“How much?” I still have two hundred dollars.

“Twelve hundred.”

I could swallow my pride and ask Mom for the money. But Cruz probably wouldn’t take it, and the offer might offend her. I have another idea. “You said your car has to be in the race. Does that mean someone else can drive it?”

“Yeah, but—”

“What about Marco?”

“Nobody would ever be stupid enough to agree to let Marco drive proxy. He’s too good.”

Think.

“What about someone nobody knows? Someone who has never raced before?”

She shrugs. “I guess. But if the person doesn’t know anything about racing, they’d have no chance of winning.”

“I will if you teach me.”

Cruz stares at me like I’m crazy. “You would do that?”

I can’t tell if she’s asking because she likes the idea or hates it. “If you think I have a chance at winning.”

“We’d have to start practicing tonight.” She rubs her arm through the sling and winces.

“Are you okay?” I hate seeing her in pain, and I hate her father for doing this to her.

She squeezes her eyes shut and takes a deep breath before opening them again. “I’m good. What time are you free?”

“I finish working at the rec center at seven.” I’m really doing this.

“I’ll meet you in the parking lot. My other sister Ava is a sophomore. She can drive us in my car.”

There’s no way I can get out of riding with Lex, not without an airtight story. “Actually, that won’t work. Can you meet me near my dad’s apartment in Westridge instead?”

“You name the place. Just text me the address. I’m not showing up to class with mascara all over my face and my arm in a sling. Put your number in here for me.” She hands me her cell.

I add my number and return the phone. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“This is more than a favor, Frankie. If you do this, I’ll owe you.” She’s serious. I hear it in her voice.

“You don’t owe me anything. That’s not why I’m doing it.” I want to help Cruz. I think of her as a friend, and she wasn’t racing for fun.

She shakes her head and smiles to herself. “It makes sense.”

“What does?” I ask.

“Why Marco is crazy about you.” She takes off down the hall, leaving me speechless.

Did Marco actually say that to her? Or anything remotely close to it?

I climb the stairs to the second floor and walk to the end of the hallway, where a window overlooks the quad. The side door opens and Cruz slips out, leaving the same way she came in. Time to face Mrs. Hellstrom alone.

I’m about to head to English when I notice someone else crossing the quad toward the parking lot.

Where the hell is he going?

If Abel wants to sneak around, he needs to stop wearing a dead rock star’s leather jacket.

* * *

Lex drives faster than usual on the way to the rec center.

Does she know Abel left school before first period? Did they have another fight?

Lex weaves between lanes, and I feel seasick.

“I need to talk to you about Abel. I saw him ditching this morning before first period.”

She pulls at the ends of her hair. “Why do you care? You have new friends now.”

Her comment hits a nerve. “I’m going to ignore that.”

“What about Abel?” I try again. “Do you know why he left?”

She pulls into the rec center parking lot. “No. And I don’t care.” The pain in her voice says otherwise.

“Yes, you do.”

“But I wish I didn’t,” she says softly.

* * *

Cruz chose a parking garage for our first lesson, which seemed like a strange place to practice street racing. But she insisted it was perfect. Her cousin worked the evening shift, so he could play lookout.

When we arrive at the garage later that night, Cruz’s cousin raises the electric arm and waves us through. Ava grinds the gears, and Cruz cringes. “Easy. You’re going to wear out the transmission.”

Ava glares at her. “Guess you should’ve given me driving lessons when I asked last year.”

“Just stop on the second level and let Frankie take over before you give me a heart attack.”

Ava hops out on level 2 and sits on the trunk of a stranger’s Lincoln Town Car with her legs crossed. “I’ll watch from here. I value my life.”

Not encouraging. “So what’s the plan? How do you race in a parking garage?”

Cruz laughs. “You don’t. I’m teaching you how to get off the line when the flagger gives the signal. If you can’t do that, there’s no race.” She points at the ramp. “Stop halfway up.”

“I’ll never get the car out of first gear fast enough without stalling or rolling backward.”

“Are you saying you can’t drive stick?” she asks.

“It’s been a while. Am I racing uphill?”

“Getting off the line fast is all about the bite point. If you can’t tell when the clutch engages, you’ll stall on the line and the rest won’t matter.” She points at the ramp. “Let’s do this.”

I drive halfway up and stop.

Cruz runs her hand along the dash and takes a deep breath. “Try to go easy on her. Technically, she isn’t mine. If we screw anything up, I have to fix it or cough up the money to pay someone else to do it. And if we total the car, I have to replace it. A Nissan GT-R in this condition isn’t easy to find.”

Great. No pressure.

“Who owns the car?”

“A guy named Kong. He owns King Kong Bodyworks. He lends us his cars, and he gets a cut of whatever we win racing. It’s like a lease.”

“Does he own Marco’s car, too?”

“Yep. Mine, Marco’s, Deacon’s, and a few others. It works out for everyone. We’re the only people on V Street with top-of-the-line cars who aren’t dealers. Everyone else buys a piece of shit and puts their money under the hood.” Cruz’s expression turns serious. “This stays between us, right? Kong is a good guy, but the cops won’t see it that way.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Are you ready to do this?”