sidewayz glory (15 page)

“He doesn't
think
you can't drift,” Tito shot back. “He
knows
you can't drift, Mr. Fried Chicken.”

Guys chuckled, Ian's face darkened and he balled his hands into fists. For a second it looked like he was going to launch himself at Tito, but Kennin got up and stood between them. “You got anything to prove, prove it tonight on the track.”

It was one of those days when the seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. As much as Kennin hated the idea of an organized drifting event on a track, he couldn't wait to get into the Corolla and see what it could do. When school ended, Tito was waiting for him at his locker.

“Psyched?” Tito asked.

“You're joking, right?” Kennin smiled as he pulled his new racing gear out of his locker and stuffed it into a black nylon duffel bag.

“I'm just checking,” Tito said. “I mean, it's pretty rare to see you get excited about anything.”

Outside, Kennin waited while Tito got his bike, then together they started to walk down the sidewalk. Carrying the heavy duffel, there was no way Kennin could ride on Tito's pegs today. A familiar-looking red Lexus IS300 pulled alongside them. The window went down and Mariel said, “Want a ride?”

“Thanks, but today I think I'll walk,” Kennin said.

Mariel licked her glossy lips. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Kennin replied.

“Your loss,” she said. “See you at the track.” She pulled away from the curb.

“You're probably the only guy in the world who's ever said no to her,” Tito said with a groan.

Kennin only wished he'd been able to say no to her more often.

They got to Rivera's Service Center. Kennin walked into the garage and was surprised to find the Corolla on a trailer hitched to Cousin Raoul's beat-up white van. The Corolla's hood was up and Angelita, in coveralls, was still tinkering with the engine while Raoul threw spare tires in the back of the van.

“What's this?” Kennin asked.

“Hey, Kennin!” Raoul grinned widely, revealing his crooked white teeth. “You amped or what?”

“What's with the trailer?” Kennin asked.

“We're not street legal,” Angelita explained, wiping some soot from her cheek.

“Where'd it come from?” Kennin asked.

“I got it,” Raoul said.

“Where?” Kennin asked.

“A friend,” Tito's cousin answered.

Kennin and Angelita shared a look. Tito's sister blinked with astonishment, as if she hadn't realized until now just what that meant.

“I'm sorry, Kennin,” she apologized. “I was so busy getting the car ready, it never occurred to me.”

“What didn't occur to you?” Tito asked, still not getting it.

“Raoul, seriously,” Kennin said. “This ‘friend' you got the trailer from … was it the same friend who gave you the GTO and the Camry?”

Raoul screwed up his face as if trying to come up with an answer.

Now even Tito understood. “Raoul, what did you think you were doing?”

“I was just trying to help,” his cousin answered.

“Can we get the car there without the trailer?” Kennin asked.

Angelita shook her head. “No tags, no registration, no insurance, and very little exhaust system.”

“Guess we're stuck with the trailer,” Kennin said, and turned to Raoul. “When we get to the track, be sure to park this thing way off in the corner of the paddock where it won't be noticed.”

They finished tossing the tires and other gear into the van. Angelita was still under the hood.

“It's time to go, Angie,” Tito said impatiently.

“Soon,” his sister answered.

Tito turned to Kennin and gestured to his watch.

“Every mother has to let her baby go sooner or later,” Kennin kidded.

“Okay, okay.” Angelita backed away from the car and lowered the hood.

Kennin and Tito got into the back of the van and sat on milk crates amid the tires and other gear. Angelita got into the front with Raoul.

“I can't frickin' believe this!” Tito said excitedly as they headed toward the strip. “I mean, tonight we're gonna do an actual tandem event with sponsors and everything! Think about how far we've come, dude.”

Kennin smiled weakly. They might have come farther faster if Tito hadn't sabotaged his own sister's car, but there was no point in reminding Tito of that. Anyway, it hardly mattered now. Tonight was the end.

been set up at the entrance to the Babylon's new track, and already the line of cars was three and four deep.

“Can you frickin' believe this?” Tito gasped.

Signs proclaimed that the entrance fee for tonight's event was fifteen dollars. Raoul waited in line and then drove up to one of the booths. The ticket taker inside craned his neck out to look at the trailered Corolla. “Competitor?”

Raoul nodded.

“You should have a competitor's pass,” the ticket taker said.

“I've got it.” Kennin dug into the duffel bag and came up with the bright yellow pass.

“Okay,” said the ticket taker. “Drive in and make a right.”

Signs directed the fans to the left and competitors to the right. In the fan parking area, people were having tailgate parties. Smoke rose from hibachis, and the scent of grilled meat was in the air.

“I just can't frickin' believe this,” Tito said as Raoul steered the van and trailer into the paddock, where two dozen cars were parked and crews were busy jacking up rear ends and changing tires. “It's, like, real! A real frickin' drift event!”

“I wish I had a dollar for every time you said the word ‘frickin','” Angelita joked.

“Look at that!” Tito pointed at a candy apple red convertible. “A frickin' Viper! You see that? Someone's drifting a Viper! And there's a GTO and a Mustang. You believe that crap? And there's an SC300! And a 300 Z! I'm dying! I swear! But it's okay! I can go to heaven now!”

“Cool points, Tito,” Kennin reminded him.

“Yeah, sure, right,” Tito said, calming for an instant before growing amped again. “Hey, look, there's Chris with
Slide or Die.
”

Chris was wearing a red and black racing suit. His car, as always, sparkled. But it wasn't the same as the last time Kennin had seen it. Like his racing jacket, Chris's car was covered with stickers from Cooper Tires, ACT clutches, Western Automotive, CIT Racing, and others. The largest sticker of all was the scripted “Babylon Drift Team.”

They parked, and Angelita climbed into the Corolla to back it off the trailer. Darkness was falling and the track
lights went on. The crowd began to file into the seats and a loudspeaker over the paddock announced that practice runs were beginning.

“Ready?” Angelita asked.

Wearing his blue and white Nomex driving suit, Kennin circled the car, inspecting it. In particular, he wanted to make sure the lug nuts were tight. Already the air was filled with the screeching of tires and the revving of engines as cars began their practice laps. Feeling the tug of speed, Kennin got into the car and clipped himself into the harness. The Corolla started on the first turn of the key and revved sweetly. Angelita had tuned the twin-charged engine to peppy perfection. He let the clutch out, and the little beast practically leaped. It might not have had the power of a Viper, but it would be nimbler and quicker than almost every other car there.

But the car's lightness and power had unexpected side effects. On the track, Kennin immediately began to have problems, almost spinning into the wall and losing control and sailing sideways into the midfield, sending dozens of orange cones flying. Chris had been right the day he'd first tried the course. The turns were set up so that you could barely get into second gear. If anything, the course was set up even tighter than it had been the day Kennin had first watched Chris drive it. The emphasis was on corners, not speed, and the Corolla was inclined to oversteer.

But it wasn't just the car or the course. This was the
first time he'd driven like this since the crash, and his nerves were raw. Each time he pushed the Corolla close to the edge of control, his thoughts were plagued with memories of the crash and the excruciating pain that had followed. For the first time in his life Kennin felt tight and uncertain. That light, deft touch he usually felt was gone.

At the end of his practice runs, Kennin found concerned faces waiting for him in the paddock.

“What's wrong?” Tito asked.

“Nothing,” said Kennin, still harnessed into the Corolla. “I'm just not used to the handling yet.”

“Dude, they're gonna start the individual drift eliminations in a couple of minutes,” Tito said. “You
gotta
get used to the handling.”

“Gee, thanks for telling me,” Kennin snapped irritably.

“Is it the suspension?” Angelita asked.

“No, the suspension's fine,” Kennin assured her. “She's running great, really.”

“Maybe I could camber out the wheels a little more,” Angelita said.

“It's not the car,” Kennin grunted harshly.

His angry tone caught Angelita by surprise. That was so unlike him.

“Everything okay?” The voice came from the passenger-side window. Kennin turned and found Mariel leaning in.

“Everything's fine,” Kennin replied.

“I'm worried about you,” Mariel said, as if Angelita
wasn't even there. Kennin turned and looked into Angelita's eyes. They were filled with consternation. Meanwhile, Mariel reached into the car and stroked his arm. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I'll be okay, thanks,” Kennin replied.

Angelita backed away from the driver's-side window. Kennin wished there was something he could say. Then he felt Mariel tap him on the shoulder.

“Seriously, is something wrong?” she asked.

“Can I talk to you later?” Kennin asked.

“Sure, honey, whatever you want.”

Kennin released the harness and got out of the Corolla. Angelita was sitting in the dark on some tires, with her back to him.

“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside her.

Angelita was silent. She wouldn't even look at him.

“Come on,” he said. “Talk to me.”

“It's not my fault,” she said.

“I know.” Kennin hung his head. “I'm just … I don't know. I haven't driven in a while. I keep thinking about the crash. I don't like the track layout. The whole thing feels wrong.”

She still wouldn't look at him. Her head was turned and she was gazing through the dark at Mariel.

“You listening?” he asked.

“I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two,” Angelita said without looking at him.

“There isn't,” said Kennin.

“It sure looks like there is,” Angelita said.

“Don't be deceived,” Kennin said.

Angelita gave him a sharp look. “You're just using her, right? I mean, for rides until the bus strike is over.”

“I'm not using her,” Kennin said. “She offered.”

“And you're not using me, either, right?” Angelita asked. “To build you cars and help you drift?”

Kennin slowly shook his head.

“You better not be,” Angelita said.

Kennin sensed someone near them and turned to find Derek carrying a half-eaten hot dog in a white paper napkin.

“Hope I'm not interrupting,” Derek said, his cheek bulging.

“What can I do for you?” Kennin asked, and stood up.

“Let's take a walk.” Derek jerked his head. They walked around to the far side of the Corolla and stood looking at a couple of guys with flashlights working on an El Camino.

“How's it going?” Derek asked.

“You saw how it's going,” Kennin replied.

“You think there's a problem with the track layout?” Derek asked. “Something we could adjust?”

“For me or for everyone?” Kennin asked.

Derek narrowed his eyes. “I'm underwhelmed by your lack of appreciation, kid. Mr. Mercado let you keep your job after you messed with his Ferrari, he kept your sorry butt out of jail after that crash, and he gave you five thousand
dollars to build your car. If I were you, I might try to change your attitude to gratitude.”