Furious by Jamie Pacton & Rebecca Podos

Author:Jamie Pacton & Rebecca Podos [Pacton, Jamie & Podos, Rebecca]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Page Street Publishing
Published: 2024-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

JoJo

The day after our “heist,” if you want to call it that, El and I pull up in the Hornet at Benton Creek Airfield, a small, regional abandoned stretch of runways and rusting hangars half an hour away from Riley’s apartment building.

“Holy shit,” El mutters in the seat beside me. “Is this really the place?”

The Hornet’s headlights illuminate a stretch of tall chain-link fence that’s been cut open wide enough to let a car pull through. Kudzu vines cover the fence with a leafy curtain, making the open section look like a portal to another world. Beyond the vines, the airfield stretches into the night, the central runway lined by dozens of other cars who have their headlights on to light up the stretch of pavement. Neon underlighting colors the ground pink, green, and blue, and music pumps out of many of the cars, the bass thumping into the night. Clumps of people stand around, laughing, drinking, and making bets and side bets like something out of Fast & Furious.

A thrill of excitement electrifies my nerves, and I sit up straighter. We’re really doing this. I’m really staking Mom’s car. I’m finally—finally—back on the track and racing again. It’s going to be so goddamn amazing.

Even as I have that thought, it’s immediately chased by another: What if I lose and Riley takes Mom’s car? How am I ever going to explain that to Dad? I grip the steering wheel as my stomach flips. I absolutely cannot think that way. There’s no way I’m losing this race. Not even an option.

I turn back to El and her question. “Yup, looks like the place.”

She frowns. “It looks like somewhere one goes to get killed.”

I shift in my seat, gunning the Hornet’s engine and cocooning us momentarily in the loud, hungry purr of a V-8 engine. I can’t keep a smug grin off my face. I love that sound. “It looks like a place where one goes to win a race and get back a bitchin’ motorcycle jacket.”

That earns me a small, tight smile from El. “Are you sure the car is ready?”

“Betty is in fighting shape, trust me.” I run a hand along the steering wheel affectionately, infusing as much confidence as possible into the words.

Late last night, after we’d gotten the keys and said goodbye to CJ and James, who were headed back home to Charleston this morning, I’d biked back to Jolene’s garage and taken the Hornet out for a test drive. It had run beautifully—and quickly, as it should. But would it be quick enough to beat Riley’s bike?

It has to be.

The twilight sky is deep purple and orange, though the night is creeping in at the edges. Fireflies dance along the fence line in front of us, helped along by a slight breeze. I’ll have to consider that breeze as I’m racing tonight. The night smells like exhaust, summertime, and El. A heady mix that’s going right to my blood.

Racing.

My heart kicks at the thought.

That’s all well

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