Titans by Victoria Scott Read Free Book Online Page A

tosses the muffin into an ivy patch my mother would detest, and stomps the rest of the way to the work shed. “I’ve been working on him ever since you left.”
    “I think you were working on him even before that,” I reply, patting Magnolia on the back, none too happy about her disgraced muffin.
    Rags doesn’t respond. But when he gets to the door, he turns with a glint in his eye. “He’s prepped for transport, but I’ll need help rolling him to my truck and loading him in.” He unlocks the door and pushes it open. Inside the shed is what appears to be the largest coffin I’ve ever seen. It’s painted black with yellow trim.
    “It looks pretty morbid,” Magnolia mumbles.
    “It looks wicked cool,” I say.
    Rags motions toward a flatbed with wheels, and together, the three of us manage to get the covered Titan onto it using ropes and pulleys that Rags configured. After we roll the Titan coffin next to his house, and struggle to get it into the truck bed using a ramp, Rags slams the tailgate closed. “You can ride with me,” he says, ignoring Magnolia.
    “And where will Magnolia ride?” I ask.
    “She can ride her skinny rear back to her house.”
    I cross my arms, and he growls deep in his chest. “You know I could find a hundred different people to race this Titan.”
    I remain fixed in place.
    “Get in the truck,” he says, tossing an oddly shaped bag into the back. “Both of you.”
    “Wait,” I say, realizing I’m missing the bigger point here. “Where are we going?”
    “To my friend’s place south of the city. He’s got a track.” Rags rounds the truck and gets behind the steering wheel. When Magnolia and I slide inside, he glances over at us. “Your parents going to put an APB out on you two?”
    “My mom’s working.” Magnolia bites into a muffin. “And Dad’s looking for work.”
    Rags glances in my direction.
    “They won’t be looking for me,” I say, staring ahead.
    “All right then.” He starts the ignition. “Let’s waste some time.”

    The two-story white clapboard house sits so far off the road it’s as if Rags’s friend is hiding something. Turns out, he is. The course that winds between the trees near his home is a close replica of Cyclone Track. I wonder why he has it, but Rags instructs us not to ask him stupid questions before we get out of the truck.
    “Barney,” Rags says with an honest-to-goodness smile.
    The man, Barney, moves toward us. He’s as bald as the day is long, with short legs and arms that swing as he waddles. A white beard sweeps across his face, and his blue eyes dance as he clasps hands with Rags.
    “Thought you said you might bring a girl by,” Barney says. “As in, one.”
    Rags nods. “You know how girls are. Takes two of ’em to use the toilet.”
    “Excuse me?” I say.
    Barney looks at Magnolia. “What’s that you’re holding?”
    She purses her lips, but holds out the basket. “Muffins.”
    Barney looks at Rags and then back to Magnolia. “Anyone who brings food is welcome in my book.”
    Magnolia smiles.
    “You sure we can use your track?” Rags asks.
    “I said you could,” Barney responds, already reaching for a second muffin though he hasn’t eaten the first. When he finishes his breakfast, he helps Rags unload the giant crate and rolls it a good distance from the truck. Rags reaches down and messes with a padlock. It takes him several minutes before it unlocks. So long that Magnolia makes a joke about him packing an atomic bomb in there instead of a Titan.
    “That thing is an atomic bomb,” Barney says.
    “You built him,” Rags says as the lock pops open. “Don’t judge too harshly.”
    Barney belly laughs. “That’s why I judge so harshly.”
    “You built this thing?” Magnolia asks the portly man.
    Barney salutes her. “Titan 1.0 Senior Engineer at your service.”
    My eyes dart to the box, a chill rushing over my skin. A Titan 1.0, he said. The very first model ever designed. They never even made it