Katie McGarry - Crash Into You

“Never had a problem,” he answers. “Isaiah’s talent made it easy.”

My head whirls in his direction. He’s not a man to give praise lightly.

“I talked to the owner of Pro Performance.” Mr. Holden speaks directly to me now. “He’ll give you a shot at a full-time job when you graduate.”

Mr. Holden and I have talked over this possibility several times. Pro Performance deals with high-end cars and suped-up dragsters. It’s my dream job, but the business has one request that I can’t grant. “What about the internship?”

To earn the full-time job, I’d have to intern with them this semester. Being an intern means no cash, and I need money.

“You can work at Pro Performance on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons when you’d typically be taking my classes. You can keep your job at Tom’s shop in the evenings and complete the internship during the day. The guy at Pro Performance will give us a grade on the work you do there. Mrs. Collins is calling it an outside classroom experience.”

My mind goes blank. There’s no way this is happening to me. I can make money and I have a shot at my dream: working on cars that go fast—very fast. “Are you fucking with me?”

“No. The only other requirement is to become ASE certified by graduation, which should be a breeze for you.”

The ASE—the Automotive Service Excellence certification. I’ve been studying for that exam and earning hours in the garage toward the certification for over two years.

Mrs. Collins raises her hand in the air. “Actually, there’s another requirement. The business in question called me to verify Isaiah’s credits and grades. They mentioned something about needing three letters of recommendation.”

The back of my head hits the wall. I can come up with two letters. One from Mr. Holden. Another from my current place of employment. A third? Adults tend to avoid me. I never should have allowed hope.

Mr. Holden knows me better than most. “I’ll give you one. Tom will, too,” he says. “Can you think of one more?”

Mrs. Collins mutters, “Who is a responsible adult who knows what Isaiah is capable of?”

I hate that woman. I really do. How can Echo and Noah stomach her?

“I’ll do it.” Courtney has been so silent that I forgot about her. “One condition.”

“And that is?” I rub my neck to relieve the building pressure.

“You answer my phone calls and you meet with me when I ask.”

Mrs. Collins barely contains her excitement. This meeting was never a bluff. The head-shrinker held a full house the entire time.

With her hands in her lap, Courtney waits patiently for my answer. I hate being on a leash. All I want is freedom—to be out from underneath everything that holds me down. With Courtney, I won’t just be on a damn leash; she’ll keep me on a choke collar. But this opportunity is a once-in-a-lifetime shot. The money Pro Performance pays their mechanics is sweet. “Okay.”

Courtney flashes a smile that’s all teeth. “Excellent. Our first meeting will be next Thursday. Right after school.”

Feeling the grip of a leash choking my neck, I grab at the collar of my T-shirt. “Fine.”

Courtney stands. “Mrs. Collins, thank you for the invite. I need to run, though. Staff meeting.”

“We’ll talk again soon,” answers Mrs. Collins as Courtney goes out the door.

Mr. Holden leaves without acknowledging anyone. The sound of the second hand ticking is the only noise in the room. Mrs. Collins relaxes back in her chair and folds her hands over her lap. “Now that we’re alone, is there anything you’d like to tell me?”

“No.”

“Anything about your foster parents or Noah or where you’ve been staying the night?”

“No.”

Her eyes drift to the tricked-out compass tattooed on the inside of my right arm. “What does your tattoo mean?”

“Nothing that concerns you.” She needs to steer clear of what’s personal. “You think you’re slick setting me up so that Courtney can keep tabs on me, don’t you?”

A satisfied smile crosses her lips. “Occasionally I can be crafty. Regardless of how you see yourself, you’re still a minor. The system may not be perfect, but it exists to keep you safe.”

Spoken by a lady who wasn’t raised in the nonperfect system since she was six. The clock ticks. She breaks the silence. “It was interesting what you said earlier.”

My muscles tense. “What?”

“You said everything leaves.”

Not interested in being analyzed, I switch the topic. “Can I go?”

“I can help you,” she says in a soothing voice that probably puts insomniacs to sleep. “Echo trusts me and so does Noah.”

Echo and Noah needed help. Hell, they had problems that could be fixed. “I ain’t them.”

“No.” Her eyes bore into mine. “You’re not, but that doesn’t mean that I can’t help.”

I push off the wall. “Actually, that’s exactly what it means.” And I leave.

Irritated, I punch a streamer hanging from the ceiling. I’m late for sixth period. Mrs. Collins would have written me a note, but I’d rather risk detention than stay in the same room with her. I turn the corner and skid to a halt when I spot Abby on the floor next to my locker.

“About time you showed,” I say. She already skipped two days this week. Her head jerks up and her wide eyes freak me out. “What’s wrong?”

Abby quickly stands. “It’s Eric. He found Rachel.”

Rachel

WORTHINGTON PRIVATE HAS A HUGE parking lot, and because of the sheer number of students that own cars, the administration permits overflow parking near the football stadium. This is where I park every morning—a few feet from the ticket booth. My brothers, on the other hand, who drive separately because of their millions of after-school activities, park as close as they can to the front doors without a handicap sticker.

By parking here, I don’t have to worry about some idiot with a driver’s permit hitting my car or some overzealous door opener scratching my paint. I can also sit by myself without people gawking at the lone Young sibling who doesn’t have their act together.

The last number on the clock radio changes and my mouth dries out. Today’s going to be awful. I grab my backpack off the passenger seat, slide out the door and shiver against the January air. The first rays of dawn glimmer against the frost on the grass.

The pressure inside me feels like an elevator filled with sludge slowly rising to the top floor. The doors are begging to be opened so everything can spill out.

Jack and Gavin have been relentless about me helping Mom with the charity. Dad reminded me this morning that my answer is due to him this afternoon and said he knew I’d make the right decision. The overpowering combination of my two oldest brothers’ pressure and West and Ethan urging me to accept Dad’s offer edges me toward insanity. All of it is a perfect recipe for a panic attack, and I can’t have another one with Ethan watching me like a hawk.

“Rachel Young,” says a voice behind me.

I don’t know this voice. Scanning the overflow lot, I realize how alone I am. Rays of the sun peek around the school, but darkness still owns most of the sky. I slowly turn and suck in a breath when I recognize a face I never thought I would see again. It’s the guy from the drag race. The one that scared me. It’s Eric.

A flood of adrenaline flows through my body. For some, adrenaline makes them stronger and sharpens their reactions. The rush causes me to freeze. I consider screaming, but even if I regained control of the muscles in my throat, would anyone hear me? From the main parking lot, bass lines pound from several expensive cars with even more expensive sound systems.

It’s frightening seeing Eric. At the drag race he fit in, but here, among guys who wear white shirts and ties to school, he looks...terrifying. He’s tall, blond, and his body is more bones than muscle, like this skinny man I saw once in a drug prevention video. My heart quickens its pace. Why is he here? How does he know my name?

“Rachel Young,” he says again. “You have something of mine.”

My head shakes back and forth and then I wonder if it’s my body shaking. “I don’t have anything of yours.”

He tips a hand to his ear. “What was that? I didn’t hear you. You should speak up.”

The smile on his face says he’s mocking me, but I don’t know why. I’ve done nothing to him.

Eric invades my personal space and I beg my feet to move. Instead, I become stone embedded in the ground. My breath comes out faster and I can’t draw in enough air to compensate for the loss. He reaches in my direction and touches my hair. His hand is ashy, cracked in spots, and I want so badly for him to disappear.

“You’re pretty,” he says. My gold hair falls from his fingers like rain. “And you played the innocent act well. I bought it then, but I won’t buy it now. Give me my fucking money or I’ll have my boys put you in the hospital.”

My voice trembles. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit!” he snaps. His anger gives me the courage to stumble back.

He advances on me with his hand waving in the air. “The cops can’t touch me. Your parents can’t touch me. But I can touch you. The only thing that will stop that from happening is if you give me my money.”

The world spins and all the thoughts in my head jumble together. I can’t breathe. I can’t. Instinctively, my arms wrap around my stomach as I sway.

Rough hands grab my face and all I see are eyes with no soul. “Hell no. You’re not going down. Give me my money or tell me where it is.”

My stomach lurches and a high-pitched buzzing washes away his voice. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Eric tightens his hold on my chin, creating pain, making me unable to open my mouth for air. He’s going to crush my skull.