The Washer Method

(EDITED)

(Note to readers: Some chapters ahead may not be in line with the new edits.)

C11H18N2O3

Amobarbital.

Short-acting barbiturate. Treats insomnia, anxiety, and seizures. So-called truth serum. Highly addictive.

__________________

The washer method is a widely known calculus strategy to find the area between two intersecting curves by rotating their resulting cross section about a given axis. No one knows the date of its creation or the timeline of its popularity. Just don't ask the calc kids about it, lest they wring your neck.

The qualms against a washer was the radius. Because for every washer you made, there was always some empty space inside you had to account for, or you were already screwing the whole equation up as it was. So, before you do anything with a washer, know there's something you're counting on that doesn't fucking exist, and you'd be smart to take it out before you start.

It was the first week of May. California warmed, its beloved sun coaxed back into shining through fleeting clouds. The coolness of April remained in dregs during the early mornings and late evenings, its winds diluted with the slow, golden sweetness of a nascent summer. The population swarmed the streets on skateboards or bikes, dresses became silkier and shorter, shirts became longer and looser, sun hats emerged atop sunglasses, and the economy crept upwards with spring-fling shopping alongside Mother's Day deals. Avaldi's atmosphere had gone from effervescent to frenzied, its austere nature coming out tenfold in the light of oncoming finals, tentative internships, summer jobs, summer school enrollment, prospective freshmen tours, and the finales of spring sports alongside the long-awaited Diamond Prix Championships.

But between that stretch of a month, I'll catch you up.

Following the birthday dinner incident, I'd had to lie through my teeth about food poisoning to Corvus which earned The Little Crow a scathing—sadly undeserved—Yelp! review that then elicited a very generous gift card in apology, as Kenzo was a rather popular reviewer which should have been more of a surprise than it was. Ramos had apologized profusely, but even I wasn't cruel enough to make her feel bad, and I'd brushed it off.

We had three more games in the month of April since then against UC Riverside, USF, and UCI. I'd gotten to encounter Ian for the first time since I'd met him at the banquet, but this time, on the track.

"Echo Yun, as I live and breathe!"

I turned around. Ian walked towards me his royal blue jacket shining under UCI's stadium lights, his golden helmet tucked under his arm. He grinned at me. I grinned back.

"Ian Gray," I said. He held out his hand and I shook it firmly. "M&M huh?"

Ian looked down at the large logo plastered over his chest. He laughed. "Hey, best candy there is."

"Gummy bears take precedence."

"Whoa, sounds like a bet. UCI wins, you gotta admit M&M is superior."

"Corvus wins, you owe me a bag of gummy bears."

"Deal, man. But everyone knows front starboard is the prime position for winning."

"I think you mean front port."

Ian patted my shoulder. "Good luck."

"I'll need it," I murmured.

I did, after nearly breaking my arm and leg twice over in the second half, but Corvus did end with a win, a whole thirty points ahead of UCI. Ian found me before Corvus could leave the track entirely, something in his hand.

"As promised," he'd said, handing me a small bag of off-brand gummy bears. "Shit, you guys are brutal. I thought I was gonna lose my head at some parts."

"You and me both." I took the gummy bears with a grin. "You're a great racer."

Ian shrugged. "You're damn good, too. You sure you're Class III? I think you race better than most Class Is."

I held out my free hand. "Good game."

Ian clasped it tight. "Hell yeah it was."

When I'd returned to the lockers, Kane was waiting at the entrance, and looked up at my approach. He frowned at my candy. "Where'd you get that?"

"Ian Gray," I said.

Kane paused for a moment, then, actually smiled, printed with one signature dimple. "Ah," was all he said.

Coach had sent me a link to an article the next day, dutifully titled "Siamese Stirling: Yun and Gray Share A Moment on the Track That Leaves Stirling Fans Hopeful For Their Futures in Square Racing".

Good press, right track, Yun. Hope you and Gray stick together, she'd written with it.

Hanging out, against my better judgment, had gotten easier and easier by the day. I had the suspicion Kane was more jarred by my confession of having never participated in many normal activities, because we'd gone from the occasional outing to bi-weekly ones in a blink. I was shoved into the car for grocery shopping with Diego and Zahir, or whisked away to a kitschy shop in the Birdhouse with Meredith, or tugged back to the dreaded mall with Zoe and Rosalie, or wrangled into a movie night with the guys if they had the time. I always denied it initially, but not enough to keep me from being convinced into it anyway.

"If I wasn't wiser, I'd think you liked me," I said, hanging off of the couch as Happy Foot 2 played on the TV before us.

Zahir turned around, frowning. "What're you on about? We like you. Some of us too much." He sent a look to Diego, who was sidled up next to me.

"Don't be emo, Echo. We already have two brooding souls in our midst," Diego said, pointing at Kane and Kenzo, who glowered back. "'Course we like you. I like you so much I'd marry you. In the sewers. In Kentucky."

"Please stop talking," Kane muttered.

"I'll pass," I said.

"Kenzo, King, tell Echo you adore him."

Kenzo said, "Pass the popcorn."

Kane said, "He's not the worst thing that's come out of the world."

I nodded. "This is my kind of affection."

I'd yet to acknowledge the pale blue cardigan Kane had left on bed weeks ago. It stared at me from its place in the back of my closet. I wanted to wear it as badly as I didn't. One day, I dared to take it out, and let the light feed through its soft weave.

"Oh, that's beautiful."

I whipped my head to the voice. Meredith grinned in the doorway, her fingers mid-way into binding her unruly curls into a puffy ponytail. She bounced over, white skirt wrapping around her legs as she went.

"Is that yours?" she asked. "You should wear it. It's very different than what you usually wear."

"Damn, Meredith."

"No, in a good way. It's something new." She grinned, holding the sweater up to me. After a beat, she leaned in with a whisper. "You know, Kane is huge on gifts. Could arguably be a problem."

I raised a brow, thinking back to our conversation at MINISO. "I can see that."

"Kenzo and I think it's how he talks to you," she said. "Every time he went to Korea, he'd bring back a suitcase of things that reminded him of us. Once, Rosalie and him had a fight that nearly turned into a brawl, and the next day, he bought her a pair of earrings she'd been wanting for nearly six months. Once, he went all the way to Pavillions across town for a can of peanuts Diego said he wanted for a Thai dish."

I stared. "So, he's crazy."

She laughed. "It's just how he does it. More he likes you..." Meredith winked, then laughed again. "I know most people think it's pompous, but I figure he's very thoughtful."

I frowned. I picked at the tag of the cardigan. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"The guy that Kane is seeing—"

"What's a phone for if you're not gonna check it?"

We turned around. Kane frowned in the doorway, already in a training jacket and shorts. He raised a brow at Meredith. "What are you talking about?" he asked.

"Nothing of your interest," she sang, and patted my arm. "Coach said we could be late."

"Late is on time," he said. "Come on, let's go."

I held the cardigan for a few more moments. Kane stared at it. I stared at him. He said, "That's not appropriate attire for practice."

I shook my head. "You make my head hurt," I told him. I put the cardigan back in its cavern. "We're coming."

I sat on Corvus's kitchen counter a few days prior to the first match, the light a stark and withered beam, a four-page dry lab laid out on the marble. Something or other about copper chlorate and iodide gas, nothing I was equipped to think too hard about at three AM. I'd bought some ramyun from The Audrey earlier, but without the seasoning packet, it wasn't doing much to give me more fuel than what was necessary for concentration calculations.

It was likely why I was convinced that the figure walking towards me in the shadows was most certainly a demon of some sorts coming to reap my shriveled, wretched soul that had evaded him one too many times for him to take it gracefully. I sighed to myself, flipping to the back for percent error.

"Tell the Devil I've got homework," I murmured.

Kane said, "What?"

I squinted. Kane very well could pass for a demon given the lighting, what with the black hair and the black eyes and the black scars over his shoulder and the gray sleep-shirt-with-shorts set. The look he gave me was a little too startled, though.

I frowned. "Why are you up?"

Kane pushed his bangs back to no avail as they were encased in the anti-gravity chamber of sleep. "Are you doing homework right now? On the counter?"

I shrugged. "Lighting helps me focus." I gestured at the overhead bulbs. "And the unceasing discomfort of the rock-hard granite digging into my bones makes me work faster."

"Forget I asked," he murmured. The faint raking of rings against the kitchen appliances and furniture echoed through the kitchen. He turned to the fridge. "What are you eating?"

"Jin ramyun."

"That's Jin ramyun?"

"No seasoning."

"Fair," he murmured and opened the fridge.

"What are you eating?" I asked.

Kane stood before the contents of the fridge for several moments, the white glare making him squint through walls of produce and leftovers, before he gave up and closed the door, heading for the drawers. He withdrew a pack of Lucky Strikes.

"That's not food," I observed.

"No," he agreed, and lit it. He pointed the stick at me, smoke curling from his lips. "You got three hours of sleep and a Jin ramyun all to ask yourself what a hunk of metal and a drop of liquid might make?"

It was a strange sight to be inside of; the prodigy, Kane King, a Class I Drachmann Alpha legend-to-be, dressed in thin linen that let his lean frame breath, a face haunted with sleep and shadows, a cigarette in the same fingers that anointed granola bars and organic gods. It was a lot of things, but in the split second of my thoughts, it felt like a forbidden thing.

"Who are you to be teaching sensible civility? Smoking indoors," I snorted. "Good thing no one's mistaken us for gentlemen."

"Speak for yourself."

"Lot of boasting from someone half-blind."

"Partially blind."

"Same thing."

"Even fully blind, I'd kick your ass."

"What ass?" I frowned behind me.

Kane burst out a gray laugh, turning to hide his face. "Yeah," he scoffed, "I don't think people will be mistaking you for a gentleman anytime soon."

And I couldn't tell you to your face, not in that moment at least, but there was something in my chest budding open, sort of soft at its edges, too swollen to leave my heart or lungs unaffected. Like a cotton knife, slicing up under my cartilage, pulling everything in an inch too far. An ache in its infancy.

Kane walked over and leaned on his elbows over my papers until we were parallel to each other, my legs beside his forearms. Up close, I could see the mole by his brow in the light. "I wake up in the middle of the night easy," he said. "Sort of a schedule."

"Why?"

"Guess I'm just lucky like that," he scoffed. After a few beats, he said, "Yellow Diamond starts Friday."

The reminder alone made the hair on my skin stand straight. I stopped writing. "It does," I acknowledged. "Third Yellow Diamond. Must be a regular Friday for you all."

"It's less nerve-wracking when you're there," he promised. "It's just a race."

Just a race. If he knew. "You make it sound easy." I plucked the cigarette from his fingers and stuck it between my own lips.

"You're worried?"

"I'm not always the best under pressure," I drawled.

"Nervous test-taker," he recounted. I stared, a little shocked. He stole the cigarette back. "Don't think too much about it. Don't you have homework?"

"Says you," I said. "Isn't it all that goes on in that head?"

Kane shrugged. "That's how it should be," he said. "And have some faith."

"In you?" I said.

Kane gave me a puzzled look, tilting his head. "In you," he said, and handed me the cigarette. "Now get off that counter and go to bed."

Speaking of Yellow Diamond.

My Corvus debut and its subsequent press rampage hadn't been received well by plenty of lycans, but such controversy had begun to leak into Avaldi University itself, its student body slowly spotting me more and more, and not for anything good. The athletes within the Talon were less shy than their peers.

I cursed as a body collided with my shoulder with such an iron force that the only explanation could be that it was intentional. My balance skewed left and I stumbled backwards, nearly toppling over.

A hand caught my bicep. Its grip was searing. I looked up and found a wicked smile staring me down, its owner unfamiliar.

"Oh, sorry," the young man hissed. Dark green eyes tore holes into my gaze. His grip tightened until my arm ached. "I didn't see you there."

Panic shot down my throat. "It's all right," I tried. "My bad."

"Hey, you're the new crow, right?" he said. My nerves burned. At my blank stare, he gave a sharp laugh, and leaned down until we were eye-level. "You're that slimy Stirling that snaked your way onto the track?"

My stomach bottomed out. My hands shook, and I tightened them to quell the shakes, but it only served to worsen them. "I...I don't know—"

"Got such a big mouth in front of the camera, but nothing to say when you're all by your lonesome?" he mocked. He threw my arm forward and I stumbled back. I swung around and put as much distance between us as I could with one stride. He cocked his head, and laughed again. "Typical Stirling. Fucking cowards."

He turned around and walked away, his friends following behind. "I hope Yellow Diamond wrecks you," he spat as he went.

I fled to my room and didn't come out for the rest of the day. I told no one about the encounter.

______________________

The Diamond Prix Championships took place between May and December, and was, aside from the Olympics and IPRA's National Grand Prix, the largest as well as most lucrative racing championship across the entire world.

It was the golden gateway, the most direct route to a chance in the pro leagues and a hefty recruitment bonus from the biggest names in IPRA. It meant a consideration for a spot on the USA team, enough sponsorships and press to have you swimming in cash. Square racing wasn't ruthless for no reason. So here's the gist.

There are a total of three rounds of competition: Yellow Diamond, Green Diamond, and Red Diamond. Yellow Diamond varied between states, but California's consisted of three rounds, each one pitting two of the top teams in the state against each other. Winners of those rounds moved onto Green Diamond: five rounds of the winners of each region going head to head. Winners of those went to the long-awaited, legendary Red Diamond. The best of the best from across the country, California to Maine, fighting tooth and nail for the biggest prize in the NCAA season in four gruesome rounds of Hell incarnate.

Within the Diamond Prix, the matches were slightly different than regular ones in that they were fifty minutes, two intervals, and winner was decided solely on points, time negligent. Whether you won by one point or one hundred, you won. With that, in Diamond matches, no money was to be bet. It made the incentive of winning Red Diamond's notoriously lucrative victory that much stronger. A tie meant an immediate death round until the gap widened by fifteen points. That meant: do not tie.

Corvus was the—obvious—reigning champion, with more Red Diamond wins under their belt than any other NCAA team had to show for it. It made them the team to beat, the team to verse, and the team to worship. Not one of those positions was one I particularly wanted to be in.

Yet, there I stood.

UC Berkeley. Golden Bears. Ninth in NCAA D1 square racing, consisted of ten talented square racers plucked from the freshest crops of tech junkie, Class I lycans. Impeccable offense. Titanium defense. Average height: six foot flat. Average weight: one hundred eighty two imperial pounds. Reason for infamy: skillset, physical set, and set of absolute brutality for no goddamn reason.

It was a home match this Friday, right in the Corvidae. The stands were filled to the brim with a sea of ink and ultramarine purple, the crowds like drums thudding against the walls of my skeleton. The screen pulsed white, HOME and AWAY glowing with our respective names below. VICTORY read a crisp, round ZERO.

"This is the time we must tighten our belts," Diego said, sniffing. "Times are tough."

"You're embarrassing yourself," Rosalie said.

"I can see the dust in my wallet now."

"Stop that."

"I don't even have a wallet," I said to no one in particular. Only Zoe heard enough to give me a mildly horrified look.

"I'm not too worried about this one," Diego said. "Berkeley is all bark and no bite. We've versed them before."

"Kenzo and I have versed Berkeley before," Zahir corrected. "They're worse than you think. We need to keep our heads on straight, focus on point gaps and forget about aggression. They'll just try to get a rise out of you."

"Well said, Gupta." Coach pushed her hat back to stare at us all from the canopy's hiding. The stadium lights exposed us in bright, unforgiving white. She glanced down at her tablet, then back up at us. "We're gonna have to do something you won't like."

"Uh oh," Zoe muttered.

"They're putting all ten of their racers from the start. Two front starboards, two front ports, three centerbacks. Davenport, Truong, you're in for both halves. You're staying here."

"Oh, no," I said. "Don't say it, Coach."

"You're not much of a last resort, Yun, but you are the least needed sub for this match, so for now, you're gonna be our lifeline in case something goes awry and I need a new body in there."

"I think I'm offended, and complimented, all in the same field," I murmured. "I'm a lot of things, Coach, but I don't think I'm a lifeline."

"Too bad, you'll have to be," she said, turning around to face Kane. "You need to watch your left side like a damn hawk. I don't know what's with the blind spot lately, King, but it's been your new Achilles heel and I'd like you to get the hell rid of it." She pointed at Zahir. "Sharper turns, fix it up before you finish half a lap or I'll yank your hair out of your skull. Gossard, control the temper, you mess up the lines when you do. Russo, quit hesitating on blocking out the other team. Cruz, for Christ's sake, chat less. Watanabe, for all of our sakes, chat more." She gestured at Wynter and Zoe. "You two. Keep your eyes up, ears open, and listen to everything going on around you. Mess up the lines or scream if you have to, but the most important thing you do this match is keep the Bears from breaking through, at all costs. Got it?"

They nodded. "Got it."

She clapped her hands. "Then get your asses on that track and show them whose stadium they just stepped onto."

Corvus gave a raucous cheer at that before grabbing their helmets and heading down the stairs. Kane glanced at me. He said, "Let me know what you see."

They descended to the track.

I settled next to Edwards. "We'll win though, right?"

Coach glanced at her tablet, then back at me. "You ought to research the team you're on further, Yun."

If only she knew.

Nathan was back, to my dismay. "Hello, Angelinos! Welcome to the very first match of the highly anticipated Diamond Prix Championships, with Avaldi University's Corvus and UC Berkeley's Bears kicking it off! These two teams have never gone first before, so needless to say, this season is starting off with a bang!"

"Muzzle him," I muttered.

"If I muzzled every man who needed a rain check on his mouth," Coach murmured, "where would you be?"

"Way to make a guy feel special."

"A dutiful reminder to all our racers, this is a good and fair match. All shots, strikes, or maneuvers are permitted except for head shots, equipment tampering of any kind, blocking any racer horizontally, or using gear or bikes as projectiles. You must stay within the white fencing at all times, and any breach of the fencing will end the lap as a lap foul. No drugs, alcohol, or any unauthorized substances are allowed on the track, along with weapons or tools of any kind. If you're found with any of these during the match, you and your team will be immediately disqualified."

I glanced down at the track. UC Berkeley's captain and port tail, Tamar, had somehow broken through to talk to Diego. He said something or other that had Diego laughing in a way that was more mocking than humorous. Tamar held out a gloved hand. Diego shrugged, and took it.

"What'd you just shake on, Cruz?" Coach snapped.

"Good news, guys. We're gonna win," he said.

"What?" Rosalie snapped. "What'd you shake on?"

"Kane's shoe closet," Kenzo said.

"Snitch!" Diego snapped.

"You what?"

"Hey now, Gossard, have some faith, we're gonna cream these fuckers. And get Tamar's shoe closet in the process. You know he owns a pair of Swarovski YSLs? Who the fuck owns bedazzled heeled boots unironically? You know how many brownie points that'd get me with King?"

"You bet my entire shoe closet for a pair of bedazzled boots?" Kane snarled. "What is wrong with you?"

"You hate me now, I can totally stomach that for you."

Coach snapped her fingers. "Focus up."

The crowd screamed, waves of inky purple and foil gold rippling through the stands, rumbling in time with the fight song. The time set itself up on the screen.

"All right, racers, ready!" Nathan called.

Engines flared to life. A checkerboard of blue and black.

"On your mark!

"Get set!

"Go!"

A gunshot. They flew like bullets.

The Bears' defense wasted no time. Tamar and his second port tail, Moore, were on Kane in less than a minute. Kensington and Vartan were hot on Zahir's and Wynter's tails, shoving through the gaps of Corvus between pole series. Nguyen and Penn were hounds tracking Rosalie and Zoe. Their offense however, was standing off for the most part.

It made my skin crawl to think why.

Kensington soared for Zahir, lifting her leg and sweeping the teeth of her cleats into Zahir's leg. He swerved around a pillar and shoved his entire bike into hers, sending them both skidding across into the wall.

"Take care of Moore," he ordered.

Zoe didn't hesitate. She circled around a ramp, Moore tracking her every move second for second. She slowed and swung wide to knock her bike's nose into the edge of his engine. He grabbed her shoulder, but she slammed his tail into the back of a pole before he could pull. He spun in a wild whirl.

Points ticked in. Corvus led by two.

Rosalie barked an order for Diego and Meredith to move forward. I waited for the Bears' offense to spot the opening and overtake Kenzo by surging forward and trapping them, but they refused to move.

"What are they doing?" I asked Coach.

She narrowed her eyes. "I don't know."

Tamar revved his engine. He sidled up next to Kane, Moore on his other side, their eyes zeroed in. I thought of Baluyot, of Lee. I yelled, "On your left—"

Kane slammed on the brakes so fiercely I swore I could hear the wheels scream from the canopy. Tamar grabbed a hold of his handlebar in a blink, but Kane had stopped too abruptly for him to get a better grip, and Tamar swung himself sideways, smoke in his wake. Kane yanked his bike around in a clean half-moon and smashed his front wheel into Tamar's back. He slinked around Tamar, then, with the force of someone twice his size, rammed his side right into the Bear.

Tamar was already nearly sideways, and the force was too fast and too brutal for him to get his bearings. It sent him reeling right into the nose of Moore's bike, who consequently crashed into the concrete wall. The pole series approached like a Maserati.

With nowhere to go, the two Bears crashed, two fallen dominos, into the triple sets of poles, nothing but sparks and airborne wheels to show for it.

Kane zipped around them in a razor sharp curve. He crushed the accelerator and swerved through the series with a rapier's deadly accuracy. His bike revved out of it and into the tunnels, where he swam through so fast the cameras could only catch a black bullet. When he came out the other side at the head of the packs, the crowd reached an ear-splitting crescendo. A crisp fifteen points appeared on the screen. Corvus's favor.

"Fuck yeah!" Diego yelled. "I can smell those crystals now."

I finally let out a real breath. Corvus cheered in my ear.

The smile was foreign and unexpected on my lips. I relished it to high Hell.

"Guess you're not champions for nothing," I said.

"Don't jinx it," Kane replied. "We've barely started."

The excitement went to shit sixteen minutes before the second half was up.

Because now, the offense was racing, too.

It wasn't a new tactic, but it was a cowardly one, to wait out in a match and leave your opponent in a stalemate of risking leaving their team exposed or forgetting you exist until the worst possible moment. I suppose it was notable Bears decided to use it, not because it meant they were skilled, but because it meant they were scared.

Corvus was up by ten thanks to Kane's speedy maneuvers and a few new tricks from Wynter's end. But defense was breaking formation to play offensive against the onslaught of the Bears' defensive attacks. Even Kenzo had to break just to keep Penn and Nguyen from cutting Rosalie's legs out from under her.

So when Chen, Rodriguez, and Sato moved, there was really very little to stop them.

"Bears' offense is moving," Coach snapped. "Defense, back to your places, let offense deal with the rest! Don't let those three break through! Truong, Davenport, how are you doing?"

"Hanging in there, Coach," Zoe said.

"We've been worse," Wynter affirmed.

"Defense, get your asses in a blockade!"

"It looks like the Bears are finally taking charge of the points," Nathan commented. "Their offense is on the move. Rodriguez looks to be out for blood out there!"

Rodriguez was surging ahead with an aggression he hadn't exerted before, swerving around pillars, dodging poles, riding over logs and sliding beneath low hangers like they were nothing. His helmet was angled at Kane.

Diego raced for him at full speed and smashed their front wheels together. Rodriguez sank backwards to the scream of metal on metal. He swung and struck Diego's back wheel like a bat to a baseball.

Diego faltered, looping about a pillar only to force himself onto a ramp. Rodriguez righted himself to head straight, where Zoe, Meredith, and Kenzo were still blocked together. Wynter was busy trying to knock Vartan against every available obstacle in her path, shrapnel beginning to fall from his bike. Kane and Zahir were still preoccupied with staying ahead of the group and the score.

Chen circled around the group, heading to the white railing. Sato surged and smashed into Kenzo. Kenzo swerved against a tunnel's side. Sato slid his wheels under Kenzo's.

"Watanabe, head back or forward or you're gonna get crushed!" Coach snarled.

Kenzo slammed on the breaks, barely missing a still-moving Rodriguez as he narrowly surpassed him. Sato rammed his front wheel around, blocking Kenzo's path.

Chen hadn't moved from the railing. Rodriguez hadn't made any move yet other than an attempt to catch up to the blockade. For the most part, no one was moving at all.

"What are they doing?" Coach muttered.

Chen slowed her bike only when she was finally across the blockade, eye-level with the four of them, a yard adjacent to Zoe.

I froze. "Zoe, move."

"What?"

"Break the blockade now," I snapped.

"Yun, what are you on about?" Diego asked. He was stuck with the front ports after his ramp incident. "What's going on?"

"I said break the blockade," I said.

Chen moved, or more so, just stopped moving altogether.

She shoved herself off the edge, her bike tilting off the concrete completely. She sailed downward like an incoming comet. All the way down down down until she struck Zoe in an atomic collision of metal against metal, body against body, and nothing strong enough to keep the blow from taking them both to the ground beyond point of return.

"Oh, my God, a brutal attack from Chen against Davenport! I don't think there's any coming back from that, she's completely down on the ground for that one," Nathan exclaimed.

Chen hauled herself off of Zoe to wobble back onto her bike. The clock ticked too fast.

"Davenport, can you hear me?" Coach hurried. "Hey!"

Zoe did not get up.

Sato only stabbed the bruise. Kenzo had escaped his grasp, but not his focus, and was narrowly dodging swings and grabs from his incessant hands. Eventually, Meredith pulled her bike back and swerved around in some attempt to try and catch Sato off guard. She swung her back wheel into the guts of his engine.

Kenzo wrenched his bike back, just as Sato took the blow as a chance to go crashing like a shooting star across the path where he'd just been. Sato righted himself on Kenzo's left.

"Davenport is out," Coach said.

"Where the hell is Rodriguez?" Kane snapped.

Maybe we were the fools.

Rodriguez zipped through the opening of where Meredith had been, a ping-pong ball bouncing between bodies. Diego zipped sideways to block him from Kane and Zahir.

But Rodriguez went sideways, too.

Right into Wynter.

I could practically feel the crash in my bones. Wynter went flying, her bike and her going opposite directions. She collapsed to the concrete, left in the smoke and dust of the racers as they surged ahead.

Coach slammed her fist on the rails. "Time out!" she demanded, holding out a hand.

A buzzer sounded, signaling the pause. The crowd seemed unhappy at the blatant brutality, calling for a foul for unsportsmanlike play. But no buzzer was given for that.

We bolted down for the track where Zoe and Wynter were being hauled away by the medics. Zoe's face shield had been smashed beyond repair, and some of the shards had sliced through her cheek. Her nose was gushing a deep, wine-colored blood, and she breathed, only barely.

"What the hell happened?" Kane said, running over with Corvus at his back.

"Chen dropped on her," I said. I glanced at Ramos. "Anything broken?"

"Her nose. We think a rib or two." I winced at that. Ramos lifted her head up as they placed her on a sturdier gurney.

"Wynter," Zahir called.

Wynter wasn't in better shape. Her bottom lip had been split clean open, and a gash ran up her entire arm in a gaping, bloody chasm. Her teeth were stained red.

"Shit," she muttered. "This shit is no joke."

"I'm sorry," I said.

"Shut up." She turned her head to Ramos. "Can I get some morphine?"

Ramos sighed, half-relieved and half-tired. She dabbed a towel to her lip and slung her medical bag over her shoulder. "We'll talk about it," she said, then turned to Kane. "They're out. I have to go with them, make sure everything is patched up correctly. Go to Emeline."

Kane pursed his lips until they were white. We watched her walk away with them and the medics until they disappeared. He turned a scathing look to where the Bears were ahead. "Fucking cowards," he muttered.

We returned fuming to the canopy. Coach met us there with her tablet and mic discarded.

"I heard about Davenport and Truong," she said tersely. "I tried to talk to the refs about calling fouls on them, but they refused."

"Crushing a racer like that is at least a head shot foul," Diego yelled.

"You can't really be letting this go," Rosalie added, but Coach held her hands up.

"Like hell I want to let them get away with this," she shot. "But we've got seven minutes on that clock, and we're three racers short of a fair game. We have seven points on them at this rate, but that offense is just gearing for a slaughter if we're not careful. Yun, you're in. The only objective at this rate is to stay in front."

"For seven minutes?" I said.

"For as long as you can. Kane and Zahir will hold off the defense beside you. Gossard, I want Penn and Nguyen out of the game in the next two minutes, however you gotta do it. Defense, break it up. We can't let one of them out of our sights. They're trying to race with tricks, we can't expect anything, got it?" We nodded. She pointed at the track. "Then let's hurry up and win this thing. And Yun." I turned around to face her. She gave me a look. "When one of us tells you to do something, just do it."

I gave her a salute. "Don't doubt me yet, Coach."

We headed for the track.

"Echo Yun is up in place of Wynter Truong and Zoe Davenport with just seven minutes on the clock. Maybe they were saving him for something like this? We'll have to find out!" Nathan said.

"Fuck me sideways," I muttered and swung my leg over my bike.

Rodriguez approached us as we readied to race. Rosalie stepped in front of him, glowering with a vengeance. When he grinned, she clenched her fists tight and stepped forward to knock her body against his. Purple swarmed in her eyes, her lip twitching in a nascent growl.

Zahir pulled her back. "Stay on your side," he told Rodriguez.

"I just wanted to say hello," he said, and eyed me. "Never seen a Stirling up close, you know."

I sneered at that. "You're not missing much," I told him. "You can go back now."

Rodriguez sauntered toward me. His hazel eyes glimmered like his razor sharp smile. "Stirling silver in a sea of gold," he snickered, then raised a brow at my hair. "You lost your way to Candyland, kid?"

"Seem to have lost your way to the stand-up stage. I'm dying of laughter over here," I deadpanned, face blank.

"So unfriendly," he said. "You should smile more."

"When you're standing humiliated because you lost this match despite every underhand blow you've tried to deal this team to make up for your blaring lack of basic self-assurance, yeah," I said. "I'll be smiling real big."

His mirth was gone by the time I finished. Rodriguez took a step towards me, but he was stopped by a gloved hand.

Kane pushed metal knuckles into his sternum. He stared Rodriguez down with a violet glare. "Don't," was all he ground out.

Rodriguez stepped back, but scoffed in my direction. "You always need your precious captain to come to your rescue?" he asked. He slid a cool look at me. "Figures, that a Stirling could never win for shit on his own."

He spun on his heel and returned to the Bears. His words ricocheted in my skull's walls, breaking through the gray matter of my brain.

I clenched my jaw and strapped on my helmet.

"Seven minutes on the clock, Corvus leads by seven points! There's still time for the Bears to turn this match around. Let's see what happens. On your mark!"

"Echo," Kane said. I turned to look at him. "Rack up every point in your path. Don't worry about what's behind you, no matter what. Got it?"

"You two can't take all of them."

"Trust us," he said. "Every point. Got it?"

I pursed my lips. "Got it."

"Get set!"

A Stirling could never win for shit on his own.

"Go!"

Maybe it's not that I have terrifically terrible luck. Maybe I'm just a certified fucking idiot.

Corvus's track was one of the hardest ones to race not because of its obstacles or length, but because it didn't have any point bombs, so it demanded combinations which demanded speed in order to rack up points in big gaps. It made Kane's advice easier to adhere to, since I had no choice but to surge forward as fast as I could in order to maintain the necessary momentum to perform the combinations as he made me practice. That being said, it could only go so smoothly for so long.

"Sato isn't letting up, you gotta go around," Rosalie barked.

I soared through a pole series, ducked beneath a low-hanger. I swerved left for the spiral tunnel and tucked myself low, pushing hard on the accelerator.

"Someone take out Penn already, he's knocking everyone into everyone!" Diego hissed.

"Hold out," Kane ordered. "Kenzo, push him to the bridge."

I bit the inside of my cheek. Nathan's voice came through muffled, relaying every one of the plays or moves, only bits and pieces coming through my helmet. When I came out the tunnel, I looked up for the points. The growing number might've been the only thing that eased my racing heart.

I thought of Zoe's bloodied face and Wynter's mangled arm.

"They're not letting up, we have to make a move," Zahir said.

"Wing out, trap them," Kane barked.

"I can't move out of the corner!" Meredith exclaimed.

"Take a ramp, and Rosalie, get rid of your two center tails already."

"You think I'm not trying?"

I took a right to the logs. "They're playing tricks," I finally said. "Offense is playing trade-off. Defense is pressuring."

"We are not focusing on singular again," Coach snapped in my ear.

"Well, like hell I have a better idea!"

They paused. I swerved horizontal around a pillar and sank low to drag my knuckles until they saw flames. Time moved too slow, and too fast, all at once.

Then Kane said, "Forget grouping," he said. "Checkerboard. Get offense away from each other. They have to split up if we're split up. Defense, space out."

"What are we supposed to do?" Zahir said.

"They wanna play tricks," Kane said. "We have to play tricks."

Four minutes.

We hit the half-lap mark. Two bikes flew over my head. It took me a moment to see it was Kenzo hounding Penn towards the bridge. I raced along the other edge of the track for the tire piles. Chaos swarmed me from behind.

"Rodriguez is surging ahead once more! Looks like he's headed straight for his fellow front port, an unexpected target!" Nathan said.

"Diego," Kenzo said.

"Fuck, what the hell was that?" Diego snapped.

"Cruz, you better get your ass over there now!"

"He's got something on him, Coach!"

I faltered, nearly skinning the paint off my bike's left side as I escaped through a second pole series. "Something?" I said.

"He was holding something, someone's gotta call him!"

"King, you have to move now," Coach snapped.

I turned my head.

Rodriguez had both hands on his handlebars, and at first or second glance, his knuckles were the only glint of silver on his hands. But he steered towards Kane nose-first, looking bloodthirsty, and he raised his left hand with a distinctly sharp jagged object, like a rock, in his palm.

I startled. "It's a magnet," I yelled. "He's got a magnet."

Kane didn't hesitate. He braked hard just as Rodriguez went for him. Rodriguez sailed for Kane. Bikes and bodies crashed together in the center of the track. The magnet appeared, going for the innards of Kane's bike.

Kane yanked his bike and cut across the racers' path towards the fencing. Rodriguez chased after him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Rosalie snapped.

He didn't answer. He only waited.

Rodriguez met him from behind. They surged full throttle ahead, a speed unimaginable, immeasurable.

Then, with barely a blink, Kane pulled his bike by the nose up and against the fencing. Like the arc of a crescent moon, him and his bike flew high to the sky, in a tight, perfect flip.

When he came back down, he landed only a few feet away from where Rodriguez was, front and center. Kane compressed the accelerator to high heaven. The nose of his bike sank like a scorpion's deadly tail into Rodriguez's side, and the unmistakable crack of shattered metal and splitting fence echoed through the track.

Rodriguez sailed down, down, down, magnet riddled useless and falling from his hand along with him and his useless bike. He slid to a stop on the ground. He was out.

"Holy shit," I breathed.

Kane descended down the track. The crowd was on its feet, and their approval could have split open a fault line.

I nearly looked away, but Vartan appeared, knuckles out.

One minute.

No matter what. Baluyot. Lee.

I slammed my foot on the brakes, and turned around.

"Yun, what the hell are you—"

I surged straight between Kane and Zahir, wheel up and out. With the blunt force of a knife to flesh, I sank straight into the nose of Vartan's bike. It smashed the metal in, and sent Vartan flying south, his bike collapsing helplessly to the ground.

I yanked myself sideways, the shrapnel on the ground like shiny threats to my tires. I tried to swerve about a pillar, get to the ramps beside me. But Tamar was waiting with open teeth for me on my left, soaring through the gaps of Corvus and Bears with myself reflected in his face shield.

"Ah, shit," I muttered, and swung back around.

Tamar crashed his back wheel into mine, and my balance wasn't steady enough to hold out under the blow. I slipped sideways. He slid forward. He raised his knuckles up, the stadium lights gleaming on the metal.

I could only brace myself.

He sunk his fist into my stomach. All air and the concept of it burst out of my lungs. Tamar wrenched my bike out from beneath me, my grip non-existent, the imprint of iron knuckles embedded like knives in my gut. I felt my bike rush out from under my body.

I squeezed my eyes shut and awaited the ground.

It never came. But the harsh snag of something yanking my jacket did.

I was falling sideways, then not falling at all. I landed hard on the leather of a seat, my calves striking metal. Hands yanked my own around a body.

"You're dead," Kenzo snapped. "Hold on."

When we all crossed the finish line, the score stood at a resounding 120 to 125. Corvus's favor.

"An incredible match between Corvus and the Bears, I don't think I've ever seen anything like it! Yellow Diamond is certainly starting off here in California with a bang! I have to say, that last move on Yun's part was highly unanticipated. I wonder if it was planned?" Nathan said.

Oh, Nathan.

If you only knew.

"When I said, when one of us tells you to do something, just do it, did you hear, just do it for three seconds and then actively try to get yourself killed?"

I cleared my throat. "In my defense," I said, "we still won."

"Shut up." Coach held her hands up at me. "I can't even look at you. I cannot look at you still have faith in the minds of this generation."

"I did my part, what's the problem," I said.

"The problem? I don't know, memory, attention span, addiction to unnecessary rebellion, I'd need a damn spreadsheet," she scoffed.

We were seated in the locker rooms while Kane, Meredith, and Kenzo dealt with the press, leaving me subject to the unforgiving heat of Coach's fury alongside Diego, Rosalie, and Zahir. Ramos was back from Zoe and Wynter, who were resting at her office. She was busying patching up Zahir's battered arm as we spoke. They were all, decidedly, unhappy.

I knew I'd gone against orders, but I couldn't get the look on Kane's face out of my head, of Baluyot's cruel, mocking smile.

"As badass as it was to see you take out that fucker," Diego said from his place on the bench. "I have to admit, cobayo. That was a pretty bad move on your part."

I tightened my jaw. "I already said I'm sorry. I am, okay? But do I get any credit for anything else?"

"For what, doing your job?" Rosalie snapped. "Who races at the other team?"

"I did what you asked," I told Edwards. "It was a sloppy move, but I was trying to help. Corvus still won."

"I tell you something, you do it," she said.

"We're not trying to play with your head, Yun," Zahir finally said. "You have to trust that we know what we're doing."

"How is letting something slash your tires in broad daylight knowing what to do?" I argued.

"King told you to focus on the points and staying ahead."

"King is glory-hungry and gives orders like a fucking In-n-Out drive through," I muttered.

Rosalie's glare was broiling. She took a step towards me. "That's fucking pompous coming from you," she hissed. "How the hell are we supposed to put you on a track when we can't even trust that you know what the hell you're doing? If Kenzo hadn't grabbed your sorry ass before you went tumbling, you would've been roadkill."

"It was a stupid move. But I'm fine, and I took the order I was given."

"For seven minutes of the match," Zahir said.

I shook my head wordlessly, crossing my arms. Ramos frowned at me, almost disapproving. It didn't help my mood.

Coach stared at me. "I give you a lot of leeway, kid. I don't think you know how much," she said. "And I trust a lot of your judgment which is its own risk. But as good as you are, you're not above the rest of these racers. You are not above my orders, or your captain's."

I winced. "Trust me," I muttered. "If anyone's not above anyone here, it's me."

"Don't pull that class crap on me," she snapped, and I flinched. "I don't know what was said before you raced, what you were saying to yourself, but I don't care. Whatever you did, don't tell me it was to help, it was to prove a point. You need to stop giving a shit about the politics so much that you're willing to risk your race over it. You need to learn to trust your team."

It was out before I could stop it. "They're not my team," I spat.

Corvus stared at me, going deathly quiet. Diego's eyes narrowed in on me, now void of mirth. He said, "What the hell does that mean?"

I pursed my lips and dropped my arms. I refused to answer, half out of the anger, half because I didn't know how.

Coach said, "You're benched for the next three matches."

It was a killing blow, an uppercut. I spun around. "What?" I exclaimed.

She gestured at Corvus. "I expect you at the matches to watch. Up to you whether you show at practice."

"Coach, wait—"

She held up a hand. "Enough. Change out. Head home. It's been a long night."

"Emeline," Ramos said, standing up.

"No," she said. "Head home."

When she turned on her heel, Kane, Meredith, and Kenzo were at the doorway. Kenzo was as indifferent as always, but Meredith looked almost pained. I bit my lip and looked away.

Kane walked towards his row. His face was all steel. "Why are you standing there?" he snapped. "Change out."

"Figured you'd chew me out on your own."

"Coach did that already."

"With a benching to top it off."

"I know."

"You know?" I said.

"I know," he repeated. "I approved it."

Corvus looked to him. I looked to him. His expression was that of a glacier, opaque and full of disdain. It was faintly reminiscent of when we first met. So much for sort-of friends.

If there was a flame in my stomach before, it was a wildfire up to my esophagus now. "You kick my ass in night practices, haul me early to every practice, talk about not benching a racer you chose to race, and then you bench me for three matches in the middle of the Diamond Prix?"

"What you did on the track was out of line," he said.

"So you bench me for three matches?"

"You don't give a shit what Coach says, you sure as hell don't give a shit about what I say," he snarled. "You race well, so what? You want to race on your own, take it to the fucking streets. But here, you're racing on a team. And you could've screwed us all over with that stunt that you didn't even think to warn anyone about before you pulled it."

"I was trying to help," I said. "You didn't—"

"I saw him," Kane snapped, his voice so acerbic I felt like a troubled child being scolded. "Moving then would've hit you in the process, so I didn't. I can fix a damn tire, I can fall off a bike, I'm not a recreational teenager."

"I knew what I was doing," I argued.

"Bullshit."

"Is it?" I snapped. We were nearly toe to toe, his eyes like black ice cutting into my cranium. The words were scorching my lungs, conflagrating my tongue. I spat them out in embers and painful burns. "I got you your points. Isn't that all you care about? Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Stop acting like you know anything about me when you're the one who decided to do what you wanted no matter how much it fucked over the rest of us," he snapped. "I'm responsible for what happens on that track, for what happens to all of you. And you might not care about that, but this is my team and I sure as hell do. You don't trust any of us. Why should I trust you?"

I clenched my jaw tight. I knew he was talking about the track, but it felt like he wasn't, like he didn't mean the race, but everything leading in, everything that'd come out. I stepped back. Corvus stared at me. They looked sad.

Kane turned around and pulled open the locker. "Change out," he sighed. "It's been a long day."

We were silent the whole way back to the Talon, all the way into the night.

(ty for reading. racing scenes are always quite the adventure to write, let me tell you. i don't think i can keep apologizing for long chapters because at the rate i'm going, every chapter is a long chapter. for that i am still a little sorry for how long this book is looking to become. thank you immensely for your patience. the little star bows its head very happily)