you understand? It’s an all-or-nothing race. Stomp on that gas when the whistle blows. It’s the only way you’ll win!”

Shaking my head at her ignorance, I tried to explain, “I’ll flood the engine, and it will stall out. I’m not doing that.”

Two surprisingly strong fists grasped my collar and tugged me down to her level. “Eldon made a few...modifications. It can handle it. I’m not sure I’ll speak to you again if you lose.”

“Wow. You really are part of this trailer park. You’ve gone in all the way.” I nodded. Her eyes widened, and she started to pull back. “But you know I hate to lose as well. I’ll do it.”

Her shoulders relaxed. “Great! You know I like to win.”

I nodded. I did know. She almost got into a fistfight with my dad at family game night because she was convinced he was cheating at Monopoly. Turned out, he was. She had been fourteen at the time. My mom and I placed money on Riley to win that hypothetical fight.

All throughout high school, she had never been the cool girl sitting on the bleachers, cheering her boyfriend on during a pickup game of basketball. Riley was in the middle of the game, competing. She wasn’t afraid of sweat, hard work, or pain. She’d even told everyone on her soccer team that if they didn’t make the other team bleed, they weren’t playing hard enough.

So, yes, I was well-versed in the level of competitiveness that Riley had. She needed to win. I wondered if it was the years of disadvantage she’d had, or if it was an innate part of her personality.

Her face shone bright with excitement. Because I had the perfect excuse to do so—ahem, competitive solidarity—I placed my hands on each side of her face, pressed my helmet-clad forehead against hers, and said in a gravelly, serious voice, “Don’t worry. I’ll use everything in me to win.”

Then I turned and walked away as if I’d just promised to lay down my life for my country.

I thought for a moment that I heard her snicker behind me, but I doubted it. She was too focused on winning to laugh right now.

I made my way over to Eldon where he stood next to his lawn mower, stoically straight. He’d parked the lawn mower on the starting line for me, though I wondered if he should have even done that. His stiff movements made me hurt for him.

“Can I trust you with this machine?” Eldon asked as he watched me suspiciously. I sat down slowly.

“I’ll treat it as carefully as I would my Jeep.”

“All right. I believe you.” He turned away but not before I saw the moisture in his eyes.

The loud hum of motors distracted me from Eldon’s cry-fest.

There were four other contestants. I was the only one wearing a helmet...

“On your mark, get set, go!” A loud bang sounded—probably a gun supplied by Gunrunner Gabe. So much for the whistle.

I did exactly what I promised Riley. I stomped on that gas pedal like it was an angry tarantula trying to eat me.

Only...things didn’t go exactly like I thought.

The engine didn’t flood.

The mower didn’t slowly lurch forward.

There was no need to rock back and forth to build up momentum.

Nope. None of that.

The mower shot forward like a rocket. My body slammed back against the seat, my head snapping backwards with such force that I felt the burn all the way down my spine.

Someone screamed at me, and I finally leaned forward enough to see that I was about to miss my first turn.

I wasn’t on a lawn mower. I was on a rocket in the early testing phases.

I tried to turn the corner, but the mower hopped the small line of bricks, causing me to blaze across the smooth river rock in front of Tony’s house. I clung to the steering wheel as I tried to get the mower back on smooth ground. It lurched forward and back as it heaved and climbed over the river rock, sending my teeth clanking together.

By the time I managed to get the mower back onto the flat ground, I wasn’t too far behind everyone. I was only in fourth place—out of five. Riley would disown me if I lost.

I kept my foot on that gas as the mower proceeded forward. We were approaching the second turn, marked by a cardboard sign propped against a fake deer.

It read: This way, losers.

I watched as the three drivers in front of me hunched over their wheels. I didn’t understand why they needed to hold on so tight when we were on the straightaway. I chuckled. I was gaining on them.

“Holy...” I swallowed as I watched one after another slam over a speed bump in the middle of the street. This was not going to be good.

I clung to the wheel but kept my foot on the gas. I didn’t have the luxury of slowing down. I was behind.

The mower made a grinding noise when I hit the speed bump. We leapt together—I was beginning to think this mower was alive—and groaned when we hit the ground.

But we continued onward, passing another racer who seemed to have a wobbly wheel.

We turned the last corner, passing the crowd of people. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Riley laughing uncontrollably. When I was done racing, I’d have a chance to think about the fact that she’d tricked me. I stomped onto the gas a little more, earning cheers from the gathered crowd. I was gaining on the man in second place.

This time, I was prepared for the first curve. With just the right timing, I made the turn without crossing over into the rock garden.

I passed the second-place man. I was riding right on the tail of first place—a woman with stringy, gray hair flying in the wind. I took the turn on the inside corner, easing past her. Now all I had to do was survive the speed bump. I’d be in the clear after that.

I

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