.

A window had opened, and I could breathe again.

“He and Bloody Mary are racing just up here. He’s been running cannonballs around the corner all night.”

Tabby had been talking the entire time I was zooming out. I blanched at the realization that I had no idea what she was talking about. I just sort of nodded and tried to think of something to say.

“About these nicknames…” I chose my words carefully as I sat beside her on the grassy hill. “For people I can sort of get, but cars?”

She giggled mercifully and took a quick peek at her phone. “If you think that’s bad, you should hear what some of them call their dicks.”

I pulled my knees up to my chest and sighed. The nickname thing had seemed stupid at first, a way for William to pick on me. Now that I could see how happy it seemed to make everybody it suddenly seemed less childish and more of an excuse to make each other laugh. Maybe, I hoped, it was a way for William to make me feel like a part of the group.

“What does Eggs call his truck?” I asked.

“Popeye.” Tabby rolled her eyes. “Don’t ask me why.”

I laughed and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Is there a reason Wi-Billy, I mean, calls his Bloody Mary?”

Tabby shrugged, and leaned back onto her elbows. “Something about the urban legend I think. I guess because it’s white like a ghost?” She waved her hand away and stared hard into the road. “He and Funky Bunch are set to race next. It’s bound to be pretty good.”

We waited in silence, Tabby playing on her phone while I people watched. I tried to memorize the faces with the tattoos and the owners to their cars. How many of them had I sold bread to? Decorated cakes for and didn’t even know it? What were the odds that any one of them would have gotten stuck in traffic under the Port Elizabeth overpass because of me?

When Tabby offered to exchange numbers with me, I had to do a double-take. It had been so long since I had voiced my phone number, or even written it down that there was an instant where I struggled to remember it. Faintly, I mused that if William hadn’t held it hostage over me just that morning it might have escaped me altogether.

I only knew William’s race had started by the waves of cheering along the hill. It seemed like Tabby and I whoo-hooed with the best of them, desperate to not be pointed out for the misfit I was.

The flash of white that was Bloody Mary came and went with a blast of swearing and even more cheers. Maybe a half a second later, the metallic flash of purple followed it. I nudged Tabby’s elbow with mine.

“So is Funky Bunch the name of the driver or the car?”

Her eyes narrowed and she laughed. “You know, I’m not exactly sure.”

I followed her down the hill and passed the novelty fire hydrant like I had the faintest notion of what I was doing. Tabby was greeted with smiles and catcalls by a lot of the guys we passed, and scowls from most of the girls. More than once, she stopped to speak to a few people but did not bother to introduce me. Not wanting to be alone, I did my best not to read too much into it and focus on William instead.

There was a small bonfire at what I decided was some kind of a winner’s circle. Funky Bunch and three muscle cars including Bloody Mary were parked beneath the overgrown trees. But now that I was so close, my legs turned to lead. What if he saw me and just started laughing? And what was I supposed to say to him when I saw him anyway?

Yes, hi, hello there. Remember me, the crazy girl from the bridge?

Tabby was accosted by another friend as we walked into the unofficial parking lot. She chatted happily while I shifted my weight from side to side. I was beginning to wish I had never come at all—just drawn a hot bath, taken an aspirin and sharpened a dull knife, when I finally did catch a glimpse of him. Really though, it was that smile of his I saw first, just as perfect and snarky as ever as a girl pushed her chest into him and whispered something in his ear.

Biting my lip, I looked away and pretended to read a sign that about forest fires. If I stared at Smokey the Bear hard enough, maybe I could pretend I hadn’t seen William at all.

Chapter Six

I still didn’t know how to feel by the time class rolled around on Monday morning. While there was a cheap thrill at doing something rebellious, there was also that reserved fear to leave my room for the rest of the weekend. I so struggled to stay busy that my 8AM economics class was actually a highlight. I got up early, showered, and snuck out of the house even before Mom woke up for her morning workout.

I only felt slightly like a coward for continuing to avoid her.

Despite a cup of coffee and a lack of other options, I had a hard time trying to focus in the classroom, my mind going back and forth between William and the short high that the races brought me. Instead of doodling gravestones and drops of blood, I sketched little tires and steering wheels.

I sighed when I heard my phone vibrate against my leg. With my luck, Dad had probably forgotten my class schedule and was looking for a ride home from the airport.