Trading Paint (Racing on the Edge) (5 page)

Jameson was all about racing and nothing else mattered to him.

I admired that about him.

As a teenager’s we struggled to find our identities and to live up to the expectations that our parents and teachers put upon us.

Jameson didn’t. He knew who he was inside and knew exactly what he wanted. I couldn’t decide on shit and I was lucky if I managed to pick out what CD I was going to listen to that day in under an hour. I also for the life of me could never manage to wear matching socks. 

Expecting any of us to act normal on the plane ride home was downright absurd. Here you had Emma at fourteen, Jameson and me being fifteen, Spencer and his friend Colby at seventeen
...
we were hardly in any position to conduct ourselves in a manner that was acceptable for society.

Nancy and Jimi were good sports until around hour three of the six-hour ride when Jameson and me decided it was time to up the larking around.

While most of the trip was spent annoying Emma, we turned to Spencer and Colby when Emma burst into tears because we had replaced her lotion with glue again. No matter how many times we did that, we still found it entertaining and we did this at least once a week. It was funny.

Spencer, being a prankster himself, made it difficult for us to pull one over on him. This took dedication and research. His only weaknesses were girls and food.

We decided to knock off two with one prank.

When he went to the bathroom, we added a few drops of pink food coloring to his
Pepsi
and then convinced the girl next to us to come on to him. We were succeeding until it all turned on us.

Alley, a tall beautiful blonde, who sat on the other side of Jameson, was our decoy. Alley was awesome, witty, humorous, and could roll out the insults with the best of them. I knew I liked her when Jameson was fidgeting beside us and she turned to him.

“Will you stop fucking moving?”

“You stop moving.” He shot her a glare. “I’m uncomfortable.”

“Well if you stop jumping around you might be comfortable. You’re moving around so much you’re about to throw your back out.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked her.

“What’s wrong with me? You’re driving me insane!” she exclaimed throwing her magazine at him. “Stop moving. You’re vibrating my seat with all this moving.”

“You enjoying the vibrating?” he teased.

Jameson couldn’t help himself. He had a knack, like Spencer, for turning any conversation dirty if he needed to embarrass you.

“You wish shit head.” She rolled her eyes. “Stop moving.”

I laughed at their silly argument. After that, I befriended her as my cohort in my attacks.

I learned that Alley lived in Olympia, Washington, which was about forty-five minutes from Elma.

“Who’s the ape in front of us with the pink mouth?” Alley asked eventually.

Jameson and I let out a childish giggle.

“Spencer, my brother,” He replied.

“Why is his mouth pink?”

“We slipped food coloring into his soda.”

Alley smiled and went in for the kill.

An hour later, Spencer and Alley were chatting and Jameson and I were not pleased. This did not work in our favor.

“That couldn’t have gone any worse.” Jameson finally said disgusted that Spencer was pulling out all the tricks for this blonde beauty.

I thought it was somewhat cute. Spencer has always been a chick magnet and had scored more than the whole football team with the girls. He was a god at Elma High School and everyone thought Jameson would live up to Spencer’s reputation.

Jameson, on the other hand, could give a flying fuck about girls.

That was a lie. I saw that he looked at girls, particularly the ones at the track but he never showed a real interest in them and he never flirted.

At times, it was hard to tell if he was even interested in the opposite sex at times but after our few exchanges that we’ve had
...
I’d say he was into the girls. It just had to be the right one.

We did our fair share of messing around because let’s be real, we were teenagers and we pushed boundaries.

I still remember the first time I saw him kiss another girl and I didn’t like it. I don’t know why, but I didn’t like it.

It was at Elma, after a race he won and the trophy girl,
Desy
Miller, kissed him. The next thing I knew, the two of them were making out beside his car.

I didn’t like her, but I didn’t know
why
I didn’t like her. Maybe it was her name?

I can only guess the real reason was because I hated trophy girls and I thought Jameson deserved better than a trophy girl. He needed someone who was stable and in my book, trophy girls were not. They were clingy gold digging pit lizards and my best friend deserved more than that.

I remember approaching him as he loaded his car,
Desy
nowhere in sight thank god.

“Nice race,” I said congratulating him on his win.

Jameson closed the door to the hauler, looking over his shoulder at me before locking the door securely. “Where were you?”

“You were busy so I let you celebrate.” I told him honestly.

He turned around completely and leaned against the doors, crossing his arms over his chest. Still clad in his race suit, he unzipped the top letting it fall from his shoulders and then tied it around his waist. “I was looking for you though.”

“I was looking for you too,” I offered. “Where’d
Desy
go?”

He blinked slowly running his right hand across his jaw and then shrugged. “Home
...
I guess. I didn’t ask.”

“Hmm,” I said and then walked over to the pit concession stand.

“Wait,” Jameson yelled after me. “I’ll help you lock up.”

“You better, I’m not walking around by myself out here
...
in the dark
.” I insinuated.

“Good idea. You never know what kind of crazy assholes are around here.” He laughed slinging his arm around my shoulder.

Just like that, we were back to normal.

With Jameson and me, nothing was complicated, so we thought, making it easy to be around each other. We never had to work at our friendship.

If he pissed me off, I told him. If he thought I was being a bitch, he didn’t hesitate to tell me either and when you’re struggling as a teenager to find balance and understand your complicated life with the added influence of hormones, uncomplicated is a blessing.

It still didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t keen on the idea of these others girls hounding him all the time because I saw through their cunning behavior. They were only looking for one thing, popularity. While Jameson didn’t play sports and hardly attended any school functions let alone school, he was popular among the female flock.

This didn’t exactly make my life easy. They saw we were friends and did everything in their power to destroy that.

3.
    
Hot Laps – Jameson

Hot Laps – A session held prior to time trials. This session usually runs in groups. Each car is assigned a group prior to hot lap sessions and the groups are determined by the draw that set the order for time trials. During the sessions, each car is allotted three or more laps at speed to ensure their car is ready for qualifying.

During my junior year, I spent more time racing through the different sprint car series than I did attending school. I did fine balancing the two until the USAC sprint car division opened in Eldora that March.

From then on, it was racing every weekend and sometimes I’d miss weeks of school if I traveled to the Midwest or East Coast. I ended up getting a tutor so I could graduate next year.

Poor Sway had to be at school without me. We usually stuck together around there because, let’s face it, Elma High School was not something you advertised attending and, at times, had some questionable attendees.

Tommy Davis, a good friend of mine from school, took care of her when I was gone and made sure no one messed with her. She took shit from girls at school for hanging around with me.

They all thought she was in it for the fame but that never mattered to her. She was good at avoiding them and could give a rat’s ass what anyone thought of her. I loved that about her.

When Memorial Day weekend came around that year, Charlie let us kidnap Sway.

I was running in the National USAC winged sprint series that year which had a 37-race schedule. I couldn’t compete for the title since I’d missed about four races so far because of mid-term finals at school but even with those four, I was running eighth in the division points and second to Justin West in the national points.

That weekend while waiting for Sway to arrive, Spencer caught me inside the hauler getting ready for the heat races at Terre Haute. Dad had gone to get her from the airport so that left me anxiously waiting for her. It had been about two weeks, maybe longer since we had last seen each other and I couldn’t wait to hang out with my girl. Shit, listen to me.

She’s not your girl. She’s your friend.

“Right.”
I told myself. The thoughts weren’t lost on me that she could easily be considered my girlfriend to most, but it wasn’t like that with us. Sure, being sixteen, I was physically attracted to her, but the feelings weren’t romantic. I loved her as I would love any member of my family, she was part of our family and it was purely platonic, so I thought.

“
What’s
with you two?”

“What are talking about?” I asked looking outside once again to see if she’d arrived.

“I don’t know
...
you’re a guy, she’s a girl
...
a
hot girl
.” Spencer implied.

“It’s just not like that with us. I don’t know why but it’s not.”

“But you find her
...
attractive in that way?”

You have no fucking idea!

I laughed trying not to let on how attractive I thought Sway was in fear that my brother would give me shit.

“I’m not blind.”

“Just
...
be careful.” He nodded.  “It’s easy to break a girl’s heart that way.”

That’s exactly why I never pursued anything with her. I knew damn well where my interest resided and that was with racing.

Anything I had to offer
any
girl wouldn’t be anything more than physical.

My desires
...
they were racing and racing only. I was also sixteen and I hardly knew the ways of the world but I sure thought I did.

Sure, Sway and I experimented with each other on occasion; kisses here, touches there and we had made out on more than once occasion but it never led to anything of substance and was usually ended quickly by one of us pulling away or Sway giggling.

There were a few girls I had also made out with from school or at different tracks where I’d been racing but that had never went anywhere either and it was usually kept PG-13.

The rumbling of my dad’s diesel truck pulling into the pits pulled me out of my thoughts and I jumped to my feet.

Sway was getting out of the truck with my dad.

I smiled as did she and she ran full speed at me.

Launching herself into my arms, she whispered. “I missed you Riley.”

I pulled her inside the hauler when my dad approached the chief steward about a fuel problem my car had during pre-race inspections. They thought we were using some sort of additive in the fuel, which was not allowed in any of the USAC Divisions.

“So, how’d the race last night go?”

I grumbled for a minute before answering.

“Shitty, I wrecked with three laps to go.”

“That sucks
...
does that mean we need to party tonight to get you in the spirit of winning.”

“I guess so. I really missed having you around.” I threw my arm around her shoulder.

Surprisingly, tears glazed her eyes.

“I did too.” She admitted softly.

My hand rose to cup her cheek. “Hey
...
are you all right?”

Sway, never being one to show a lot of emotion, chewed on her cheek for a minute before answering. “I just
...
it’s not the same when you’re not at school. Girls well, they
...
think I’m into you and constantly give me shit about it. It’s annoying
...
sometimes it gets to me. That’s all.”

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Into me
...
I thought we were friends.” I mumbled. I didn’t want to hear she felt anything more than a friendship.