Titans (19 page)

The next preliminary race goes better than the first. It’s longer, which allows Padlock and me to gain a better lead, and this time there are no jams to trip us up. The memory of the jockeys’ taunting rested neatly in my mind as I ran that day, and in the end Padlock and I finished eleventh place out of the twenty Titans who remained.

Rags tells me I performed brilliantly, that the second prelim race is cutthroat because of jockeys wanting to keep their sponsors. It looks bad to bettors and the media when a jockey loses a sponsor, and with it free upkeep, fuel, and incidentals incurred by racing.
It doesn’t take long for a jockey to lose their confidence on-track if the sponsor, media, and bettors turn their backs on them
, Rags told me.

Lottie swore she’d stand by me no matter what, so I didn’t worry about that too much. What I did worry about was my placement. Even though I secured a better rank than I had in the sponsor race or first prelim, I still was only two horses away from failing before the circuit races even began.

Today is July 2, the day the local news channel announces which thirteen jockeys will proceed to the three Titan Circuit races, the ones the track engineers create. Rags informs me that these tracks will include jams at every turn, and it’s time to get serious about training. I inform him that I’ve been serious since the beginning.

Tonight I have another session with Lottie, but today belongs to me. Well, sort of. Rags dropped Padlock and me at a pond at the east end of Warren County. The pond’s still water breeds the plumpest mosquitos, and the abandoned factory on the edge grows spongy green mold up its walls. Small white blooms sprout around the perimeter of the pond, weeds that my mother would call wildflowers, and there’s a span of crunchy grass to the left that stretches into the early-morning horizon.

Rags’s instructions were detailed as always:
Spend time with your horse
.

That’s all he said before shutting his tailgate and driving away. After two prelim races, he knows I’m not utilizing the autopilot switch. Says when I fell into the trench that should have been my first move until we were back on solid ground. Adds that if I don’t learn to trust Padlock, he’ll pull me from the season.

He’ll never actually do that, though. Rags was sweating bullets after his argument with Arvin, afraid we’d really be kicked out. But word is the man from Chicago has an interest in seeing me continue.

Maybe he wants to see me nosedive in the circuit races. It’d be a lot more interesting than my being kicked out.

Padlock ventures to the edge of the pond and dips his head toward the water. For a moment, I think he’ll touch his muzzle to the algae-coated surface and pull in a lukewarm drink. But he only turns his head toward me, the squeaking hinges in his neck reminding me he’s a machine, not a real horse.

“We’re supposed to bond.”

Padlock snorts.

“That’s what
I
said, but the old man’s stubborn.”

Padlock takes a couple of shuffling steps in my direction and stops.

“I mean, what if there are vagrants living in that factory? We could be mugged!”

I imagine Padlock having an eyebrow. I imagine him raising it.

Groaning, I fall back on the grass, watch as a grasshopper leaps to safety. The sky is having an identity crisis overhead, blue sky and white clouds on one side, darkness and doom on the other.

“It’s going to rain, I think.”

Padlock swallows the remaining space between us and kneels down in the grass. I turn my head, expecting him to look back at me, but he only gazes at the water. Unsure what I’m supposed to do with my Titan, I stare at the water too, watch as dragonflies dance above the surface. After a long silence, something splashes. A catfish, or maybe a man-eating alligator. One thing’s for sure, there’s one less dragonfly than there was before.

I flick my eyes toward Padlock. My chest tightens ever so slightly. “It’s not like I don’t trust
you
,” I say quietly. “I just don’t trust anyone.”

Padlock’s ear twists around. It’s a sure sign he’s listening. But that doesn’t mean he understands what I’m saying. Even if he can experience human emotions, he’s not actually human. So if I said things to him right now it’s not like it would matter.

“I only trust myself now. It’s easier that way.”

I sit up, hug my knees to my chest.

Padlock lies still, front legs folded beneath his chest, his back ones kicked out to the side.

“I used to trust people. Like my grandfather …” I lick my lips, feel my heart clench. “But he lost our home because he couldn’t pay for it anymore. Because he gambled too much. So we had to leave Wisconsin.”

A small lump forms in my throat. “We had to live in our car for a while. It wasn’t even that long. No big deal. But it put pressure on my grandpa, who had a bad heart. He took, like, eight pills a day.”

I chew my bottom lip, consider biting my tongue off so I’ll stop talking to a mechanical horse.

“We had just gotten an apartment in Detroit when my grandpa started gambling again, and he and my dad had an argument. My dad was pissed, so he left to cool off, but before he did he told me to keep an eye on my grandpa. Because even when my dad hated his father, he loved him.”

My eyes burn. “But I remembered I left my chalks in the park. So I left to get them, but before I did, I asked my mom to watch Grandpa. And I tossed Grandpa’s pills to Dani and told her he was having a bad day. And just in case, I told Zara to stay off the phone.”

I get to my feet and angrily swipe tears from my cheeks. “It’s not like I expected anything to actually happen. But it did. Grandpa had a heart attack and I wasn’t there. And neither was Zara, who snuck outside to call her friend. And neither was Mom, who was busy looking for Zara. And even though Dani was there, she swears she doesn’t remember me tossing Grandpa’s pills onto her bed. So when he fell, she looked in the kitchen. And the bathroom. And in Mom and Dad’s room. But the pills weren’t there.

“By the time I got back, it was too late.”

I glance at Padlock. The horse is certainly looking at me now. Big, dark eyes taking me in, both ears pointed in my direction. How long did I last before I told this hunk of metal my deepest regret—twenty minutes? Jeez, I need a therapist.

I shuffle toward the pond, stop at the edge. “I thought you should know why I can’t trust you to save my family. This time, I have to do it myself.”

I stand like that, my lungs pulling in jerking breaths, the tears continuing to flow, though I’m feeling lighter. Like releasing the story into the thick summer air somehow helped. Eventually, I feel a nudge on my back. Spinning around, I find a looming Padlock.

“Hey,” I say, avoiding eye contact, feeling embarrassed about what I revealed, even though that’s nuts.

Padlock nudges me again and I smile, relieved to have the tension broken. When he lowers his head again, I wrap my arms around his neck, bury my face in his steel-threaded mane. We stay like that for some time, the loons wailing to one another, my shoulders aching from how tightly I’m holding Padlock. My heart opens to this horse that lay dormant and dusty in Rags’s basement, but has done so much for me since. What will happen to him after the races end? Somehow, already, I can’t imagine him not being around.

My Titan takes a step closer, and I smile at how comforting this steel horse is behaving. It’s almost as if he’s a real, live animal with …

Padlock takes another step and I stumble backward.

“Hey, be careful. You’re going to accidentally—”

Padlock dips his head lower until his nose nuzzles my belly button. Then he tosses his head upward and my arms flail. At the last minute, I grab on to his neck. But now Padlock is walking toward me with gusto, and I have no choice but to fumble backward or fall under his hooves.

“What are you doing?” My shoes splash into the pond as I attempt to stay upright. Now the water is up to my ankles. “Padlock, stop.
Stop!
”

Padlock pauses and looks at me with what can only be described as a robotic grin.

“You think this is funny?”

Padlock head-butts me.

I fly backward and land on my rear in the pond. The water soaks through my jeans and shirt and dampens the ends of my hair. My mouth gapes open. I tell my horse my worst nightmare, and this is his response? I consider turning him off. I consider marching miles to the closest town, calling Rags, and screaming through the phone. Instead, here’s what I do—

I splash my Titan in the face.

His head jerks up and he blinks long lashes to clear the water from his eyes.

“How’s it feel?” I ask.

Padlock blows hard through his nostrils, and a fine mist sprays across my face.

“Oh, dude. Gross!”

Those are the last words I utter before my Titan backs up and then barrels toward me. My eyes nearly explode out of my skull watching him advance so quickly. I cover my head and scream, terrified he’s about to pummel me. At the last second, I uncover my face and watch, mystified, as Padlock soars over my body. The underside of his black, shiny belly reflects my awe as he arches toward the water.

There’s a loud splash, and a second later a wave curls over my head and slams down on my shoulders. Water no human on earth should touch rushes into my mouth and ears and nose. I spin around, my rear still stuck firmly in mud, and prepare to give my Titan a tongue-lashing.

But when I glimpse him swimming in circles, head bobbing above the surface, I can’t help but laugh. Because he looks absolutely absurd. And though this pond is filthier than Dani’s boyfriend, the cool water is invigorating.

Since I’m already drenched, and infected by whatever waterborne bacteria calls this pond home, I stand up, take three powerful steps, and leap toward my Titan. When my head breaks the surface, I swim toward Padlock, splashing him and laughing when he snorts more water.

I reach my horse at last and climb onto his back. He remains still as I curl my legs around his sides and grab on to his mane. Then we’re off, wading through lily pads and cattails.

Padlock eventually tires of swimming and arises from the water like a mythological creature. I ride bareback as he trots through swarms of grasshoppers and startled robins. Though it’s useless at this point, I wipe my hand over Padlock’s control panel, hoping his dashboard is water resistant. After cleaning it off as best I can, I find myself wondering about this mechanical horse, and how exactly he does what he does.

“How’d you jump over me without being commanded to, Padlock?” I ask softly. “How do you do anything without my working your panel?”

Padlock swivels his head partway, and one glittering eye stares back. Then he picks up his pace, his trot morphing into a gallop. My heart reacts, but this time it’s not for the grandfather I lost. It’s for the horse that’s reassuringly solid. No matter how far he travels, I don’t grow anxious. No matter how fast he runs, I’m not afraid. And when the sun washes over our backs, I gaze up and let the warmth spill across my face. It seems the sky has finally made up its mind.

It’s going to be a good day.

Lottie’s lessons are beginning to sink in, and that’s good, because the woman tells me she’s set up my first large-scale interview to take place after the first circuit race. Rags is irritated, of course, because he’d prefer that I focus on the track. But I’m starting to enjoy learning Lottie’s secret language. I love my parents, but they haven’t been exposed to the things Lottie has.

She teaches Magnolia and me about grace, about holding your tongue when you’d rather bash in someone’s face. She shows us how to walk like a lady, reminds us to cross our legs while sitting, and tells us we must always have sympathy for those experiencing hardships, regardless of who they are.

She also talks about aspirations. How a lady worth knowing is one who pursues her desires.
Rub your goals into a stone
, she says.
Keep the stone close, and each morning when you put it in your pocket, and each night when you remove it, repeat them to yourself
.
Look in a mirror. Tell yourself you are all the things needed to accomplish this goal
. Lottie actually had us spend ten minutes alone in Barney’s bathroom, staring into the mirror. For the first eight, I purposely ignored my reflection. That or I made faces, curling my lips back and opening my mouth as wide as I could. When Lottie knocked on the door and announced that I had a few seconds left, I glanced back at the mirror and said, in a rush, in a whisper—

“I am brave. And strong. And intelligent. And anything else that’ll help me with the Titan Derby.” I grimaced. “But not graceful. Never graceful unless Lottie’s watching.”

Lottie yelled through the door then. Guess I’d said the last part too loudly.

Now, as I swing Padlock’s saddle onto his back, I remember Lottie’s words, feel the smooth stone heavy in my new breeches. I run my hands over my new boots and silks, the ones Lottie bought. My colors are the same—yellow and black—but whereas my old silk had simple stripes, this one has an alpha symbol.

Padlock was the beginning
is all she said.

Lottie bought a secondhand trailer too, had it painted black, and put that same symbol on its side. I look like one of them now, can walk and talk like them. But I am not them. I’m me. I’m a girl from Warren County who’s here to save my family.

“You’re going to do great.” Magnolia makes me sit down and hold still while she braids a piece of my hair across my head and twists the rest into a bun, securing it with a yellow shimmering net. “About what you said before. About your racing being the same as what our dads do.”

I hold my breath.

“It’s not,” she says firmly. “Our dads gamble for the rush. They hold cards in their hands and toss money on the table, but that’s it. They’re not
working
for anything when it comes to those bets. They’re not putting in the effort.” Magnolia tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “It’s one thing to gamble away money you don’t have. It’s another to bet on yourself.”

My chest tightens with gratitude as I mumble an inadequate “Thank you, Magnolia.” And then, because I know she needs to hear it, I say, “I’ll be fine out there.”

She shrugs. “We’ve seen a lot of jams over the years. How many new tricks could they come up with?”

Her voice is small when she says this, though, because over the last five years we’ve never seen a jam repeated twice. Magnolia continues fussing with my hair, and I know why.

“Mag, I won’t take any unnecessary risks.”

Lie.

“You promise?”

“Swear.”

Fingers crossed behind my back.

I hug my friend close, for everything she’s done for me over the last five years. She sees the best in me, and having her around makes me a better person.

“What was that for?” she asks.

“Because you’re fan-freaking-tastic.”

She bobs her head. “You speak the truth.”

Rags and Barney come in a moment later, and while Barney checks my saddle, Rags gives me a pep talk. It goes something like this: “Do good. Don’t get hurt or we won’t make it to the next race.”

Then he does something extraordinary: Rags pats me on the back. Three pats, quick succession. I grin as he clears his throat and avoids eye contact.

He may not know this, but his touch means everything. He’s nervous I’ll get injured, and for good reason. But he also believes in me the same way Magnolia does.

“Thank you, Rags,” I say.

Rags coughs. “You already thanked me before. Now you’re just being irritating.”

I laugh and pull myself up into the saddle. “Away with you, old man. I’ve got a race to win.”

This time, a smile graces his face, and when he meets my gaze, he nods. My manager leads Barney and Magnolia outside the stables, and I lean down onto Padlock’s neck.

“There are thirteen horses left, Padlock. All we have to do is finish in tenth place or better.” I swallow, and my heart picks up. “This race won’t be like the others. It’ll go off-course, and we’ll need to be ready for anything.” I sit up and stroke my Titan’s mane, nervous energy coursing through me.

There’s no time left to worry, because the woman with the clipboard is checking off our names and inspecting our horses for illegal parts. And soon we’re corralled into the starting gate. I don’t miss the way the jockeys glare as I lead Padlock into our stall, but I block it out. They don’t exist anymore. Nothing does except this race.

The crowd is thinner tonight, but not for lack of attendance. The men weave through the forest, past Cyclone Track and into the trees beyond. The circuit tracks are lined by temporary fences, illuminated by miniature glowing lights. The first race of three will be a short one, and the crowd will get an intimate look at every moment, cheering from the sidelines or throwing beer bottles and cigarette butts and cursing the horses that run against their own.

If the first three races were chaotic, the next three will be sheer insanity.

I set my gaze ahead and try to see where the track ventures. What jams lie ahead. But there’s nothing. I only have one piece of information. The name of the race:
Fire Walker.

I do as Rags instructed. Envision myself finishing in the top ten. Envision attending the Circuit Gala in three days’ time with my head held high. Magnolia will be my radiant date, and my team will be proud to call me their jockey.

Yellow
.

Yellow.

Padlock throws himself against the starting gate, a wild, manic thing who matches my mood like he can feel it. It seems we both remember our first preliminary race. The one where the other jockeys told us in no uncertain terms where we stood in their pecking order.

Yellow
.

Tonight, we have something to prove.

Tonight, I must remember why I’m racing.

And just like that, I find myself searching the crowd for my father. I’m not sure why it’s his face I want to see. And I have no idea why I believe for one second that I’ll spot him. But I look anyway, and my heart breaks all the same.

Thank goodness for distractions.

Thank goodness for the starting gate pulling away.

Green
.