Motocross Me by Cheyanne Young Read Free Book Online Page A

morning’s racing. Through scientific ways beyond my understanding, the track doesn’t get muddy when they douse it with water. Maybe the sweltering summer sun has something to do with it.
    My new family goes back home to eat lunch, but I excuse myself saying I have a lunch invite from a new friend.
    “This new friend isn’t a cute boy, is it?” Molly asks as we walk from the tower to the parking lot.
    “I wish,” I say, rolling my eyes and meaning it more than she could ever know.
     
    Shelby hadn’t told me where they were parked but I vaguely remember her driving a beat up red car. I search for it amid the trucks and motor homes that dominate the pits. Before I find her car, I find the dreadlocks. Ash sits on a step stool doing something to the wheel of his dirt bike. Shelby’s car is behind his truck.
    “Do you know where Shelby is?” I ask the back of his head. He turns around. His eyes get wide when he sees me, and it isn’t a good sort of wide. Is my black eye still that bad?
    “Yeah, she went to find you,” he says, hands still on the tire, his body now facing me. “You can sit down if you want.” He motions to some canvas chairs customized with Carter 336 on the back. Two of them are occupied with his parents. I take a seat and introduce myself to Mr. and Mrs. Carter. They tell me to call them Rick and Barb.
    Barb is older than my mom and considerably more mature. She has pale skin and brown graying hair. Rick is olive-skinned, like Ash, and has the same eyes and smile that Ash and Shelby share.
    They tell me about their younger son named Shawn, but I don’t get to meet him. Barb says Shawn is friends with every kid here, including Teig, which is why he never came back to their pit unless it was time to race. Ash calls him a social butterfly.
    The entire family is like Shelby: polite and happy. They are the picture-perfect example of the all-American family. Maybe this is what Dad meant when he talked about the motocross family.
    When Shelby finally appears, she swears she searched all over the park for me. “Except for the one place that’s the most obvious,” Ash says, tossing a wrench in his tool box.
    Shelby’s dad makes the best brisket I’ve ever tasted, and her mom somehow manages to have an endless supply of sweet tea in the ice chest. I like this job more every day.
    All thoughts of Ryan disappear until Shelby and I get on the topic of sexy celebrities. We debate if muscular is sexier than tall and lean. Shelby likes this short squatty guy from some MTV reality show because he’s really muscular. I argue that Ryan Reynolds is tall and muscular, thus the perfect embodiment of male perfection. The name Ryan makes me think of my Ryan. And that’s all it takes to make me bored with the Carter family. Slouching back in my chair, I daydream about him for the rest of intermission.
    “Shell, where’s my helmet?” Ash asks, leaning into his truck. His lower half is dressed in racing gear. The rest of his clothes hang over his arm as he searches for something in the front seat.
    “On my head.” Shelby hovers over me, wearing a helmet that wobbles on her small head. “I’m an alien!” She wiggles her fingers in my face and runs around the truck. Ash chases her. “You’ll never catch me,” she sings.
    They stop on either side of his truck, both threatening to run the opposite way. Ash goes left and Shelby darts right. Not wanting to be left out, I jump out of my chair and steal the helmet. It smells like sweat, but I put it on my head anyway. Shelby grabs my hand and pulls me behind her. Ash is now outnumbered in the game of keep away, but he’s still smiling so we haven’t taken the joke too far. I move a few paces behind his truck and duck down behind the tire to hide.
    Shelby yells, “Hana, run!” I jump up and the helmet slides sideways, leaving me blind. His helmet is huge.
    I take one step and crash into Ash’s unbelievably hard chest. He removes the helmet from my head with