Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21230 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 71(@300wpm)
Finally, I headed out, took a cab to the track, did a lot of walking, and got to my seat with half an hour to spare. I'd been to this track once before. The first year Axel raced Indycars, I quietly attended two races. A friend went with me to one, but I didn't tell my mother, and of course I wasn't in touch with Axel then. I was thankful for my familiarity with this venue, and for my great luck in getting the last minute ticket. My seat wasn't far from the tunnel that led to the infield, and my plan was to make my way there during the final few laps of the race, regardless of how Axel placed.
From my seat, I could see Axel's car lined up for the start. I couldn't see it well, but the green was unmistakable, and I watched him climb into the cockpit, though I couldn't make out his features before he put his helmet on.
Then the engines were growling and revving, and I felt like I was melting into a puddle. This sound had somehow become linked to the memory of Axel pressed against me, kissing me, and today, knowing, hoping, that I'd be experiencing that again soon was almost overwhelming.
I don't think I could've been more excited if I'd been out on the track, climbing into one of the turbocharged machines, about to fly around the oval at 200 miles per hour. I was screaming inside my head, "Go, Axel!" My stepbrother, my lifelong crush, was about to race, and it always seemed a little unbelievable to me, even though I'd seen him do it before. He'd come so far from dirt bikes, and I was proud of him.
Soon the cars started rolling toward me. They weren't going fast yet; a pace car led them around for two parade laps before the official start. I watched Axel drive by in the lead spot and sent out a silent wish that he'd continue to hold that spot and win. Two rows back, I noticed Enrique Velasquez's bright orange car. According to the news, a fierce rivalry had sprung up since the last race. I didn't know how much of the talk was true and how much was media hype, but I was sure Velasquez would be jockeying for a better position, as would all of the cars behind Axel.
The drivers went by for one more pace lap and you could both see and feel their impatience. It mirrored mine. I was eager for Axel to win, and eager to celebrate with him after.
Then I saw the green flag waving, and the cars came flying by. Axel pulled out ahead of the pack and I jumped up and cheered.
It was an exciting race right from the start. There were several big moves by other drivers, but Axel managed to maintain his lead until his first pit stop. I couldn't see the pits from my seat, and I got nervous when the cars came around and Axel wasn't with them, even though I knew it was about time for him to make a stop for refueling and tire changes. A man behind me was live streaming race coverage on his phone, and I leaned back to overhear confirmation; Axel was refueling. As the commentator speculated about when other lead drivers would make their stops, I saw green #27 fly by me, and I released the breath I'd been holding in.
Axel regained his lead when other drivers made their stops, but somehow Velasquez had made big gains, and soon he was right on Axel's tail as the two cars flew by me. They were neck and neck for two more laps, and then, when I was expecting them again, they didn't come around. I squinted down the track, trying to catch sight of them, but saw nothing. Soon after, I saw a yellow flag waving. Sometimes the yellow caution flag can mean there is debris on the track, and the drivers need to go slow until it's cleared, but with Axel's absence, and the fact that he shouldn't be in need of another pit stop yet, I immediately assumed the worst: an accident.
I didn't bother eavesdropping this time; I turned fully around and tugged on the knee of the man watching the broadcast. "What's happened to Beckers?"
The man glanced at me, then back at his phone. Only seconds passed, but it felt like hours, as I stared desperately at him, watching his face for an indication of what had happened. The crowd had gotten loud and I couldn't hear the commentator on the broadcast. Finally he answered, "Accident," and turned his phone's screen toward me. I went completely cold, my heart dropping into my stomach, when I saw a replay of spinning orange and sliding green.