“It needs a better battery tie-down,” Angelita said.
“What about the engine?” Kennin asked.
She shrugged. “I’ll tune it the best I can.”
“Be nice if you could drop that supercharged 4agze in,” Kennin said.
“Be nice if I could do a lot of things.” Angelita leaned her weight onto the fender and rocked the car. “Coilovers, new brakes, an ACT clutch.”
“Don’t forget,” Kennin said, “we’re talking tandem drifting.”
Angelita’s eyes widened slightly, then she shook her head and frowned. “I forgot. That’s a whole different story. You need a six-point cage, buckets, and a harness. Plus a Nomex suit, shoes, head sock, helmet.”
“What do you think it would cost?” Kennin asked.
Angelita’s shoulders slumped. “What does it matter? You don’t have that kind of money.”
Kennin took out the white envelope Derek had given him and handed it to her.
“What’s this?” Angelita asked uncertainly.
“Open it.”
She opened the envelope just enough to peek inside, then quickly shut it. “Where did you get this?”
“Can’t tell you,” Kennin said.
Angelita held out the envelope. “Take it back. I don’t want it.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Kennin said.
“Then where did it come from?” Angelita demanded.
“I’m sworn to secrecy,” Kennin said. “But you can believe me, it’s legitimate.”
Angelita looked into the envelope again. “Since when are dirty, nonsequential twenty-dollar bills legitimate?”
“It’s pocket change to the guy who gave it to me.” As soon as the words left his lips, Kennin knew he’d said too much.
“What guy, Kennin?” Angelita asked.
Kennin stared at the floor. He knew what was coming.
“Kennin?” Angelita said again.
He shook his head. Angelita tossed the envelope onto the seat of the Corolla, then crossed her arms and leaned against the tool chest. “You can go now. I don’t want that money, and I’m not touching that car.”
Kennin realized he had no choice but to tell her. “You know who Mike Mercado is?”
“The owner of the Babylon?” Angelita said.
“He thinks that he needs me to drive against Chris to make it exciting and bring in a crowd.”
“You didn’t have to take it,” Angelita said.
“I did,” Kennin said. “There are other people who want me to drive. If I don’t, they’re liable to tell Jack where my sister is.”
Angelita’s forehead wrinkled. She gazed at the Corolla and then back at Kennin. “How much is in that envelope?”
“Four thousand,” Kennin said. “Think it’s enough?”
“Maybe,” Angelita said. “But since we’re laying our cards on the table, there’s something else. Tito tells me Mariel has become your private chauffeur.”
“The buses are on strike,” Kennin said.
“How generous of her,” said Angelita. “What does Chris think?”
“She says she doesn’t care,” Kennin said. “But I’ve noticed she goes out of her way to try to make sure he doesn’t know.”
Angelita bit her lip and furrowed her brow. Kennin wondered if she was struggling with something. “Can I ask you something personal?” she said.
“Okay.”
“Does … does Mariel do anything else besides drive you?” Angelita asked, then quickly added, “You can tell me if it’s none of my business.”
Kennin knew it had taken a lot for her to ask that question. Not only was she extra sensitive about not butting into other people’s business, but it showed that she obviously still cared about him.
Kennin took a deep breath. He didn’t want to lie to her, but there was no way she’d understand that sometimes when things were going badly and the temptations were too great, a guy might do something he’d later regret. “No, she doesn’t do anything but drive.”
20
work on the Corolla every day after school. Kennin came by as often as he could to help and give her moral support. Angelita suspected that Mariel was dropping him off a block away, but she tried not to think too much about it. If that foolish girl wanted to drive Kennin around, that, was her problem, not Angelita’s.
She used the four thousand dollars wisely. Not a penny went toward unnecessary exterior mods. Except for a wash, the car’s body looked no different from before.
At work both Derek and Mercado made a special point of telling Kennin they were pleased that he’d decided to drive. At the same time, billboards around town began advertising DriftVegas and word went out on drifting Web sites all over the West, inviting drivers to try out.
At school Chris wore a bright red and black racing jacket with his name embroidered on the front and “Babylon Drift Team” scripted on the back. The arms of the jacket were adorned with patches from Cooper Tire, ACT clutches, Western Automotive, CIT Racing, and others. Heads turned wherever he went.
“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star,” Tito said at lunch the day of the DriftVegas event. When Chris and his posse entered the lunchroom, kids at other tables stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Kennin dabbed a French fry in ketchup and savored it, thankful that it wasn’t a Tater Tot day.
“The guy’s got sponsors up the wazoo!” Tito looked to see how Kennin was reacting, but his friend’s expression didn’t change.
“Dude, I think we missed the boat on that,” Tito said. “By the way, you know, Angie didn’t come to school today.”
Kennin looked up at him, puzzled.
“She said there was still too much to do on the car,” Tito explained. “Congratulations, dude, I can’t remember a single time my sister ever ditched school. This is some kind of record.”
Kennin nodded. Suddenly Tito let out a laugh. “Ha! There’s Ian! And he’s got a sponsor too!”
Kennin looked up. Ian entered the cafeteria wearing a red and white jacket that he’d clearly purchased on his own. Instead of Babylon Drift Team, scripted on the back of his jacket was “Monte’s Fried Chicken.”
Kennin ate another fry. He had to admit that fried chicken sounded pretty good.
Chris was sitting at the regular gearhead table, but Ian spotted Kennin and Tito and headed in their direction with some other guys.
“Uh-oh,” Tito mumbled under his breath.
“Well, well, well.” Ian stopped near their table. “If it isn’t Fujiwara Takumi and his little AE86 Trueno.”
Kennin gazed up at him. Ian had a contemptuous smirk on his face. “I hear you found a Corolla somewhere. You’re not really serious, are you? I mean, taking that underpowered toy up against some world-class beaters?”
“What’s with the Santa Claus suit?” Kennin asked. Some of the guys with Ian grinned.
“I’ll be qualifying at DriftVegas tonight,” Ian shot back. “Surprised? Or do you still think I can’t drift?”
“He doesn’t think you can’t drift,” Tito shot back. “He knows you can’t drift, Mr. Fried Chicken.”
Guys chuckled, Ian’s face darkened and he balled his hands into fists. For a second it looked like he was going to launch himself at Tito, but Kennin got up and stood between them. “You got anything to prove, prove it tonight on the track.”
It was one of those days when the seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. As much as Kennin hated the idea of an organized drifting event on a track, he couldn’t wait to get into the Corolla and see what it could do. When school ended, Tito was waiting for him at his locker.
“Psyched?” Tito asked.
“You’re joking, right?” Kennin smiled as he pulled his new racing gear out of his locker and stuffed it into a black nylon duffel bag.
“I’m just checking,” Tito said. “I mean, it’s pretty rare to see you get excited about anything.”
Outside, Kennin waited while Tito got his bike, the
n together they started to walk down the sidewalk. Carrying the heavy duffel, there was no way Kennin could ride on Tito’s pegs today. A familiar-looking red Lexus IS300 pulled alongside them. The window went down and Mariel said, “Want a ride?”
“Thanks, but today I think I’ll walk,” Kennin said.
Mariel licked her glossy lips. “You sure?”
“Yeah,” Kennin replied.
“Your loss,” she said. “See you at the track.” She pulled away from the curb.
“You’re probably the only guy in the world who’s ever said no to her,” Tito said with a groan.
Kennin only wished he’d been able to say no to her more often.
They got to Rivera’s Service Center. Kennin walked into the garage and was surprised to find the Corolla on a trailer hitched to Cousin Raoul’s beat-up white van. The Corolla’s hood was up and Angelita, in coveralls, was still tinkering with the engine while Raoul threw spare tires in the back of the van.
“What’s this?” Kennin asked.
“Hey, Kennin!” Raoul grinned widely, revealing his crooked white teeth. “You amped or what?”
“What’s with the trailer?” Kennin asked.
“We’re not street legal,” Angelita explained, wiping some soot from her cheek.
“Where’d it come from?” Kennin asked.
“I got it,” Raoul said.
“Where?” Kennin asked.
“A friend,” Tito’s cousin answered.
Kennin and Angelita shared a look. Tito’s sister blinked with astonishment, as if she hadn’t realized until now just what that meant.
“I’m sorry, Kennin,” she apologized. “I was so busy getting the car ready, it never occurred to me.”
“What didn’t occur to you?” Tito asked, still not getting it.
“Raoul, seriously,” Kennin said. “This ‘friend’ you got the trailer from … was it the same friend who gave you the GTO and the Camry?”
Raoul screwed up his face as if trying to come up with an answer.
Now even Tito understood. “Raoul, what did you think you were doing?”
“I was just trying to help,” his cousin answered.
“Can we get the car there without the trailer?” Kennin asked.
Angelita shook her head. “No tags, no registration, no insurance, and very little exhaust system.”
“Guess we’re stuck with the trailer,” Kennin said, and turned to Raoul. “When we get to the track, be sure to park this thing way off in the corner of the paddock where it won’t be noticed.”
They finished tossing the tires and other gear into the van. Angelita was still under the hood.
“It’s time to go, Angie,” Tito said impatiently.
“Soon,” his sister answered.
Tito turned to Kennin and gestured to his watch.
“Every mother has to let her baby go sooner or later,” Kennin kidded.
“Okay, okay.” Angelita backed away from the car and lowered the hood.
Kennin and Tito got into the back of the van and sat on milk crates amid the tires and other gear. Angelita got into the front with Raoul.
“I can’t frickin’ believe this!” Tito said excitedly as they headed toward the strip. “I mean, tonight we’re gonna do an actual tandem event with sponsors and everything! Think about how far we’ve come, dude.”
Kennin smiled weakly. They might have come farther faster if Tito hadn’t sabotaged his own sister’s car, but there was no point in reminding Tito of that. Anyway, it hardly mattered now. Tonight was the end.
21
been set up at the entrance to the Babylon’s new track, and already the line of cars was three and four deep.
“Can you frickin’ believe this?” Tito gasped.
Signs proclaimed that the entrance fee for tonight’s event was fifteen dollars. Raoul waited in line and then drove up to one of the booths. The ticket taker inside craned his neck out to look at the trailered Corolla. “Competitor?”
Raoul nodded.
“You should have a competitor’s pass,” the ticket taker said.
“I’ve got it.” Kennin dug into the duffel bag and came up with the bright yellow pass.
“Okay,” said the ticket taker. “Drive in and make a right.”
Signs directed the fans to the left and competitors to the right. In the fan parking area, people were having tailgate parties. Smoke rose from hibachis, and the scent of grilled meat was in the air.
“I just can’t frickin’ believe this,” Tito said as Raoul steered the van and trailer into the paddock, where two dozen cars were parked and crews were busy jacking up rear ends and changing tires. “It’s, like, real! A real frickin’ drift event!”
“I wish I had a dollar for every time you said the word ‘frickin’,’” Angelita joked.
“Look at that!” Tito pointed at a candy apple red convertible. “A frickin’ Viper! You see that? Someone’s drifting a Viper! And there’s a GTO and a Mustang. You believe that crap? And there’s an SC300! And a 300 Z! I’m dying! I swear! But it’s okay! I can go to heaven now!”
“Cool points, Tito,” Kennin reminded him.
“Yeah, sure, right,” Tito said, calming for an instant before growing amped again. “Hey, look, there’s Chris with Slide or Die.”
Chris was wearing a red and black racing suit. His car, as always, sparkled. But it wasn’t the same as the last time Kennin had seen it. Like his racing jacket, Chris’s car was covered with stickers from Cooper Tires, ACT clutches, Western Automotive, CIT Racing, and others. The largest sticker of all was the scripted “Babylon Drift Team.”
They parked, and Angelita climbed into the Corolla to back it off the trailer. Darkness was falling and the track lights went on. The crowd began to file into the seats and a loudspeaker over the paddock announced that practice runs were beginning.
“Ready?” Angelita asked.
Wearing his blue and white Nomex driving suit, Kennin circled the car, inspecting it. In particular, he wanted to make sure the lug nuts were tight. Already the air was filled with the screeching of tires and the revving of engines as cars began their practice laps. Feeling the tug of speed, Kennin got into the car and clipped himself into the harness. The Corolla started on the first turn of the key and revved sweetly. Angelita had tuned the twin-charged engine to peppy perfection. He let the clutch out, and the little beast practically leaped. It might not have had the power of a Viper, but it would be nimbler and quicker than almost every other car there.
But the car’s lightness and power had unexpected side effects. On the track, Kennin immediately began to have problems, almost spinning into the wall and losing control and sailing sideways into the midfield, sending dozens of orange cones flying. Chris had been right the day he’d first tried the course. The turns were set up so that you could barely get into second gear. If anything, the course was set up even tighter than it had been the day Kennin had first watched Chris drive it. The emphasis was on corners, not speed, and the Corolla was inclined to oversteer.
But it wasn’t just the car or the course. This was the first time he’d driven like this since the crash, and his nerves were raw. Each time he pushed the Corolla close to the edge of control, his thoughts were plagued with memories of the crash and the excruciating pain that had followed. For the first time in his life Kennin felt tight and uncertain. That light, deft touch he usually felt was gone.
At the end of his practice runs, Kennin found concerned faces waiting for him in the paddock.
“What’s wrong?” Tito asked.
“Nothing,” said Kennin, still harnessed into the Corolla. “I’m just not used to the handling yet.”
“Dude, they’re gonna start the individual drift eliminations in a couple of minutes,” Tito said. “You gotta get used to the handling.”
“Gee, thanks for telling me,” Kennin snapped irritably.
“Is it the suspension?” Angelita asked.
“No, the suspension’s fine,” Kenni
n assured her. “She’s running great, really.”
“Maybe I could camber out the wheels a little more,” Angelita said.
“It’s not the car,” Kennin grunted harshly.
His angry tone caught Angelita by surprise. That was so unlike him.
“Everything okay?” The voice came from the passenger-side window. Kennin turned and found Mariel leaning in.
“Everything’s fine,” Kennin replied.
“I’m worried about you,” Mariel said, as if Angelita wasn’t even there. Kennin turned and looked into Angelita’s eyes. They were filled with consternation. Meanwhile, Mariel reached into the car and stroked his arm. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I’ll be okay, thanks,” Kennin replied.
Angelita backed away from the driver’s-side window. Kennin wished there was something he could say. Then he felt Mariel tap him on the shoulder.
“Seriously, is something wrong?” she asked.
“Can I talk to you later?” Kennin asked.
“Sure, honey, whatever you want.”
Kennin released the harness and got out of the Corolla. Angelita was sitting in the dark on some tires, with her back to him.
“Hey,” he said, sitting down beside her.
Angelita was silent. She wouldn’t even look at him.
“Come on,” he said. “Talk to me.”
“It’s not my fault,” she said.
“I know.” Kennin hung his head. “I’m just … I don’t know. I haven’t driven in a while. I keep thinking about the crash. I don’t like the track layout. The whole thing feels wrong.”
She still wouldn’t look at him. Her head was turned and she was gazing through the dark at Mariel.
“You listening?” he asked.
“I thought you said there was nothing going on between you two,” Angelita said without looking at him.
“There isn’t,” said Kennin.
“It sure looks like there is,” Angelita said.
“Don’t be deceived,” Kennin said.
Angelita gave him a sharp look. “You’re just using her, right? I mean, for rides until the bus strike is over.”