Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I hated some parts of being famous, and over the last few months, I’d focused more on those negatives. It was nice to feel a few flashes of my old self, reminders of how good it could feel to work a fan zone or appearance.
Eventually, the loud noises in the crowded gym started to get to me, all the questions along with the dozens of other conversations swirling around as we waited for the movie to start. A dull ache started in my temples, and the lights seemed about a hundred watts brighter.
“Hey, man, you okay?” John asked, tapping my arm.
“Yeah, just a headache.”
“My mom gets those.” The nerdy kicker finally put away his note-taking app. “Caffeine helps. You want a soda?”
“Sure.” I handed over some cash for the concession stand and sank onto a nearby folding chair, grateful for a few minutes of semi-quiet. However, my solitude was short-lived as my dad’s friend and the town football coach, Tony, wandered over to sit next to me.
“I saw you talking with the guys. That was nice of you.” Tony nodded at me. “All they’ve been able to talk about since football season ended is dirt bikes and racing, but they’re good kids.”
“Yeah.” I glanced across the gym where Tony’s guy, Caleb, was manning one of the concession stands with his younger brother. Caleb kept smiling and joking, and I didn’t miss the fond look he shot Tony. “None of the players…” I paused because I’d wanted to ask this question for weeks now, but I didn’t want to misstep. However, it was now or never as far as chances. “The players or their folks don’t hassle you? About Caleb?”
“First, I wouldn’t stand for that.” Tony adopted a sharp tone before softening. “And second, no. It’s a different generation than when I played ball in high school, for sure. Most of the press about the team and me has been good. Just don’t read the comment sections.”
“Yeah.” My voice came out weak and distant. I lived in dread of comment sections. Hell, I could all too easily imagine neutrally worded announcements or gossip being picked apart by amateur motocross commenters and internet trolls alike. “Maybe the world is changing.”
“It is.” Tony nodded, peering at me like he might see dirt on my face or something. “You okay?”
“Sick of being asked that.” I groaned. Tony was a nice guy and didn’t deserve my snapping. “Sorry. I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind tonight.”
“Anything in particular?” Tony managed to appear older and wiser but also approachable and compassionate as he leaned toward me. “We could step outside.”
“Nah.” I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking. Tony’s offer didn’t mean he’d guessed a damn thing, but ever since Maren had walked in on Jonas and me, I’d been steeling myself for the next discovery. “I’m cool.”
“Suit yourself.” Tony moved along before the movie started. The group of guys interested in riding returned with sodas and food, but the beginning of the family film about talking pets was enough distraction to keep their questions to a minimum. During the intermission, my dad finally showed up, shower damp hair and breathless as usual from being triple-booked.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, yourself.” He grinned and grabbed an empty chair near me. “See? I made it by the second half of the movie.”
“Good for you.” I tried to return his smile, but my mouth refused to move. I was tired, tired of this day, tired of always having a damn headache, tired of this fundraiser, tired of my dad always running behind, and tired of pretending like everything was peachy.
“You okay?” Dad leaned forward, exactly as Tony had, staring into my eyes. “Head hurting again?”
“Nah,” I lied. If I was headed to Arizona next week, I needed to get good at minimizing my symptoms in a hurry. No one liked a whiner. “Just a lot of noise and more people here than I expected.”
“I remember when you were a kid. You hated crowds.” Dad shook his head, eyes misty, clearly lost in a memory. “Now you race in front of fifty thousand fans on the regular.”
“Yep.” This whole evening had been a big reminder of who I was. I wasn’t the sporty, introverted kid anymore. I was Declan Murphy. I’d made a name for myself. I was, as Joey said, fearless. I attacked. I didn’t hide away in small towns like one of the rom-coms Jonas and Rowan loved. “Some of the kids here were fans. Talking to them was cool. Made me even more eager to get back out there.”
“Don’t be in too big of a rush,” Dad cautioned in what would be the perfect opening to tell him my news about going back to Arizona. Strangely, I wanted to talk it over with Jonas first, not chance him finding out via secondhand gossip. Also, despite the fact that my mid-twenties loomed, my dad’s warnings always managed to make me feel like an impatient and uncertain eight-year-old.