(Hello, dear reader. 
This will have been posted when the book is over, but it's a chapter that has been in the gearwork of my mind for nearly 2/3 of this entire story leading up to the end. I think it's a nice treat, and a deeper insight, into parts of the story that were never fully revealed or looked into before. So, for that reason, I hope you both enjoy and understand it's ungodly word count. I believe it caps at 111k. No new book this year, just this unholy bonus chapter.
Thank you for all your support for No Dogs Allowed. It means and has meant the world to me!)

((There is also a dire need for me to preface that for some unexplained reason, I decided Yungyeom would be Yugyeom on my mistake and I worked on this chapter far too long to have the wherewithal to bother changing it, so just pretend for our sake that the two are the same person with no recognizable difference between the two save for my silly little brain fart. thank you :D ))

[WARNING : READER DISCRETION ADVISED

This chapter contains scenes of domestic physical and emotional abuse, alcohol and tobacco abuse, self-harm, disordered eating behaviors, brutality/violence, and sexual content. If any of these topics disturb you in any way, please refrain from reading further. Thank you.]

- KITAE -

C9H13N

Dextroamphetamine.

Amphetamine, stimulant. White tablet. Used in treatment of ADHD and narcolepsy and can increase/cause productivity, energy, confidence, heart rate delirium, psychosis, and cause irreparable heart failure. 

____________________

Here's the secret of life: Win.

If you want a translation, that means: or die trying.

You don't have to say it about your field days or spam-and-egg breakfasts or fastening your tie, but for the most part, there's your motto, right to the point: Win. Or die trying.

But you've already heard that story. Something about redemption or other, but I wouldn't know, because it's not mine. Mine's got some similarities, sure, but there's some problems to be had, too. That's what you get for being a champion. That's what you get for wanting to be.

That's going ahead of myself. Go back to the champion bit.

I'll tell you about it just once.

_____________________

My name means "to forge" as in "to forge ahead". I know it does. My mother told me.

Gangnam was too big, too opulent, too crystallized. It had mirror-faced stalagmites growing up from the asphalt, golden windows to see into horizon-level luncheons, dove wings for doors and peacock feathers for curtains. A beautiful mockery of those who couldn't participate in its ongoing festival.

I sat in Gugudang, a place coated in a jade-tinted color grade, the city rolling over itself outside the wide windows. A bowl of half-eaten soondoobu sat in front of me, the rice bowl half-full. The sun was an impending doom, a looming shadow. My mother sat across from me in a similar fashion. The two combined were an apocalypse. 

"The teacher says you're not doing well in math," she said, poking at her own soondoobu. "She says your mental math is poor."

I said, "I'm sorry, Umma." Because that's what I always said. It was throwing water over a wildfire: rather hopeless, but somewhat placating.

"Don't say sorry to me," she snapped, stabbing at her rice. "You should be sorry to yourself. You're cheating yourself out of a good education. That's not my problem. You're ten years old, not five. If you don't want to learn, then who am I to force you?" 

She stabbed the rice so hard, pieces scattered every which way. The table looked at her. Her eyes, blackened with all the things she'd stolen from everyone who looked in them, shot into me, drained all the power from my limbs. I dropped my chopsticks.

"You want to be stupid?" she scoffed. "You want to be a joke? Go on, you're welcome to. What a waste." My mother shook her head. She set her chopsticks down to lean over the table towards me. Her golden earrings swung left and right, stained with green gems that swallowed Gangnam's light. "You know why I named you Kitae?"

"No," I admitted quietly.

"Means greatness," she told me. "Means to forge ahead." She stabbed a finger at me. "Why do you make me regret it?" At my silence, she sighed. "I only ever want the best for you. You have to want the best for you. If not you, who else?"

I stared at her. I turned my eyes down to my hands, clenched together in my lap, braced for a fight. I took a breath, and smiled.

I said, "All right, Umma."

She rubbed her temples and picked up her spoon. She scoffed to herself, and muttered, "Who else? That'll be your problem."

Who else?

I tightened my fists, and forged ahead.

_________________

I found out there was something wrong with me when I was twelve.

"Kitae," Sunhee laughed, pulling my hand out of the bowl. "You have to fold the dough, not stab it. You're killing the poor thing!"

"I'm doing it right," Sungki argued beside me, presenting his half-folded dough that really wasn't done that well, in my opinion. "Kitae, you should take notes from me. See?"

I laughed. "Hyung, that looks like a bad dumpling."

"Hey!" he snapped. "I never make bad dumplings."

"What about that one?"

"You snicker about it now," he argued, "but this is about to be the best tteok you've ever had in your life, just wait." 

"Neither of you are doing it right," Sungho said from across from us. He stood tall and stern, as he always did, the bowl in front of him never moving even as he smashed the rice up. "That tteok will taste terrible."

Sungki made a mocking face and I snickered. His brother sent him a sharp look. I returned to my rice, saying, "Tteok tastes good no matter what. It's tteok."

"Kitae gets it," Sungki said. "Although, frankly, that's more like juk than tteok."

"Still good," I argued. 

Sunhee took my hands. "Here, noona will do the rest, you go check the stove to see if the syrup is done."

I hopped down from the stool and headed for the stovetop. Summer was like liquid sugar, pouring through the windows like fresh caramel, dripping into the bones of the house and coating the surfaces of the granite countertops or the wood paneling with sticky sunlight. I stepped into it to check the pot of maple sugar.

Sungho came around to loop an apron over my body, a yellow thing as bright as the light coating the white cabinets. "Don't burn yourself," he told me. "Don't lean forward so much."

Sungki laughed to himself and said, "Aw, Kitae, you look like a little byungali!"

I perked up. "What's a byungali?"

"A chick," Sungki said with a giggle. "Fluffy and yellow baby. Like you."

"I'm twelve."

"So, a baby."

Sungho's lip twitched. He ruffled my hair. "I can see it," he said. "A newborn byungali."

"Round as one, too. Look at his cheeks," Sungki snickered, and Sunhee sent him a scowling glare. Sungho just hummed, turning on his foot. 

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Sungki is being stupid," Sunhee said, glowering. She made her way towards me and smiled. "You're just as cute as a byungali, that's why," she said, patting my cheek. "All right, let's stir this up and see how it looks. Oh, smells delicious!"

I felt a bit frozen, a little punctured. The comment sat like lukewarm water and cold soup; it just wasn't right and you could feel it from the inside out. The sun had grown unbearably hot, the sugar unbearably sweet, the floors too far from my eyes and the ceiling too high from my head. I tried to think of what to say, or what to make of it, but my mind drew an ever-continuous blank. Flatline. Beep.

When I returned to my room, the green walls soft as grass, Sunhee found me. She sat down on the carpet, where I was seated reading.

"Noona," I told her, holding up the book. "My English is so good, I think I'll be able to finish this whole book, and I only had to look things up once a chapter."

She grinned at me and patted my back. "That's good, Kitae. You learn so quickly," she said. "You'll be passing Sungki soon."

I smiled. "Nah," I said. "I'm not that smart."

Sunhee considered me. She pushed her hair from her face and crossed her legs to sit across from me. She took the book from my hands and rubbed her fingers over my knuckles. The moon was a ravine between the gaps of soft blues and greens in my room.

"Kitae," she said. "I don't want you to listen to Sungki-hyung about everything you hear from him. He's smart, but he doesn't know everything, you know. Most guys just say things to say things."

I drummed my fingers against my legs. "Do I do that?"

"No, too smart," she said with a wink. "Too thoughtful."

I hummed. "Thanks." I settled my arms on my knees. "Noona, do you think I look like a byungali?"

Sunhee's face fell. "No! Not even a little," she argued. "He's just jealous you still look so cute, because he looked like a mosquito when he was your age." She made a face to prove it.

A laugh escaped me at it, but it faded quickly. Sunhee sighed. She scooted to sit side by side with me. I tilted my head against her shoulder.

"Kitae," she told me. "Nothing can hurt you unless you let it. You should be careful, because sometimes, it can change you. You need to protect yourself. Especially against things as small as that. Alasseo?"

I stared at the flower-shaped window, the moonlight scattering itself over my carpet and redwood floors. Busan was pliant, a sleeping sea, rolling on outside without me.

I said, "Algesseo."

Weeks passed, and I sat beside the curtains, the thin soft linen on my soft knees. The heat was pungent on my skin, sticky with afternoon. The smell of dinner being prepared permeated the air. Nami, my aunt, and Sunhee were in the kitchen, salting it with their whispered conversation.

"I think it would be best if Kitae made the decision on his own," Sunhee said. "Imo is just being controlling about it. He should stay here with us."

"Kitae is in a precarious position right now and we're not to make the decision," my aunt said. "He isn't doing well. Your imo thinks he needs to be in a place that can discipline him better, at least before he turns thirteen next year. You know this, Sunhee."

"You mean torture him until he's Class I worthy," she argued, and I shuddered alert. "Kitae should stay here with us, we could help him. He just needs time."

"Time is thin," Nami said. "He is not in the best position, in terms of time."

"Nami," Sunhee snapped.

"Sunhee," my aunt retorted. She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I want Kitae to stay here with us as much as you do, he's very happy here, and I like that. But he's not performing well. He has no friends other than you and your brothers. His academics are poor. His health is poor. He's not athletic, nor can he race. He's not better off staying here," she said. "He needs to go back to Gangnam, or better, go to America."

"America?" Sunhee said.

"America is not a bad option," Nami said. "He already knows English quite well. And it's the place to be for racers."

"Kitae isn't a racer," Sunhee said, almost laughing. "Poor kid struggles on a bicycle."

"It'd be good for him. He should get in shape."

"It'd be beneficial considering his grades, too," my aunt murmured. "Sunhee, I don't want you saying anything to Kitae about it. Let him enjoy the summer, all right? It'll be discussed anyway with his parents."

"He should have the chance to think about it," she said. "Or maybe start considering options."

"He could race," Nami pushed.

"Kitae can't be a racer," Sunhee pressed. "It's too dangerous, and he's not like those people. He's not ruthless like that. He's not greedy."

"It's the easiest option for him given the timing. Studies don't change overnight. Racing simply takes practice."

"It's more than that, Nami," Sunhee sighed. "He's not like them, all right? He's not...he doesn't want things like that. Kitae, he could never be a racer." 

I got to my feet. I rushed away from the curtains, and bounded up the stairs, not once bothering to look back until I was bursting through my room's door and slamming it behind me. 

Kitae can't be a racer.

"Ya, Kitae, you never listen to me when I need you to! I said go back down!" 

I frowned. "What for?" I turned my head. 

Incheon was a fucking pill to swallow no matter what time of day you asked me to go. Other than being a pain in the ass to get to, the reason to visit was never one that did me any good. If anything, it typically took me out for the week.

Fourteen was a miserably real age, where things started to become important and people started to have opinions. Where everyone started to get picked. Where everyone started to disappear.

We were celebrating someone's birthday, their first celebration since becoming a golden child, in some house that was too big for comfort and too far for practicality. The sky was characteristically dark with December cold, but my skin felt sweaty in the stiff polyester of my suit. Everything was terrible in an expectant way. That being said, Sunhee was missing, which was terrible in a murderous way. 

Coming up the stairs, the banister sticky under my palm, I didn't really know what I thought I'd find when I got to the top. Whatever it would've been, it couldn't have been what I did find.

A young boy gripped the banister railing, a scrawny thing with clothes that had seen better days and skin yellowed with over-beat bruises. A slice across his face was angry with a scarlet tear running over his round cheek. Through long bangs, a set of blaring black eyes stared at me as if I'd come bearing a gun with the muzzle against his temple.

"Go back down, now," Sunhee ordered.

I peered at the boy's face, an echo of someone familiar. I narrowed my eyes. 

"Excuse me?" Mrs. Chung called. She gaped at us from the other end of the hall and began to rush for us, her gilded dress lifted daintily above her pale slippers and her ajummas trailing behind her. "You kids aren't supposed to be up here!"

The young boy scurried away like a mouse, heading for the window. Sunhee gasped. She leaned towards him.

"Wait, please," she hurried. "Don't—"

The boy pushed his body out the window, and it fell in his wake with a resonating slam. Sunhee cried out and bolted, hands outstretched as if to catch him.

Sunhee rushed to open the window once more. Mrs. Chung's clicking heels approached us faster and faster by the second.

"Noona," I breathed. "What—"

She whirled on me. "Kitae, go back down."

"Sunhee?" Mrs. Chung stumbled a stop in front of us. She raised a brow. "Do I want to know what you're up to here?"

"Mina-imo," Sunhee said, straightening herself in a hurry. "We just...we needed to see something, is all. We were just heading back down."

"Is something wrong out there?"

"No," she rushed. "Not at all. We're sorry." She bowed her head and turned on her heel. She grasped my wrist to tug me back down the stairs.

"Noona," I said. "Who was that?"

"No one," she said. We reached the ground level and she hurriedly steadied me in a corner. "Stay inside. Stay here. Don't move, okay?"

With that, she disappeared into the crowd, leaving me in the golden nothingness. Wherever I blinked, the young boy's eyes, gaping and horrified, stared back at me. 

I suffocated under the quiet weight of it.

"Elias Yun," the boy said, bowing his head to me. "Pleasure to meet you."

I stared at him. Elias Yun, son of Byungho Yun, mother unknown. Elias Yun, only twelve years old, barely ready for thirteen, a no-class Drachmann Alpha bred and groomed for his father's shadow. Elias Yun, gray suit, white tie, hair brushed back, smile perfectly agreeable. Never just Elias. Always Elias Yun.

I bowed my head. "Wang Kitae," I said. "Nice to meet you, too."

Three other kids from ages higher or similar to Elias stood around him like a fort. They bowed their heads to me, spit off their names like accolades. The air was stuffier than I remembered.

"Are you President Sangcheol's son?" an older boy asked. At my nod, he did a double take. "Really? Bit unexpected."

A girl giggled. "Very," she added. She tilted her head at me. "You don't go to our school, do you?"

I hesitated. "I'm homeschooled," I said. 

The girl looked thoroughly unimpressed at that. She glanced to her friend, who giggled back. The friend turned to look me up and down. "You live in the countryside?"

I shrugged. "Only during summers."

Another laugh. I shifted on my heels. 

"Long summer!" the boy exclaimed. "You look like you spend more time outside than in homeschooling."

"Not that much time," the girl murmured.

I managed a small laugh. "It's nice on the beach," I told them. "You should go."

"Excuse me?" the other girl said, looking offended. 

Elias shook his head at them, and they turned away as though I had failed a test. I frowned after them. Elias gave me a thin smile that was as condescending as it was pitiless.

"They're teasing," he assured me. "They just find you funny."

"Funny?" I repeated. "I didn't say anything funny."

Elias cocked his head at me. He watched me in a way you watched water boil or turntables twist. An infinite boredom, that teetered on disdain.

"You don't have a lot of friends here," he deduced.

I blinked. "I have my cousins."

"I meant real friends."

I hesitated. My smile was flimsy. "What's wrong with them?"

Elias's smile was flimsier. "Of all the Drachmanns I've ever met," he murmured, "I have to say, you align with none of them."

"Is that a good thing?" I asked hopefully.

"It's a you thing," he said bluntly. 

"Why?"

"Most Drachmanns are obsessed with the idea of being a golden child, but you?" he said plainly, and turned on his heel with a small scoff, so quick but so gutting. "Frankly, you seem like you couldn't care in the slightest." He bowed his head at me, and waved. "That's good for you, hyung. I think, from what I see, it'll make it a lot easier."

My smile fled into the air. I dug my nails into my palms. I said, "Make...what easier?"

He smiled like a wolf in the night, teeth glinting, eyes glaring. 

"Being a ghost," he said.

It was a knife in my ribs. Blood spilled over my stomach, my hands, the house's walls, Incheon's floorboards, Gangnam's skies, Busan's seas. I was drenched in it from head to toe by the time he disappeared into the crowd. 

There never came a day I learned to wash it out.

_________________

The concrete ripped against my skin. I cursed. The heat made the sting unbearable. The sound of crashing metal made my ears ring.

I tore the helmet off and tossed it elsewhere. I clutched my arm, where red streaked my thin, white gloves. "I can't," I said.

Gao helped me to my feet with a grunt. "You have to," he said. "Your parents are coming today to watch you." To test you, he meant.

I wiped the dripping sweat from my brow. The leather was stiff and uncomfortable, a thick barrier over my overheated skin. "I can barely clear one lap without falling."

Nami said, "You are practicing."

I pursed my lips. "I don't think I can do it." I sat down on the concrete of the training track. Seoul was a boombox of noise and cruel disregard around me, the sky blurry with smog and washed out by April. "I can't do it."

"You need to keep trying," Nami argued.

"You're not going to learn otherwise," Tang added from his seat at the railing. "You only have today, Kitae."

Kitae can't be a racer.

I clenched my fists. I pushed myself to my feet and took in a shaky breath. I turned around and grabbed the bike. 

I had to be a racer. I didn't have a better choice. I didn't have another option. I didn't have a different way out if it wasn't square racing. It should've made me want it, it should've made me fight tooth and claw for the chance to leave.

But I couldn't even make one lap without falling over. I was an amateur joke, a laugh on wheels. Forget racing a bike. I couldn't even ride one.

I hooked my leg over the bike. My vision watered. I scraped the tears from my face so hard, my gloves' rough material scratched my skin.

Gao said, "Kitae."

I said, "It's all right."

You seem like you couldn't care in the slightest.

After the final lap, Nami stood and said, "Your parents are here."

I pulled my helmet off, and took a breath.

"Tell them I wanna make a deal," I said.

_____________________

If America had anything good for me, I didn't know it upon arriving.

"Temporary," Nami told me as she handed me my bag. Her face was fractured at the edges, a fear breaking across her features in spiderwebs and snowflakes. "You'll be back in the summer."

"Temporary," I returned, and her face was immediately torn.

I set my bag down on the concrete steps of the motel. I took a step, and hauled myself into her. She stiffened for a moment, then, let her hands come to rest on my shoulders. Her hug was tight, but fierce, and fast as a wink. When she pulled away, she slid her palm into mine, a stack of bills slipping into my sleeve.

"Nami," I hurried, "You can't—"

"It will always be more difficult for you, Mister Wang," she told me quietly, and the title was immediately jarring, altogether isolating and still. She bent down and gripped my shoulders so tight they threatened to bruise. "Learn to be more than what is now."

With that, she turned on her heel, and walked away to where Tang and Gao stood by the car. Gao lifted his hand at me in a silent, forlorn gesture, a wave of goodbye. I forced a smile, and waved back.

I watched them drive away until they were nothing but a figure, nothing but a spot, and then, nothing at all. Late summer permeated the air with hot breath and trapped heat, the atmosphere cupping its hands over California to keep the sweltering particles inside until they melted into my skin for safe-keeping. I took a breath. Let it sit. I turned around, and for a moment, wondered if I'd see Sunhee standing there, waving me over to her and out of the waves or I'd be late for dinner and Sungki would eat the last of it before I got a bite.

"Kitae!" she'd call. "Stop splashing, you're getting your clothes all wet! You do that, you're gonna have to take a shower and all the galbi will be gone by then."

"I'm not going," I'd snap.

"Then you can stay out here until the sun sets."

"That's just mean, noona. Give me a minute."

"Alasseo. One minute! I'm timing it now. Sungki will get a head start then!"

"Don't bait me!"

The memory was eons from me, worlds and millenia. I felt the bridge collapse between me and it, gaps growing into chasms, into ravines, into things only light and space could cross. My eyes burned like the sun on my neck. I swallowed the sting.

I turned around.

I was alone.

_____________________

I sat down on the bench, cafeteria sandwich in hand. If I'd ever missed Busan for anything, it was the food. 

I sighed and crossed my legs. The sounds of middle school beasts rumbled around me, hyenas' laughter jutting across lunch tables, wolves gnashing teeth between braces, a mass extinction of elementary naivety and a plague of new-world debauchery taking place right before my eyes. America without a culture was a land of freedom without roots. Maybe that was the solution. Maybe that was the problem. 

My English was good in a country where it was scarce, but it was menial in a country where it was rampant. Textbooks taught you how to respond to things like how are you? and what's your favorite color? and how is the weather? They forgot kids ask things closer to what's wrong with your voice? and how the hell do you not know that? and aren't Koreans supposed to be smart or something? There weren't any textbook problems on that.

"Hey."

I looked up. A boy looked down at me, all lycan from the crown of his upturned head to the soles of his blue Jordans. His grin was wicked, a sinister glint. "You're new, right?"

I stared. "Yes."

"You're the one from China?"

"Korea."

"Same thing," he scoffed, and the two girls beside him let out mocking laughs. 

A boy behind him sank against his shoulder and threw a soccer ball at me. I caught it clumsily. "We're gonna play down at the field," he said. "Wanna come? Kit? Kimmy? Ugh."

"Kitae."

"Whatever. Wanna come?

"Come with?" I questioned. The accent that curled around my syllables made my stomach churn.

"Do we have to play with him?" a girl muttered. "Would he even know what we were saying?"

"Forget that. I wouldn't know what he was saying," she replied, and they giggled. 

My chest twisted tight. I swallowed. "I'm okay," I told them. "Thank you."

"Aw, come on!" The boy wrapped an arm around my shoulders a little too forcefully, and I dipped forward. "What, they don't have soccer in China?"

"Korea."

"Whatever, same thing. You're all Asian."

"What?"

He faced me with hands on my shoulders, and spoke slowly, as if speaking to a child. "You kick ball, we score point, everyone go yay! You understand?"

Heat spattered on my cheeks and neck. My hands shook around the soccer ball. I opened my mouth, but I didn't know what to say, if the frustration outweighed the embarrassment or the other way around. The boy groaned. He smacked the soccer ball out of my hands.

"Christ alive, never-fucking-mind. I thought Asians were geniuses or something," he muttered. He kicked the ball to his friend. "I'm not playing with the dumpling over there, man. He'll slow us down anyway. Forget it."

"Ah, that's not nice," the boy said, but he was laughing when he did. "Hey, maybe that's why all the Japanese did skating or something."

I found my voice, but it shook as fiercely as my hands, and in some ways, I wish I hadn't. "Korean."

He glanced at me. "Huh?"

"I'm Korean," I snapped. "Not the same thing."

He cocked his head, then reached up, and yanked his eye back by its corner. "Sorry, no can see," he mocked, then burst into a fit of laughter at his own, cruel joke. "I'm just kidding, man. You think I'm an idiot? Take a joke. You're gonna be a loner forever if you can't."

I didn't know what overtook me in that moment, maybe all the months without Sunhee, without Busan, no one to talk to and no one to talk to me, all the races I'd lost, all of America at once. Maybe because I did like soccer but never liked playing because Sungho always stole the ball and I liked sitting on the rocks and watching instead. Maybe the heat.

One of the girls gaped at me. "Holy shit, are you crying?" she asked, not really mocking, more genuine shock. It only made my vision blur more.

"Crying?" the other boy exclaimed, and whirled on me. He laughed, a thunderous cackle that sent every open ear turning our way. "Whoa, you're actually crying? Are you serious? Dude, it's not that serious. It was a joke. Are you a fucking Omega or something? Are you seriously crying over a soccer ball?" He laughed and laughed and laughed. He turned on his heel, and when he spoke, he said it with something like pity, "Jesus Christ, what a loser."

They walked away, leaving me with tears running down my cheeks and no one to help, no one to ask, and no one to explain to but myself. Onlookers stared, muttering to each other. 

"New kid, right?" a girl said. "Why's he crying?"

"Dunno. He's so quiet. A little weird. Careful of the quiet ones, you know?" her friend replied.

"Luke is an asshole, I bet he said something shitty to that kid," another girl said.

"Yeah, but to cry? Grow up," a boy said.

"Isn't he the Chinese one?" a girl asked. "Like, from overseas?"

"He's Vietnamese, Maia," a boy snapped. "Obviously."

"Oh, God," a boy laughed. "Dude, I'd be humiliated."

I left my lunch to rot in the sun, and ran for the gates, hoping if I went fast enough, I could run right back to Busan.

"Don't listen to them, Kitae," Sunhee told me over the phone. I was in a new motel, one off the freeway, the collective sounds of whispering patrons and screaming vehicles music to my goddamn ears. "Middle schoolers are mean. They have absolutely no manners. Next time you see them, just smack them right across their stupid faces."

The comfort was lukewarm. "It's all right, noona," I told her. "I think they're right. I was just being dramatic."

She paused. "Have you found any friends? Did you go to that church I told you about? It's right by your motel, a few blocks down. It's got a great Asian community."

I pursed my lips tight. "Not yet," I said. "People here are a little different."

"Not adjusted yet? It's been a few months."

I swallowed the burn. "Very different, then."

Sunhee didn't reply to that at first. She considered that for a long moment. She said, "It's not too late to come home, you know."

Just the idea of it sent pin needles into every nerve on my body. My eyes seethed. "I know. Don't worry about me, noona. It's just an adjustment period. I'll learn."

"I mean it, Kitae. I really do. I know what you and your parents decided. But it's not too late," she pleaded. "You can still talk to them, I can talk to them. You can come home. Don't be scared to come home."

I was scared. Maybe not of home, but of what coming back entailed. I'd bound myself in rope on both arms. I'd break myself going forward, and I'd break myself going back. My bet was on who I'd become after. And going back to Busan, there was no face I'd remake that was worth the shattering.

But, still. 

It ached.

"I don't think I'm that brave, noona," I whispered, a tear rolling over my cheek.

"It's not about being brave, Kitae," she tried. "It's just being honest."

My heart contorted. I grasped at my chest to muffle it. My vision blurred into nothingness, and I felt every piece of my body will my voice to work.

"Then, I'm not that honest," I said.

Her voice was sorrowful. "Kitae."

"I'll call you next week."

"Kitae, wait, don't—"

I hung up. 

I let the phone drop to my feet, and I drew my legs up to my chest. My forehead fell to my knees. The motel room had never felt so big.

I cried until my lungs burned, and fell asleep to the sounds of the world going on without me.

_____________________

Solis Mission Church was a strategic infestation of sly Presbyterianism in a rather lavish Catholic parish, its population consisting of good samaritans, Asian-American demigods, Fashion District mongrels, Silicon Valley alumni, double-degree disciples, immigrant story successes, third-generation disappointments, and a few spare locals who just liked the two-dollar lunches every Sunday.

The money given to me by my parents was strictly for necessities, things like the motels, the few phone calls I could make, the food I ate, etcetera. Sunhee had found a way to slip me some things via less-than-honest means. But for the most part, none of it was enough to buy me any sort of Sunday attire worth a damn.

It left me attending morning service in jeans and a hoodie, to which Stained Glass Jesus might've had something to say for, but I'd never know. I had retreated to the rafters the moment I got inside.

Don't be scared to come home.

I sat alone in the dust and sunlight, waiting for Sunday morning to close.

"And so, do not run from your hardships, but meet them in the middle," the pastor announced. "Face them, not looking at them, but through them. Do not face your hardships thinking of what you have to overcome, but rather, what you have to work towards." He closed his notes with a solemn grin flashing across the pews, his green eyes bright with sun. "And know, through it all, before and after and everything in between, God will be with you. You are not alone. You are never alone."

It's not about being brave. It's about being honest.

I got to my feet and headed back down. Families grouped together, kids young and old linking arms and chasing after each other through the wood-laden corridors. I watched them go, and didn't follow. Who would I go with?

I took a step back and sat in the last pew, towards the shadows, out of Stained Glass Jesus's sight. I waited for the sound to dissipate, fade into nothingness. Like I'd been for months, I was alone.

I closed my eyes.

"Oh," someone said. "Are you new?"

My head snapped left toward the aisle.

A boy, a bit older than I was, stood in a blue blazer and khakis, black waves short and cropped on his head, black eyes a soft brown in the streaming sunlight. His grin was amiable, the kind the talk-show hosts thought they mastered and the kind only naturally-born starlights actually had. I stared, half in shock, half in awe, of meeting one in person.

I swallowed. I scrambled for words. "I...a little."

He walked towards me, settled a few feet away. "Where are your parents?"

I thought about that. "Korea."

He perked up. When he spoke, I almost thought I was hallucinating. "Hanguk sarameeseyo?" Are you Korean?

I nearly keeled over, screamed, both at once. I blinked and tried to discern if I was imagining things.

"I am," I breathed. "You...you're Korean?"

He hesitated, and shook his head. "Ani. Chinese. But, how'd I do?"

And I laughed. I didn't entirely know why, or how. The last time I'd laughed was not even close enough for me to recall clearly. The sound popped free from my lungs, permeating the sunlight with the sound.

"Great," I said. "You did great."

"Good, because I'm still learning," he admitted slowly, his syllables clumsy and conjoined, but there nonetheless. I was grateful to even hear a shred. "I sound a lot smarter in Mandarin."

I grinned. "Shuō xiē shénme." Say something.

He did a double take, then burst out into a bubbling laugh. It put mine to shame. "Not even five minutes in and you're full of surprises," he observed. "How many languages are you hiding?"

"Japanese and French," I said. "I think I sound smarter in Korean, though."

His grin was wondrous. "You sound pretty smart right now."

"A friend of mine tells me my Mandarin needs reshaping."

"Well, so does my Korean." He held out his hand and said in English, "I guess we should help each other out."

The world sparked at the edges, the colors coming into focus, the sunlight slicing through the dust like a sword and striking me where it hurt. I looked down at his hand, then at his award-winning grin. My heart blinked awake, and shuddered at the sight.

I chewed the inside of my cheek, and took his hand in mine.

"We should," I agreed. 

He smiled wider. He said, "I'm Luan, by the way."

For the first time in months, I gave an honest grin back. 

"I'm Kitae," I said, then, just as I'd always practiced, "It's nice to meet you, Luan."

He winked. The sun shook.

"Right back at you, Kitae."

___________________

You'll never believe me. Not with what you know, and not with where we started.

But Luan was wonderful.

Being three years older had some perks. Knowing a high schooler when you were still a measly eighth grader was more than just a tip, it was an exponential shot to the top of the talk of the town. Not that it really helped me in my middle school, as I didn't know enough people to tell anyone in the first place. But that was all right, because I knew Luan, whether people had something to say about it or not.

"A textbook?" he said. We'd abandoned the pews in favor of the rafters. When service was over and done with, him with his family in the front row and me in the scaffolding with Stained Glass Jesus to keep me company, we met in the caverns of wood panels and sawdust until the sun dipped into the darkness. "You think you can learn the complexities of the English lingo with a textbook?"

"It's a good textbook," I argued. Mandarin and Korean flowed like tributaries between us. My face often hurt after every meeting, just from how much I smiled. "It's supposed to be the most up-to-date."

Luan snagged it from my hands and placed it beside him. He pushed a pad of paper towards me and tapped its face. "Nope, screw the textbook."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Doesn't teach you what you need to know," he argued. He pointed at my paper. "This is how you learn."

I looked over the paper. Lists of strange names beside dates were jotted down. I said, "What are they?"

"The best movies and shows the Americans could muster up for themselves," he explained. "We're gonna watch every single one. They're works of geniuses, really. You can't live in America and not know these, people will think you're a foreigner."

"I am a foreigner."

"Not for long." His grin was a sun in itself. "When are you free?"

"Free for what?"

"What else?" He gestured at the titles. "You ever had a movie night?" I nodded. He hummed. "A few of my friends might wanna come. Is that okay?"

I shrank. "Who are your friends?"

I met the twins first.

Yugyeom and Yubaek Han were twin snakes born from the same egg, one a head of mild reason and the other a head of wild instigation, both making sure to mitigate the other's tendencies, and keep them in constant, confusing synchrony.

Luan's home was a confluence of Hong Kong panoplies and Californian modernity. Granite counters were crowded with pots and plants, rice cookers and baskets, colanders and spice glasses, floral porcelain and sandalwood chopsticks. The silver fridge held bags of tangerines alongside cartons of organic oat milk, bottles of chili paste or oyster sauce smushed in with almond butter and Greek yogurt parfaits, bags of ginger or scallions stuffed behind fresh avocados and fading strawberries, blocks of tofu atop Tupperware of vegan lasagna. Even the rooms were split between quilted blankets and scented candles, Chinese Bibles and American comics, overworked rugs and under-decorated curtains. The whole house was a jagged connect-the-dots of its dual identity.

That's to say, it felt familiar.

Luan sat on a cushion in front of the TV, Citizen Kane displayed on the screen. Bowls of popcorn and freshly sliced pears sat on the coffee table, left there by one of Luan's mother's assistants. I sat on his left. At his right, Yubaek, Yugyeom, and Aster Kim were seated, in order of decreasing cruelty.

Summer came for me through the windows and left nothing to hide.

"This is Kitae," he told them. "He's from Solis. Say hi."

I waved. Yubaek cocked his head at me, and grinned through the black bangs hanging over his brown eyes. "So you're the kid Luan has his head in a knot over," he said. "Do you go to Greylaw?"

I shook my head. "I'll be going to Rosewood."

"Be going? Are you still in middle school?" I nodded. He let out a shriek of a laugh. His smile was like snake's. "Luan went and got himself fresh meat. Ow." He frowned at the girl farthest from me.

The other boy, Yugyeom, a carbon copy of Yubaek, ducked under his brother's swinging arm and held out his hand to me. I shook it. He said, "Nice to meet you, Kitae. Are you new at Solis?"

I nodded. "I haven't been in the country for long."

"From where to here?"

"Korea."

His grin was gentler. "How do you like America?"

"It's an interesting place."

"Oh," Yubaek laughed. "It gets worse."

"Yubaek," the girl snapped. "Stop bugging him." 

Yubaek held up his hands in defense. The girl leaned over, and when she grinned, I swore I saw a ghost of Luan's own smile over hers: soft, amicable, something pacifying about its shape.

"I'm Aster," she said in clunky Korean. "It's nice to meet you, Kitae. My Korean's not very good, I'm sorry."

"Neither is my English," I admitted. 

"One big, happy, linguistic family," Yubaek decided. "Have you ever seen this movie?"

I shook my head. He patted my shoulder. 

"Just wait, man. You're gonna lose your shit."

I frowned. "Why would I lose something to it?"

"What?" 

"Lose...lose what?"

Yubaek paused, then burst into bright laughter. I shrank away, fearing I'd gotten something wrong, that I had missed a note somewhere. But the grin he turned on me was purely amusement, and when he spoke, his Korean was brisk and unbothered.

"It's just a crass saying," he explained. "Means you're gonna go crazy over it. Try it."

I would. Luan pushed Yubaek away in favor of winding an arm around my shoulders. His body was warm on mine.

"Just watch it," he promised. "It'll be fun."

I trusted him on that. "Will I lose my shit?"

Yubaek cackled, high and elated. His brother smiled, and even Aster gave a laugh of surprise. Something in my chest bloomed, beated, stirred awake for the very first time. I beamed.

Luan ruffled my hair. "Oh, I bet on it."

___________________

"Why Rosewood?"

It was the seventh movie night by then. Summer was in full force, a hellstorm of languorous heat that melted the stars out of the sky and cooked the clouds away to rid the earth below of any soldier or shield against the wrathful god of light above. Skin burned like a match to tinder. Sweat dripped like a perspiring glass. To melt, to singe, to sink; you name it, the heat could do it.

June brought an end to the misery of eighth grade, and graduation was nothing memorable to even tell you now. It also introduced the wonders of Californian summer, where deserts and mountains collided to bring its residents ocean breezes coalesced with cliffside camping. Summer meant time had passed. Time meant racing. Speaking of.

"It's just closer," I said, because it was, at the time, to the motel I'd transferred to for the next month. My English had shed its speed bumps, the accent fading to only catch on the edges of each word. "Why?"

Yubaek frowned. He bit off the top of his popsicle from our perch on Luan's balcony. "Because you should go to Greylaw."

"Don't push him, Yubaek," Aster snapped.

"Why? He should. It's a hell of a lot better than Rosewood. What's in Rosewood? Thugs and failure. That's what. Greylaw has us. Problem solved."

"You're insufferable."

"What's that?" I asked.

"Yubaek," she said, and glared at him. "Means something you absolutely cannot stand."

I looked between them. "That makes sense."

Luan sat beside me. "You could go," he said. "You just need a permit. Where do you live again?"

It was sly, because I'd never mentioned where I lived. I swallowed my ice cream. "I'll think about it."

"It's got the top racing program of all the high schools," Yugyeom said. We all looked to him. He gestured at me. "You race, don't you? Lycans, I figure."

Luan frowned. "You race? You never told me."

"I...not really. Not the real kind," I hurried, because it was true. "I barely know how."

Aster said, "Luan could teach you."

Yubaek perked up at the notion, like a cat finding a new toy to play with. He craned his neck at us. "That is a possibility."

I said, "You race?"

Luan made a so-so gesture. Yubaek gasped. "Liar," he spat. "That's your captain speaking."

Yugyeom nodded. "Luan is the captain for Greylaw's team," he explained to me. "If anyone could teach you, it's him. He taught Aster."

"Stop pretending to be humble, Luan, it's true," Aster pointed out. She grinned at me. "We're all on the team. We could all help you. If you try out in the winter, it could get you a scholarship, and you wouldn't have to pay the tuition for the next three years."

That made me think. My parents would never let me live it down if I tried to get them to pay for Greylaw Academy. Sunhee would never be able to do it under their noses. Even if I got a job, two, three if I was crazy, it wouldn't hold up against the onslaught of tuition. But a scholarship.

I pursed my lips. I glanced at Luan, and said in low Mandarin for no one else to hear, "Could you really? Teach me, that is."

Luan met my gaze. The months had grown his hair out, made it brush over his eyelashes, made his grin look kinder and his cheeks look more narrow. He was arguably a bit beautiful, but that was for later.

"Do you want to learn?" he asked.

"I want to race."

"What about your friends at Rosewood?"

"What friends?"

"Don't you have any? We can't be your only people."

I shook my head. "Who else would be?"

Luan looked intrigued at that. He said, "Then, why?"

I frowned. "What?"

"Why do you want to race?" he asked.

Because my life depended on it, revolved around it, had been bet on and bet for by it. Racing and I were inextricable now; one wouldn't be without the other.

"I want to win," I said. 

Luan stared at me. Then, a slow smile spread across his face, and he said, "Road to Greylaw it is."

____________________

6AM. Tuesday. Mid-June. Greylaw Academy Spanos Track. Luan Zhang, captain of the Skylarks, front port and face for the masses. Kitae Wang, no one and nobody and nothing. This, you have to know.

Luan spotted me from his spot at the starting line. Two bikes were propped up on the neon line, one a black and silver monster of gears, wheels, wires, and power. The other, a motorcycle.

I said in harsh Korean, "Of all the hours."

Luan grinned. "Champions don't sleep."

"Tell me this is easy."

"English."

"Tell me you are crazy."

"Definitely. But you'll benefit from it. A hundred other freshmen who want a place on the Skylarks are gonna be competing against you in November. You've got to start big." He gestured at the track. "Ready?"

I frowned. "Aren't we just going to ride?"

He did a double take, and put a hand on his chest. "You really are an amateur," he said, and shook his head. "Racing isn't 'riding', Kitae. You're basically an elite athlete on wheels. If you're not able to withstand the force on this bike, you're gonna lose control of it. First rule of racing—" He hooked his arm around me and pulled me to his side. "—be as fast off wheels, as you are when you're on them."

I said, "What's that mean?"

"Means start running." He gestured ahead. "Let's see what we're working with."

I'd never been in shape up until that point. My exercise mainly consisted of beach walks and the occasional swim and playing low-stakes sports with Sunhee in the yard. Most of my physique consisted of baby fat, pitiful bare-minimum muscle, and regular fat. It wasn't a coincidence my parents doubted me from the start.

I was about ready to vomit by the half-mile mark. Luan hadn't even broken a sweat yet. He slowed once again, turning around to frown at me as I hunched over to clutch my stomach.

"Keep going, come on," he said. "Just slow down, but don't stop."

"Stop," I pleaded. "Really. I can't."

"You can."

"Luan."

"You're giving up and we're not even twenty minutes in," he snapped. His tone was harsh and full of corners, something I'd never heard from him before. His face was cold. "You're stopping and you haven't even started."

I gritted my teeth. "I can't," I pressed.

"Then don't," he replied, and turned around. "Go home now, then. If you can't even make it past this part, then..." 

The words filled me with a dark, churning dread that shot adrenaline up my veins in waves. I felt sick, from the running, from the warning. I saw my parents' faces watching me from a distance, cold as stone, and unsurprised.

I want to win.

I want to win.

I want to win.

The road there had never seemed so far.

Luan paused. After a few beats, he sighed, and turned around. He stopped in front of me.

"No one can stop you but you," he told me. "If you want something, then no one but you is going to get it for you. What everyone says or thinks or tells you, bullshit. Fuck everyone else." He gestured at the track, at me. "What do you want?"

In its core, in its essence, I'd never stopped wanting. I wanted Busan. I wanted America. I wanted to race. I wanted to rest. I wanted my parents. I wanted myself. I wanted to win. I wanted to rest. I wanted to rest. I wanted to rest.

I made my choice.

I heaved myself upright, and kept running.

6AM. Friday. Late June. The YMCA track.

"Run, go, go, go!" Luan called. "Until you reach the wall!"

"Or until I collapse," I gasped.

"Whichever comes first," he agreed. "Now, go go go!"

8PM. Wednesday. Later June. Mr. Pickle's Deli.

"Physique is everything for an athlete," Luan told me. He opened his sandwich, then opened mine. "When you're trying to be a racer, everything has to be through that lens. This is a sandwich, sure, but it's also protein, carbs, fats, etcetera. Most importantly, calories." He gestured at his. "Chicken breast, swiss, vegetable medley, whole grain bread, light mayo. 650 calories, but good ratio." He gestured at mine. "Pepperoni, mozzarella, spinach, white bread, chipotle. 850 calories, bad ratio."

I stared. "What's that mean?"

Yubaek was beside him, his brother across, Aster on Luan's left. He took a bite of his own sandwich, and planted his forearms on the table. He gestured at me.

"Means you're crazy chubby for a racer, man," he said plainly. "Racing is aerodynamics. You won't go faster all bumbling and tumbling like that." He gestured at me as a whole. "Think like a racer."

Humiliation was a familiar plague on my body, metastasizing into my bones and eating away at the marrow. Heat shrouded my vision in red. The words made my skin feel all too tight and the booth feel all too small and my clothes feel all too ill-fitting. Like I'd been stuffed into plastic casing and left without any air to breathe on either side.

"Yubaek," Aster said, gaping. "That's rude."

"But true."

"Coach keeps us under these numbers." Yugyeom pushed his phone at me. "Yubaek has a point, it's aerodynamics, at the end of the day. Think of it as helping your racing."

"Luan," Aster said. "He's only fourteen."

Luan cocked his head from side to side. "It's not an insult," he assured me. "Yugyeom's right, it's just for your racing. It's just another step to help you." 

Yubaek let his head loll to me. He gestured at the sandwich. "I'd start with the pepperoni."

"Yubaek," Luan said. Finally, Yubaek backed down with a final shrug.

I swallowed, not daring to speak. I ducked my head down. Yubaek struck up a different topic with ease, chatting about something or other. I remained quiet.

At the end of the night, a hand closed around mine. I turned around.

Luan clasped my fingers tight. His face was soft with blue moonlight and concern. "Hey," he tried. "What I said, I didn't say it to hurt you. I don't think you need to change or anything stupid like that. I just wanna help you, for racing." He squeezed my hand, and it felt impossibly intimate, like he was trying to find my bones under the skin and hold them instead. "You know that it's just about the race, right? It's not about you, Kitae."

The words, although feeble, were his. Just that alone was the panacea to all the gashes the wounds had riddled me with.

I nodded, and mustered up a grin. I squeezed his hand back. "I know, Luan."

He smiled. He ruffled my hair fondly. "Good."

10PM. Wednesday. Earlier July. The Garden Motel. 

[9:22 PM - 1 MISSED CALLS "sun noona"]
[9:31 PM - 3 MISSED CALLS "sun noona"]
[9:52 PM - 5 MISSED CALLS "sun noona"]

10:01 PM - sun noona

are you okay???

10:02 PM - You

sorry, i'm out right now for training
i'll call you tomorrow

10:03 PM - sun noona

training??? since when?
call me whenever. no pressure
fighting!

9AM. Thursday. Early July. Spanos.

"Peripheral vision is imperative in racing," Luan said. "If you can see from your peripheral, you can see everything you need to."

I frowned. "How am I supposed to train that?"

"Don't doubt me yet, Kitae." He gestured ahead at the cones. "Creative, huh? You ready?"

"Go easy on me," I pleaded.

He leaned down, his face closing in towards mine. I hesitated. Just for a second. But I didn't dare move.

He dodged away at the past second to whisper in my ear, "Not a chance."

Summer burned me alive.

5PM. Friday. Earlier July. Julie's Diner.

Physique is everything for an athlete. 

I stared at the menu, the words mixing together, their ingredients meshing into things like dishes and side dishes and desserts. I swallowed.

Luan leaned over, his shoulder pressing on mine. He hummed as he scanned the options, then pointed at a chicken caesar salad. "This one's good. We usually eat it when we're cutting."

"Cutting?"

"Fancy term for dieting," he said, waving it away with a flick of his wrist. "Americans like their labels."

"What are you going to get?"

"For your sake, same thing. I'll be your number one advocate." He made a fist for support and I laughed. "Even at the cost of my strawberry milkshakes."

"Now that is something I can't get behind," Aster said, and turned to the pixie to ask for just that.

I said, "Are you sure? You can get whatever you want."

Luan sent me a grin. "It helps you," he said. "I want that." 

The twins watched us in silence, but I couldn't even care enough to notice the calculating looks on their faces.

6AM. Sunday. Mid-July. The YMCA track.

I ran.

And ran.

And ran.

And ran.

3PM. Monday. Mid-July. Spanos. 

"We're racing?"

Luan beamed. "We're racing."

I could almost laugh. "You're kidding. You're really kidding."

"Can't be a racer if you haven't raced. I think you're doing well enough in drills by now." He gestured at the bike. "No longer is it decor."

I beamed until my cheeks hurt. I grabbed my helmet from my bag, dusted off the insides, and bounded down towards it. 

"Where do we start?" I asked.

"Hey, you said that so American I felt it in my bones," he said with a hoot. He leaned over me, chest to my back, heartbeat in my spine. I swallowed. "Learn the bike first, then get excited. You should know every inch of the vehicle before you get on, because if something goes wrong, you should know what to do and what not to do, or know where any failsafes are. You listening?"

I took a breath. "Yes."

His grin was slow. "All right."

When he finished introducing all the appropriate gears, controls, and directions to me, he mounted his own bike and strapped on his helmet. He flicked up the face shield and gestured ahead. 

"The only objective is to beat me," he explained. "Don't worry about anything else. Obstacles last. Speed first. You got it?" I nodded. He winked. "Ready to race?"

I strapped on my helmet. 

"Ready," I said.

We began.

8PM. Tuesday. Mid-July. Mr. Pickle's Deli.

"I can drive you home."

I paused. The worker put my sandwich inside the toaster. I turned to Luan.

"Drive me home," I repeated.

"You always take the bus or walk," he explained. "Let me drive you home. It's late out."

"It's eight PM."

"Basically midnight," he corrected. He elbowed me. "Come on."

He couldn't. He couldn't drive me home because there was no home to go to. There was a motel, a measly room 715 and a rusty key that barely fit in the warped lock. A bottom-of-the-barrel shelter for a top-of-the-chain racer; the humiliation would annihilate me.

I said, "No."

Luan frowned. "It's not a big deal."

"I don't want you to."

"Kitae."

"Veggies?" the pixie asked. I gestured at the cucumbers, the spinach, the carrots, counting off the numbers in my head as I did. 

"It's okay, Luan," I assured. "You don't have to."

"I want to."

"I don't." I shook my head. "It's okay."

Luan frowned, looking annoyed at having been rejected. He remained in his fitful quiet all the way out to the parking lot, before he took another shot at getting his way. Always his way, whether you knew it or not.

"You wanna come over?" he asked. "Maybe a movie night?"

I paused. I'd promised Sunhee I'd call her that night. I could've said no, taken the bus, called Sunhee at nine PM sharp and let the noiseless must of the motel room drown the conversation to bits. I could have said no, and walked away, and let him pout. I could have said no.

But Luan gave me a gentle grin, signature and sweet. He swung his keys at me. He tilted his head towards the depths of the parking lot.

"Come on," he beckoned. "When was the last time we watched a movie?"

That was the fault of Luan Zhang. You could never really say no. He'd make sure of it.

I said, "All right."

The film, whatever it was, was just a black and white buzz in my ears. Luan's bed was soft against my back, his carpet rough on my bare feet. His laptop ran the movie with as much mindlessness as I watched it with.

Luan sat next to me, tossing popcorn kernels into his mouth. I knew he'd put butter in it, so I refrained, keeping my hands under my heels just to make sure they didn't reach. Luan seemed about as interested in the movie as it was in itself. Read: not at all.

After forty minutes of utter silence, Luan said, "You don't live anywhere, do you?"

The accusation was as startling as it was brutal. I opened my mouth, then thought better of it. I tried, "Why do you say that?" I'd seen it in a movie. Asking, without answering, without confessing.

"You bus everywhere, but every month or so you change the route. You smell like a different couch every so many weeks. Your soap isn't even consistent," he said. "Don't tell me you've been staying in motels this whole time."

I was shoved into stuttering silence. I gaped at him. He seemed more surprised he was right than what he was right about.

"Christ alive, Kitae," he said. "You're kidding me. You're motel squatting? How long?"

I just stared. The past several months ran by in a flash over my eyes. Luan's grand smile, the twins, Aster, movie nights, Solis, racing, all of it, squashed under the sheer disgust that would come from the truth. All the effort I'd put into shrouding it, shattered in seconds. Luan, here, there, and gone. 

For a sudden moment, I didn't know why my lungs were burning. Then, Luan's thumb touched my cheek, and I frowned. I reached up. My vision blurred. I was crying. I was crying and I wouldn't stop.

What a loser.

"Whoa, hey," Luan tried, voice going soft. "What's wrong? Why are you crying?"

I couldn't answer. The tears rushed out in never-ending waves. I gasped. I pushed my palm to my chest. I thought of the flight back to Busan, the sadness on Sunhee's face, and cried harder.

Luan brushed his thumbs over my cheekbones. His hand ran from my cheek to my temple, to my neck, and he pulled me against him. His arms were firm around me and squeezed so tight as if to keep me from falling apart from the force of my sobs.

Please, I wanted to cry. Please. 

Minutes, hours, eons, who knows. All I knew was that by the time I stopped crying, the movie had been shut off, and Luan and I were left in the gray-green darkness. He pressed a tissue to my face. His hand pressed against my chest, jolting my heart and steeling my lungs all at once.

"Breathe, Kitae," he ordered. "Just breathe."

I breathed. I braced for the worst.

Luan said, "Live with me."

I opened my eyes. I gaped at him. It took several tries before I croaked out a, "What?"

"Come live with me," he implored, grasping my hand. "We've have two extra rooms, one of them could easily be yours. My mom would understand."

"I...I can't just—"

"You can," he argued, then gave me a half-hearted smile. "You don't think you can squat until you graduate, do you? Jeez, Kitae."

"I thought I'd try," I admitted.

He scoffed. He ruffled my hair over my eyes. "You're crazy. Losing your shit," he said, then gripped my shoulder. "Live with me. I'll just kick myself if you're out there squatting in shitty motels when there's a perfectly good room right here."

"Luan."

"Kitae."

I didn't know where to start with why I couldn't. There were too many reasons, too much time and too little. I settled for, "I could never repay you."

Luan blinked. In the moment, I thought it was shock. In hindsight, I knew it was calculation.

"You don't have to," he told me, and smiled. "We're friends. There's no repayment there."

Friends.

It sounded impossible.

But there Luan was.

I lunged for him, wrapping my arms around his body. I buried my face into his shoulder. Relief was a sick, sweet syrup in my chest.

"Thank you," I gasped. "Thank you. Thank you."

Luan wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and hugged me back without a word.

12PM. Late July. Spanos.

"Watch your left!"

I swerved left. Head down. Speed up before, slow down close, speed up around. Watch the bend. Watch the angle. Speed up. Slow down. Brake. Accelerator. Turn. Turn in. Turn out. Think. Think. Think. Think.

"Ramp on your right!"

I yanked myself towards it. I rode it up the center and sailed above the track. When I landed, I felt the impact ricochet in my body. Adrenaline was a life force in my body, beating me on the back to go fast, fast, faster.

"Left!"

I swerved right.

"Right!"

I swerved left.

"Pillars!"

I weaved. Brake. Accelerator. Turn. You and the bike, the bike and you; if someone could where one ended and the other began, you were doing it wrong.

"Almost there!" 

I pushed the accelerator down to the concrete, and crossed the finish line with one smooth ride.

Luan whooped a loud cheer for me, pumping his fist in the air. I laughed brightly as I hopped off the bike. I waved my helmet high.

"Fifty nine seconds, you're an absolute miracle!" he told me with a chuckle. He tapped the timer on my head. "Are you getting taller? Shit, don't catch up with me, I'll be distraught."

"That's better than your time," I teased.

He pushed me away. "Shut up. You're incredible." The words were warm honey on my tongue, spring sunlight in my stomach. "If you weren't a candidate for the Skylarks before, you're a shoe-in now."

"You think so?"

"Know so. Trust your captain."

"You're not my captain yet."

"Yet," he pointed out. "So, how's it? Racing for real."

I turned my eyes to the track. The beat of the wheels on the track lingered in my feet, the heat of the sparks and the smoke burned into my hands. I breathed it in.

"Incredible," I said. 

He grinned. "Good."

7PM. Wednesday. Later July. Luan's house.

"You're...what?"

"He let me stay here," I explained. "He said his mom is all right with it, since she'll be in Hong Kong for the next several months anyway. I just have to do a few chores, like him, and that'll be all."

"He's all right with that?" she repeated. "He doesn't want anything in return? Are you sure? Tell him we can—"

"He said no already. Trust me, I've tried." I stuffed the few clothes I had into the drawers, unfolding my hoodies to drape over the hangers. "It's sort of perfect though, no?"

She laughed. "What? The house, or Luan?"

I paused. "Luan," I admitted. "To be honest, noona, I think I'd be in Busan right now without him."

"Oh, you would've been fine without him," she assured. I doubted it. "But yes, I'm very glad you've found someone like him. He's really helped you out. Kitae, whenever you have the chance to repay him, you have to do it, okay? For all he's done for you."

"I know, noona," I said. 

"Are you eating well?"  she asked. "The photo you sent me yesterday made you look a little thin. You're not training too hard, are you?"

"The exercise just helps a lot with that," I assured. "Don't worry."

She hummed, then said, "You like him a lot?"

"He's a good friend," I hurried.

"But, Kitae, do you like him?" she asked. "Because if you do, then this might not be a good idea."

"He's three years older, noona," I argued, although the words sounded a little more desperate than I wanted. "Don't worry. It's not like that between us, he's just a good friend."

"Are you sure?"

"I promise."

But I couldn't shake the feeling it sounded like a lie.

8AM. Wednesday. Early August. Luan's house. Luan's bathroom, specifically.

"Tryout is today."

I stopped, toothbrush mid-way through my incisors. I spat out the foam. "It is," I acknowledged. 

Luan grabbed a towel from the hook. "You nervous?" he asked.

Terribly. "A little."

"Oh, you liar." He shoved the curtain open. "You can tell me if you are, you know."

He stepped out. The towel was loose around his waist, water trailing over corded muscle, dips and planes, the bones of his shoulders and the line of his hips.

I jerked my head away, and ducked to wash out my mouth.

"A little," I assured. I grabbed blindly for the towel, missing on several tries. 

"Ay, you're hopeless." A hand closed around the back of my neck. Luan snagged the towel, dabbing at my mouth. He smelled like soap, his skin warm up close, the water dripping onto my cheeks. "Don't be nervous. You're just as good as those other kids. If not, better. I taught you, after all." He grinned. He put his hand on my head, and leaned down. "Kitae. No worries. Just race. Yeah?"

I swallowed. "Yeah."

Luan watched me for a few moments. His eyes darted from my eyes, to my nose, down. Then, he turned on his heel, and headed out the door. 

"We leave in twenty!" he called.

I leaned against the bathroom sink, and waited for my heart to quiet.

1PM. Wednesday. Early August. Spanos.

The tryout lasted most of the day. Nearly seventy racers had shown up, most from Greylaw's JV team, a few simply associated with Greylaw, and one from a different town entirely. That's me, by the way.

Coach Peters was a lanky man, no taller than the shortest racer and no thicker than a screwdriver, his brown hair as dull as he wasn't. He kept in constant, kinetic motion from the start to the end, half to disillusion the racers into thinking he was friendly, and half to keep his own energy from running into empty.

The pressure wasn't a number even the most expansive gage could measure. The air was steeped in bloodthirst, bloated with disdain, every racer for themselves and every race made to be your last. It was all a bit intense for a bunch of teenagers on some bikes, I'll admit. But, at least in my perspective, it was deserved; time was not on my side, and neither was my family. My options were Greylaw, or nothing.

I wiped my cheek and the side came back bloody. My breath was ragged, my vision spotty and white at the edges. I swallowed steel and iron. But I'd made it.

"You're not from Greylaw."

I looked up. A girl crossed her arms in front of me, a gash over her nose. I knew it hurt. I'd caused it. 

I said, "No. I'm not."

She hummed. "Where are you from?"

I considered my answer. "Korea."

She raised a brow. "No wonder you're speedy," she said. She came to sit beside me. "You're here to get into Greylaw, huh?"

"Maybe."

"Who put you up to it?"

"A friend. A good friend."

She cocked her head. "What's your name again?"

"Kitae." I held out my hand. 

She seemed to overlook the blood in favor of grasping it tight. "Viviana," she said. "Don't call me that, though. Vivi."

"Vivi," I repeated.

Her grin was wide and inquiring. "You're brutal. I kind of love it. You've raced before?"

"Not like this," I admitted. 

"Then, street racing?"

I blinked. "No."

She frowned. "What are you, a prodigy? Don't even, man. Tell me who taught you."

Coach Peters clapped his hands together and barked at us with, "Up! Up! You wanna find out whether you all made it, don't you?"

Everyone scrambled after him. Vivi waited for my response. 

"A friend," I settled for. "A very good friend."

Vivi cocked her head, her smile half a sneer and half a laugh. She said, "You're a funny one." She got to her feet. "Come on. You're a Skylark now."

My heart skidded. "What?" I said. "How do you know?"

Vivi gestured at Coach Peters. He began to read off the names.

I thought of booking flights to Busan. I couldn't afford it, not at this time. Sunhee might be able to wire me some money, but it'd be pointless if she was found out. The look on her face, on my aunt's, Sungki and Sungho, just the thought of the sadness they'd greet me with was enough to dig out potholes in my heart. I couldn't stomach it, I just couldn't, I just—

"Kitae Wang."

I looked up. Coach Peters nodded and moved on. "Viviana Woo."

"Bingo," she said with a wicked smile, like she'd just won a petty bet rather than a coveted spot on California's top high school racing team.

My entire vision skewed into the depths of somewhere unmeasurable below the earth. I held onto my chest. I stared at the coach, and wondered if I'd heard wrong.

"If I called your name, congrats and stay where you are. If I didn't, good job and best of luck for next year," he called with a sympathetic grin. 

Racers began storming off the track, mutters in their wake, leaving five of us left standing. Five. Out of what could only be described as a fuckton of others. Coach Peters beckoned for us. 

"Congratulations to you all. I'm gonna need your positions and some general contact info. Starting next week, conditioning every weekday at six AM and then practice from two-thirty to seven PM. Matches are on Fridays. Everyone got that?" he said. We nodded. He smiled. "Happy to have you all on the Skylarks. How do you feel?"

"Like winners," a boy said. A rather large and overly-intimidating figure for a high-schooler. His eyes were dark, and only got darker when the scanned his new teammates. They lingered on me, and his grin was entirely unfriendly.

"Good. Get used to it, you'll be feeling that way all semester, am I right?" Peters quipped. "All right. Name and position."

We began to go around the circle. Panic seized me by the back of the neck. I didn't have a position. I'd never had a position. I could barely arrange the set-up in my head to know which position was which.

"Jackson Baluyot," the boy said. "Center tail."

"Vivi Woo," Vivi said pointedly. "Starboard tail."

Peters looked at me. I swallowed, mind darting back and forth. Luan.

"Kitae Wang," I said. "Front port."

A few glances were spared between the racers. Coach Peters just nodded and moved on.

I breathed easy. 

First step.

Luan was waiting in the parking lot, leaning against his car and watching the racers file out of Spanos. He spotted me, and raised a brow in silent question.

I said, "What does a front port do?"

Luan paused. "Why?"

I shrugged. "I think that's what I am now," I replied. 

It took him a second. Then, he threw his head back with a bright laugh. He reached over and ruffled my hair with, beaming. "You're magic," he told me. "You're absolutely incredible, you know that? I knew you'd get it." 

He hooked me into a hug, squeezing me against his chest. Heat was fast and formidable in my veins, around my ears, up my cheeks. A terrible part of me wondered if we could stay like that for a while. I saw the flights to Busan melting away. 

I wrapped my arms around his body, my nose against his collarbone. "Thanks to you," I said, then in Mandarin, "I wouldn't be here at all without you."

Luan pulled away just enough to dismiss that. "You're a natural," he promised. "But, you're welcome." I smiled. He hummed. "Front port, huh? Where'd you get that?"

"Where I got everything else," I replied. "You."

Luan's eyes were full of black rivers and clear nights. He tilted his head at me, his hand atop my head. His thumb brushed a strand of hair from my temple. Everything pulsed, going in and out of focus by the second.

He pulled away and winked. "What can I say?" he told me, heading for the driver's seat. "I'm a generous man."

The world had never seemed so big.

________________

The number read 24,060 USD. That's not even the worst part.

I looked up. The principal smiled. I didn't. I said, "For...one year."

"A full year," he promised. "Greylaw Academy is a top private school. Blue ribbon. Our CAASPP scores! The whole racing thing, of course. Thousands apply, not many get in, by God, I could go on. We take check?"

I stared. I said, "I can't afford that."

He frowned. He hummed. He said, "The scholarship for joining the Skylarks is not available to you for the first year, Mister Wang. It's contingent on your performance and grades for freshman year, not everyone can receive it. You understand."

I didn't. Something crumbled. Maybe I was crying all over again. 

He tapped his gangly finger on the desktop. "If you cannot pay the tuition, then, you cannot attend Greylaw, and you won't be allowed to race with the Skylarks. I'm sorry, Mister Wang, I really am. This is the situation. You understand."

I didn't. I just didn't. My head hurt. I got to my feet and nodded. "I understand."

I fled Greylaw like a madman.

"You haven't eaten."

I looked up from my place on the hardwood floor. Luan stood in the doorway with a plate of chicken and rice. He cocked his head at me, black bangs falling over his brows. 

I pursed my lips. "Not hungry," I said. 

"You must be. You haven't eaten all day."

"I don't want any, Luan."

Luan set the plate on the desk across from me. He sat down at my side, our knees touching. "What's wrong?" he asked. "How'd the meeting with Gunther go?"

I pushed my nails into my palms. My thumbnail scraped along my wrists. I didn't know what to say, how to tell him the summer was nothing but a waste, everything I'd done up until this was a waste. Everything had dissolved under my feet in fleeting milliseconds and 24,060 dollars.

I said, "I can't go to Greylaw." The words stung my teeth.

Luan said, "Why not?"

"I don't have the money," I snapped. "I'd need it by August. How am I supposed to come up with twenty four thousand dollars by August?"

I tipped my head back. I closed my eyes because I knew I was already crying and I couldn't stand it when all I'd done since coming to America was cry. No wonder my parents had taken my deal. They must have known I wouldn't have lasted a second. I'd made a joke, a laughing stock, out of myself, by myself.

A thumb swiped under my cheek. I opened my eyes.

Luan's face was gentle, a pensive melancholiness over his features. He considered me for a few seconds. He said, "Why're you crying?"

I stared. "What?"

"You cry easy," he observed. Humiliation was sickness. 

"I'm sorry," I said, because it felt like the right thing to say.

He frowned. "Why? Not a bad thing. I just wish you wouldn't. You don't need to. You always think everything's over when there's the slightest bump in the road." Luan dragged his thumb from my cheek to my temple, down towards my ear. I didn't know if I was terrified or nervous or devastated, or waiting. "You've gotten this far. What're you so afraid of?"

Something went still in my chest. My head rattled, as if thrown off its axis. I took a shallow breath.

"Losing, I guess," I murmured.

Luan scoffed. His thumb was like a burning coal against my ear. I felt nauseous with hope. Summer was a golden shadow over the room, singed in its center and growing hotter on its way out, the daisy yellow too gentle for the day and better suited for the night's embrace.

"You say that," he murmured, "but you haven't lost anything."

"That's...not entirely true."

"You'll go to Greylaw. You'll race with the Skylarks. You'll do so damn well, you'll probably become captain."

"The tuition."

"I'll pay it."

I gaped. Luan's thumb went from my ear to my jaw. Everything burned. Burned like the sunlight. 

"I'll pay it," he said. "Since I'm on scholarship, I don't have to pay tuition, so it's not like I'm paying double. Just for the first year. It's not a big deal."

"You can't," I hurried. "You can't do that. Luan."

"I want to. Let me."

"Don't, Luan. Stop. Please." 

"I want to."

"Why?" The question was out before I could help it. 

He cocked his head. He looked almost frustrated. "Dunno," he admitted. "Guess I want you to stay or something."

It was a cruel thing, a kind thing, an otherworldly addiction: being loved.

Luan said, "I'll talk to Gunther tomorrow."

_________________

Looking back, I couldn't really tell you whether I loved him, hated him, or envied him. All three at once? Maybe that's where I should've stopped.

"Kitae," Sunhee pressed. "Kitae, you cannot let him pay that tuition."

"It's done, noona. I already tried to talk to the principal." I took the jacket Luan had loaned me, MOO OR BE MOOED plastered on its breast. I folded it up to stuff inside the drawer. 

"His family rules the Hong Kong fashion factories, Kitae. This kid is not no one, and he's not stupid. Having him pay for something so big..."

"I'll pay him back," I said, although I'd yet to develop a plan as to how. "It'll be all right, noona. Just for this year."

"You've only known him a year, Kitae. That's not long enough to know everything. You don't know what you'll owe him. It might not be what you're thinking. People like him, people like us. You are a chess piece."

"Noona." I sighed. "I'll pay him back. Give me time. It's not like that."

She went quiet. She said, "I'll send you some more money at the end of the week. Luan doesn't know who your parents are, does he? Does he know about me?"

"Not Janchi," I assured. "Please, noona. Greylaw is what I need right now. I'm nothing without it. I have to stay. I have to try."

The night swallowed me.

"I'll send some. I love you, okay? Tell me you know."

"I know, noona," I said. "Trust me. I know."

_________________

"To the diner!" Yubaek called. He glanced behind and beckoned for me. "To celebrate, obviously."

I grinned. He hooked an arm over my shoulders. We headed for the diner. Yugyeom patted my back as we went. Aster jumped on my back. I hoisted her up and said, "I didn't say you could jump."

"Oh, but where are we now?" she laughed. "Kitae, the skylark. You're gonna be Luan's prodigen for the rest of the school year. Someone tell Luan to leave some Kitae for the rest of us."

"Don't know about that," Yubaek quipped, and his sneer had a glint of something ugly in it. "Seems like Luan wants Kitae all for himself, no?"

Luan didn't laugh, his face strangely serious. He gave Yubaek a dangerous look. "Stop," he snapped.

"What'd I say? You're both attached at the hip. You know, you keep so close to him, someone might say something." 

"I said stop," Luan snapped.

Everyone went still. Yubaek just laughed. He said. "Yugyeom."

Yugyeom looked between his brother and Luan. He frowned and pulled his brother towards the diner. "Let's just eat."

I settled in the booth. I stared at the menu. The dozens of food items were enough to make my mouth water, and my stomach churn. I dug my nails into my palms.

"What're you gonna eat for celebration?" Yubaek asked. "I say milkshakes."

"You're lactose intolerant," Aster argued.

"Weak genes can't come between me and Razzle Dazzle Strawberry Delight."

Luan elbowed me. "What're you gonna get?"

I grinned. "Milkshake?"

Dinner passed without much issue. But then Luan's phone rang and I happened to look and no, my English wasn't scholarly, but no, I wasn't blind, and the name that popped up with the unmistakable heart next to it and I couldn't have felt more stricken than if a boulder had hit me upside the head.

Luan snatched the phone from the table. Yubaek made a noise of intrigue. Aster pursed her lips tight and didn't comment.

"Don't answer," Yugyeom told him.

Luan got to his feet. "I'll be back."

I stared at my hands. The name was red and blinking in my vision. I dug my nails into my knees like I could claw it out of my memory.

 Yubaek clicked his tongue, then said, "Exes get tricky, Kitae. I wouldn't worry about it."

"Why would I be worried," I asked, but my voice was monotonous.

"Exactly the mentality to go with."

"Yubaek," Aster snapped. "Stop it. It's not funny."

"Why not? Luan wants his cake and eat it, too."

"Yubaek." Yugyeom turned his head to his brother. "That's enough."

Yubaek's amusement was deranged at its edges, almost delighted at their anger, a fury nestled in his own mirth. He gave a loud sigh and drank his milkshake. I wondered if I was going to cry.

Luan returned with a blank face. He said, "Ready to go?"

My stomach felt sick, tight with the dinner we'd eaten and overfilled with the milkshake. It was as if I'd been stuffed into a misshapen casing; with nowhere to escape, you ought to make some room to.

Luan said, "You okay?" He opened the door to his room. "You've been really quiet."

Who was that? Who called you? Why is it tricky, why did you leave, why did you answer? Who was that?

"Tired," I promised. 

He said, "Get some rest."

Who was that?

I pushed my fingers into my throat, maybe in hopes I'd vomit up all of Yubaek's terrible words and that terrible name and every memory I'd ever held of Luan up until then. But when my stomach was emptied, I had nothing but the acid in my mouth and the night left to dwell on.

_________________

Practice was a ruination.

"Haven't you fucking raced before?" Baluyot scoffed. "Come on, man."

I yanked my head to him, gritting my teeth. "Leave me alone," I snapped.

He grabbed his bike and wheeled it away. "Whatever. You sure you're a front port? You race like you've got half your head."

"Shut up."

"What?"

"Hey." Luan frowned at us both. He pushed Baluyot forward by the back of his neck. "Come on, man, leave him alone."

Baluyot laughed, and it only served to make my temper flare more. I bared my teeth, and my gums stung with fangs. A hand shot out and pushed itself over my mouth, shoving me back.

"Don't," Yubaek snapped. His look was almost disappointed. He scoffed. "Jesus, man, are you a middle schooler? Control your shift."

"Stop it," Aster snapped. "All of you, you're acting like toddlers. Luan."

Luan stared at me. His face was unreadable, but his eyes were dark. He snapped at Yubaek, his Mandarin too fast and too harsh for me to make it out. Yubaek sighed, holding up his hands. He and Baluyot fled. I dug my nails into my gloves, licked my gums.

Violet snorted as I sat down beside her on the bench, sweat between my fingers. "You sort of are a middle schooler," she quipped.

The joke only made my neck hot. "Stop it," I said. "Just stop."

"Yeesh. You're temperamental these days."

"I said stop."

"Stopping. Fuck, man."

Luan was waiting for me, his car keys swinging from his fingertip, the evening sun colored red as poppies. I clutched the strap of my duffel, stopping at the threshold that separated the parking lot and the track. The image of his phone, Yubaek's mocking words, ground daggers into my spine. I stared at Luan, but a part of me wanted nothing more than to never see his face again, and I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out why.

I took in a deep breath. I turned on my heel and went out the back, walking for the general direction of his house. The streetlights were white and sickly, bone-dry and peppered with nighttime cold. My feet prodded the concrete in a walk, before the heat in my neck pushed me into a run. 

I didn't really know where I was going, but I didn't really care. I could've been going the opposite direction and I wouldn't have cared. Anywhere was better than where Luan was.

I slowed under the streetlamp. I stood staring at his street sign, its letters foreign and too white for comfort. The air was sticky with suburban heat and stale car exhaust.

I ran until my calves had burned through and my soles threatened to thin into non-existent slivers. The night clung to my damp skin. My stomach roiled. The duffel around my shoulders felt like bricks, anchors, shackles. Sweat and tears blurred my vision into a melted, oneiric nothingness.

My back hit the face of a wooden fence. I thought to call Sunhee, even Sungki or Sungho, maybe even my aunt. Aster, or Yubaek, Yugyeom. Someone. Anyone. But every person that came into my mind left just as quick; those roads led to Luan, and all roads led to Wang. I clenched my teeth hard. I drew my knees up to my body, and figured if I curled deep enough into myself, I'd disappear completely.

I don't know how long I sat there. Minutes, maybe. Hours, likely. I'd lost the energy to cry, and was content to sulk in bleary, time-warped nothingness for a little while longer. Forever, if I got lucky.

"Kitae?"

But, I was never that lucky.

I forced my head up.

Luan hung out the driver's side of his truck, gawking at me with wild eyes and wilder hair. He stared at me as if I'd appeared from thin air.

I blinked. Yubaek's words ricocheted in my head, a cacophony of humiliation.

"Kitae," Luan breathed, running towards me. He bent down, as if speaking to a child. He reached for me, and his palms pressed against my cheeks, pulling my face up to look at him. The gesture was brutally tender, a gentle massacre. "Kitae, for fuck's sake, what are you doing here?"

I closed my eyes. I let my head fall onto his shoulder. 

I didn't answer.

He didn't make me.

"Let's go home," he whispered.

Home, I thought bitterly, sounds nice right now.

__________________

Greylaw Academy was an eloquent battlefield, a fucking gorgeous nightmare, to paint a picture for you.

The uniform wasn't preferable, but it was the least of my worries compared to morning conditioning, seven classes, after-class tutoring, after-tutoring practice, after-practice speech lessons, and after-lesson social shootouts. I'd had no friends in middle school, no permanent place to live, scraps of a foreign language under my belt. But Greylaw wasn't even in the same district. Greylaw was brand new, clean and smooth; a second chance.

Greylaw had Luan, too.

As it proved, knowing Luan was my second chance.

"Yeesh, I gotta make you more rice," Luan said, helping me pull on my silver-gray blazer, the crest of Greylaw's skylark emblazoned on the breast. "You're getting thinner every time I take another look at you."

I pursed my lips. "I'm not," I said, although the protest was weak. I turned to the mirror. "I look overdressed."

"Don't worry, so does everyone else."

"I look overdressed," I re-emphasized.

Luan gave me a sympathetic look. He ruffled my hair. "You look good," he promised, and squeezed my shoulder before heading out the door. "The girls will run themselves over getting to you. You look good in gray."

Heat sank into the skin of my neck. I tugged at my collar. Et cetera.

Luan pulled into the parking lot beyond the gates and took a pre-labeled spot at the south end of the lot. Gray-colored students flocked towards the school ahead, bags slung about their shoulders, obnoxious shouts fluttering between them in snide retorts or playful screams. Freshmen to seniors alike filled the air with blaring car horns, blasting music, conversations no one cared for and gossip no one listened to. My nerves had never been so taut.

"Remember," Luan assured me at seeing my nails bunching the fabric at my knees. "Just be friendly, smile a little. I'll be there if you need me. Okay?"

I swallowed. "Okay."

Luan was, put it simply, infamous.

Being the captain of the Skylarks was a leg-up enough in the precarious ladder of high school popularity, but being an honor-roll veteran, president of the seventy-member Chinese Student Association, lined up with three offers from some of the top universities in the nation, six-foot-one and bestowed with a smile like a politician and a carefully-crafted universal personality, were many, many more leg-ups, so to speak.

Aster, Yugyeom, Yubaek, Vivi, Baluyot, and a handful of unfamiliar faces were situated at the front lawn of the school's entrance, chattering away between mouthfuls of breakfast bars and yogurt cups. Aster spotted me first, and raised an excitable hand with a bright smile.

"Kitae!" she called, and ran over to us. She hooked me with an arm about my shoulders. "Look at you, spick and span in that uniform! You pull it off well."

"Spick and span?"

"Handsome as fuck," Yubaek explained. "You clean up well, kid."

I smiled. "Thanks."

"Luan, you better not be ignoring us!" a girl yelled, then raised a brow at me. "Or trading us out for a new model."

"Down, girl," Baluyot said, and she sneered.

Luan caught up with us. A boy looked me up and down and said, "He's your new sub, isn't he? Bit small, no?"

"Don't be rude," Aster snapped.

"New sub, and very promising," Luan countered. My chest eased. "This is Kitae. Kitae, this is everyone else."

"Nice to meet you," I said.

"You international?" a boy asked, and I grimaced.

"I'm from Korea," I tried.

"Stop asking stupid questions," Yubaek drawled. 

"You're a stupid question."

"See, that was stupid."

"Excited for your first day?" Yugyeom asked.

I swallowed. "Beyond."

You have to know that most of it wasn't my fault.

By the time third period rolled around, I was convinced Luan knew the entire school by memory. He was something of a celebrity, faces recognizing him, him recognizing them. The only time I was truly alone was during my own classes.

"You're taking speech classes, I see?" my English literature teacher observed. I nodded. "Well. I hope it does something for your grammar."

I pursed my lips. I said nothing.

"Your math is good," my pre-calc teacher said, humming at my paper. "But, unfortunately, I can't give this assignment any credit. This is not the process we use."

"But, if the answer is right—"

"You need to do it the way I taught you, it'll be more efficient for future lessons. Please redo it, Kit."

"Kitae."

"Ah, right."

I sighed. I redid it. I got different answers for every problem, and received half-credit.

"Can you pass me that mechanical?" a girl whispered.

I frowned, the word muddling together in her low voice, her murmured syllables. "What?"

"That mechanical. The pencil?"

"The...the—"

"The pencil," she reiterated, irritated. "Am I speaking English?"

Sadly. I took the pencil. "Sorry."

"It's fine. Whatever. Thanks, man."

I swallowed the humiliation whole.

Lunchtime was another dimension.

I stared at the line leading into the metal trays of lunch food waiting for the students. Such a massive budget made the school capable of providing relatively well-produced prospects, but there was a thickening smell of grease-soaked pizza and sugar-coated muffins that wouldn't leave my nose, nor my sight. I stared at it, at the lunch money in my pocket from Luan. I grimaced. My stomach churned either with hunger or with disgust or with both. I felt ill.

I turned around to spend the time as I always had, alone in the yards doing something or other to pass time, when I ran right into Yubaek instead.

He smiled down at me, fox-like and sharp. "Kitae! Hey, just who I was looking for," he said. He didn't let me reply, wrapping an arm over my shoulders to haul me away from the lunch line. "Don't eat that crap, that's for the underclassmen."

"I am underclassmen," I argued.

"Not with us, you aren't," he said. "Where were you going anyway? Don't tell me you were trying to run away again."

"Again?" I repeated.

Yubaek threw his head back with a laugh. "Oh, hey, there they are. Time for some real fucking food."

I looked ahead. Two lunch benches were occupied by the group, their numbers breaching double digits, an array of everything from off-campus lunches to metal boxes of pre-packaged sandwiches littered the tabletop. At our approach, Yubaek raised one hand and shouted, "Hey, look alive, you gluttonous masses, and scoot over. We gotta fit another body."

Everyone looked at me. The girl from before turned a suspicious look on me. "I thought underclassmen sat at the round tables."

"It's Kitae," Luan argued, waving her away with a flick of his wrist. He pushed a bag at me, where a burger and fries from somewhere far, far away from campus sat inside. The smell was salivatory, horrifically delicious. "You can sit here, come on."

I gaped. I looked from him to the bench to the burger. I pushed knuckles into my stomach.

I sat down at the table.

Luan leaned down, and when he whispered in my ear, his breath was warm against the nape of my neck.

"More fun at the big tables, yeah?" he quipped. He winked.

The smile spread over my face, slow and unsure. I said, "Yes."

He pushed the burger towards me. I ate every bite, for the sake of the table, and had it thrown back up by seventh period.

_________________

"A party," I repeated. 

"A party," Luan repeated. He made a vague gesture. "The kind that's fun. The twins are hosting."

"I've got midterms."

"You've got English lit," he corrected, like there was a difference. "You're gonna have to party at some point and I can't let you go to one of those god-awful, awkward freshman parties where the beer is watery and the conversation makes you prefer English lit." He leaned against my shoulder, his head tilted back to rest against mine. His room smelled of sunlight and the dark mahogany of his deep-seated cologne. "It'll be everyone you know."

"Everyone you know," I corrected.

"Same thing. I'll be there the whole time. You can get to know my friends." He turned around to rest on my lap instead, his head heavy on my legs. When he looked up at me, the sun turned his black eyes a soft, amber brown, the light dancing around his pupils. "They're basically you're friends, anyhow."

"I don't know."

"I want you there," he pressed. His grin was like gossamer. "Come with me."

The heat reminded me of Busan in the summer. I sighed.

"All right," I said. "When?"

The Han twins were second-generation kids from a long line of a famous farm-tech company that supplied everything from plows to wind turbines, and had made millions off of doing so. They were not as imperious as Luan's family, but they came as close as they could on American soil.

The house was ostentatious, nauseatingly pompous in its size and its decor. Everything was bleached and polished and arranged to a Swedish-like ridiculousness, the lights shaped like mushrooms and the dozens of stairs lit with the same, golden stars as the front steps. I assumed so, at least. It was hard to tell between all of the bodies just what was what.

There were dozens. Hundreds. Thousands. If you told me a million people had crowded themselves into that terrible house, I would have believed you in a heartbeat.

Luan had wrangled me into some sort of party outfit, the shirt too silky for comfort and the neck too low for decency, the pants tight to prevent sitting but not so tight it'd be distasteful. Although, I doubted, upon arriving, that anyone was sober enough to care. Alcohol demanded extremes among adolescents; you either disappeared or dominated. With kids that had as much money as they did, and knew as many faces as they knew, it was rather difficult to prevent the same phenomenon. 

The air reeked of sour liquor, the house pulsing with incoherent music, the lights beating with a neon heartbeat that shook the grass on the lawn right out of its roots. Screams overlapped conversation, conversation overlapped whispers, whispers perished under the weight of hungry gazes and drunken fervor, the entire scene a bacchanalian effort and a secondary definition of disaster.

I wouldn't survive the night.

"Luan? Is that Luan Zhang, what a fucking joke!" A young man came running towards us, his head thrown back in a boisterous laugh scented with sweetness. He slung an arm over Luan and stumbled. "This is fucking crazy, man. Are you late?"

"Fashionably," he placated. "I thought you said you stopped drinking."

"Ah, haven't we all?" he argued. His glazed gaze found me. "Who's this?"

Luan clapped a hand on my shoulder. "Kitae Wang, new Skylark."

"Jaden, nice to meet you," the man said and clasped my hand tight. "You want a drink?"

"Let him get in the house first," Luan laughed.

"Careful, Luan," he called as he headed for the door. "Your age is showing. Hurry up!"

We went.

Luan had one hand on my shoulder in an attempt to keep from losing me in the congested crowd. I stumbled over lost phones and bottles and abandoned lipsticks. I cursed as I nearly tripped on a shoe.

A hand reached out and yanked me through the mess of limbs. I crashed into them at full, dizzying force. A laugh and a shout met my aching ears. I looked up.

A boy tilted his head at me, smiling a lopsided smile. "You lost, kid?"

I gawked. I said, "Yes."

"He's not." Yubaek appeared from behind. He cackled. "Little Kitae made it all the way here? Where's your chaperone?"

"Chaperone?" the boy exclaimed. "How old are you?"

"Uh, fifteen."

"Fucking hell. Yubaek, what the fuck are you doing dragging a freshie out here?"

"Initiation, Alex. Initiation." He jutted his thumb at me. "You, come on. Freshie or not, no one can survive the night sober in here."

"Luan—"

"Is he your keeper? You're like a lost puppy with him, Kitae." Yubaek's grin was almost mocking, a sly thing that ground a blade under my ribs. "Can't you do one thing on your own?"

I stared. I opened my mouth, closed it. I thought of middle school, the boy offering the ball, his face contorting at the tears in my eyes, at the sound of my name. Something bitter sucked the life out of me from the outside in.

I followed him.

Luan's friends had gathered in the living room, the mass of them surrounding tables of bottles and glasses. Aster spotted me, but she didn't smile. She got to her feet, swung her leg over the couch. 

"Kitae," she said, frowning. "What are you doing here?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You shouldn't be here," she said. 

I clenched my fists. "I'm not a child."

Aster blinked. "That's not what I'm saying," she argued. "But, you shouldn't be here. Who told you about this?"

"Luan brought me."

"Luan?" she repeated, sounding surprised. She turned on Yubaek and smacked his arm. "Ya. Where's Luan? Tell him he has to drive Kitae back."

"Jesus, Aster, you're more dismal than my brother," he scoffed, waving her away. "He's fifteen, not five, stop treating him like a kid. There's no better party at Greylaw than the ones the Hans throw."

"Yubaek," she repeated, face cold and solemn. "I'm not joking."

Yubaek just kept laughing. "Hey, Aster," he snapped. "Let's let him decide, yeah?"

I looked between the two as their gazes turned on me. Aster's eyes were pleading, whereas Yubaek's were challenging. A bet, if you will. A bet I intended on winning.

I glanced at Yubaek. "I wanna stay."

It was all he needed to give me a glinting grin and a firm salute to Aster. "And stay, he shall."

"Yubaek—"

He whisked me towards the table.

All heads turned towards us. Baluyot spotted me from the corner. His gaze narrowed. He sat upright, grabbing a cup from the stack and a bottle of beer from the pack. "Kitae Wang at a party, without Luan," he recited to the group. "Did you dress yourself, too?"

I didn't answer. He laughed, because he knew. He poured the beer into the cup. "Jesus, Kitae," he said. "We've got enough righteous souls in this group." He eyed Aster, who still hadn't returned to the couch. The air was stuffy, pungent, a suffocating mess. "Do you drink?"

I looked down at the amber beer. Yubaek leaned on my shoulder. The group waited.

"Yes," I lied.

"Yes, he says," Yubaek laughed. He leaned in. "Then, go on."

I bit my lip, held my breath, and took a sip.

It was catastrophic. But, frankly, it was rather wonderful.

Aster and I long talked about what would've happened had I refrained from that drink, if Luan hadn't taken me, if I'd stayed with racing and left the rest to dust. We never came to a concise conclusion, but we did agree on one thing: things would have been very, very different.

Drinking was easier than talking, it was what made it so great. If you could drink, you didn't have to say much, you didn't have to be likable, you didn't have to be smart: you could just be fun. Shots, beers, wine coolers, mixed drinks, Jell-O, fruit punch, piña coladas, the works. You name it, I tried it. 

When Luan found me, I was so deep into the murky waters of liquor that it took me a minute to even realize it was him. His friends were gathered about a table with me in between, hands trading everything from pretzels to Hennessy. I had a cup of scotch Yugyeom had smuggled from his parents, and the taste was as sickly sweet as the air. A thick fog swarmed in my head, and my stomach ached beyond all reparation. It was horrific. It was fun.

"Luan!" Yubaek called. "Man of the hour, look who finally showed!"

Luan stared at him, then at me, then at us both. He didn't look very amused. 

"Luan," I drawled. I smiled. "Man of the hour?"

He blinked. He took my arm. "Come on."

He dragged us somewhere, who knows where. The lights got brighter. The smell got thinner. I thought I was still holding the scotch, but when I looked down, it was Luan's arm instead. I frowned. I looked around. The bathroom, perhaps. Who cared.

"I've been looking for you for the past hour," Luan said. His voice sounded mad, but it was difficult to tell through the liquid sloshing in my skull. Perhaps I'd drank so much it was threatening to spill out of my ears. "What in the world are you doing? I brought you so I could watch you, not for you to run off and drink yourself silly."

"Why'd you bring me?" I said. I slumped back until my spine hit something solid. It was cold against my skin. "Why'd you bring me, then?"

"I thought it'd be fun," he said, though his face was twisted into something annoyed.

"It is!" I announced, throwing my hands up. "It is fun. Jinjja jaemisseo!" I gestured around us. "The time of my life."

"Is Yubaek making you drink?" he said. "Because if that's the case, then—"

"Yubaek is more fun than you," I retorted. I crossed my arms, like some petulant child. The idea only made me more irritated. "You lost me first, anyway. How's that my problem? Sounds like a you problem." I'd heard Aster say that once. It sounded very precise. I tried to think of something else that sounded right. "Scotch is fucking delicious, too. Fucking delicious. Yes!"

Luan stared. At first, I thought he'd snap at me again, but instead, he threw his head back and let out a bright, surprised laugh. His chest shook with it. He gaped.

"Wow," he said, grinning with the usual glittering smile. His hands rested on the counter that I'd somehow managed to get onto at a point I didn't recall. They caged my legs in. The air had gone from stuffy to static. "You, are very drunk."

I opened my mouth, then shrugged. "Yeah," I said. 

He laughed again. It made me laugh. My chest let go of a hundred anvils. I leaned forward until I was resting my cheek on his shoulder. 

"Why'd you disappear?" I asked.

"I didn't. You did. I was pulling you in one direction one moment, then the next, I look over and you're gone," he said. "I was gonna take you upstairs, it's a lot more low-key."

"Vivi said taking someone upstairs ends in teen pregnancies," I murmured.

Luan laughed again, shocked. "Not that kind of upstairs," he said. 

"Oh. That's good," I murmured, then paused. "Did you go upstairs?"

"I did."

"With who?"

"What?" Luan pulled away, giving me a quizzical look. "What do you mean 'with who'?"

I shrugged. "I don't know," I sighed. That same annoyance from before returned tenfold. I pushed my palms into my eyes. "You went upstairs."

"To look for you."

"Whatever."

"What's your deal, Kitae?"

"Whatever," I pressed. "Whatever, Luan."

He blinked. He reached up, pushed the bangs from my face. I stared at him and realized, not for the first time, he was sort of lovely. I didn't want to think about upstairs. I wanted more scotch. I wanted to go back home. Busan. Luan's house. Some combination of the two that didn't involve downstairs.

"You're more drunk than I thought," he muttered. His hand rested on the back of my neck.

I chewed the inside of my cheek. "I don't really like Yubaek."

"No one really does at first," he replied.

"At first?"

"I think he tricks you into liking him. Like, you hate that he knows you, so you've got no choice but to love him for it."

"That's sort of scary."

"That's why you don't like Yubaek."

"Aster says you shouldn't have brought me."

"I'm thinking Aster is right."

"She isn't."

"No? I'm looking at her point right now."

"Would you go upstairs with anyone?" I pressed. "Is there someone you'd wanna go upstairs with?"

Luan peered at me carefully. In the moment, it seemed like surprise, a kind of apprehension at answering. In hindsight, I know it was only him timing the seconds, waiting for me to think such a thing, and when the thought was complete, strike where I'd set up the target.

"Maybe," he said. "But not now."

"Who?"

"Couldn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I think you'd get upset."

"I wouldn't."

Luan narrowed his eyes. His grip tightened on the back of my neck. He pulled me towards him. "I think you would," he said.

I was never good with words. 

Kissing Luan wasn't really the problem. It was never a problem, actually. Kissing Luan was sweet, a summer ray breaking across my lips like the windows in the scaffolding of Solis. Kissing Luan was akin to swallowing embers and leaving them to burn through your stomach and throat. Kissing Luan was catching a bullet between your eyes, an inch from your temple, and waiting for the next shot to blow.

He didn't kiss me back, not immediately. Maybe he really was surprised. Maybe he was just surprised I'd done it first, that I'd done it so easily. Maybe he knew he had to hesitate. Maybe he was just intrigued.

Then he was yanking me into him, his mouth opening, my teeth hitting his. His hand pushed into my hair, and my arms clasped around his neck. A part of me feared he'd let go first, and I'd be left scrambling, wondering where he went. He tasted like soda and smoke. I let him kiss me out of oxygen.

A hand pushed my chest back. I kept my arms where they were, but pulled my head back to stare up at him. Luan's gaze was that of a racer: full of greed, a ruthless calculation, waiting, waiting, waiting for the right time.

He whispered, "Are you upset?"

I shook my head. "No."

He hummed. He held my hand. "Let's go home. Before you vomit."

"Before I what?"

He pulled me off the counter. The world spun like a dreidel. I clutched my throat and said, "Oh, God."

Luan pushed my head into the bathtub just as I vomited out every horrible drink I'd ingested that night. 

"Before that," he sighed.

____________________ 

"Your speech is practically perfect, Kitae," Miss Paige, the speech teacher, said, smiling. "You sound more Californian than most Californians."

I grinned. "Really?" 

She nodded. She checked off my paper at the top and wrote the date. She slid it towards me. "I think you should be more than ready when the year ends. You've got the written part of English down to a T. Your speech is better every week. You're practically a native!"

I laughed at that. I held the paper up to my face, glee a rising wave in my stomach. I said, "Thank you. Really."

"Don't thank me. Thank yourself, all that hard work," she said, winking. "Go on. You've got biking, don't you?"

"Racing."

"Same thing."

Not in the slightest. But I said, "Of course."

I found Luan in the back of the locker rooms, strapping his arm guards onto his forearms. He looked up at my approach, and smiled.

I held out the paper. "She said I'll be done after this semester."

He raised a brow. "Look at you," he said. "'Practically a native'. I agree, you know. Although I think the team is teaching you a little too many curse words."

"Aster said bastardous chicken is more a compliment than anything," I said, and his laugh made my heart rise. "I owe it to our movie nights."

"Happy to be of service," he said. He got to his feet. "It's almost March. Season ends in April. We're going to celebrate, think of what you wanna do. Everyone is contending for Disney World right now."

March. 

College acceptances. 

Luan had been given three offers now, Avaldi, Pepperdine, and UC Irvine. Irvine was already out, being up against Avaldi, but Pepperdine was a worthy contender due to their more generous scholarship. He'd have until March to choose.

Avaldi was nearly an hour away. He'd have to dorm. Which meant he'd have to leave, which meant I would have to leave, too. There was no way I'd be allowed to stay in that house when he wasn't even there. My stomach churned at the prospect. We hadn't even talked about the kiss. We hadn't even talked about the kiss, but I'd never thought about anything else more.

"Luan," I said, daring to take a step closer towards him. 

Luan blinked. He tilted his head, and smiled, a golden light in the midst of the cool, empty locker rooms. He reached for me, and let his hand rest on my head. His fingers pushed the bangs from my face.

"You worry too much, Kitae," he said in quiet Mandarin. "Come on, grab your stuff. I'll make dinner."

It was a false ease and a weak softness. I managed a smile. I grabbed my things, and we walked out together.

The pit in my stomach grew.

_________________

"Another party?" I asked.

Yubaek laughed like I was being funny. He leaned over the lunch table. "Kitae, you've got a long way to go. It's almost the end of March, are you out of your mind? We've gotta have a party."

"We don't," Yugyeom corrected.

"I'll go," Vivi said. She wrapped her arm with mine and leaned her head on my shoulder. "If Kitae comes."

"You can't use me," I argued. 

"Can, too. I'll give you a whole sleeve of these Ritz."

I grimaced. I said, "I've got homework. There's a French Revolution project due on Monday, and I have a calculus test on Tuesday."

"Ya, Kitae," Yubaek sighed. "Heed your sunbae here. None of those matter. Take it from me."

"The exemplary 2.6 GPA," Jae drawled.

"You tell him, Yubaek," Lina called.

"There are about three people qualified to be giving out academic advice here, and you're the wrong twin to be doing it," Aster said.

Baluyot grinned wickedly. "C'mon, Kitae. It'll be fun."

Luan frowned. "Don't make him."

Vivi rolled her eyes. She leaned her body on mine, her cheek to my bicep. Luan stared at us. I stared at her. Yubaek snickered and said, "Jeez, Kitae. Is he your captain or your babysitter?"

I bristled. Luan didn't reply to that, he just sighed and returned to his sandwich. The table snickered, like it was less sudden joke, more a joke that had been waiting to be said for far too long. Heat crawled up my neck. 

"I'll go," I said. 

"Kitae," Luan said, frowning.

"If he parties as well as he races," Baluyot said, "it'll be quite a scene."

"Shut up, Jackson," Aster snapped. "Luan."

Luan stared at me. I stared back. I said, "I'm gonna go."

Luan's face was plain, a still and lifeless thing, all mirth vacant. A strange chill had entered his gaze, some sort of frigid plague that overtook his brown eyes and froze them over into opaque, black ice. He said, "That's your choice."

It somehow only made me angry. 

I trashed my lunch and left for French class early.

Aster picked me up, per my request.

"You don't want to go with Luan?" she asked.

I shut the passenger door. "No," I said, then in careful Korean, "Thanks for driving."

She grinned, her glittering eyes bright, her lips bloodied with rouge. "Don't go too wild, okay? Luan will kill me."

I frowned. "Why's it matter?" I muttered.

"He just cares about you, Kitae."

"Does he?" I sighed. "I don't want to talk about Luan."

Aster pursed her lips tight. She faced front. "All right."

Yubaek spotted me first. A part of me knew he'd been waiting for me.

He pushed a cup into my hand before he even said hello. "Luan said he was coming with you," he yelled, the bass drowning him into a garbled nothingness. "Does he still think that?"

"I already texted him," I said. "Doesn't matter."

Yubaek nodded. He looped an arm around my neck. "Kitae Wang is in for business!" he roared, and the group at the table cheered. "Let's see how much you've learned from last time."

I downed the drinks, anything anyone would give me. They made my vision bubble, my head buzz, the music crisper and the voices blurrier. Most of all, they'd make seeing Luan a hell of a lot more bearable. I'd rubbed my lips raw by the time the clock struck midnight.

Vivi arrived at a time I didn't remember, the beginning of our meeting untraceable in my memory. She was wrapped in blue gauze and black gems, her face overdone by an amateur hand, her hair loose around her shoulders. When she sat on the couch, she sat her legs over mine, and her smile at my ear.

"Wanna try?" she whispered.

"Try what?" I replied, setting the soju down.

She procured a thin blue stick, blueberry smoke flying from its mouth. She reached over and opened my mouth with her thumb, then stuck the pod between my sore lips.

"Tastes like candy," she told me.

I coughed, spat it out with no elegance to save me. "Tastes terrible," I wheezed. 

"Wait until it hits you."

"What hits me?"

"The fun part."

"What's in this?"

"I just told you, Kitae." She leaned in, snatched the pod from my lips with her very own fangs. Something yelled in my ear. A cheer, maybe. "Fun."

I blew the last of the smoke out through my nose. Idly, I wondered where Luan had gone. 

Vivi grabbed my arm. "Let's dance."

I let her drag me into the ink and storm.

There were bodies on every side of me, the pressure hot on my skin, the air permeated with breath and liquor and bass. Vivi was flush on me, chest to chest, nose to neck. Her eyes pulsed a bloody, Beta red. She crooked a finger into my collar and yanked my head down.

"You and Luan," she said, and my heart froze. "You two going out?"

My eyes went wide. I yanked back, but only ended up knocking into someone else and subsequently, their drink. The scent of sugar and whiskey caught me by the neck. I gasped, "No. No, what? What did you hear?"

"Christ, nothing, calm down," she said. "You two are so attached at the hip, I just assumed."

"We aren't. We don't."

"Do you like him?"

"He's my friend." My head felt dizzy. I could barely breathe.

Vivi shrugged. She grasped my chin in her painted fingers. "Good," she said.

I'd tell you the kiss, but I barely recall it. It was stale, icy, cold with alcohol and hot with sweat. Something with hands under fabric, something that bit me at the throat. She was full of fleeting pressure and indecipherable heat, like being kissed by a figment. Teeth clacked. Mouths moved. Body on body. And, what else.

Vivi pushed her hips on mine. The sensation was too foreign and I tripped back, my spine crashing into a wall. She laughed. It wasn't mocking, but it sounded like it could be. I said, "Shut up."

Vivi kept laughing. "Kitae," she drawled. Her finger drew a line from my collarbone into the dip of my shirt. "Don't you like me?"

I thought of Luan, the pressure of his hand at the back of my neck. My stomach churned, made my lungs burn with leftover embers. I bit my lip. I didn't answer. I didn't want to lie. It'd make something of me that I wasn't ready to admit to.

I kissed her until my mouth went numb, and wondered if Luan had ever shown at the party.

______________________

"Pepperdine?" we exclaimed.

Luan set his water down. He nodded. "Avaldi was a half-scholarship. Pepperdine offered a full ride. Besides, it's closer."

"You chose Pepperdine University, as in the farm, over Avaldi?" Olive exclaimed. 

"That's Pepperidge Farms," Yugyeom said. "And Pepperdine is top fifteen."

"It's Avaldi," Yubaek said snidely. "Who turns down Avaldi? You're either stupid or you're crazy, man."

"Why?" Baluyot asked.

"I just said that," Luan replied. He grinned brightly. "I'll get to visit more this way, too."

"Luan," Aster said, gaping. "You're kidding."

He shrugged. He glanced at me. "You get it, right, Kitae?"

I blinked. I'll get to visit more. Did I?

"It's your choice," I returned.

Luan blinked. His smile didn't waver, but his eyes did, their amusement twisting into something akin to shock. Yugyeom grimaced. He said, "Let's pack up. We've got practice."

The Skylarks groaned. I didn't wait for Luan, tossing my bag full of uneaten lunch into the trash can and running away towards the Spanos track.

"You're avoiding me."

I paused. My hand remained aloof, suspended between me and the sink handle. I wondered if I stayed still enough, he'd think I'd disappeared altogether.

When that proved to be bullshit, I said, "We live in the same house."

Luan walked towards me. His hair had grown too long, the black waves falling over his eyes. They were damp from a shower, and the scent of soap lingered on his skin, on the linen shirt draped over his shoulders. I focused on the sink.

"You are," he argued. "Did I do something?"

The question felt laughable. I shook my head. "No."

"Kitae."

"I'm not avoiding you."

"You won't even look at me."

"I'm busy."

"You looked at Vivi."

"Why do you care about Vivi?" I snapped, whirling on him. "At least when she kisses someone, she actually means it."

He stared at me, going terribly still. "You kissed her?" 

"Why do you care, Luan?" I abandoned the sink. I moved to leave. "You couldn't care less."

He grasped my wrist and pulled me towards him. "You were drunk, that isn't fair," he said. "How was I supposed to know it mattered to you?"

I wanted to laugh as much as I wanted to cry. "It's you," I said. 

"What?"

"This isn't funny," I snapped, the Korean sharp and painful on my tongue. I felt my face heat, my eyes burn. I cursed when tears beaded in my vision. I could barely catch my breath. I thought of the boy, the middle school lunch tables. I never thought I could be more humiliated. I was wrong. "I'm not a kid. I'm not just here for you to screw around with."

"Kitae."

I snatched my arm from him. "I like you so much it'll kill me, and you couldn't care less." I turned around. "Leave me alone."

I left him in the bathroom, and thanked God when the tear fell with my back turned to him.

_____________

Sunhee called me the first week of summer break.

"Kitae," she snapped. "What do you have to say for yourself? We thought you were dead!"

"Sorry, noona." I sat on the sidewalk, a block down from Luan's house. "I got busy."

"Ah, whatever! I'm just glad you're okay. Are you okay?"

I hesitated. I bunched the hem of my jeans into my fist. "Yeah," I said. "I'm okay."

Her laugh was sweet, a soft, familiar lullaby in my ears. My heart contorted, its body shot through and bleeding badly with longing. She said, "Let's talk about it."

I talked to her through the amber afternoon, the heat setting in on my skin and turning my knuckles and cheekbones dark. I knew my aunt would have something to say about it when I saw her again. But the Californian air was pungent with June, and with school out, the days were long with silence and sleep. It was nice, for that sliver of a moment, to not care much about anything at all.

Vivi called me right before dinner. She said, "Did you want to go to the diner?"

I paused. "Together?"

"Yes. Obviously."

"Just us?"

"Who else?"

I said, "All right."

"All right?"

"All right."

Luan was seated on the couch, his phone at his ear. He said, "Where are you going?"

I pulled my jacket over my shoulders. "Nowhere."

"Kitae."

"Diner. Vivi. I'll be back later."

"Kitae."

I shut the door behind me and walked the two miles downtown.

Vivi said, "You walked two miles downtown?"

I pushed my hair back. "I like walking."

She hummed, shrugged. She said, "I heard their milkshakes are to fucking die for."

I managed to smile. "Sure."

My phone rang, each time everyone but Luan on the caller ID. I didn't know if that made me want to answer less. I didn't know what I'd do if he did call. Foolishly, I hoped Sunhee would.

Vivi filled most of the silence, upkeeping the conversation herself for the most part, bouncing between every topic from school to the Skylarks to her personal life. I was half-listening, my attention split between my phone and her, Luan's voice calling after me and the lingering feeling of hands on the back of my neck.

"And you're not even listening."

I looked up from my phone, which was settled conspicuously in my lap. I blinked. "What?"

Vivi raised a brow. She said, "Tell me what I just said."

I blinked. I said, "I'm sorry."

Vivi sighed. She leaned back against the booth, blinking at me wordlessly through mascara and black liner. Then, she pulled herself out of the booth, set a few bills on the edge of the table, and grabbed her phone. 

"Let's not do this again," she said. "Go call him. Before he comes and finds you himself."

"Vivi, wait."

"Bye, Kitae."

She left out the door, leaving me alone with an uneaten dinner. 

I pursed my lips. I think now about what would've happened if she'd stayed. Vivi was nice, was conventionally pretty, a good racer, an adequate student. She laughed at my jokes and she talked when I couldn't and she was always crass when it counted. I think now that I should have gone after her. I think now how much of my life would have been easier had I done so.

I sat in the booth and called Luan. 

He picked up on the fourth ring.

"Kitae?"

I closed my eyes. "Can you come get me?"

He paused. Then said, "I'll be there in ten."

I waited on the curb, the summer night cool and soft on my skin, its heat sapid and its breath on my neck. I watched the cars blur into something incoherent and blotchy. I longed for Busan so badly, it felt as if my entire chest had been hollowed out by careless hands, nails scraping at the sides of my skeleton, until the innards were left for the city's vehicles to run into the asphalt.

A white truck pulled up a yard or three away from me. I blinked in the glaring headlights. A body came around, and Luan's voice called, "Kitae?"

Maybe it was the newfound space in my skeleton that made his voice sound as nice as it did. I got to my feet. I said, "Sorry I made you come."

Luan tilted his head. He glanced around. "Where's Vivi?"

"She went home."

"What happened?"

Me. "We're just friends."

Luan stared. He gestured at the passenger side, and clambered into the driver's seat.

I shut the door behind me. I didn't know if I should be humiliated or relieved Luan had arrived, if I should text Vivi an apology or leave her alone, if I should call Sunhee. Everything was murky, its tendons snapping, leaving me wandering in a viscous space.

Luan reached over. He pushed his fingers through my hair. I turned my head towards him. He had a strange look on his face, somewhere between frustration and discomfort. He pressed the pads of his fingers to the back of my skull.

"Do you like her?" he asked. "Vivi."

I pressed my lips together. "She's fun," I admitted, because she was. "She likes me."

"So? Does that mean you have to like her?"

"No. Are you angry?"

Luan sighed. "Do you like her?"

I considered it for a long, long while, the engine running stagnant, gasoline burning to a crisp. "No," I decided. "No, I don't."

Luan turned my head towards him with his fingers. He leaned over the center console. I would tell you what the kiss felt like, but it'd take up too many words. It'd waste so much time. The only part that matters was that I liked it a hell of a lot more than I'd ever liked Vivi.

Luan's breath was warm against my lips. "Let's go home," he whispered.

I slept on the ride back.

_______________

We'll be sparing from there.

I didn't say anything about whatever dynamic Luan and I had developed. It was an unspoken rule between us whose surrounding border was never even breached that it was solely between us two, both for sake of discretion and politics. His friends were my friends, and none of such friends held any particular loyalty to me over him; it meant any secret that involved me was free game for all. 

A few people had inklings. A part of me knew Vivi knew something was up, even if she never asked. We remained amicable, communicative on the track and reticent in all other areas. In some sense, it was better that way. Aster had asked, and so had Yugyeom, in as subtle of a way as possible. Back then, I thought it was because they didn't want to push. Aster would only tell me later it was because they couldn't.

My parents denied me a return to Busan. Something about timing, visitors, the media and such. Does anyone know you're Wang, as in Wang? they'd ask. No, I'd have to tell them. Not yet. 

I'd cried in the bathroom when they told me to stay in America. Sunhee called, but hearing her voice only made me cry more and I threw my phone across the room after her third try. Luan was away at Pepperdine, the Waves' summer initiation practice. I waited out the pang in my heart and forewent dinner to sleep it off.

Sophomore year disappeared, its body coated in a patchwork of late-night studies, a tornado of racing, parties on the weekends, food on the outskirts. Luan left earlier than I could catch him and came back later than I could stay awake. The only time we saw each other long enough to have a conversation was on the weekends. It was almost clandestine, the way it all fell into place.

I put the plate in front of Luan. "I tried to make kimchi bokkeumbap," I told him. 

Luan pushed his hair back. He smiled, broke some cliffs off of the earth. He said, "You made dinner? All by yourself."

I frowned. "You make it sound like I can't."

He reached for me. His fingers slid from my wrist, behind my sleeve, up towards my elbow. "Smells good," he assured. "So, I'm sure you can."

I turned away. "Don't be clandestine."

"Clandestine?"

I paused. "Is it? Clan—condescent?"

Luan paused, then threw his head back and laughed, the sound bright like fireflies and sweet as the sugar sitting on the counter. He got to his feet. He took my wrist back, and folded his fingers into mine. "Condescending," he said, saying the syllables slowly. "Didn't you pass speech?"

"That's mean," I said, then recited, "It's condescending."

"That was condescending," he said, and leaned down until his nose brushed my cheek. "Clandestine is entirely different." He kissed a response out of my mouth, and swiped his tongue over my teeth.

And so was sophomore year.

Most of Luan's core group—if they hadn't already—were graduating that coming summer. Yugyeom and Yubaek were off to Oregon, and Baluyot off to Berkeley. I wasn't alone, per se, I knew plenty of the other Skylarks. But it a bitter pill to swallow nonetheless.

"We'll visit in the summer," Yugyeom promised, giving me a squeeze. He smiled. It was strange, to see what Yubaek's smile could look like with some warmth. "You don't think we're just going to pick up and leave, do you?"

"Feels like that," I admitted.

Yugyeom smiled. He ruffled my hair. June beaded on our foreheads. He leaned down, and in quiet Korean, said, "If you ever need us, even if we seem far away, you can always call. Don't be scared, Kitae." He patted my shoulder.

I never got to ask what he meant, because his brother came bounding over a few moments later. He looped an arm around his brother, yanking him into his side. His grin was sharp as it angled at me. "Kitae! Soak it in, this is what you'll be looking like in a few years. Your sunbaes did it right, you gotta follow, okay?"

I said, "Okay."

"Now say you'll miss us."

I hugged him tight. "I'll miss you, Yubaek." Because whether I wanted to or not, I would.

Junior year rolled in like a boulder. 

I was at the track in July. Summer meant more parties, especially since everyone was leaving by August, meant good food and better liquor. I could feel it on my bones, under my skin, stretching it in ways that made the heat cling to my body until I felt myself distend. Something was sickening about it; something that was only humiliating when I was alone.

Luan said, "Where are you going?"

I said, "On a run."

"It's eighty-eight degrees out."

"I know."

"You shouldn't."

"Don't worry. I'll be back soon." I thought of the boy with the basketball. My stomach bottomed out. 

I ran until my vision blurred.

Aster found me a few weeks later. She said, "Are you running?" I gasped for a breath. I nodded. She blinked. "It's ninety degrees, Kitae."

"Why are you here?"

"I'm meeting someone at the tennis courts, this is a faster way through. Jesus Christ, you look awful. Why are you running?"

I had to. I'd spend the whole day knowing I had to and I hadn't and it'd make me feel ill. I said, "I felt like it."

Aster gaped. She said, "At least run inside. The weight room might be open, you can use the treadmill."

"I'm okay, Aster." I turned around. "It's okay."

"Kitae—"

I kept running.

I stood up from the diner booth. My knees shook. I saw the booth in front of us and then I saw less of it. Something grabbed my elbow.

"Kitae," Luan said. "Christ, did you trip?"

I blinked blearily. I said, "What?"

"Are you sick?" Yubaek asked. "You look sick."

I said, "Sorry. I tripped."

Aster said, "You look sick, Kitae." Yubaek said it with a laugh. But Aster said it like she meant it. You look sick, she said. You are sick.

I sure felt like it.

I pushed past Luan. My hands shook the more I tried to keep them still. "It's all right," I assured. "I'm all right."

_______________

Junior year was gruesome, to say the least. It's what made it so fun. It's what fucked me over to oblivion.

I faced Coach Peters on the track, the last of the Skylarks flooding out. I said, "What's wrong?"

He said, "The season is starting soon. Jae's out and everyone's asking me about a new captain."

I blinked. I said, "Oh. Right."

He frowned. He said, "What do you think of Baluyot?"

I blinked again. Twice. Three times. "He's a good racer."

Coach Peters hummed, shrugged. "And you?" he asked. "You know, Zhang told me that when the time came around, you ought to be captain."

The words pushed the blood in my veins into full throttle. I swallowed. "He did?" I said. 

"The team seems to like you. I have half a mind to agree with him. Should I agree with him?"

"Baluyot is a senior."

"Should I agree with him?"

I pursed my lips. Captain of the Skylarks would be gold on college application—a blazing spotlight for recruiters. Athletes were already receiving offers left and right for college, everything from UCLA to Ole Miss to Avaldi University. 

Avaldi. Corvus. And it was barely an hour from Pepperdine. 

I took a breath. "Yes," I said. "I'd be happy to be considered."

Coach Peters nodded. He flicked his hand and sent me to the locker rooms. "Good to know, Wang. Wash up."

I wiped the smile from my face and headed down the track. Vivi and Baluyot were outside talking, their conversation slithering into my ears.

"Captain?" Vivi said, and gasped. "That'd be amazing for you."

"I could've been last year, but Jae swooped and sang sweet nothings in Peters's ears, what the fuck was I gonna do?" He huffed, then shrugged with a smirk. "Where am I now though, right? He's gotta give it to me now."

"I think you'd be great." Vivi caught me and smiled, waving. "Kitae. We're having a party at the twins' place, celebrating the start of the season. You're coming, right?"

"Don't they have a party when they wash a dish?" I sighed, but nodded. "I'll go." I knew it wasn't really a choice.

Baluyot frowned at me. "Where were you? Everyone's changed out. You painting your nails or something?"

"One of us needs to," I retorted, and he snickered as Vivi grimaced at his nails. "I'll see you both later."

"Joy to you, Kitae," he called. "Invite your landlord?"

I flipped him off. He cackled. I fled to the locker rooms and tried to drown Peters's words out under the showerhead.

"Captain?" Luan said from his place at the table, biology notes sprawled out before him complete with too-detailed diagrams. 

I grimaced and returned to washing the mugs. "He just mentioned it, it's not confirmed. He'll probably give it to Baluyot anyway." But my heart sped at the idea of the pendulum swinging my way instead. Still, I knew Peters was not really the type to deviate from traditional paths, and it was only tradition Baluyot would take it on as a senior. "But it's nice to know I'm in consideration."

"You never know," Luan argued. The screech of a chair and footsteps brought him to my side at the sink. "This could be your big moment. I was captain in junior year. You should go for it."

I frowned at him. "What about Baluyot?"

"He's got offers," Luan said, waving me away. "You, on the other hand, need to start snagging recruiters. You know, Avaldi is coming to watch the first match of the season, so is UCLA and Boston U. If they know you're captain..."

"Peters wouldn't."

"Did you talk to him?" I pursed my lips. Luan hummed. He scooted closer, wrapped his arm around my waist. He rested his cheek on my shoulder. "Baluyot is doing fine. He wants the title for bragging rights, that's all. I've seen you all, you're the best racer on that track right now." He dragged his hand down towards my stomach. I stopped, the sponge aloft in the sink, the water running louder and louder in my ears. Luan rested his chin against my neck, and his words were warm on my ear. "I put in the word to Peters years ago. It'll be you."

I turned around to face him. "You didn't have to do that," I said. "I could've talked to him later. I'm seventeen, not seven."

"Would you have?" When I was silent, Luan smiled. He ruffled my hair, left his hand there to tilt my head back. "Come on, Kitae."

I thought of Baluyot's smirking face, Peters's quiet face. Luan's hand was warm on my head, familiar and assuring. I sighed. I grinned softly.

"Yeah, all right," I sighed. "Thanks, for talking to him."

Luan shrugged. He winked. "Hey," he said. "When have I ever let you down?"

The world was pale, sick with a slow, sweet poison.

There was something severe about junior year, and I'd never know exactly what made it so. It could've been Luan, or the Skylarks, Coach Peters's inevitable announcement, seven classes and the honor roll, college admissions and my parents, Sunhee being three thousand miles away. Something or other. Something around there.

It was the day of the announcement. I knew because I'd barely had the chance to strap my gloves on when Coach Peters said, "I've got your new captain for this coming season."

Chatter sparked in droves. Aster smiled at Peters, and the twins glanced at Baluyot. I tightened my glove, buckled it tight. I grabbed the other.

"Kitae," Peters said. I looked up. He grinned. "Congratulations."

Everyone was quiet for a single space of a second. Then, they were back to erupting, the Skylarks rushing me with shouts and cries and boisterous cackles of congrats. I didn't register most of it. I was staring at Baluyot, who was staring at me, his face blank and dark, his body unmoving.

Vivi hugged me tight. "Congrats," she said with a laugh. "Or, should I say, congrats, captain."

Aster pinched my ear. "You deserve it, Kitae. You'll do great. What's with that face, aren't you excited? Captain?"

I was. I was also feverishly sick.

I fastened the glove. "Thank you," I told Peters.

"Ah, don't thank me. You'll do great, kid. Enough talk, let's get on the track, yeah?"

Baluyot and I didn't talk for the rest of the day, until the party came.

Luan seemed more excited than me about the announcement. He threw his head back with a laugh when I told him. He yanked me into a hug, then lifted me up completely with a beam.

"Fucking hell," I said, laughing. "It's a high school team."

"That you're captain of!" he exclaimed. He set me down. "I knew you'd get it, what'd I tell you? Don't ever doubt me again." He winked. "Come on, get dressed, I'll take you out."

"Out?"

"Yeah, like the outside world," he quipped. "We'll celebrate."

"The twins are—"

"Ah, forget the twins. I meant we'll celebrate." He gestured between us. His hand rested under my chin. "My treat. Gago sipda?"

For a moment, I breathed easy. There was always something tense, something binding, half-blind and half-hearted when it was everyone. I liked it better with Luan and I, and just Luan and I. Looking back, a part of me was always scared if it wasn't just us, there'd never really be an us. Another part felt like proud, like I was the one he wanted to spend time with, I was the one he wanted to keep around. Like I'd won him over everyone else.

I nodded. I said, "Gaja."

The time was filled rather rapidly. Luan was good at that.

"You like sushi, right?" he said. At my nod, he said, "This is a good place, they've got this one yellowtail roll that's to fucking die for. Come on." He grabbed my hand and pulled us inside.

"Didn't you have homework?" I asked him when we sat down, somewhere in the corner among other patrons waiting for their own luncheons. 

"Bio? I'm hopeless with or without the homework, I promise," he promised. He reached over the table, and grasped my hand. I jolted. He tugged me forward and smiled. "Besides, I figure this takes precedence."

I hesitated, then laughed. "You're a headache," I told him.

"I'm a joy."

"You don't have to take me out."

"I do," he said. "I'd like to." His thumb brushed my wrist.

I sat back, and felt my cheeks ache with a grin.

Luan paid before I could even see the check, and hauled us out of the restaurant in record time once we finished the meal. He headed down the avenues towards the plaza, a dozen stores and boutiques lined up for the reaping. He slung an arm over my shoulders. 

"Let's go crazy," he said. "I'm a firm believer in retail therapy."

"Therapy? I thought we were celebrating," I joked.

"Then, a firm believer in retail in general," he said, and dragged me into the first store. "Buy what your heart desires, Kitae!"

"Come on, I don't need anything. Let's go."

"Ah, but you must want something. Go on, let's just take a look."

He pushed me forward and through the aisles. We scaled the entire store without picking up one thing before Luan began to get exasperated, and he dragged towards the shoe section.

"You're killing me," he told me. "At least look for some new sneakers. I saw the soles of yours peeling."

I waved him off. But I browsed the aisles anyway, up and down the lengths of them. I paused at a pair, the soles blue as the sea and the stripes criss-crossing over them like pure ice. I plucked them from the shelf.

Luan rested his chest on my back, leaning over. "Those are nice," he said. "Don't turn into a shoe guru, Kitae. You start collecting shoes, I'll think something of you."

"Didn't you want me to buy something?" I drawled.

He pushed my bangs over my face. He grabbed the shoe box. "One purchase down," he announced. "Dozens to go."

"Luan, hey, wait."

And on, and on, and on.

The party came like a freight train. 

"Captain, captain!" Yubaek shouted. He cuffed me under his elbow in seconds, his half-finished drink sloshing in his other hand. The bass was deafening, familiar, a burden on my bones. "Well, well, well. New kicks, as they say? Jinjja meosjida."

"Thanks," I managed. I unwound myself. "Nice party."

"As always," he finished, but his eyes were looking at me with something akin to hunger.

I took a step back. "Where's Aster?"

"What's wrong, I'm not fun company?" he drawled. "Play favorites in broad daylight, I see."

"Yubaek—"

"Shut up. I get it." He laughed, but the words were acidic. "Ay, ay, captain."

He slithered away. I shrank a little.

I headed through the crowds in search of the counter. By the time I found it, Luan was already there, talking with a solemn face to Aster. She said something that had her brows knitting together, but Luan lost his response upon spotting me. His face shifted into something light, and he grinned.

"Drinking so soon? I thought you were gonna try mingling sober," he called over the bass.

I looked at Aster. "What're you two talking about?"

Aster hesitated, then reached for a bottle of soju and grinned at me. "Hey, wanna try some yogurt soju? Yubaek has Yakult in the fridge."

"What were you—"

Luan grabbed my arm and pushed me towards the fridge, his chest to my back. "Nothing. Trash about Baluyot," he laughed. "Get a drink."

"Luan—"

Aster pushed a glass of soju and yogurt drink into my hand. She took her beer and clinked it against mine. "Cheers? C'mon, let's dance."

A strange anger bubbled up in my chest, but she was dragging me away before I got the shot to identify it. Luan disappeared behind me.

I downed the drink. I wondered where Baluyot had gone off to. I said, "Why won't you tell me?"

Aster shook her head and sighed. "You don't wanna know anyway, Kitae. Boring stuff. Leave it to the old people." She laughed like that was funny. I didn't return it.  "You're captain! Let's celebrate?"

Four drinks in, I cornered Luan.

He stood outside the bathroom, and once the person inside fled out and he was slipping inside, I grasped the doorknob to hold him still. He looked confused. Yubaek's mocking smile haunted me with a stabbing sensation in my temples, the center of my stomach. I gripped the door harder.

Luan said, "What's wrong?"

I pushed the door closed behind us. Ay ay, captain. I felt rather sick. 

I turned around and grasped his face. The kiss was seething, scarring, dark as the viscous night outside. My teeth hit his which sent his teeth into my lip, but I kissed him through the taste of iron in my mouth. I pushed him until his back hit a wall of some sort, and pressed fingers into his hips until I found something that felt like fabric, yanking it up and hunting for skin.

Luan's fingers ran through my hair, up the back of my neck. Then, he wrapped his hand tight around my hair and yanked my head back. "Kitae," he said, then in stern Mandarin, "Stop."

I stopped. A part of me wanted to hit him. Another wanted to cry. Maybe both. Humiliation was familiar, albeit unwelcome.

"Why?" I muttered.

"You're drunk."

"And? I'm conscious."

"You don't know what you're doing."

"Stop talking to me like I'm a kid." I shoved him off of me. "What did you and Aster talk about?"

"Why are you so caught up by that?" he sighed, letting me go. He wiped at his mouth. "What's wrong? What's gotten into you?"

"I'm not a kid," I repeated.

Luan blinked, calculating that. "I never said you were."

"Don't you like me?" I snapped. I meant it to be abrasive, but it came out desperate, frantic and unintentional. I winced. "Do you even like me?"

Luan went very quiet. A part of me didn't want the answer. I pinched the space between my eyes. Alcohol made my ears buzz, made my temples ache. I cursed violently, like speaking louder would eradicate the secret I'd just spilled onto the bathroom floor.

I sat against the tub, my back to the cool stone. Luan came to sit beside me, his knee touching mine. The air was hot with bodies and open mouths, alcohol and acrid smoke. Luan didn't speak, just tilted his head back and withdrew something from his pocket. When he stuck the cigarette between his teeth, I had a thought I was supposed to be disgusted. I wasn't.

Luan lit the cigarette and let the embers catch his teeth, singe off the enamel and escape in gray curls. He said, "Liking has got nothing to do with what's happening."

Heat boiled in the back of my throat. "Why'd you make me captain?" I said. 

"You wanted it, no?" He offered the cigarette to me. I let it float aloft between us.

"Why did you do it? Baluyot and you have been friends for years." I shook my head. "Why?"

Luan considered me for a long moment. I'd never know if he was lying, and I never did find out after, when he answered me. I'd never really know why. Luan didn't ever need one before. 

He took my chin in his hand and pulled me forward. He placed the cigarette between my lips. "Don't suck. Just breathe," he said in gentle Mandarin. 

A part of me wanted to cry just from hearing him say anything that wasn't a reply to what I said. But I didn't, nor did I argue. I closed my lips around the cigarette and breathed. The ash was too thick and I choked on it, gasping.

Luan reached and grabbed my throat. His fingers weren't harsh, rather soft, pressing ever so slightly against the front of my throat as he pushed my head back. At the time, I figured he looked calm. Calmer than I felt, at least.

"Breathe," he repeated.

I breathed.  He placed the cigarette between my fingers, and kept his hand around my throat. I didn't choke. The nicotine went down easy.

Luan leaned down and let his lips graze my chin. He said, "Let's go home, Kitae."

Home was 2000 miles away and forbidden. Home was nowhere to be found.

"Okay," I whispered.

__________________

Here's how it went:

Junior year began like a firecracker. College was the talk of the town, the apple of every junior's eye at Greylaw Academy. College essays, college interviews, college tours, college Q&As, college, college, college. The very idea made me lightheaded.

"Is there any college in particular you want to shoot for?" my counselor asked.

I hesitated on the truth. "Anywhere I can race," I said.

His grin was sympathetic. "What more than that? There's over twenty Division I universities, public and private, across California, after all. What about your major?"

I shrugged. "I haven't thought about it."

My counselor looked a bit stricken at that. "Well, I suggest you do. Something you're good at, if you're so set on racing. Something that won't interfere too fiercely. Offers for athletes come about right around this time, you know. I wouldn't dismiss studies too quickly."

I blinked. "I didn't."

He hummed. He pushed a packet to me. "Let me know when you decide. We'll talk." I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want to think about college.

I took the packet and saw myself out.

"College is going to be very important, Kitae," Sunhee said. "Your mom and dad told you the end of high school is when you'll be reevaluated."

I didn't need that stark, stinging reminder. But I knew Sunhee said it with hope more than concern. "I know," I said, sliding further down against the bed. "I know, noona."

"What about Seoul?"

"Korea?" I repeated. 

"Well, I thought you wanted to come back," she explained. "I thought you were going to come back."

The words struck me upside the head, oblong and strangely wrong. I couldn't say no. I couldn't say yes, either. I pursed my lips tight. "I don't know yet," I admitted. "And...I don't know if I want to go back."

Sunhee went very quiet. I thought she might be mad. I said, "Don't be mad, noona."

"Mad? No, no, I'm not mad. What are you talking about?" she said, scoffing. "Well, if you're going to stay in the States, then you should at least do well while you're there. What about Avaldi?"

"Avaldi University?" I said. At her hum, I nearly burst into a laugh. "They'd never take me."

"You never know, Kitae. They just might."

"It's Avaldi. They're some of the best racers there are," I argued. "No, noona. Not Avaldi."

"Avaldi is everything you'd need, Kitae. They're some of the best, they are the best—Avaldi could be what makes you golden." I went perfectly still. "Your studies are great, you're the Skylarks' new captain, you could do it. You could race, Kitae."

I let the idea settle on my tongue like cotton candy. Avaldi University, the best of the best, and me. It was comical. But, Sunhee was right: it would be my saving grace.

"I'll try my best," I told her.

"That's all I ask," she said. "How is Luan? He's away a lot more now, hm? Do you get lonely?"

I figured I was supposed to laugh. I didn't. "Luan is doing well."

She took that with hesitation. "How are you two?"

I winced. "We're all well, noona," I lied. I rubbed at my eyes, saw stars speckle my vision. "We're all right."

"Have you eaten?"

I glanced at the doorway. Luan had changed, now clad in nothing but a blue shirt and sweats, his black hair a cloud over his blacker eyes. They angled down at me now, and the desk I sat at felt suddenly small, suddenly crowded, under his gaze.

I returned to my paper. "I'm not hungry," I said.

"The fridge looks the same as I left it and you didn't eat dinner. You must be." Luan came to settle against the edge of my desk, frowning. He reached for my chin and murmured in Mandarin, "For all the racing you do, you would think you would be gaining more muscle."

I swatted his hand away. "I'm all right."

"I can order something," he went on. 

The idea made me nauseous. My head pulsed in the desk's daunting light. "It's all right," I said. "Don't. I'm not hungry." 

"Kitae."

"I'm not hungry, Luan."

Luan stared. He said, "What's wrong?"

I shook my head. I closed my eyes. Everything ached. "Just leave me alone," I murmured.

Luan stayed for a few moments more, then turned on his heel and let me be, the silence heavy on my spine.

My forehead hit the paper, and I let the room spin to nothingness as the night waned away.

"Come in."

I pursed my lips tight. I pushed open the door. Luan laid diagonal across his bed, his phone above his face, flashing lights of whatever video he was watching flickering over his skin. He didn't look at me as I approached, and it felt much like a scolded child creeping into his parents' room to offer up an amateur apology.

I sat on the edge of the bed. I said in soft Korean, "I'm sorry, about snapping."

Luan watched his phone for a moment more. Then, scooted himself aside to make room beside him. I took that invitation with a small breath of relief and lied down across from him. He set his phone down on the nightstand, and turned his eyes to mine.

"It's okay," he said. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged. "Sunhee and I were talking about college."

"You don't want to talk about college?"

I shook my head. "Feels like we're talking about something that isn't even going to happen."

"You'll go to college, Kitae."

"It's not if I do," I argued. "It's where."

"Well, then, where? Harvard's team is twenty fifth in the NCAA, you know."

I shook my head, a scoff escaping me. "She said I should try for Avaldi."

Luan perked up. "Avaldi?" he repeated. I nodded. His smile was gentle, reassuring. "I could see you at Avaldi."

"What do you mean?"

"Means if anyone I know could survive Corvus, it'd probably be you," he replied in English with a flick of his hand. His laugh was surprisingly bright. "You should try. Your cousin is onto something."

I waved that away. "The day Avaldi takes one look my way, I'll start speaking French."

Luan ruffled my hair. "You still have a language requirement to fulfill."

I titled my head back until the crown of my head was resting in his palm, until his fingers stopped moving and remained at the nape of my neck, pushing into the veins that ran down. He took his hand away and sat up, taking all the warmth with him. 

I closed my eyes to hold back the immediate fear he'd never touch me again. I said, "I'll think about it."

The bed shifted. The sheets pressed in beside my head. I opened my eyes. 

Luan stared down at me, trapping me in on all fours like a cage. It felt less like a cage and more like an embrace that never came but never left. At the time. At the time, it was nice. 

I bit back my smile, the leap in my chest that fell against my breastbone. "What's this?"

"An inquiry," he replied in quiet Mandarin. "Kitae, have you ever done street racing?"

I hesitated. "Obviously. Just a little."

"No, real street racing." Luan pushed my bangs from my forehead. "The fun kind."

"What are you talking about?"

Luan lowered himself until he was lying on top of me, his chin on my chest and his hands still in my hair. My breath choked me, solidified and lodged in my throat. I nearly gagged on it, and held myself back by sheer will.

"So bony," he muttered. "I told you to eat more." He winked. "There's a race, near Cat's Eye. Six hundred dollars."

I blinked. "Street racing with bets," I reiterated. At his nod, I said, "That's illegal."

"Only if you get caught."

"You're going to race?"

"I thought you'd want to."

"Luan. What are you talking about."

"Well, I'd love to spoil you forever, xīngān, but even my budget's got its limits. Besides, when you're shipped off to Avaldi, you're gonna need the pocket cash to eat all the best food LA has to offer down there, no?" he said, and hummed like we were discussing dinner. "Just one. Just to try?"

The debt. My tuition. The reminder, even if innocuous, sent a sucker punch into my throat.

You don't know what you'll owe him.

You are a chess piece.

I swallowed. "Just one," I promised.

He smiled. He turned to leave, just like that.

"That's all I ask," he whispered.

___________________

"You look too thin."

I laughed into the phone, although the sound echoed far out from me, somewhere I didn't recognize. "You worry too much, noona. You haven't even see me."

"I see your Instagram! Are you eating okay? You've lost so much weight since I saw you," she said, and a strange, acidic, alchemical mixture of pride and pain welled below my sternum. The day was too long for this. My head hurt and had hurt for many weeks.

"I'm fine, noona," I said, then paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"Oh, no. What's wrong?"

"You've dated people before."

"Sure. Why?"

I picked at the hem of my shirt, the sun streaming in from the outside painting my essay and The Tell-Tale Heart into varying shades of pink and gold. I closed my eyes and pretended I was back in Busan, sitting across from Sunhee with the same sun finding me in kinder hues.

"If someone is kind of...physical with you, if someone does nice things for you, but they don't talk to you much or they sort of avoid you when you're not alone with them, what does that mean?" I tried. 

Sunhee went very quiet. After nearly a minute, she said, "Is this about Luan?"

I paused. "What?"

"It's okay if it's about Luan."

"Can I say it doesn't matter?"

"Well, it's different if it's a girl or if it's a guy. They mean different things coming from one or the other."

"Well, if it's a guy."

"So it's about Luan."

"Please just answer me."

"It helps if I have context, Kitae."

"Fine."

Sunhee made a sound that wasn't all happy. "Wang Kitae, do you know how old you are? Do you know how old he is? I'm flying you out of LA tomorrow."

"Spare me, and I know my own age," I snapped. "Can you just tell me what you think?"

She sighed. "Oh, Kitae," she murmured. "What'd you get yourself into?" She didn't bother making me answer and she didn't answer for me. After a few more moments of waiting, to the point I wondered if she would answer at all, she said, "Kitae, I'm gonna tell you something that you need to remember, especially with guys. Girls, they're smarter about things. Do you understand?"

"Don't say anything weird," I said. "But okay."

"First of all, I want you to use protection."

"Stop. No."

"Okay, I just needed to get it out of the way," she hurried. "Second, men work on impulse, girls work on reticence."

"What does that mean?"

"It means he might like you, and if he does those intimate things with you, then he probably definitely likes you to some extent, even if it's only a peak of interest. But it might just be that they like you right now, and therefore, they'll do what they like. Do you see what I mean?"

"What's that mean?"

She laughed. "It's...everyone has baskets, right? Some baskets are very small, so you keep them very protected, very close, and are very careful about who you put in them. Some baskets are bigger, so they're further away from you, and more people fit so you toss many in. Sometimes you think someone is in one basket, but really, they should be in the other, or someone was once in a big basket, but proved to be worth fitting into a smaller one."

"I don't own any baskets, noona."

"It means you need to remember that everyone has different baskets, and you might not be in the same one for someone else, as they are for you. And sometimes, most times, you should be in the same one. If you're not, you might only hurt yourself."

I hesitated. "You think he doesn't like me?" I said, and felt the sting of something deep flare up at the words being spoken aloud.

She paused. "No, Kitae. I think he likes you," she said. "But men can be so finicky. And I don't want you to put someone in such a small basket, thinking it should be that way, when you might be moving all around his and not even knowing it."

"What's with you and these baskets, noona?"

"You have no imagination!" she exclaimed. "It means I think he likes you now, but you might be nothing but that to him: someone to like, someone that's very easy to like. You might not be someone to like tomorrow, or the day after. Guys are like that, you know. Too impulsive. I don't want you to think a crush is a lover. It might hurt that way. You understand?"

I thought about that for a long, long moment. It wasn't the comfort I wanted, but it wasn't the rejection I was dreading either. Somehow, though, the verdict felt even worse than the extreme of either. I tried to swallow that away.

"Yeah, noona," I replied. "I understand."

Not that I wanted to.

____________________

The races weren't bad, not at first. If anything, they were some of the most fun I had in high school.

Luan ruffled my hair and threw back his head in a laugh. "Winning already, it hasn't even been a month," he said. "You learn too quick for your own good."

I wiped at my cheek. My hand came away stained with red, but my smile stayed. I fished in the pocket of my jacket before procuring the stack of bills, proof of my victory. "There's incentive," I reminded.

Luan grinned. He glanced around us before leaning down and kissing my cheek. Heat flared in the place where his lips touched, like a fresh burn. "Double incentive," he corrected. "It's been a while since you smiled like that. Is it the racing or me?"

I blinked. He threw his head back with a laugh and neglected to push for an answer. He turned on his heel. "Come on, let's get out of here. There's nothing good in Hallgate anyway. We should leave before someone mugs that victory right out of your hand."

Luan headed for his bike and yanked on his helmet. I got on my bike and we steered towards the streets, its body bloated with morning traffic. Adjacent to the alley, someone from the race stood talking into a phone, their eyes watching us.

I swallowed. Luan zipped past me and beckoned for me to follow.

When I passed the racer, he gave me a wicked grin, and his eyes pulsed purple in farewell.

The money felt heavier with every mile.

"Are you on Adderall?"

My head swiveled to the left. Vivi stood with her arms crossed, her jacket over the bench, scrimmages fading out on the track beside us. I tightened the straps on my cleats and stood. Something of a growth spurt had finally gotten the memo in me, and I finally stood high enough over Vivi to diminish the scalding sensation on my skin from her gaze.

"What?" I said. "What is that?"

"Something that resembles you but worse," she replied. "I've never seen you clear the track that fast. Is Luan still training you? I know you two still live together. What's with that, by the way? Isn't he supposed to be on campus?"

I rubbed the back of my neck. The flurry of questions made my head buzz. "Shouldn't a captain be the best?" was all I mustered up.

Vivi stared at me for a while, then tossed her head to the side with a bitter scoff. She said, "Are you serious?" When I just stared, she nodded. "All right. Yeah. Whatever." She headed for the track.

I grabbed her arm out of instinct. "What's wrong with you?"

"Me?" Vivi frowned at me. She shook her head. She took her arm back. "Sometimes, Kitae, I think you spend too much time with Luan."

She left me in the dust alone. 

"Wang! Let's go!"

Peters beckoned for me to head into the office. Baluyot and Quinn snickered as they watched me go. Baluyot tilted his head at me. "Are they measuring muscle mass? You might get disappointed, Kitae."

I bristled. "What's that mean?"

"Whoa, no shade. Cutting season, I get it. How long has that been, though?"

"What?"

"You're so crass, B." Yubaek glanced up from his phone, smiling at us. "A seventeen year old's ego is a fragile thing. Tread with caution."

I shook my head. "You're all weird." I headed for the office. 

"What's his deal?" Quinn muttered. "He's gotten so sensitive now, so snappy. Maybe he ought to eat, maybe it's 'cause he's always hangry."

"Tell me about it," Baluyot sighed. "I think I liked him better when he didn't speak English."

I bit my lip to swallow the blood of that bite. I headed into the health office. 

The nurse smiled up at me. He gestured to the green cushion bench. "You can have a seat there, Kitae. Kitae, right?" I nodded. He smiled again. "We're just gonna do a basic physical for clearance."

I let him run his tests and answered the questions he asked without issue. He scribbled notes down on a file with a hum and nothing more. By the end of it, I figured I was in the clear.

"Reflexes are good, vision is 20/20, and your blood pressure is expected for an athlete your age," he recounted. "Shifting problems of any kind? Have you shifted?"

Shifting in the lycan world was a necessary evil in adolescence, as it assured normal development even if shifting itself was ultimately discouraged. Sunhee told me I ought to try just to make sure, but Alphas posed an extra risk in shifting because of ruts. Just the idea of undergoing one was unappealing enough for me to neglect Sunhee's advice altogether.

I shook my head reluctantly. "No."

The nurse did something of a double take. "Not at all?" 

"Not that I know of."

"Is there an issue?"

"No? I don't want to."

He hummed. He set his papers down. "It's important that you do, just to make sure you have control over it. I understand the hesitation, but you're nearly eighteen, and as an Alpha, it's responsible of you to learn your shifting natures. We should also know how far you can shift."

"Can you just put no-shift?"

The nurse gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm going to mark this incomplete. I'll have you come back in next week." He tilted his head. "I also want to ask you about your weight. It's declined steeply in the last three years."

"So?"

He paused. "Rapid weight loss is concerning, especially during puberty and especially for Alphas. Diabetes, disease, etcetera can go untreated. Are you taking anything to lose weight?"

It was more a matter of what I wasn't taking but I just shook my head. "I've had my check-ups," I promised. "It's just because of square racing. Can I go now?"

"Do you eat well?"

"Great. All the food groups. I've done my blood work. Can I go?"

The nurse stared. He looked halfway between asking more and letting me go. I did the choosing for him and hopped off the table. I headed for the door.

"Kitae."

I stopped. I glanced back.

The nurse tapped the paperwork. "Next week."

I pursed my lips. "I'll be here."

"You've never shifted? Aren't you a little old for this?"

I closed my eyes. "Thanks. That's kind."

Luan put his hands up. "I'll help you, I just thought you'd done it at some point. Rite of passage, or something."

"When did you do it?"

"Twelve. I was sore for days. I bought out the meat section at Ralph's."

I sighed, tilting my head back. "Great," I muttered. "That helps."

Luan patted my back. "It's not that bad, it's just a little jarring. Let's do it in the evening, it'll be cooler outside."

"Outside?"

"You're not shifting in this house, Kitae," he said, wagging his finger. "These are hardwood floors. And what if you're a full-shift? You'll pop the roof off."

"You're making this worse," I muttered, burying my face in my hands. "What if I go into a rut?"

Luan stopped. He gawked at me, then, threw his head back and laughed. He ruffled my hair. "Jeez, is that what you're worried about? Is that what held you back this whole time?" He shook his head. "Kitae. You know how rare ruts are? You'll be fine. I promise."

"You promise."

Luan leaned down, and smiled. "I promise," he said. "When have I ever broken a promise?"

Table your disgusting fantasies. Shifting's no fucking fun.

Shifting for ritualistic purposes had been tabled for the hippies and the nomads for centuries, leaving the post-modern lycan a shift-by-necessity type that really only maintained the personality of a lycan rather than the nature of one—framing it that way, maybe we should've kept shifting, it might have relieved some of the stress that put us all into the jackass category, but I digress.

Throughout those centuries, shifting had grown spotty, leaving some lycans with more ability than others. Some could only muster up the eyes. Others could change from head to toe. However, either way, the ability had grown to be so scarcely used that the process of which to shift was a bit more painful and a bit more tiring. Which meant, it was sort of excruciating and it was fucking exhausting and no, frankly, no one looked very pretty doing it.

"You can stand there all night and catch a cold or you can see if there are real claws underneath your metaphorical ones."

I closed my eyes like not seeing Luan would mean he wasn't there at all. 

"Not seeing me doesn't mean I'm not here at all."

I sighed. I swiveled my head to him. "You're not helping."

He held up a hand. "It's in your blood, you're thinking too hard about it. It's right there for you."

"But you just...go?"

"Sure. Go."

"Luan."

"Don't think about it."

"What if it hurts?"

"You're a square racer, it won't hurt any more than the injuries you get on the track, now go on."

I huffed. I was hoping he'd take some pity on me and we'd try again never, but the easy look on his face said he really did plan on leaving me out in the yard all night until I mustered up the effort. I straightened. I tried not to think about it. My heart screeched in my head.

The sensation was immediate. It was the same sensation of someone striking your funny bone, the feeling rushing through your blood without an origin or destination, just an obvious, undiluted discomfort that made your bones writhe. My knuckles stung, my fingertips buzzed, and a white-hot pain struck my gums like metal rings to teeth.

I wobbled, groaned a bit. I clenched my fists and held them against my breathless chest. My body felt heavy, as if all the gaps between my cells had been filled with concrete. A tear of skin and the smell of iron yanked my head down.

Claws slithered out from my nail beds, red with fresh blood and stiff. It pushed my nails up from their place, broke the skin clinging to them there, before the claw pierced flesh and ripped them from the root up, all ten at once.

I cried out, stumbling back. The pain was so searing it blurred out completely, my vision crumbling under it. I doubled over, holding my stomach. My mouth hung open, as if to scream more, but the constant burn left my jaw useless. Blood coated my mouth, filled my nose. When I swiped my tongue over my gums, a fang sliced the tip open, serrated like a new knife. 

"Kitae!"

I shook my head, and closed my eyes.

"My cousin passed out his first time, too."

Luan wrapped my pinkie up, cutting and taping the bandage when he was done. Shifting as far as I did meant the claws—which extended only about half an inch out of the finger—were to remain for a little while before they could be pushed back in, even if only a little. My gums were still sore, and the taste of blood remained with a vengeance. More than anything, a bone-deep exhaustion lingered in my body, every race of my life combined into one anvil on the back of my neck.

"Your eyes will probably stay that way for the night," he went on. "I made oatmeal. Might be easier on your mouth." He taped the last bandage on and patted my knee. "I'm gonna take that you don't wanna try again."

I shook my head. "I think I'm okay," I murmured. "Can't I just tell him that's as far as I got and take the partial-shift?"

Luan nodded. "Considering you passed out by the time your fangs came in, I'm guessing that's as far as you would get anyway." He handed me a glass of water.

I downed it all before I said, "How much can you shift?"

"About as much as you. Matching?" My lips quirked in a grin. He laughed. "Matching."

I took his hand as best as I could. "Thanks."

"What? For watching you pass out?"

I smiled. "Sure. And for these." I splayed my hands at him. He poked the top of a claw and I winced. "Hey."

"Kidding, kidding. Good thing you have the weekend to recover." He kissed my forehead, and for a moment, the pain dissipated from my body completely. "First shift. Very nice."

I shook my head. "And last," I promised.

___________________

It was the summer going into senior year. June, if you wanted to get specific. The third week, if you wanted the details. Thursday, if you wanted to twist the knife.

"Yugyeom invited us out to the diner," I told Luan. The season wasn't over for the NCAA, which meant the Diamond Prix had begun and Luan was gone a lot more. Still. "You haven't seen them in a while, right?"

Luan didn't look up from his laptop but did say, "I've got practice tonight."

"What about tomorrow?"

"Match."

"Saturday."

"Practice. It's the Diamond Prix. Sorry, xīngān."

The endearment fell flat. I frowned. "Next week?"

"Probably not."

"Probably?"

Luan frowned up at me. "We see each other in the afternoons."

"What about them?"

"I see them when I can, but I'm not in high school anymore, Kitae. You are. Go hang out with them, why do you need me there?"

"I don't. I just—we haven't hung out in a while."

"We live together."

"I know."

Luan gave me a look that was as confused as it was unwilling to acquiesce. The Diamond Prix had made him increasingly irritable, less talkative, had taken him away for most of the days and nights. I knew he wasn't in high school anymore. I don't know if I ever needed a reminder of that. But he said it less like a matter of fact, and more of a matter of place.

I pushed. "What about next Wednesday? You only have night practice, right?"

Luan turned around from his desk. He looked up at me, his face entirely blank. "Why?"

I blinked. "We could go out. Go somewhere."

"Why?"

"What? Why?"

"We see each other, Kitae. Why are you pushing this?"

I stared. I waited for the punchline. There was none. I took a step back.

"I'm not," I said, but it came out sad. "I'm sorry." I turned around to head down the hall.

I waited through the night for him to come in and talk to me, say sorry or explain himself or even pretend like nothing was wrong at all. But the night left, and he was at practice in the morning, and it remained quiet in the empty house. 

"Ah, makes sense," Yugyeom sighed when I arrived alone at the diner. He smiled. "He's not in high school anymore, after all. College is another world. I'd choose to be a college student over a high school student anytime."

I swallowed. He's not in high school anymore. But I was. 

"Right," I said. "Me, too."

In a way, I never stopped waiting for Luan that night, even years later.

In the same way, he never really came back.

"Another race?"

Luan shrugged in the doorway. He made a swerving gesture with his hand. "It's way downtown, near Cat's Eye. Those streets are hellish, but they're overrun with amateur racers. The bets will probably be better than anywhere uptown."

I pursed my lips. "But Cat's Eye is dangerous, isn't it?"

He shrugged. "Not really. Not if you're street racing."

"I've never driven Cat's Eye."

He sighed. "Well, then this is your opportunity, right? You're eighteen, you're old enough now to figure out the streets as you go."

I shook my head, turning back to my book. "I don't want to, Luan. Hallgate is as far as I'll go."

Luan went quiet, and for a moment, I figured he'd take that with a bitter pill and move on. But he said, "Let's go."

I looked up. "What? No."

"It's good money," he argued.

"So?"

He raised a brow. His face was a blank, boarded-up thing. I pursed my lips and averted my eyes. He looked ready to say something, then decided against it, retreating out the door.

"Fine," he sighed. "Never mind."

We didn't talk again for the rest of the night.

But, in moments.

Arms grasped me from behind and water from the dish in my hand splashed my front. I jerked back. Luan tightened his grip and laughed in my ear. 

"I told you not to do that," I murmured.

"Ah, but you've been so grumpy," he chuckled. "It's summer. Act like it."

"It's hot and humid and the nearest beach is forty minutes from here," I said. I placed the dish in the sink and turned around. "What do you do with that?"

Luan hummed. "Wanna race?"

I stared. "Where?"

"The Splinter."

"You're crazy. Again?"

Luan pushed his fingers under my shirt, ran his nails over my stomach. I swallowed. I let my gaze linger on the soapy dish, the overbaked sun. He rested his chin on my shoulder.

"You've never street raced if you haven't done it in the Splinter," he told me. "Just try?" His grin was sweet, full of cotton sunlight and June.

I pursed my lips. If I got caught...

But if Luan was there, then, wouldn't it all be okay?

I sighed. "Just once."

The race was unlike anything you've ever seen. I think so even now.

The Splinter was a jagged, cavernous ravine of a city that ran into the earth's crust and filled the sides with everything from pawn shops to liquor stores to grocery marts to palm readers to a renowned mattress store that was always empty but always in great business—suspiciously. It sat below sea level—concerningly—and got half the amount of sunlight any normal living thing would typically need for survival. It left the plants in the sidewalk cracks strange and discolored like the angler fish of the fauna world, and the residents pale with the lack of UV or outdoor interest. Bloodsuckers would have loved it had the area not been so riddled with poor funding and poorer attitudes. It left humans, lycans, witches, and werewolves alike as the main target.

I stood by my bike. The racers around me all donned similar nylon masks over their face for sake of discretion, although over three dozen strangers were hyped and ready to watch anyway. I tugged at the mask on my face, but Luan batted my hand away.

"Important that people don't see your face," he murmured. 

"How much is on this match again?" I sighed.

"Enough," he assured. "Remember, it's a drag race, so it's just a matter of getting back here first. You know the route?"

I tapped the map on my phone. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Is any square race safe?"

"You know what I mean."

Luan ruffled my hair. "Don't you trust me?" he replied.

"Hey! Racers! Let's move all your asses, we're starting!" a young man yelled at the front. "Everyone put their bets in? Bet to race, that's the rule—hey, give me that, you little rat." He snagged a stack of bills from a racer up ahead, head to toe in a mismatch of black and blue gear and an outdated TRAX. "Twenty bucks? You fucker. Every time. Whatever. Everyone ready?" We nodded.

Luan patted my back and winked. "Kill it, yeah?"

I smiled. "Yeah."

And, yeah.

Over and over and over again.

A party in summer meant wine coolers and trouble. I preferred the first part.

"Let's get fucking wasted before I realize we're getting old," Quinn sighed, hauling herself up off the couch to head for the counter. I nursed the daiquiri in my hand and watched her go, my head pleasantly buzzed, sapping the ache out of my joints from last night in Cat's Eye.

Aster and Yubaek were talking at the counter, and upon Quinn retreating, spotted me as open. Aster headed for me with a grin and a matching daiquiri, her eyes glittering under fresh bangs. She sat beside me and said, "The track doesn't seem to be treating you well. You look like you just went three bad rounds with a yeti."

"Yetis aren't real," I scoffed. "And I'm all right. How's Oregon?"

"Hell on earth," she said, then laughed. "I love it."

I smiled brightly. "That's good. I'm glad."

"How's it here? Being captain?"

I shrugged. Being captain at Greylaw didn't mean anything but glory and point grabs. It didn't mean anything beyond a résumé line because it didn't have to. "It's fine. It's...it's all right."

Aster cocked her head at me, hummed. She leaned in, frowning. "Kitae, are you and Luan still—"

"Kitae."

I looked up. Luan glanced down at me, then at Aster, then back at me with a new smile that didn't really reach his eyes. He tilted his head back towards the door in a gesture that asked if I wanted to leave.

"But Aster is," I started.

"Exam tomorrow," he reminded me.

"It's okay," I said.

"Come on."

Aster stood up. Her face was rather solemn. Luan smiled. She didn't. She said, "Luan. Can I talk to you?"

He shook his head. "We should get home. Kitae."

I abandoned my daiquiri on the tabletop and walked after him. Aster took my wrist, not for more than a moment, but quickly said in my ear, "Text me later, okay?" and released me into Luan's clutches.

In the car, I said, "Are you all right?"

Luan tore his gaze from the party to me. He considered me for a few moments, his face blank again, his eyes black and bottomless, his face somewhere between unhappy and curious. After an endless minute, he said in quiet Mandarin, "You look better with shorter hair."

I blinked. I said, "Thanks? Are you okay?"

Luan corrected his posture and started the car. We headed down the empty street, the beat of the party in our wake. The buzz of alcohol lingered in my veins, and it pushed my hand underneath his on the center console. He hesitated at first, then grasped my hand so tight a sting of pain shot through my still-tender fingers.

I hissed and jerked my hand back, but he held fast. "That hurts," I said.

We parked in the driveway. Luan said, "Sleep in my room tonight."

I paused. A shot of interest broke through the buzz, made my hair stand on end and my ears perk. "Why?" I asked.

He shrugged. "I feel like I haven't seen you in a while."

"We live together."

"You don't have to."

I pursed my lips. I let my fingers relax in his grasp, even if the ache lingered. "If it's okay with you."

His grin was immaculate, marble and maple. "Of course." There was an ease, but there was something unspoken that I couldn't place.

Luan's bed was, admittedly, worlds better than mine, his blankets nicer and his mattress firmer and he was in it. I buried my nose in a pillow, and the smell of autumn and skin settled in my lungs. My eyes drooped, my bones easing into the sheets.

An arm came around my middle. Luan's nose was cold against my neck. He said, "Did you want to go anywhere over the summer?" His fingers played with the hem of my shirt, pushed their way past the cloth and onto my stomach.

I swallowed the flare of excitement. "Not in particular," I said. "You?"

Luan kissed the base of my neck. I turned my head. His hand made its way to my ribs, the space under my heart. I worried he could feel its thrum sounding off like an alarm in my body. He spoke into my jaw. "My mom is going to Singapore in July for business. We could go with her."

I paused. I couldn't go out of country. Not until the Eval. Not until my parents made a choice on me, and even then, if it was a good one. I shook my head. "No, not Singapore."

He pulled me onto my back and pushed himself up above me. The air was permeated with summer, humid with southern Californian heat. "Why not?"

"I can't travel," I said. "Not outside of the US."

He frowned. "What? No fun." His hands were hot iron pokers on my back, my shoulders, the skin above my hips. "Then, maybe San Francisco. I haven't been back there in a while." He kissed my throat, ran his tongue over my voice box.

I swallowed. I pushed his shoulders back. "You're touchy tonight."

He frowned. "Is that bad?"

"What? No, it's...you haven't been in a while."

"Oh. Sorry. Things have been hectic, you know?" He shook his head. "Exam season is over though, frees up my time. Besides, you and I haven't been together in a while, just us, right?" He smiled something sweet. "I miss you."

It felt like all the strange tones and off-kilter atmospheres disintegrated. I grinned brightly, wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down towards me. My fingers shook with excitement. I couldn't even notice the ache.

"I missed you, too," I murmured, like just saying the words aloud was a weight off my chest. 

He kissed the end of the sentence to silence, his mouth scalding and insistent. I pushed my fingers into his hair, hung on when his hands brushed over my heartbeat. He pulled back to kiss the space below my ear, the edge of my jaw to my chin. I sat up straighter to yank his shirt off and push my knuckles between his ribs. The room was on fire and burning badly.

"I'm sorry, if you thought I was neglecting you," he whispered. He pulled my shirt off my back. His skin was overheated, painful to touch. But I held on. "I just wanted to wait to focus, you know?"

"It's okay, Luan," I said. I pulled his face to me and kissed him clumsily. "I wasn't worried."

"No? You seem distressed."

"I have a life outside of you, you know," I joked.

He frowned, bit my lip. I yelped. "What're you talking about?" he asked. "Aren't I your whole world?" He bit my neck, my cheek. 

I fell back with a laugh. "If you want to be."

"Dangerous offer." His lips found places on my chest, my stomach, my hips even I didn't think to kiss. He held himself over me. "We can stop here."

I thought of his silent retreat, his quiet coldness. I swallowed. I shook my head. I pushed myself upright. "If we don't?"

He blinked. He shook his head. "You drank."

"I'm tipsy at worst."

"That's still worse."

"Luan."

"Let's stop."

"I don't want to."

Luan peered at me. Back then, I figured it was hesitation, maybe seeing if I was being honest. Now, I figure it was reassurance, telling me that I was right.

He leaned in and grinned against my mouth. "Then," he murmured, "let's not."

But sex didn't solve shit. If anything, it made everything worse, because it gave us a new way out of issues, and yet, another way into a whole set of new ones.

"You and Luan," Aster clarified, her voice gravelly over the phone. "Are you two dating?"

The apple remained halfway to my mouth. I considered that statement, its repercussions. I spotted Luan on the couch, fast asleep from the day's practice. 

"Why?" I asked. 

"Because you are and haven't said so and I'd like for you to say so," she said.

"What?"

"Luan said you two are going out. Are you going out?"

I would've been less shocked by a stray meteor crashing into the living room. I opened my mouth, closed it. I said, "He did?"

"Yes. Are you?"

"You sound angry."

"I'm not. I just...want to hear it from you."

I frowned at that. Luan shifted in his sleep but didn't wake. I thought of the way she said it. Because you are and haven't said so. Have we? I considered it.

"Are we?" I blurted.

Aster's laugh was unamused. "Are you?"

I chewed on it, swirled it around on my tongue. I set the apple down. "Yeah," I said. "We are."

Aster just hummed. She said, "Kitae, Luan's been my friend for a long time, and I love him. But if he—I know how he can be. I don't want you to feel like you owe him."

I stared blankly, my eyes on Luan but my mind fleeing at those words. A strange pop of something in my nerves sounded off a flash of anger. Sunhee echoed in my mind.

"You think I'm dating him because I owe him?" I said.

"What? No, that's not—"

"It's not like that, Aster, and...Luan wouldn't do that. You know that," I said. I gritted my teeth. "Why would you say that?"

"Kitae, I just—"

"I'm gonna go," I said. 

"Kitae," she said. "I'm worried about you."

I clenched my fists. "Don't be, Aster. It's okay. I'm okay," I said. "I'm gonna go."

"Wait—"

I ended the call. I leaned against the counter, and waited for the day to wane.

When Luan awoke, I said in Korean, "Are we dating?"

He pushed the hair from his face and frowned at me. "What?"

"Are we dating?" I asked. "Did you tell Aster we're dating?"

He blinked. He stretched his arms over his head with a yawn and came to lean over the counter to face me. His nonchalance was comforting in any other setting, now, it felt like a mockery. I bristled.

Luan said, "Yes."

"You didn't tell me that."

"That we're dating? Or that Aster knows we're dating?"

"That we're dating."

He laughed. Then stopped laughing. "Kitae. Be serious."

"I am being serious."

"Look at us."

"So you told everyone we were dating before you told me?"

"You knew." I gawked. He frowned. "You knew, didn't you? All this time."

It felt like being punched. I turned to head for my room. He called after me, but I was too busy trying to quell the thrashing in my head, the commotion of those words. All this time.

He caught my wrist tight. "Kitae."

I shook my head. "You should've said something. This whole time, I thought you were just...you never said a word."

"I didn't think I had to," he said, giving me a strange look that made every word out of my mouth sound undoubtedly ridiculous. "Everything we did was clear enough."

"But you should've told me," I argued. "You should have—you should have at least mentioned it. Luan."

He stared. Then, held up his hands. "I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't think to, I shouldn't have assumed. I'm sorry, really. I didn't mean to embarrass you." He leaned over to kiss my temple. "Maybe I got excited."

Luan and I, dating. The concept wasn't far off, but it wasn't in reach either. I tried to say it aloud again. Instead, I asked, "Does that make me your boyfriend?"

Luan tilted his head at me, and smiled brightly. He said, "Do you want to be?"

The world waited, even if just for a moment.

I smiled. "Yes."

He leaned down to kiss me. "Then, yes."

The evening fell to pieces.

"You don't listen to me."

"I'm listening right now."

"You seem busy."

"I am, frankly."

"You're always busy."

"College gets like that, Kitae. You'll understand."

"Stop saying that. You keep saying that. I'm eighteen not eight."

"Stop."

I stared at Luan from my place in the doorway. I had my racing gear on, practice waiting for me at the track and SKYLARKS 01 printed on my jacket's back. The leather felt comforting, for the most part. Now, it just felt suffocating. 

September ended summer with a cleaver. Everyone burst through the new school year as if on a rampage, college applications and aspiring career discussions sweeping everyone clear off their feet, a tug-of-war of attention between high school present and collegian future. Sunhee hadn't left my phone alone for more than half a day, but the consensus was the same no matter what kind of text or when: racing, or nothing.

"Noona," I sighed, shutting my door behind me and sitting on my bed. "You're going to single-handedly absolve all my data at this point."

"I don't know any of those big words, my English is conversational," she snapped. "Stop reading. You're leaving your poor cousin behind."

I managed a laugh. "I'm focused on racing, I told you already."

"No scouts?" I paused. She sighed. "Kitae. Racers for scholarship or admission are usually scouted by now. You need to focus. That Vivi girl is already off to Manhattan, isn't she?" I sighed back and she clicked her tongue. "Listen, I heard Mustangs and Corvus are going to be at your next match. Find the coaches afterwards."

"It's all online now, they're not going to come."

"Stop questioning me and just do it. Kitae," she pressed, "your Eval is next April. That's the same time admissions come out. That's the decision."

"I know, noona," I snapped. "I know. Trust me."

She went quiet. After a beat, she said, in a softer voice, "I know you can do it. I don't want you to think it's because I don't think you can. It's because we want everyone else to know."

I pursed my lips. I stared across the room, towards the mirror on my desk. My face stared back, five years older, a world away from Kitae from Busan. I closed my eyes.

"I know, noona," I whispered. I thought of Nami kneeling in front of me, her hands tight on my arms, her whispered warning. "I know."

I had hoped Luan would help me in practices, in the applications, in some way or another, but the Diamond Prix was nearing Red and he was absent for the most part with school restarting. The absence was normal, but it wasn't when he was gone that bugged me, but when he was there.

"I don't think I'm asking for a lot," I gritted, flexing my fists. 

Luan craned his neck at me. That terrible blank stare was more common now than not, an icy thing that was colorless and disdainful and unlike his usual cheer. It made me feel childish, and forget what anything I could say that would make me not so.

"You have a team of racers and Peters that can help you," he replied coolly. "Why do you need me? I'm busy."

"They're struggling with it, too. Peters doesn't even know what I mean when I ask. Everyone else is in Oregon or farther. You don't have to get on a bike, but could you at least tell me?"

"Later."

"You said that already."

Luan turned his back to me and returned to his work. "I don't have time to fight with you over something as small as this. Figure it out. I had to figure it out."

Your life doesn't depend on it. I squeezed my fists tight into my thighs. I grabbed my helmet and turned to leave. "Why do I even try?" I muttered in hushed Korean.

He called out my name, but I was already closing the door.

"Watch it, Wang!"

I curved my bike around the corner. I sped faster, hurried for the next. I knocked Quinn out of the way, wheeled past Olive, and shot for the finish line. Luan's words tore through my tongue. College gets like that. You'll understand.

"You're in a mood." Vivi frowned at me from the bench. I ignored her. She gasped. "A real mood. Kitae Wang pouting, I can believe, but Kitae Wang in a mood."

"I'm fine."

"Your racing says otherwise."

"I'll agree with that." Peters approached us, pointed a pen at me. "I don't know what you've got going in your head, kid, but cut it out and keep it off the track, will you?"

"I'm fine," I shot back.

"Act like it." He left. Vivi raised a brow at me.

"Is it Luan?" she asked. "Maybe if you bake him a pie."

"Shut up, Vivi," I snapped, and got to my feet, leaving her agape in silence. My head hurt something awful. I wanted to call Luan. I didn't.

When I got home, he was in the kitchen, the smell of a stew cooking and fresh rice steaming. He didn't say anything to me when I walked inside, but he watched me as if waiting for the first sign of life.

I dropped my helmet in my room, changed out and washed up. Luan had set the table by the time I came out, my hair still wet around my neck, and the rice now in bowls with the pot of stew in the center. He stood by the sink, washing the last of the dishes. Is it Luan? 

I stood behind him and rested my chin on his shoulder. He paused. "How was practice?"

I shrugged. "Fine."

"I heard scouts are coming to your match."

"How'd you hear that?"

"Rooms aren't soundproof."

"You're eavesdropping."

"Sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't be." I wrapped my arms around his waist. "I'm sorry about today. I didn't mean to push. I know you're busy."

Luan turned the sink off and dried his hands. He turned around to push the damp hair from my face. His smile was gentle. "It's okay," he said. "It's a stressful time, is all. I miss seeing you, too."

The kiss was soft, but hesitant. My hands fell on his waist, at the base of his stomach. I kissed him harder. He said, "Don't you want dinner?"

I shrugged. "It can wait."

"You should eat."

College gets like that. You'll understand.

I buried my face in his neck. I reached for his waistband. The idea of eating made me hungry, made me ill. I sank down to my knees. 

"Later," I promised. 

We want everyone else to know.

"Another race?" 

Luan peered over at me from his place on the bed. The morning was immediately warm, but my body was too sore and my head too foggy to bother doing anything about it.

"It'll be good for you, no?" he said. "Extra practice before the match."

I remembered the scouts. I pursed my lips and pushed myself up the pillows. "I don't want to be too tired before the match."

He frowned like the notion wasn't sensical. "It might be good practice though. Street racing helps you come up with quick maneuvers."

"Illegal maneuvers."

"They don't have to be if you do it right."

"It's one race. This match is important, you said so. And I don't need the money."

"No?" He cocked a brow at me. "Don't you?"

I stared at him for a long moment. "What's that mean?"

Luan pursed his lips. He strode out of bed and headed for the bathroom. "Nothing. Forget it. I'm just trying to help. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"Why are you angry over one race?"

"I'm not angry. Who said I was angry?"

"You sound angry."

"I'm surprised, I guess."

"Luan."

He paused in the doorway. He glanced back at me. I curled my fingers into the sheets, imagined my mother and father in the stands of the Eval, watching and waiting, ready to turn me into a ghost.

I swallowed. "I'll go."

He shook his head. "It's fine. Forget it. I don't want to force you."

"I'll go. You're right, it's good practice."

"It's fine, Kitae."

"I want to."

Luan headed out of the bedroom. "I'll ask you later. Think about it." I thought he'd been considerate. Now, I realize, it was just to steep me in guilt for as long as possible. 

When I choked up my breakfast in the locker room bathroom, I'd made up my mind that he'd won.

The race wasn't the issue, surprisingly enough. It was what came after.

The best races were in the worst areas, because the streets had that much more challenging traffic and that many more lycans willing to take a risk for some pocket money. It meant it was another trip to Cat's Eye in the dead of night and another somewhat-victory as an anodyne for the consistent silence Luan had placed us in.

"Motherfucker," the racer said as he handed me the bills. "Cleats as flashy as that, who says you need the money?"

I stared. I stepped back. "Then, I don't," I said. I pocketed the other money and turned around. "Keep it."

"Whoa, hey, hey!"

I ignored him and headed back to where Luan stood at the corner between a closed coffee shop and an open bar. He was distracted in conversation with someone else, and I made a move to call out his name, but a hand yanked me back before I could.

I nearly crashed into the person who pulled me. I whirled around. The racer sneered at me and yanked his face covering off. "Take the money. That's how that works, pretty boy."

I shook my head. "It's fine. I don't want it."

"Excuse me?"

"Keep it."

"I don't need your fucking pity, kid, take it."

"It's not pity, I just don't need it. I just came to race." I turned to leave, but he held fast to my wrist.

"You think I need your fucking charity?" he snarled. He yanked me into him, his grip bruising. Panic was white hot and frantic in my throat. "You think I care? It's racing. Don't take me for a child."

"I—I didn't mean to—I just don't want—"

He grabbed me by the collar. "Where the hell are you even from? Can't be here. I would've recognized that bike." He held the money up between us. "You're on my nerves. You trying to insult me?"

"What?" I breathed. "No. No, I didn't mean anything by it."

"You won fair and square. Here, for your troubles." He offered it to me, but I was frozen in place. He snarled. "You don't want it? Yeesh. Aren't you a pompous one?"

I shook my head. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Shut up."

The fist was fast and hard against my cheek. I hit the concrete in the same breath and felt my whole body rattle with the impact. All the breath fled from my lungs, and a hand snagged me by my wrist with such force that nails dug into the space between my glove and my jacket and ripped the skin until something hot and metallic rolled down my arm. Someone spoke to me, but the ringing in my ear refused to flee, and I was left swimming in a blurry mess of nighttime and streetlights. 

"Kitae! Kitae!"

I blinked away the lights. Luan's face came into view. His cheek was red and mottled from angry knuckles. He held my face to him, his eyes searching me with a wild desperation.

"Kitae," he tried. "Are you okay?"

Oh, noona, I thought bitterly. If you could see me now.

"Come on," Luan said, his arm going under my shoulders. "We need to go."

For once, being so far from Busan wasn't such a bad thing after all.

I met Emeline Edwards on the last Friday of September.

Everyone had something to say about my face, mostly questions, sometimes gasps, on the Skylarks' end, voracious interrogation.

"That's not from racing," Alex said.

I shook my head. "Forget it."

"Whoa, did you get into a fight? Kitae in a fight, I'd pay to see that. Did you win?"

"No," I said. "No fight. I didn't—that's not it."

"Oh? Did your boyfriend get fed up with all your whining?"

I whirled on him. "What'd you just say?"

Alex held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, I'm kidding, Jesus Christ. Like Luan would hurt anything bigger than a horsefly." He flicked me off. "Put as much of a game face on as that bruise can handle 'cause I heard Mustangs and Corvus are here."

"Corvus?" a Skylark asked. "From Avaldi?" Alex nodded. The Skylark howled with an excited laugh. "Incredible. Hey, maybe I'll be the next crow."

"In your dreams. If anyone's gonna be that, it's Kitae." Alex gave me a look. "Maybe if ask Violet real nice, she'll loan you some makeup."

I shut my locker door and grabbed my helmet. "Whatever, man," I murmured, and headed for the track.

The match went as it always did, but the reminder that people from the universities had come to watch made everyone anxious, and Skylarks were beginning to gang up on each other just to dress to impress. Sunhee's warning was a lingering cleaver over my neck, but my encounter in Cat's Eye overrode any of my instinct to take her advice and run with it. I raced. But, that was where it ended.

I tore off my helmet when we returned to the locker room. I sat on the bench and recounted the race. 120 to 109, Skylarks' favor. Ninety five miles per hour on average. Twenty two points per lap. Turn speed, awful. Turn ratio, great. Four seconds to jump fifty miles. Conclusion: good. But, that was where it ended.

I sighed. 

"Kitae Wang?"

I looked to my left. 

A blonde woman dressed in a AVU training jacket and leggings worth a week's pay stood at the end of the empty aisle. Her corn silk waves were piled and stuffed into a high ponytail, leaving curls of bangs to frame blue eyes and a reserved face that was meant for business and business only. She looked down at her tablet, then at me.

"Are you Kitae Wang?" she clarified. 

I opened my mouth. Closed it. Searched about my throat for my voice. "Yes," I finally said. "Are...you allowed to be in here?"

"No," she said, then walked towards me. She held out her hand. "I'm Emeline Edwards, I'm the coach for Avaldi University's Corvus square racing team."

I was floating. I was falling. Both, at once? I hastily got to my feet and clasped her hand in my gloved one. "Kitae Wang," I said, then winced. "You know that."

She let out a sharp breath of a laugh. "I do. Have you decided where you want to go next fall?"

"No, ma'am."

"Have you considered Avaldi?"

"Thoroughly, ma'am."

Her lip quirked. "Good to hear," she said with a nod. "Where are you from?"

I hesitated. "Out of town, ma'am."

She raised a brow, but didn't push. "Where'd you learn to race, Kitae?"

"A...friend of mine taught me, actually."

"How's it being captain here?"

"It's fine. I like my team."

"What do you want to study?"

I hadn't really considered that. "History," I blurted. "Or—or a literature, maybe."

"You like reading?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Do you want to race in college?"

That was easier. "Yes."

"Why?"

I paused. "What?"

Edwards folded her hands over her tablet to hold in front of her. She was around my height then, and she faced me eye-to-eye, waiting patiently. I wondered how so many people did that so easily, became so unreadable so fast. 

"Why do you want to race?" she said.

I considered that question for a long moment. It had never been something anyone had asked me before. Time froze around me. It was only then, that I realized, my answer would be her answer; Corvus weren't racers, they were champions. She didn't need a racer. She needed a winner.

I scrounged for something, anything, that made sense in my head. Why wouldn't I race, was my question. I couldn't not race. It wasn't non-negotiable, it was absolute, permanent, inarguable, and inextricable. There was no lifetime I imagined, no matter how many different roads I went on, that didn't all lead back to racing.

"Racing is my life," was all I could think of. 

She cocked her head at me. "Why?"

I pursed my lips. "I like winning," I confessed. "It makes me feel like a winner."

She stared at me for an endless moment. She said, "I contacted your coach in your sophomore year because your captain at the time emailed me with a video of you." She opened her tablet and pulled something up to display at me. As she promised, a video of me on the Spanos track played through. "I figured you looked like you just discovered a track a year ago and we had kids lined up who have been racing since they could walk. I told him and your coach no. He sent me another video last year." She showed me the next one, a match between us and La Cañada High School. "I asked him why he kept pushing, because frankly, I wasn't going to come to this school at all. Too many kids who race well but think that's all they need to be with the best. You don't become the best by taking kids with all the arithmetics. You become the best by taking kids who want to be. Are you following?"

My stomach was on the floor. She had come all this way just to tell me no? She'd come all this way just to tell me I was mediocre to my face, to tell me I never had a chance from the start? I wanted to vomit, or flee, or pass out altogether. I said, "Yes."

She nodded. "I told this to your captain," she continued. "He told me, go watch him. Your numbers are fine, and your skills are adequate, and a camera only gets the arithmetics. If you see him in person, you'll know why he should go with Corvus." She gestured around us. "So you can thank him for this, if you even still keep in touch."

I closed my eyes. I didn't know whether I wanted to kill Luan or thank him, maybe both at once. I shook my head. "I'm...I'm sorry," I tried. "I didn't know he talked to you."

"I figured," she said. 

I pursed my lips. "Did you come here to tell me that?"

"What, that your captain is pushy?"

"That I'm not what you're looking for?"

She considered me. "No," she said. "I came here to decide if you're what we're looking for."

I curled my fingers into my palms. "Am I?" I asked.

The interaction was one that became second nature between Edwards and I, a foundation for everything that passed between us for the years after. A constant lack of words, a constant demand for them. Always wanting more, knowing better than to give it.

"Your captain was smart to tell me to come in person," she said, sighing. "If I hadn't, I would tell you no. But, I think he's right. In that, I see where he got Corvus from you."

I pursed my lips tight. "Do you?" I tried. "Think that too, that is."

Edwards closed her tablet. "Yes. I do," she replied, and my chest burst. She turned on her heel and headed for the end of the aisle. "Work on your turns and take a physics class for pacing, Wang." She lifted her left hand above her head in goodbye. "Work hard on your Avaldi app, and I'll see if you listened to me in the fall."

I watched her go without another word, and saw the world grow a shade brighter.

__________________

Senior year was difficult, to say the least.

"What happened to your face?"

I closed my locker door. "Racing," I said curtly, turning on my heel. Which wasn't untrue. 

Street races had gone from once a month to once a week, and almost all of them were downtown now since those proved to be the most lucrative. Luan cared more about the money than I did. When I asked him why, I regretted it.

"I can't do everything for you, Kitae," he sighed. "I've gotten you this far, right?"

You don't know what you'll owe him.

"If you wanted me to pay you back the tuition, you could have said so," I replied.

"That's not what I want," he argued, frowning at me. "But, you should learn to be on your own."

Learn to be, as if I hadn't been for the past five years. Still, the guilt was striking, biting, a newfound venom in my veins. "Okay," I said.

People like him, people like us. You are a chess piece.

"Racing like racing on a bike or racing for your life?" Vivi gestured at her own cheekbone. "That doesn't look like blush."

"I've got a meeting," I said, and fled.

"Kitae!"

Jamie's Bakery was a corner store comprised entirely of honey-colored wood, brown sugar, and sourdough starter, a cozy storage unit of French pastries abominated by Korean hands and two pages of sweet coffee and toasts perfected by Korean minds. It meant that although the red bean buns and sugar donuts went stale by afternoon, the iced Americanos and taro lattes were sold out by closing.

"Hire you?" Miss Lim laughed. She was a small human that couldn't have been more than five feet or weigh more than one of her red bean buns, her hair a round bob around her tiny head and her black eyes big and accusatory as she turned them up at me to scream her rather innocuous words up at me. "You are crazy person! Handsome person, but crazy. Who put hot oil on your cheek?"

I handed her my résumé. "I can start now and I can work before and after school."

Miss Lim hummed. She snagged the paper. She said, "How much knowledge about a Korean bakery?"

I hesitated. "I lived in Korea until I was thirteen."

"Eh? So what! Where?"

"Busan, ma'am."

She narrowed her eyes up at me. She turned around with a flick of her little wrist. "Come in tomorrow, we see what you can do."

What I could do was basically everything Miss Lim herself didn't want to do—which was most things. But being the only worker meant we shared the tips and I got a decent wage and I was the only person left to steal the last of the egg tarts by the end of the night.

That, and in my book, Miss Lim was my first bridge back to Busan.

"My sister lived in Busan," she told me, the two of us across from each other at the counter, an egg tart in each of our hands, ten minutes counting down to closing, my biology lab work unfinished by the cash register. "She said nothing compared to waking up early and going for a walk near the beach, even after she moved. I told her nothing compares to their octopus." She frowned at me. "Do lycans eat octopus?"

I laughed. "When we can," I said. "Do you miss Korea?"

"Ah, of course! Hard to be the only good Korean bakery in this city. I used to be able to stop at any corner for a good coffee at any hour. All Americans so lazy, closing up before the sun even sets." She gestured at me. "Your parents must talk about Korea all the time. You go back this summer and shut them up."

The pang was familiar, but not any easier to stomach. I swallowed it with a grin. "Do you have kids?"

She beamed. "Two! One's taller, though. You get it. No siblings? Ah, if I had you for a son, I'd figure that was good enough, too!"

I laughed. "No siblings," I admitted. "My cousins make me feel like I have siblings, though."

She hummed. "You see them often?"

I pursed my lips tight. "No," I said. "Not anymore."

"Oh? Why not? All the way in Busan?"

I nodded. "I haven't seen them in a while."

She frowned. "You don't see them when you go?"

"I...haven't gone back for a long time."

Miss Lim frowned at me. She opened her mouth to say something, but the front door opened with a cling of a bell. We turned our heads. 

Luan stood by the strawberry croissants, a sesame donut in already in his hands. He approached the register, and smiled at me like turning the sun into a letter.

"Hi," he said. "Thought I'd pick you up."

I grinned, my chest losing its tightness. I pushed the donut to his chest. "Then, on the house. For picking me up."

He ruffled my hair. Miss Lim made a snapping sound. 

"Tell your bamboo-sized boyfriend we're closed," she said, and looked Luan up from head to toe, shaking her head. She frowned at me. "What's in your water? I give to my short daughter."

I pushed the leftover egg tart to Luan and hung my apron up on the hook. "Almond milk," I told her. "I'll see you tomorrow morning, Miss Lim."

I left her and Busan in my wake.

"You're working so much," Luan said, his hips warm against my thighs, the air viscous with fleeting summer and breath. I dug my nails into his arms, my teeth into his neck. "You're doing too much." 

I pushed my fingers into his hair, felt the sheets scrape my back when he pushed up into me. "Have to," I murmured. "Just for now."

Luan kissed me quick, and spoke into my mouth. "For now, then," he said. "I don't even see you anymore."

The irony of the statement didn't hit me for a long, long time.

It happened at a party, of course. But that wasn't the issue.

"I don't want to go."

Luan frowned in the doorway. "Why not? I feel like every high school kid wants to go to a college party at some point—hell, some college kids can't even get into college parties. Besides, it'll be fun, I'll be there."

"I've got an exam tomorrow and a presentation in APUSH," I said. January burned the ground with an icy torch, the earth scorched with winter. It meant Chinese New Year and a fresh semester. It meant Luan was on break for a little too long and me, a little too short. "And I have work after that. I can't go."

"It'll be no fun if you don't."

"You've gone without me before, you can go without me again."

"Yeesh, what's with you?"

I rubbed at my temples. "I don't want to go," I repeated. "Just go without me, Luan." I turned back to my computer.

"Someone from Corvus is gonna be there."

I paused. I turned around. "What?"

Luan raised a brow, unhappy that that was what got a response. "Don't know who, but I heard them say so. Now will you come?"

"Why do you want me there so badly?"

"Why not?"

I shook my head. I glanced from my homework to him. I sighed and got to my feet.

"Let's go," I said.

Some things never changed. Pepperdine kids were rich, privileged, faux-Christian assholes. Most of the time. 

At a party, they were tolerable.

I stood beside Luan with a cup of beer that didn't taste right. Luan himself had been at my side at some point, but was now mingling with a group of guys up ahead, the two sharing a soju. I watched the ruckus with little attention, most of my head still filled with the French and Indian War and a blank face that belonged to Avaldi University. What a crow would be doing at a crappy Pepperdine party on a Thursday night though, I didn't really know.

I made my way to Luan. I shouted in his ear, "How long are we staying here?"

Luan frowned at me. He patted my shoulder. "Not long, calm down! Have some fun!"

"Luan—"

"Zhang!" We both turned our heads. A young woman balancing on needle-thin stilettos made her way to us, flicking her black waves over her shoulder. Her painted fingers fluttered in greeting. "Happy to see you here."

He waved and his face brightened. "Lana, hey. I thought you were out of the party scene."

"Oh, it couldn't leave me alone," she replied, flicking that away. She was a tall, lithe thing, the muscles in her arms and legs that of an athlete, the delicate bones in her face that of pure good fortune. She slid her eyes to mine. "Who's this?"

I straightened a bit. "I'm his—"

"Friend," Luan said, and I froze. He patted my shoulder. "He's a good friend, from high school."

Lana grinned wider. "Well, you always need a friend. I'm Lana."

It took me a moment to find my footing. "I'm Kitae."

"Kitae? That's pretty. A pretty face with a pretty name. You must have a lot of fun."

I bristled. Something hot and uncomfortable squirmed in my gut, writhing at her oblivious glare and Luan's calm demeanor. I clenched my fist around the cup.

"Lots," I said. 

"Oh? We'll see." She flicked her wrist towards Luan. "Wanna dance?"

He held up a hand. "Give me a minute. I'll find you." I couldn't breathe. I could barely even hear him.

She took her leave. The moment she was out of earshot, I turned on my heel to set my beer down on a counter.

"Kitae," Luan called. He grabbed my wrist to stop me. I whirled around. "What's wrong?"

I gaped. "Why'd you say that?"

"Say what?"

"Why'd you tell her we're friends?"

"What? Oh." He waved me away. It only made me broil. "She doesn't matter. I just said that so she wouldn't get all..." He made a faint gesture of annoyance. 

I tried to breathe, but my face was hot with a certain, quiet humiliation you only recognized if you were the center of it. "I thought you didn't have a problem telling people."

"I don't. Why do you care about her?"

"I don't care about her. I just—I thought you were telling people."

"People who matter."

"Who matters then?"

Luan sighed. "People who'd get it," he clarified. "It's not that big of a deal, Kitae, if we know, what's it to everybody else?"

The argument wasn't very stiff, but I felt suddenly childish about the entire thing. Why did it matter? But, why wouldn't it? If we knew, sure. But I was starting to wonder if even I knew.

"Have you ever told anyone that isn't in the friend group?" I asked him.

Luan stared at me for a second too long. Then, he tilted his head to the side, and hummed like talking to a stubborn kid. He gave me a look that was as sympathetic as it was irritated, a twinge of warning in his eyes. My stomach sank, and something like dread began to brew in its vacancy. He took my hand, but his grip was jarringly tight.

"Why are always caught up in the things people can see?" he said, his Mandarin a hiss under the bass and scream of the party around us. "You're too sensitive to act like that."

I took a step back from him, but his grip was solid. "What are you talking about?"

"Why do you care so much about other people?"

"I—I don't, but—"

"Then quit complaining."

I pushed him. He let go of me and stumbled back. He stared. For a moment, his face was void, a blank, icy thing, nothing there but the mirror of my own face in his black eyes. The dread stirred like a maelstrom.

"What's wrong?" I asked him. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Me? What about you?" he asked. He shook his head and grabbed my arm. "Forget this. Come on, let's just leave or you'll cause a scene."

"Let go," I snapped. "You're acting crazy."

"What?"

"I said let go." I yanked my arm out of his grip so fiercely I felt the burn of it linger. Luan bit his lip. He glanced around us as if to make sure nobody saw. It only made me angrier. I pushed him back again, maybe just to fuel that paranoia. "What's wrong with you? Why are you angry?"

"I'm not."

"You are. I just asked a question, what's so hard about that?"

"Why do you care so much about what other people think of you?" he said.

I stared. I bristled. "I never said I did."

"You don't have to."

"What is your problem? If you don't want to answer the question, then don't, fine, but you don't have to make it a session of ripping me apart for just asking."

Luan reached. His fingers snagged me by my collar, hooked in deep, and yanked me into him with such a force it rattled my bones on impact. His eyes blazed. The dread exploded into something almost afraid.

"The things I've done for you, with you, and you just keep asking?" he hissed. "It's not enough for you, everything I've given you? You just want to throw in a party announcement with it? Do you even care about how I might feel about you?"

I was too stunned to speak. I braced my fists against his chest and shoved. He didn't bother fighting back and let me stumble away from him and right into the nearest table. People sent us curious looks, some familiar with Luan, and none familiar with me. 

You don't know what you'll owe him.

He watched me blankly. I clutched my chest. I couldn't speak. The beat of the party in my head was almost painful. Everything ached. Everything hurt. The world was a bruise, every sound a fist to tender, purpled skin. Luan just watched.

You don't know.

I fled into the crowd.

It didn't take much for me to drink. A question, maybe. A nice face. The right atmosphere. A fucking disaster of a night. So, really, it was the perfect set-up.

I was half a beer and a bad shot deep before the nice face thing got involved. And everything's ironic in one way or another, I suppose. 

"You're not supposed to be drinking that."

I looked up from my place against the wall, the staircase beside me drenched in drinks and limp bodies. My vision blurred with the hallway lights and a cloud of cigarette smoke before the voice came into a person.

A young man in an impressive bout of black looked down at me, his hair a strange indecision between oak brown and ink. He held a cigarette between two painted fingers, one purple, one black, and frowned at me in a very unimpressed way. 

"No," I agreed, sighing. "But it tastes fine."

"I meant you look too young." There was an accent around his words, faintly familiar and rhythmic.

"Everyone here is too young."

"Underage. Illicit. Not metaphysically." He knelt down to examine me. He handed me the cigarette, then said in broken Mandarin, "Who was that person?"

I blinked. The smoke was a kind wake-up from the alcohol. I waved it away. "No one. And I speak English," I bit out.

"No good," he replied. "I don't like English."

"Who does?" I sighed. I gestured at him. "What do you like?"

He raised a brow. He considered me for a few moments before sitting down across from me. He lit a fresh cigarette for himself from his back pocket. A pack of Lucky Strikes. Luan said they tasted bad. I'd never tried one before now. And I had to disagree.

"I'm a lot better with Japanese," he said, in Japanese, which I only had conversational familiarity with at best. But, still.

I hummed. "I get by," I tried, and he perked up. 

He gestured at me. "So are you supposed to be drinking that?"

I shook my head. "But I've probably done a lot of things I'm not supposed to," I said in English.

He cocked his head to the side. "Is that guy one of them?"

I frowned. "You saw?"

"A lot of people saw. He looks like he should be here. You don't. Why are you here?"

I didn't entirely know why a stranger was trying to seemingly help me out in the middle of a good party while I was too tipsy to fully grasp anything that happened or had happened, but I appreciated the sentiment enough to be honest.

"We're..." Dating sounded forbidden now, and I winced. "We came here together. He wanted me to come. I don't know why now, but...I don't know."

The young man nodded. He said, "Do you want to go home?"

I let out a dry laugh. "Unless you have a plane ticket," I said.

"To where?"

"Somewhere that isn't here." I rubbed at my eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be talking to you." I got to my feet. 

The young man got up with me. He grabbed my arm when I stumbled forward a bit. Humiliation was familiar, but it didn't mean it was welcomed. I wondered what Sunhee was up to at that moment.

"No plane ticket," he said. "But I've got a car."

Luan's grip burned my skin, phantom fingers still wrapped around my wrist. I said, "I shouldn't. He'll get mad." I needed to stop talking. "I'm sorry. I should go." I pushed past him. "Thanks, anyway."

He said something but I was gone before it could reach my ears. I shoved my way through the crowd, my head buzzing with bass and liquor. My eyes searched the room. I told myself it wasn't to look for Luan, but the moment I spotted him, I stopped. He was laughing with someone, his face at complete ease, not a trace of our scuffle on him. 

I took a step back. I hit a body.

"Watch it," someone snapped.

I spun around. I tripped. An arm caught me up. I spat out, "Sorry." 

The person hummed. I looked up to spot a young man, his eyes a soft wine red. He smiled, and the slightest pointed canines glimmered under the violet light. His arm went from bracing me to wrapping around me.

"No need to be," he replied. "Are you clumsy or drunk?"

"What?"

"Your answer is important," he pointed out, and tilted his drink at me. 

His hand was cold on my back. Luan's words punctured my lungs like microneedles, tearing the skin open in every place that would bleed, but wouldn't kill. 

I looked back at him. But he hadn't even seen me.

I clenched my jaw, and said to the bloodsucker, "Crowded and tipsy, more so."

He nodded, satisfied with that. He offered me his drink. "You look a little distressed for being tipsy," he said. "Aren't you having fun?"

I took the drink. I downed the last of it. I pressed my body to his. Luan was always warm, but he was cool to the touch, the life in his veins incomparable to Luan.

"Yeah," I replied. "I am."

He laughed low in his throat. "Want to have some more?"

You don't know, you don't know, you don't know.

I said, "Yes."

We went upstairs.

I never learned the vampire's name, only that he was a second year and didn't particularly like one-night stands that weren't with other vampires. Something about caring.

"Dead heart to dead heart," he explained, his mouth at my neck, my legs around his waist. I tried to focus on the heat, on the skin, but every passing second, every rock in his hips, made my chest twist tighter. "You lycans care too much."

"Trust me," I gasped. "I don't."

In a way, I didn't.

The moment he showed signs of drifting off after everything settled, I re-dressed and fled the room. The party was already in the process of dying out, the hour creeping towards dawn, the alcohol supply drained dry. I knew the smart thing would be to call a car and avoid Luan, but I never got the chance.

"Kitae."

I stopped after the first steps outside. 

Luan stood on the lawn. He looked me over, from the bruise on my wrist, to the punctures in my neck. His eyes bloomed with purple, and his fists tightened against his thighs. A sick sort of pride budded in me, and suddenly, the bloodsucker wasn't such a bad idea after all.

"You're still here?" I muttered, heading down. I needed a glass of water and a fucking nap. I needed anything but Luan. "Thought you would've fled by now."

"I was waiting for you. I was worried."

"Really?" The air was cool, sunless, the AM brimming blue on the horizon. The streets were void of life, abandoned and silenced by sleep. No witnesses. No proof. "Could've fooled me."

I tried to brush past him, but he was grabbing me by the same wrist and I flinched. He wrenched me back to him and tore down the collar of my shirt.

"You're fucking kidding," he hissed. "You're fucking kidding me."

"Let go."

"Who was it?"

"Why the hell does it matter to you?" I snapped. I finally yanked myself free and held my wrist fast to my chest. "We're not even dating."

Luan did a double take. "What are you talking about?"

"You said it yourself. I'm just a good friend."

"Seriously?" Luan scoffed. "I give one fucking soundbite to a stranger, and you go and sleep with some stranger? A bloodsucker?" He stared at me with a disbelief that shrank me down, compacted me into a ridiculous circus act, a rebellious child. Heat flared in my cheeks. "What's wrong with you? Is something wrong with you?"

I gaped. "Me? How can I keep up with you? How can I predict every time you want to change your mind?"

"I haven't changed my mind about anything. Just because of one person—"

"If it's just one person, you wouldn't have cared to tell her the truth."

"I tell people who matter, not some random girl I barely know. Although you seem to care plenty considering you went and slept with someone else in the same goddamn night."

"Sorry," I snapped. "Next time I'll ask for your permission."

Luan stared at me for a long moment. Then, he grabbed my wrist, and began to drag us both to the car.

I struck his arm in an attempt to make him let me go. When he didn't waver, I pushed nails into his hand, scratched lines along his arm. I began to shout.

Luan dragged me in front of his truck before he threw me against the hood. I felt the metal bite my ribs. I lurched forward to shove him, but his hand was already up and moving.

The strike against my face was nothing compared to the things I'd felt in fights before. For a moment, there was only faint heat, a fainter sting, and stillness. Everything slowed. I blinked. It was happening. I blinked. And it was over.

I slumped against the concrete, holding my face in my hand. Iron bloomed in my mouth, and I spat it out onto the street, ran my tongue over the gash in my mouth from my teeth biting down on impact. My cheekbone felt tender to the touch.

Nothing happened for a long moment.

Finally, Luan bent down, his hands coming to cup my face. I flinched away, but he was faster. "Xīngān," he tried. "I'm sorry, I didn't—I didn't think. I wasn't thinking. Are you all right?" His thumbs were gentle when they pushed the hair from my face. When I looked up, he was crying. I thought, I should be scared. I should be crying. But I wasn't. "I'm so sorry. Kitae, I'm sorry."

I closed my eyes.

You don't know.

You don't know. 

You don't know.

"Let's go home," he whispered.

But home was five thousand miles away, and did not want me there.

Where else was I going to go?

________________

Again.

"Wang! Are you asleep or something?" Darren struck me hard on the back. "For fuck's sake, we're losing here. Can we do something or...?"

"Thanks, Darren," Vivi snapped. "Kitae?"

I watched the stands. Luan had come for championships. He spotted me. He smiled, waved, sweet like citrus. I waved back.

I said, "Let's corner them on the half-mile mark. If the tails get around Jansen, then it leaves Yurima and Gray vulnerable. Then you three can get rid of them while the fronts point-grab."

"A plan, thank God," Coach Peters muttered. "I want that done, but I also want the tails to maintain energy, Jansen won't be easy to get rid of, so don't waste time trying—we don't need his sub taking his place, either. Last home stretch, Skylarks."

They cheered. I tried to feel it.

Again.

"You're a little prissy to be doing matches down here, no?" A racer gestured up and down at my gear. Luan had bought me a new jacket and gloves. With the money from street racing, I'd fixed my tires, too. I tried to feel pride for it. I tried and tried and tried. "I'm surprised the splinter hasn't devoured you yet."

"Give it time," I murmured. I held out my hand.

He sneered. "You should really be careful, kid." He dished out the bills and slammed them onto my palm. He grabbed my hand and yanked me into him so close I nearly fell right into his body. "You race the wrong crowd, and you won't be walking away so easily."

I shoved him away from me. He laughed.

Luan found me later, and flashed me an easy grin. He ruffled my hair and said, "You get your victory?" I held up the bills. He hummed. He said, "Easy?"

I looked back at where the racer had disappeared to. I said, "As pie."

He laughed. He kissed my cheek. "Celebratory milkshakes. You haven't eaten all day, huh? I'll buy."

I stitched a grin into my skin. I felt the burn of his knuckles linger on my cheek, and said, "Okay."

Again.

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Again.

Luan swept me up in a bone-crushing hug. "You got in, holy shit, you got in," he laughed. I laughed with him. Even air was not as light as I was. "And on Corvus. Holy Hell, you're a miracle."

I beamed. I kissed him, the feeling sweet, soft like cotton. "Thanks to you," I said. "They wouldn't even know about me without you."

Luan shrugged. His hands pushed under my shirt, rested against my spine. "Good thing I took a chance."

I kissed him until night came, and a small bud of hope began to break through my bones.

Again.

"The Eval is in June," Sunhee said in my ear. "It's the last step. You just have to get through that, and then, Kitae, it'll be okay."

I smiled. "If I pass, I get to visit in August, right?"

"I'm practically rearranging your room now," she replied happily. "That Eval is going to be easy, trust me. You'll barely notice it's happening, and it'll be over before you know it."

"Umma and Appa are going to call tomorrow about that," I sighed, half with dread, half with hope. I hadn't spoken to my parents in five years. There was a lot to say, and at the same time, nothing at all. "How's Nami?"

"Missing you no matter what she says. Gao's officially broken, because he told me yesterday," she said with a laugh. "But doesn't matter! Because we'll see you in August."

A few more months. Just a few more months, and it'd all be over. 

"Can you believe it, Kitae?" she laughed. "Avaldi, Corvus, graduating, it's all so exciting. And you did it all by yourself." I hesitated. "I'm so proud of you."

You don't know what you'll owe him.

I said, "Thanks, noona. I'll talk to you later."

Again.

My mother called me first. 

I stared at the number for several rings. I knew the area code. I knew what I was supposed to say, what I was supposed to tell her, what she was supposed to tell me. But my hand shook with the call unanswered.

I took a deep breath. I clicked the green button and lifted the phone to my face.

"Hi, Umma," I said.

A long pause. "Hi, Kitae."

Something visceral, vicious, alive without reason or conscience, writhed erratically in my ribcage and clawed its way up my throat. Talons tore into my flesh, out past my lips, yanked my lungs up through my mouth. It overtook my teeth and made cavities of them, filled up my pores and forced the skin to compact. Something vile, something colossal. Something shaped like longing.

"Congratulations about Avaldi," she said flatly. "It's a fine school. A good team, too. Well done."

I swallowed hard. "Yeah," I said hoarsely. "It is."

She just hummed. "You've kept up your end of the deal," she confessed. "If you pass this year's Drachmann Eval, we'll begin conducting the second birth. That's what I called you for, in fact."

"Second birth," I repeated.

"We'll have to introduce you once the fall term of your school begins, of course. It'll likely be via one news outlet to keep things controlled. Of course, we'll have to return you to Korea for the summers for training now, and we'll have to come to a payment agreement, you'll alot about eighty percent to Janchi—"

"Wait, what?" I said. "Payment agreement?"

"Golden children often agree to payment negotiations to keep their name privately owned," she explained. "Of course."

I blinked. Even now, even after all of this, I wasn't free? All I'd done to break a leash, but at best, I only got a slightly longer one.

A sudden anger broiled. I sat up. "I don't want to agree to that."

My mother went quiet. "This is the standard agreement, Kitae."

"Eighty percent? And I want to go back to Busan, not Seoul."

"Busan?" she repeated. "You'll see them plenty in time. But we need to be training you for your career. They can help you with whatever they wish, but we need to begin thinking about your return to Seoul."

Dread was quick to overtake my body. "No," I said. "That's not—"

"A golden child is not a free child, Kitae," she snapped. "You've only just proved something."

I stared down at the phone. My heart pulsed, pounded, demanded answers. 

"I don't want to go back to Seoul," I tried.

My mother went quiet. "In time, you will come back. Once university is completed, you'll return for the national team, and—"

"I don't want to go back to Seoul," I repeated, harsher. "Isn't this enough proof? Every Avaldi racer who's wanted to has gone on to IPRA teams, the national team. Avaldi—"

"The agreement was not for you to continue on your own name in America, Kitae," she snapped. "The agreement was for you to prove you good enough to return."

I winced. To prove myself, yes. But to return was not what I'd anticipated. If anything, it was the last thing I'd wanted. 

"America is just as good, if not better, to be in," I tried. "Umma."

"You are under our name," she replied coolly. "You still keep in touch with Sunhee, don't you? You still clearly have some attachment to Korea. Why are you making this an issue? This was the agreement. It's a miracle you've even received this offer." She scoffed to herself. "I didn't even think I'd call."

"What?" I said. 

"You held up your end, so here we are. If I were you, I'd be grateful. It's rare successes happen," she snapped. "Now, can we discuss or are you still going to argue with me?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, "You didn't even ask me how I am."

My mother paused for a long, buzzing moment. Maybe to think of how to scold me, or maybe to ask the question now. You didn't even ask. 

The past years boiled over in my chest, out through my fingers. Motel rooms, church scaffoldings, pocket cash, the Skylarks, Luan, the sting of vodka, the hum of whiskey, warm hands, hot mouths, burning rubber, concrete tracks, steel teeth, engine songs, racing, running, trying and trying and trying. Waiting.

All for this.

"Let's discuss before we waste more time with chatting," she sighed. "This is not what I called for."

"Umma."

"The Wang name is to be protected, at all costs, Kitae. This, you know," she said. "If you want our help, you need to—"

"Then I don't want your Wang name," I snapped. 

She took a moment. "Excuse me?"

"I've gotten this far on my own, without you," I said, even if a part of me felt it untrue. "I got into Avaldi, onto Corvus, in a place to live, with friends, with a job. If your name costs me all of that, then I don't want it, Umma."

"You do not even understand what you're saying. You cannot just be let free," she snarled. "You have no idea what you're talking about."

I got to my feet. All these leashes. All this owing. All this fucking waiting.

"If everything depends on me being attached to your name, and to your help, then I don't want it," I said, almost breathless. 

"Kitae—"

"Let's talk after the Eval, Umma," I said. 

"Kitae, don't—"

I hung up, and buried my face in my hands.

Again.

"You never listen to me," Luan snarled. I was familiar with the feeling of his skin by now. The harshness of it was new, but even that was quick to adjust to. "You never fucking listen. Why is that?"

I grabbed his fist that was closed around my shirt collar. "I don't even understand half the bullshit you say," I snapped. "Get off of me."

His fist struck my jaw. I coughed out blood. He sighed. He sounded as exhausted as I felt. "I really didn't take you for the rebellious type," he muttered. 

"Fuck you."

"Tell me who it was."

"We were just talking," I choked out. "I know her from work. She comes in a lot. Luan—"

"If I don't believe you?" He grabbed my hair. "You slept with a bloodsucker just to get back at me, how do I know you're not trying to do the same goddamn thing?"

"I'm not lying,"I tried. "Please."

Luan narrowed his eyes at me. He grasped me by my chin. His eyes glinted black, purple, pure white, pure shadows. A wolf playing tag. 

He pressed my cheek to his thigh, and said, "Prove it."

The night roared, writhed, begged for morning.

I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and prayed for August to come.

Again.

"What happened to your face?"

Summer was in full swing by now, the world in a detrimental cyanosis spreading from the chokehold the sunlight kept the sky in from the earliest hours to the latest evenings. Southern California had been dipped neck-deep in stagnant heat, an unbridled bout of sweltering fog overtaking the population from the ground up, and reminding us all that yes, despite our Hollywood walks, glass-walled empires, green smoothie cathedrals, and urban utopias, we were still a desert after all.

I sat across from the twins who'd returned from Oregon with Aster for the season, although they weren't very long for California as they were to travel to Korea come July. Aster was staying for the whole summer however, and seemed happy about it, too.

("Oregon is no California," she promised me with a laugh. "It's good to be home."

I smiled. "Yeah. I guess.")

I stared at Yubaek. He raised his hand to his face and tapped his cheekbone to indicate the bandage on my own. "Your face."

I paused. "Racing."

They took that with a hum. Aster nudged me. "Are you excited about Avaldi? That was your dream school."

I nodded. "It's exciting."

She hugged my arm. "I'm excited for you. I mean, Corvus is absolutely incredible. The Skylarks will feel like a little league."

"If they stay that way," Yubaek scoffed. "With that captain of theirs, we'll have to see."

"She's doing very well," Yugyeom told him.

"She's a Class II," he said. "We'll just have to see. People despise her."

Yugyeom shrugged that away, then looked at me and smiled. "Luan must be happy about it," he said. "Are you going to live in on campus?"

"I don't know if I have a choice," I admitted. 

Yugyeom paused, then said, "You should live on campus. It's a good experience." His smile was thin. "You meet a lot of new people."

I didn't know it at the time, no one except Yugyeom did, but his words were not one of encouragement, but of warning. It would be the only time I saw him do something his brother did not know of first.

Yubaek glanced between us, then slung an arm over Yugyeom's shoulders. "What're you plotting, huh?" he said in his ear. "You ought to be more honest with hyung these days. College made you bold."

"Are the twins finally breaking up?" Aster quipped. "So tragic. After so long, too."

Yubaek shot her an acidic smile. "Shut up," he said.

Yugyeom spared me one last glance, and looked away.

Again.

"You're drunk," Vivi observed.

I swatted that away. "It's a party, Vivi. Have some fun."

Vivi stared up at me. The bathroom light made her pale, blue in the shadows and green in the fluorescent bulb's eye. She was as drunk as I was, but maybe for different reasons. It threatened to make it awkward. But awkward was the last thing I needed.

"You're with Luan," she said.

I shook my head. "No," I said. "I'm not." Things had become so murky so fast. There were supposed to be lines. There was supposed to be a way it happened, a way it ended. What had it all become?

Vivi hesitated. She chewed her lip. She said, "You're really not?"

I sighed. "No. Can we just not talk about Luan?" 

"You don't look well, Kitae."

"Bad lighting," I promised. "Are we going to keep talking?" 

Vivi pressed her lips to a thin line. She let out a sharp breath, then tugged me down into a whiskey-coated kiss, hard and fast and without remorse.

You. Don't. Know. Him.

The bathroom door cracked open, ever so slightly, to reveal the chaos beyond the walls. When I lifted my head just enough out of the crook of Vivi's bare shoulder, her body still pressed against mine, her breath hot in my ear, I saw Luan on the other side.

I closed my eyes and turned away.

Again.

"Change your name?" Sunhee exclaimed.

"I need you to ask your mom about it," I said. "If that's how I can get out of their deal."

"Kitae, this is what you've been working towards for five years. Why would you want to get out of it?"

"I'll be contingent to everything they want from me," I said. "And I won't be able to see you all again."

"You'll see us again."

"Not like before."

"But this is your future. Being under Wang Association will protect you for life."

"I'll go under Janchi, but not Wang Association," I said. "If I'm released under a different public name, if they don't pay for anything for me, then they can't make the agreement, can they?"

Sunhee went very quiet. "Yes," she said. "I suppose so. But, Kitae, you'll be on your own. We might not be able to help you either if you make this agreement. I won't be able to help you. Kitae." Her voice sounded sad. "This is everything you wanted."

It had been.

But it wasn't. Not anymore. Not after everything I'd done, everything I'd proved I could do. I'd made it this far. 

"This is what I want," I told her. "I promise, noona."

She let out a deep sigh. We sat like that for a few minutes.

"Well," she said, "you always did have your own plan for things. I suppose I can't be too surprised." 

"In a good way?"

She laughed. "In a way. But if this is what you want to do, then I support you. Is this what you want to do?"

I said, "Yes."

She hummed. "Then, what's your new name going to be? It's got to be something cool, you know. Something that means something. Don't be lame, Kitae. I'll get mad."

I laughed. "I have to think about it."

Again.

[1 New Email - [email protected]]

[Subject: Copy of Annual Drachmann Pack Eval Results]
[This email contains a copy of your Drachmann Pack Eval Results as of 10:10 PM, Monday, June 29. Please note this is not an official document of identity or proof of identity. You should have received your physical secondary profile card at the completion of the Eval. If you did not, please contact us either via this link or call Social Security services at...]

[Registration as of June 29 Monday
NOTICE OF CHANGE: Participant changed field PREFERRED NAME from (birth name) to KANE KING (approved).
Birth name: Kitae Wang
Preferred name: KANE KING
Age: 18 years
DOB: May 24
Height: 68 in
Weight: 118 lbs]

[Secondary Profile as of June 29 Monday (1/FIRST EVAL)
Pack: Drachmann
Subspecies: Alpha (ɑ)
Class: I (1)]

[Eval Report as of June 29 Monday (1/FIRST EVAL)
Strength: 20/40
Endurance: 50/50
Intelligence: 20/22
Racing: 52pt; 2pl; 95–135mph; EVALUATOR Jessica Green; ("Performs well, clearly skilled, intuitive racing control, highly creative maneuvers")]

Again. 

"Kane King?" Luan read. He frowned. "Why Kane King? Bit of a superhero name."

"'Wang' is king," I said. "And Kane, from that movie."

Luan paused, then threw his head back in a laugh. "You mean Citizen Kane? You barely even liked that movie."

I shrugged. "It was the first thing."

"First thing what?"

"First thing that..." I considered my words. "First thing that made me happy to be here."

Luan stared down at the ID card. He hummed. He said, "Welcome, Kane King."

Again.

[1 New Email - [email protected]]

[Subject: Asiana Airlines Confirmation Receipt]
[THURS AUG 5
14:10 Los Angeles (Los Angeles)
17:35 Incheon (Incheon Intl)

FRI AUG 26
17:10 Incheon (Incheon Intl)
11:20 Los Angeles (Los Angeles)]

Again.

Nami found me first.

She held up a hand. She held a sign that read MISTER WANG. Gao and Tang stood at her sides. Her face was as calm as it always was, but her hand shook in the air.

I let the smile spread across my face, and I headed for her.

"Welcome back, Mister—"

I caught her in a fierce hug. She remained stunned for all of a minute before she hugged me back, her arms coming around me to hold me against her body. It'd been years. It'd been seconds.

Gao and Tang grappled me into their arms before Nami even had the chance to look at my face. I laughed. I felt like crying. But I'd done so much of it that it was the last thing I wanted to do when I only had the month for them.

They bowed their heads. When Nami looked up, she gave me a rare, bright smile. My heart ached.

"Welcome home, Mister Wang," she said.

I smiled back. "Thanks, Nami."

We drove for Busan, and I breathed easy.

When I spotted Sunhee rushing for me from the house, the sea blue like sugar and the sun like linen, I dropped my things, and ran to meet her. I could breathe. It felt as though I hadn't breathed for eighteen years.

She pushed the hair from my face. "Ya," she said, sniffling. "When did you go and grow up?"

I beamed. "It's good to see you, noona."

She threw her head back with a laugh, wiping her eyes. I said, "Why're you crying?"

"Oh, shush," she said. "I just missed you."

I hugged her like letting go would end the world.

"I missed you, too."

Again.

["Janchi empire CEOs, Sangcheol and Marie Wang, claim soon-to-be Avaldi first year, Kane King" - www.thelycan.com]
["Who is Kane King, and why do we care?" - www.razer.blog]
["Korean tech CEOs claim Class I Drachmann Alpha as he enters college, skeptics arise as to why he was hidden" - www.thenytimes.com]
["New King, New Throne—who the newest racer of the NCAA scene is and what to expect" - www.territerri.com]
["Janchi heir reveal grows controversy among officials and fans alike as to what the merit of 'second births' are among the Drachmann pack" - www.thelatimes.com]
["Kane King—who is he and where did he come from?" - www.pop.com]

And, again.

[1 New Email - [email protected]]

[Subject: First day and freshmen orientation—Welcome to Avaldi!]

- KANE -

Ag

Silver.

Soft white transition metal, group 11 period 5 of the periodic table. Exhibits highest conductivity, thermal conductivity, and reflectivity of any metal. Precious metal. Prolonged exposure or inhalation of its compounds can cause skin discoloration, breathing problems, skin or lung irritation, and changes in the blood cells.

___________________

Sunhee once told me I was not meant to be a champion.

It was a space of a week before I was to return to America for my first year at Avaldi, Busan's shores warm on my skin and the day humid with the sweat of summer. I rarely left the oceans for most of the time, and was only dragged away at night to the streets of Seoul or the drunken innards of Itaewon by Sungki or my own wicked want. I didn't really enjoy the parties. But Luan liked to call and there was only so much noise the seas could provide my head.

"You're not dorming there, are you?" he said.

"I don't know. I think I have to," I replied.

"Can you even afford it?"

"I got a partial scholarship."

"Your parents won't pay for it."

I knew where we were headed. The road was sickeningly familiar. "I know. Don't worry about it, Luan."

He just hummed, like he too knew where we were. "Send me photos. It's been a while since you've been in Korea. Are you having fun?"

"Yes," I promised. "I have to go."

He paused. "I love you, okay?"

I closed my eyes. "Yeah. Me, too." And, such.

Sunhee found me when dinner came and she'd called my name one too many times for her tastes. At the time, what would become my room was just another guest room, and therefore relegated me to staying in my old room. It was infested with old photographs, forgotten boxes and storage containers, traces of a younger me littering the shelves, the bed, the outskirts and the innards. 

I sat on the hardwood floor, a photograph of my mother, my father, and me somewhere in the city. My mother sat crouched beside me, smiling, my face an echo of her own. I grimaced at myself, and set the photo aside.

A knock came, then Sunhee's voice. "There you are. You never listen to me when I need you to," she said as she made her way over to me. "Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Sorry, noona," I said. 

She waved me off. She said, "What are you doing here? Sungki and Sungho went into town, I thought you went with." I shook my head. She frowned. "What's wrong? You've got that look on your face like you want to cry."

I scowled. "No, I don't. I'm not a baby."

Sunhee tilted her head at me, but didn't say more. We sat in a tentative quiet, the peace stretched thin between us, heavy and worn from holding the unsaid up above our heads for too long. She glanced at the photos strewn about the shelves, and plucked one up to hold in front of her face. Some yearbook photo from days I'd rather not remember.

She grinned brightly. "Ah, such a cute kid. Igeo bwa." She showed me the photo, but I waved it away. Sunhee frowned. "What? I think so, at least. Don't be one of those lame kids who never look at their old photos."

"I'd rather not," I said. 

"Why not? Such a cutie." She pinched my cheek and I flicked her hand away. She pushed my hair over my eyes. "At least baby Kitae had less of an attitude."

I snagged the photo and put it back on the shelf. "Yeah, yeah," I muttered. 

"How come you get all sullen like that when I talk about it?" she snapped. She got to her feet and grabbed another photo. She grinned fondly down at a younger me. My stomach churned. "Baby Kitae was a lot sweeter than that. And he had a cuter face. Look at this." She patted my cheeks. "Are you even eating in America? I know they have a Koreatown."

"Noona," I said, flicking her off. "I'm fine."

She sighed. She set the photo down in front of her. I scanned the photos for the nth time, some poor attempt to feel that same distant nostalgia. But an ugly ache overtook my chest, squeezed out all the reminiscence and left something shaped oblong and jagged like regret. Kitae, he could never be a racer.

Eventually, Sunhee—because she had always been more mature than I could have ever fathomed to be—said to me, "A part of me was really angry with you when you denied your parents."

I paused. "Because it's risky?" I said.

She shrugged. "Because you would've been with us," she said. "We could have helped you more. Paid for your tuition, give you the best gear. Oh, I was so excited to redo your room here and make it new and pretty. Could've taken you shopping, too. All those wealthy kids at Avaldi trying to show each other up! But I would've made sure you looked good." She smiled sadly. "I even bought all these new clothes to give you here. Ah, I didn't anticipate you losing so much weight so none of them will fit though, I guess. Maybe the shoes?" She waved it away. "I just—a part of me wanted you to come back for good. I wanted you to want to come back."

I stared at her for an endless moment. Sunhee traced the picture frame, traced the bronze engravings. Her dark eyes were infinitely sad.

"But, I think I understand," she ratified. "In a way, I'm proud of you for not choosing Wang." She pursed her lips. "But I'm sad it always takes so much for you to do what you like."

I stared at the picture of me, of Kitae. I said, "Don't worry about me, noona." She looked at me. "I'll work hard," I promised. "I'll race well. I'll win the Diamond Prixs. You'll never have to be sad for me." I held her hand and squeezed it tight. "You won't have to worry."

Sunhee searched my face, maybe trying to put the photo to what she saw before her. To this day, I never knew if she was disappointed or not in her attempt. The honesty left me stripped, naked and wary.

"You know why champions are champions, Kitae?" she said. "They choose themselves. They choose what they want and who they want to be. It's why it's so hard to be one, because sometimes you think you want something only to realize you only wanted it because everyone else told you that you're supposed to." Sunhee grasped my other hand. "I don't want you to become who you think you're supposed to become. I don't want you to live your life on what's supposed to be."

You have to want the best for you. If not you, who else?

Who else, who else, who else?

"Why're you telling me this?" I said.

Sunhee got to her feet. She let her eyes drift to the window, where the sea struck the sand like an iron fist. "I get scared for you," she whispered. "I worry, you'll spend your whole life choosing everyone but yourself, and it will make you alone. I worry you'll be alone and you won't even know it." She turned her eyes back to me. "But, Kitae, you are not alone."

She turned around and left me by the shelves, as dinner grew cold below our feet.

Who else?

__________________

Avaldi University was a private research university located in Avaldi, California, a town that stretched beyond no more than its notable college campus and a few surrounding town squares, city blocks, and a world-renowned nighttime sushi restaurant. It was a haven of high-brow education in the midst of Los Angeles traffic, tramps, and trash that had made something of a resort for silver children and pompous parentals that wished to partake in anything from microbiology to studio arts that promised the best degree sandwiched between nationally-renowned housing and internationally-coveted athletics. Its buildings weren't the ugliest, its student body was wealthy enough to afford the sky-high tuition, its faculty had been vetted via PhD plaques and Pulitzer medals, and its crest was pretty enough to wear on your favorite sweatshirt while shopping for organic basil and nonfat Greek yogurt at the Sprouts around the block with your mommy's Centurion.

But that wasn't what put Avaldi on the map. Square racing was.

Specifically, Corvus.

Avaldi University—AVU, if you wanted to save your character count—had two racing teams: one for amateurs and late bloomers, and one for the elite. AVU's Jackdaws were no laughing matter in the small scope of things, as they were decent and won a good amount of their amateur games throughout the school year, but they were intramural and subjective. AVU's Corvus was your elite.

Corvus was a recruitment racing team run by former-Yankee Coach Emeline Edwards for the past ten years, and had the most Diamond Prix wins in their name of any NCAA D1 team in history, with an additional decade-long streak of Red Diamond wins to top that off. Most racing teams could host upwards of thirty racers each season, but Corvus had never even breached ten bodies, making them an even more coveted team to sport the mark of by racers nationwide. Corvus had boasted racers born and fed for racing, everything from mogul daughters to Olympian descendants to golden children, all of which had turned into IPRA legends or gold medal history. If you wanted to race, and race for life? Corvus was your ticket.

But you already knew that.

"Corvus," the security guard repeated.

I swallowed. I nodded.

He looked down at my new ID, then back at me, then once more over. He said, "Where's your key card?" 

I opened my mouth, closed it. "Uh, key card?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." He jutted his thumb back towards the parking lot. "Authorized athletes only, kid."

I tugged at my collar. "I—I was told to come for a meeting, with the coach? Emeline Edwards."

The security guard looked unimpressed and held up a hand at me. "Sure, she did. I've already had five others try this with me, kid, go to the Y or something."

"What's the Y?"

"Oh, you're good."

"Jackson!" 

We both turned around. 

A woman approached us from a car, her blonde waves piled into a skin-tight ponytail to let green eyes shoot a dirty look towards the security guard with an almost bored reflex. Above her black track pants and blue sneakers, a jacket that read CORVUS RACING across the breast pocket was draped over her shoulders. She pulled out a keyring of keys and cards from her pocket, and presented one to the guard.

"What's wrong with you, check your goddamn emails!" she snapped, rolling her eyes. "He's a new recruit for the season. Let him in. And give him that ID back before you give the poor kid a heart attack."

I was very much on verge of said heart attack so I was grateful when he made no sound of objection and simply handed me my card back with a huff. He pressed a few buttons that opened the steel gates, introducing the road that headed straight for Avaldi University's Corvidae.

I looked up at the black and purple beast, reinforced with silver steel, painted with crows and championships. A banner on the side read INSURGO in pitch black, fresh for the new year. I pinched myself just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

She said, "You just gonna stare at it forever or are you gonna come in?"

I barely got a word out before she was walking past me and towards the stadium. I hastily shoved my card back into my pocket and grabbed my bag before running after her. The Corvidae. It was real. I was right there in front of it and it was real.

"Sorry about Jackson," she said, flashing her keycard at the second gate's sensor that signaled its release. She waltzed inside without any hesitation, entering the shadowed tunnels with practiced familiarity. "We get a lot of so-called new recruits trying to come in here, especially when there's a new school year."

I couldn't manage a response so I just nodded wordlessly. 

We took a left to a door. She unlocked it and flicked on the lights inside, letting the fluorescent white eat up something faintly reminiscent of an office space. However, through the clutter of a dozen open boxes, piled paperwork, hastily posted photos, and old or new racing jackets alike, it took a moment to recognize.

She tossed her things onto the desk with a lazy hand and hauled open a drawer in the desk. She rifled through its contents, muttering to herself for a few moments, before procuring a thick manila folder with black pen scrawling KITAE WANG all over its cover. In fresh red, right below it read KANE KING with a question mark to make a point.

I finally found my voice. "Thank you." She shot me a confused look. I quickly tried, "The gate."

She raised a brow. "Sure. We'll get you a keycard soon enough, we just have to get through the logistics of it first." 

She set the folder down in the square of available space across from her, and I took that as a signal to sit down. I scanned the folder's writing over and over and over again. Kane King (?) Kane King.

Emeline Edwards said, "Welcome to the Corvidae, I think I should say."

I took a deep breath. "Thank you."

She nodded, then flipped open the folder. "All right, a run-down. You can call me Edwards or Coach or Coach Edwards or Emeline or any other variation that isn't hey you, yeah? You're listed to start as front port sub for the upcoming season starting next spring, unless you've miraculously changed that preference, that'll be how that goes. This is the information I've got on you from your application, but from what I've been hearing, this—" She tapped the top of the first paper, where KITAE WANG was printed in black under NAME. "—has changed. Legally?"

I pursed my lips. I nodded. I waited for her to put up a fuss with that but she just nodded and flipped to the next page without a question.

"We'll reprint some of these and have you sign them later then. Other than that, fill out all of the red fields and sign where it says to. These are sizes for your gear, this is authorizing a key card, this is confirmation about your personal information, and these are waivers and liability agreements for the Corvidae and our bikes. You're gonna take this with you after we're done here, our nurse is going to need a physical on you."

I paused. "A physical?"

Edwards nodded. "Unless you need to be somewhere." I shook my head. She hummed. "After all of that, you can report back here at five for our practice, meet the team and such. We can talk about housing and starting you on practices."

I halted. "Housing?"

She tapped the papers. "Avaldi athletes rarely live in the given campus dorms," she said. "Corvus lives in the Talon, it's that big tower you passed on the way here."

"I can't afford that," I tried.

She waved me away. "It's part of the partial scholarship you received. Almost everything for Corvus should've been included in that." She turned the pages until she found what she was looking for. "You can read it here."

I took a few moments. I gawked at the papers in front of me, managed to sign only a few, before I said, "Does...can the name thing stay between us?"

Edwards looked surprised at that inquiry, like of all the things I could've asked, that was not the one she thought would be first. She held up a hand at me. "Your business is your business. My only concern is that you're alive and that you can race. Whatever your name is is not of my say. It'll stay between us."

I breathed easy. "All right."

I filled out the last of the papers before Edwards was getting to her feet and ushering me out the door. We walked the rest of the length of the tunnel, and on our way, passed an extensive bike rack, where a set of them were already charging and waiting. I let my gaze linger for a little while before we were stopping in front of the a doorway that read MEN'S LOCKER ROOM.

"Ramos!" Edwards called upon entering. "Hey, he's ready. Let me know when you two are done."

I swallowed hard. I went in.

A woman was waiting by what looked to be a medical office at the back of the room, her smile bright upon spotting Edwards, and even brighter upon spotting me. Her dark brown curls were hauled away from her face in a bun, leaving a bright grin on full display as she waved hello to me. 

"Kane, is it?" she said as I approached. I tried not to feel strange in the shape of that new name. I nodded. She held out her hand. "I'm Jasmin Ramos, I'm going to be your team nurse for the season. You can call me Ramos, most of them do. Freshman?" I nodded. She hummed and turned on her heel to head inside. "How has your first week been? Hectic, I imagine?"

"Busy," I said. 

She closed the door behind us. "I remember my first week of college, felt like I'd entered a different world," she said with a laugh. "Are you excited to be at Avaldi? Was it your first choice? What's your major?"

The questions made my head buzz a little harder. I set my bag down at the door. "It's nice. It was my first choice. And, history."

"History," she repeated back. She unearthed a bag of medical supplies and procured a stethoscope along with gloves. "You like it?"

"It's all right."

She nodded. "You can take your shoes off and we'll take your height and weight."

I grimaced, but did as she asked. She wrote down the numbers with a nod and gestured towards the bed at the other end of the room. 

"Do you mind taking your shirt off?" she asked. "I need to clear you for participating in practices and such."

I thought of the bruises around my arms, Luan's fingers imprinted in red at the base of my throat. I forced my hand to stay at my side instead of reaching up to feel the tender skin. I shook my head.

"I'd...rather not," I said. 

Ramos paused. She gave me a sympathetic look. "I'm sorry, it's protocol. I have to make sure of track marks and any major injuries recently sustained."

"I'd rather not," I repeated. "I don't do drugs. And I'm up and walking."

Ramos stared at me, like the resistance was rather foreign to her. I didn't move from where I stood, content to wait her out. The last thing I wanted was questions, let alone on the first day.

"I promise it will be quick," she said. "Anything that happens in this room is between you and me. I won't disclose anything you don't want me to."

I didn't want to disclose shit to a stranger, let alone a doctor. If I had the rest of the day, the marks would fade by then. But I wouldn't risk her missing them now.

I shook my head. "Can I just do that tomorrow instead?" 

Ramos pressed her lips to a thin line, but she acquiesced and nodded. "Of course," she said. "Whenever you wish." She gestured at my sleeves. "Let me take your blood pressure."

She went about the rest of the physical without any comments, content to make small talk and ask me more innocuous questions instead. I told her as little as possible, leaving things with curt responses and asking her more than I answered her.

Once it was finally over, I hurried to grab my bag and head out the door before she could ask me anything more, but Ramos stopped me with a hasty, "Kane?"

I paused. I turned around.

She said, "Don't forget to come back at five. You'll meet the rest of the team, okay?"

I swallowed. "Okay."

Okay.

In order, it goes:

I handed Jackson the ID. He looked it over with a gruff sigh and tossed it back into my hands before opening the gate. I hurried inside before he could give me a dirty look to top it off.

The sound of roaring engines and screeching tires wrapped a rope around my throat and yanked me through the tunnels. The smell of burning rubber. The scent of sweat and blood. My feet rushed for it so quickly, I was nearly running. 4:55 PM.

I heard the buzzer, a sound so loud I swore it'd shake a rift in the crust. Someone screaming. Someone cheering. The sound of a race.

I charged for it. 

This is it. 

This is your chance. 

I took a deep breath. 

"Hey!"

And skidded to a stop.

I turned around to where the voice had halted me. 

A young woman, clad from head to toe in black and purple leather with twin black braids running down to her stomach, stood by the bike rack and was making her way towards me, her cleats clinking on the concrete as she went. She narrowed blue eyes at me, the color so stark it made me take a step back. The helmet under her arm read YANG in blazing white.

She raised a brow. "Who are you?"

I opened my mouth, closed it, then tried again. "I...I'm new."

She blinked. "Shit, I didn't know we were bringing rookies this early in," she muttered. She walked past me towards the track. When I just watched her go, she sent me a confused look over her shoulder. "Hey. Quit gawking. Come on. You're late."

I checked the clock. 4:57 PM. "I am?" I said, catching up.

"Five minute buffer always," she said. "Obviously."

"I didn't—"

"Hey! Miller, you little shit!" She waved her helmet up at a canopy overlooking the track. "What are you, a goddamn garden gnome? Quit chatting up your girlfriend, we've got rookies."

I would have looked up to where she was yelling, but I was too busy looking at the track.

It was pure, gritty concrete, decorated with mile-high pillars and columns, their pole series perfect down to the inches, their ramps high enough to make your stomach turn. A great concrete bridge stretched over a shallow body of water, breaching clouds and gathering sunlight at its peak. A grand scoreboard sported a purple crow mid-flight, swallowing HOME and AWAY and VICTORY in white print. Banners hung from the silver scaffolding, highlighting Corvus's latest achievements, emphasizing names or faces or medals. One held a pitch black crow with a diamond in its claws, and the words RED CROWS emblazoned on the side.

I pushed my hand into my chest, in some strange effort to breathe. I'd stepped into a castle, an empire. This is your chance. Kane King. Corvus. I needed to lie down.

"King, good, you're here, you're late." I startled. I turned around to spot Edwards heading for me, her clipboard in front of her with a bevy of papers stuffed under the silver clip. She checked something off and pointed down at the pit. "Come on. Follow Miller—Miller! Let's go already!"

"Everyone's gotta be so loud all the time," a new voice sighed. "Can't you see I'm coming?"

A young man waltzed down the staircase, one glove on his hand as he held it up at us. He must have breached six feet by a long shot, his height so high it was hard to make out his eye color completely from where I was. His black curls were cropped short to his scalp, and when he looked down at me, it was with a pearly smile and the kind of demeanor you offered up a child. I clenched my jaw.

"Who's this?" he said, and leaned down, which only made me bristle. He glanced at Yang. "He looks cute."

"Stop that," she snapped, and jutted her thumb down at the pit. "What'd we say about first impressions? Get your ass down there."

"Because you know so much about first impressions. Ow. Kidding!" He glanced at me and mouthed not kidding. I was confused.

Before I could ask more, they were disappearing down to the pit and leaving Edwards to shove me forward after them. I scurried down, more just to see the track up close than anything. My heart made its way up my throat as I neared it. I could still feel the heat of the race from before wafting off its burning road.

When I entered the pit, the rest of Corvus was waiting for us to greet them.

"The final rookie has arrived," the young man announced, and made a grand gesture towards me that made some of my skin curl in on itself. "Does that complete our set?"

"You're traumatizing the kid before he's even gotten on the track," Edwards snapped and stabbed her pen at him. "We're here for introductions, not shenanigans, pack up your mouth."

"What about Yami? She's not here."

"Yes, I am." A girl posted beside a bike half-way through a tire change raised her hand, her platinum blonde hair chopped so severely to her chin it looked like a knife had just barely missed her throat. She flashed a bright smile at Edwards. "He kept me."

"I can imagine," she muttered. 

"Oh, is he new?" Yami, I assumed, said and pointed at me excitedly. She beamed. "Is he the front port sub? He looks so...aerodynamic."

Edwards pinched the space between her eyes. I frowned. "Thank you?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" A new guy appeared from the track, five other bodies at his back. He gawked at us and threw his hands up. "Without me?"

Edwards sighed.

"Hey, hey." A young woman rose from the floor. She planted her hands on her hips, and swept the pit with a steady gaze. When she got to me, her eyes stopped on my face. When I stared back, I stared at the wine red, flower-shaped brand blooming up from her throat. She said, "Introductions?"

Miller clasped his hands together and flashed me an award-winning smile that made me take a step back. "Andrew James Miller, but don't call me Andrew James or I'll think you're my priest."

"Dude," the woman snapped.

"Starting port tail," he finished. "Third year."

Yang held out her hand to me. "Qi Yang, starting centerback, fourth year." I took it and she shook it so firmly I felt my knuckles sting.

Yami waved at me with a grin made of light. "Yamin Hlaing, starting front starboard, third year. Yamin, Yami, the works." 

The guy that had walked in held up a hand in greeting and came around to me to hold it out. Sandy hair fell over olive green eyes, the same shade that colored his beaded necklace and beaded bracelets that clasped California-sunkissed skin. He shook my hand with less of a death grip than Qi, and beamed a crooked grin.

"Vann Janssen, starboard tail, fifth year. Some say I'm the wise father of this group," he said.

"Nobody says that," Qi assured me.

"Nobody says that," AJ said, giving Vann a strange look.

Vann waved them away. "I say that." He clapped me on the back and I barely held in an oomph on impact. "Kenzo! You're up, good sir."

I turned my head, and stuttered to a halt. 

The young man from the Pepperdine party that night stood a few yards from me, free from racing gear save for the Corvus jacket draped over his shoulders. He stared at me through black waves, looking, at most, mildly surprised to see me. His black eyes raked over my face, the rest of me, then turned back to Edwards.

Edwards frowned like she didn't understand. He hummed. He glanced back at me and said, "Kenzo Watanabe, starting center tail, second year."

I tore my gaze from his. My stomach churned something awful. I took a breath. He'd never known my name. He'd never known my real name. The shape of Luan's hands on my wrists burned.

"Your fellow rookies over there," Edwards went on, gesturing towards the other end of the pit, where the rest of the people who had followed Vann in stood. 

A blonde girl with a face as severe as the black nails on her fingers stood in sleek yoga pants and training jacket. She looked at me as if she was thoroughly unimpressed, and I didn't know what to make of it at all.

"Rosalie Gossard," she said. "Centerback sub. First year."

The girl behind her, hair redder than was legal and wild around her head like a crimson mane, gave me a soft smile that was perhaps the sweetest thing I'd seen from any stranger all day. She waved, and the golden bangle around her wrist glittered.

"Meredith Russo," she said. "Starboard tail sub. First year, too."

She was the only one I thought to wave back to, but the young man at her left halted me. He clapped his hands together and flashed a bared-teeth grin, the black waves on his head falling over his kinetic eyes. 

"Diego de la Cruz," he announced. "Port tail sub. Second year."

I swallowed my grimace. The man behind him lifted a hand in quiet greeting, his smile almost as gentle as Meredith's had been. He was rather tall to be a first year, and rather filled out to be an amateur. I suppose, considering where we stood, none of us should be such.

"Zahir Gupta," he said. "Front starboard sub. Second year as well."

All eyes landed on the girl with the flower on her throat. She beamed proudly at them, and pushed her auburn waves behind her ears to look at me.

"Poppy Wilder, your captain for this season," she said, earning a small whoop from Yami that made her laugh. "Front port and third year." 

Then, all eyes were on me.

I was still trying to process all the names that had just been thrown at me mixed in with the faces staring at me, leaving my head a bit of a mess as it hurriedly tried to come up with an introduction. Kitae Wang. But here, Kane King. The name tasted as funny on my tongue as I felt it sounded aloud.

But, it was my name.

"Kane King," I said, trying to straighten. "Front port sub. First year."

Poppy beamed wider at that. She hummed, satisfied. "Welcome to Corvus, you four. We're happy to have you."

"Try elated, this crowd was getting too familiar," AJ said, waving them away. "Good to have some fresh faces on the scene."

"We're honored to be here," Meredith told Poppy. 

Poppy beamed. "We're honored to have you." She clapped her hands together and gestured for the track. "Change out if you haven't though, because we're starting right off the bat."

Edwards slid a cool look my way. "Except you," she told me. "Ramos told me your physical was incomplete."

Something irked in me at that. I sighed. "Yeah, I told her tomorrow is a better time."

Corvus gave me a strange look at that. I avoided Kenzo's gaze and opted for heading back out the way I came as fast as possible, but a hand caught me before I could.

The feeling of someone's hold on my already-bruised arm was enough to kickstart my heart and yank my body back as far away from them as I could manage in the span of a second. In doing so, my back hit a rack of spare cleats, and sent the entire thing toppling over like a perfect fallen tower, dissipating into silver teeth and leather soles at our feet. 

I stumbled back, but didn't anticipate the wall behind me, and struck my shoulder. I cursed, doubled over, and nearly tripped twice before my feet finally found a place to stand on the floor that wasn't the feet of whoever had grabbed me.

The entire pit had gone dead silent. I, briefly, wondered if there was an ocean nearby for me to walk into. 

First impressions. Oy vey.

"Are you all right?" I glanced up. Ramos had her hands splayed between me and her, as if scared to approach any further. "I'm—I'm sorry, Kane, I didn't mean to—"

I smashed the humiliation between my molars and turned around before it could crawl up my throat and choke the life out of me completely. My eyes burned. 

Are you crying? 

Jesus Christ, what a loser.

"Kane—"

"If I can't practice today then I'll be back tomorrow," I bit out. 

"King," Edwards snapped. "Hold on—"

I fled the scene.

It'll make it easier.

Being a ghost.

One by one. Let's talk about it.

I saw Ramos the next day as promised. My bruises had healed by that point, so she had nothing to say to me save for an apology about the day before that I readily dismissed. I was already dreading seeing Corvus again. Let alone on the track this time.

"Emeline will talk to you about your rooming situation today," she said. "And the coming week is Corvus's first Red Diamond match. Today is just conditioning for you rookies, though." She grinned. I didn't.

"Thanks," I said. I hopped off the examination table. 

I grabbed my bag and left without looking back. Dread was swift and efficient in my veins, filling up my body at record speed. I forgot to search up the quickest routes to the sea this morning.

("How was your first day?" Luan asked, his arms coming around my waist, his chin on my shoulder. All the bruises had faded, save for a fresh one on my neck, made by tongue and teeth that I liked to tell myself felt nice. "I bet you had fun. It's a pretty track, huh?"

I shrugged. I washed off the final dish before placing it on the rack. "It was fine."

"Fine? I thought you'd be bouncing off the walls with stories."

I shrugged again. "We didn't race. We just talked to them."

He hummed, then said, "Ah, did you meet their captain?" he said, emphasizing "captain" like it wasn't very worth his time to say. "She's a character."

"What about her?"

"Nothing. She's just kind of..." He made a floaty gesture, then laughed in my ear. "She seems a little righteous."

I dried my hands off and made a move to leave his grasp. He turned me around before I could though, and I froze. He frowned.

"You're jumpy," he murmured. "Are you sure it was fine?"

Kitae can't be a racer.

I swallowed. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and nodded. "Great," I ratified. "Let's talk about your day.")

I was on time, five minutes early and there the same moment the other four showed. I only made it to the end of the tunnel however, before I realized they were in gear.

The blonde one—Rosalie—turned around, her ponytail swinging around her face like a white silk whip. She arched an eyebrow, and looked me up and down. Her gear, purple as royalty and blacker than the sun could withstand, screamed Corvus in every perfect stitch, in every inch of sleek leather, in each spike of silver steel. It was, however, void of any distinct labels, including a name.

I stopped. She pointed up and down at me, then said, "Where's your gear?"

I frowned. I patted my bag. She shook her head. Meredith turned around at that, and lit up.

"Oh, Kane," she said. "Kenzo is waiting in the girls' locker room for you—Coach's office," she hurried at the alarmed look I shot her. "He said he has your gear." If the dread hadn't killed my body yet, it was damn well about to at those words. 

The two other guys glanced at me and grinned hello. Diego raised his hand in greeting, then let out a boisterous laugh. "Are you a street racer or something?" he asked.

I stiffened quick. "What?" I said.

He hesitated at the look on my face, and held up his hands. "Whoa, kidding, kidding! No gear, figured you're doing it the old-fashioned way. Maybe a minimalist approach?"

I stared at him. If he was supposed to be joking, I couldn't tell, and it wasn't funny regardless. When he began to look uncomfortable, Zahir cleared his throat and pointed at the locker room. 

"We're joking," he assured. "Uh, Kenzo's in there, though. Hustle, hustle, you know?"

I turned, barely concealing the sneer that pulled at my lips. Diego muttered something I couldn't hear that had Meredith splaying a hand out at him. I made a move to leave, before she called to me, "You're cleared, right? For practice?"

I furrowed my brow. What was it to her? Why'd she want to know? 

I readjusted my bag on my shoulder and headed for the men's locker room. "I'll catch up," I said curtly.

The women's locker room wasn't any different than the men's, other than the fact the colors were switched, with dark accents and a majority-purple interior. Sure enough, Edwards's office was indicated in the back beside a wall-to-wall mirror. I snagged my gaze away from it and searched for Kenzo instead.

"Hey."

I stopped. I stepped back one row.

Kenzo Watanabe was not as threatening as you've learned to make him thanks to someone, but that's because you got to know him a lot later than I did, in a lot different of a way than I had to. The blond hair had always been, but he was not very tall by any large stretch, and was not very broad by any usual standard. His face was the kind with a visual weight as light as clouds, edges that were purposefully indistinct, and a temperament that rivaled those of mountain monks; that's to say, he just wasn't too much at all, and made much effort to stay that way.

He sat on the bench, his hands hanging off his knees. At my approach, he got to his feet, and gestured to a stack of gear beside him.

"Yours," he explained. I winced at the sound of his voice. "Change out, we'll see if it fits right."

I paused. "Here?"

He blinked. He nodded.

"With you?"

Kenzo looked unimpressed. "We're going to change in the same locker room row," he told me, like speaking to a child. "Change out."

I stared. He stared back. He raised a brow, but turned around. 

I pulled on the gear piece by piece. Even the touch of it was surreal, the smell, the sight. It was equal parts dread and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I wanted so badly to stand there for hours and bask in it, to stare at a mirror until the image came apart, but Kenzo was already fidgeting like he was getting impatient and I hurried to finish.

I strapped on the gloves and the sound made him turn. He looked me up and down. "Shoes?"

"They feel fine."

"Gloves."

"They're good."

"Armor?"

"Snug."

He nodded, satisfied. "Come on." He brushed past me to leave.

I was grateful he didn't bring up the night at Pepperdine's and hurried after him with my bag. He steered out of the locker rooms and towards the track, where Corvus had congregated, Poppy standing at their head. Luan's words echoed in my head with an unpleasant clang.

"Drop your bag with Ramos, we'll take you to your locker after practice."

Ramos and Edwards were up in the canopy, surveying their team down below. Kenzo made a gesture for me to go, and although leaving him for them was not the best trade-off, I went. 

Ramos grinned warmly at me at my approach. "Kane," she began. "They're waiting down there."

"I know," I said. I dropped the bag in the corner. "Thanks."

I fled before they could say another word. The only thing that kept my head floating was the sensation of the gear on my skin, and the blank track ahead waiting for me.

At my approach, Corvus turned their gazes from Poppy to me. Only Meredith and Vann smiled. The rest gave me inquiring looks. Poppy gave me a once-over, and grinned with something like satisfaction. I would've raised a hand in acknowledgment, but I was too preoccupied with the upperclassmen. Nobody was in gear, except us.

"Great, our rookies are all suited up," she said. "Today's the first practice, so we're not going to go too intense on anything. We just want to get you all adjusted to the gear and the track."

"She means bust their asses into shape," Qi murmured to AJ, who laughed. The dread was quickly overtaking the excitement in me. 

"We'll start with warm-ups," Poppy said, clapping her hands together. "Everyone to the track! Rookies, in front."

"She's gonna kill us," Diego murmured. "She's got a smile that could stir honey, but she's gonna kill us."

"Did she mean warm-ups as in, warming up on the bike?" Rosalie asked. "She doesn't expect us to warm up in three layers of heavy-grade leather, does she?"

"No," Meredith said confidently, then faltered. "Uh."

I gritted my teeth. I followed them to the track, just as Edwards descended from the canopy.

Who else, who else, who else?

Some things never change.

"Up and down," Edwards called, and pointed at the ramps.

We went.

"Obstacles," she conducted, and gestured at the track.

We went.

"Laps," she ordered, and made a circle in the air.

We went, went, went.

The heavy leather on my bones, the gloves suffocating my hands and the cleats choking my feet, my empty stomach, the constant orders, blurred my vision together into an unholy mess of colors, sounds, and heat. I could barely find breath, find an upright stance, in all the damn heat.

"We're not...gonna make it," Rosalie gasped, stumbling as she ran. "What...kind of conditioning...is this?"

"The Corvus kind," Zahir wheezed. "I can't feel my feet."

"I can't," Diego said, and left it at that.

Meredith grasped her side. "I'm...gonna keel over."

I clenched my jaw tighter. Who else, who else, who else? I willed my legs to move, just a little longer.

The sky had grown purple. The hour waned, toggled between dusk and night. My head was heavy as bricks and lighter than air all at once. If it was that easy. But this was only the first day.

When we finally finished our last lap and stuttered to a dismal halt at the finish line, the upperclassmen were completing their stretches and stood to greet us. AJ flashed a satisfied smile.

"You look great out there, you really do, let me tell you!" he said, then flicked me an interested look. "Hey. You run well."

I blinked. I took a breath. I said, "Thanks."

Poppy grinned. When she came up to us, she couldn't have been taller than my shoulder, but everyone watched her with full attention. She spoke like we'd all known her for years rather than hours. Something about it made my skin bristle.

"You rookies are in better shape than we were," she laughed. "Ready to race?"

"After that?" Rosalie wheezed.

"Just one," she assured. "It'll just be against me. We'd like to see where you all are at skill-wise."

"Four on one is a little much, no?" Zahir said from his seat on the ground. 

"Oh, no," Yami piped. "Everyone races the captain first practice. You'll see!"

"Oh," Qi bent down towards us. "You'll see."

I won't tell you how the race went, not in detail. All you should know, is the Skylarks were nothing like Corvus. Maybe that was where I went wrong first.

Someone will tell you I don't "get" street racing and its quirks, but the reality is is that I had brought the streets to Corvus long before he did. Granted, I was a lot more calculated about it. But I was a lot more keen on that type of approach, so.

The race had gone on for a standardized thirty minutes. By the end of it, it was clear Rosalie was the most polished of the group, her timing intuitive and her control strong, whereas Zahir excelled in clever point combos, Diego was fast on defense, and Meredith was clean without sacrificing speed. I'd once asked Coach what she thought my standout skill was at that time, and she'd told me it was my speed. But Poppy thought different.

I cut a corner across the track and slid the wheels along the edge of the fencing. Poppy raced below me. I shifted gears to fall down, down, down towards her. My back wheel caught her front one, and I shifted again to drive ahead at full speed, towards the pillar. 

She yanked her body back and swung her leg into my back. I braked so severely, smoke sang out of the rubber, sparks flying from beneath my cleats. My blood pumped at the speed of light. Poppy stumbled, her bike's handlebar sinking into her gut, and she tore her wheel away from mine to drive into the tunnel instead. I hounded after her, fast, faster.

We came to a close at the finish line.

Corvus cheered, clapping down at us from the canopy. The applause felt more chastising than anything, and I ignored them in favor of staring down at the faceshield of my helmet, watching blood drip from my lip and temple. 

"You're first years? You sure about that?" Vann appeared first, the rest trailing behind them. He clapped Poppy on the shoulder. She set her helmet calmly down on her seat. WILDER was emblazoned in bright white on its jaw, and something like envy panged in my gut. "Looked more like a bunch of amateur IPRA newbies."

"Oh, that's to say fantastic," Yami said, beaming ear to ear. "How was it? Racing the track the first time."

"Give me a sandwich and some Valatro and I could do it all night," Diego said as he slumped over his bike. He craned his neck back to look at me, and raised a brow. "You're kind of crazy, lobo. How'd you move like that?"

I frowned. Poppy scanned us before glancing at me. She had a steady look on her face, the kind that held a question but not a way to ask it. 

Eventually, she said, "That was an interesting move. Where'd you learn it?"

I blinked. "Dunno. At school."

"School," she repeated, not accusatory, but like taking notes. "You're a front port, right?" I nodded. "That's a bold move from a front port."

I flexed my fingers. "It's just a move."

"No, I think it was great," she laughed, then tried, "I've just rarely seen it from such a rookie."

I stared. I drawled, "Surprise."

Poppy faltered at that dry reply, but she didn't get the chance to act on it before Edwards was shoving us towards the locker rooms. As much as I didn't want to leave the track, I was grateful to get away from Corvus for the day.

Well, save for the dorming issue.

"Live together," I repeated. "You weren't kidding?"

"Oh, I heard the Talon is incredible," Meredith said. "When do we get to move in?"

Luan ricocheted in my head over, and over, and over again. Move in? I felt faint.

"By the end of next week, you all should be moved in," Edwards replied. She withdrew five envelopes. "These are your key cards and updated IDs. Talk to the upperclassmen to sort out a time for them to help you move in and such. Poppy, Vann, and Kenzo all have cars if you have anything too big to carry. The rooms are furnished though, so you shouldn't have too much to bring."

"Do we have to?" I asked.

Corvus looked at me. Edwards raised a brow at me. "Yes," she said. "It's for safety reasons. Plus, I promise you the Talon is worlds better than whatever shoeboxes you all are living in right now on campus."

"I heard there's a Dunkin' Donuts in there," Diego said. "AJ told me."

"Hell yeah," Rosalie and Zahir said.

At least on campus, my roommates didn't care when I left or arrived, how long I was gone or what I was up to or what I came back looking like. Being in the Talon would be an entirely different story, and not in any way that entailed anything good. 

We took our envelopes. I took the ID out, the key card with it, its face clean and glassy, silver as the cleats we wore. KANE KING in permanent ink. I tried to take some solace in it, but the sudden trepidation in my system was difficult to bypass.

I got to my feet. Edwards said, "King."

I took another step before I realized that was me. I stopped and turned. 

She waited for the last of the rookies to flee before she said, "Is there a reason you don't want to live in the Talon?"

I opened my mouth, closed it. I said, "I...it's just very sudden, Coach."

She hummed. "Well, sudden but necessary, okay? It'll be good for you all to live with them, they'll help you out, be your support system."

I doubted that. A team of racers could not be a champion in it of itself. There were only those who were champions, and those who failed to make the cut. You couldn't be a "support system" and a winner. And who was here to be anything but just that?

I nodded. I shoved the cards into my pocket. "I'll arrange it. Thanks."

She looked like she wanted to say more, but I was out the door before she could.

("Move in with them?"

I lit the cigarette on the second try and let the smoke trail out in a silver gust. Luan's fingers were in my hair, my head on his back, lingering heat clinging to my bare skin and the sheets. Sunhee had called. I hadn't called her back. Something in me was afraid to.

"It's mandatory," I told him with a sigh. "Can't get out of it. It wasn't mentioned anywhere, though."

Luan hummed. He had his chin in his hands, his eyes closed against the pillow. He said, "Am I going to have to get screened every time I want to come see you?"

I paused. "You don't have to come see me," I said. "I come home all the time."

Luan turned over. He loomed over me. He was smiling, but the dread hadn't left me, hadn't left me for years. 

"Yeah, but still. If I wanted to," he said.

I let my gaze trail away. I sat up. "Don't," I said. "You don't need to."

There was silence. Foolishly, I thought it meant he'd let it go.

An arm came around my middle. I froze. He let his lips come towards my neck, let his forearm push into my ribcage until it bruised my lungs.

"Why?" he asked, and laughed. "You got an on-campus lover?"

I winced. "What are you talking about?" I snapped. "I just don't see a reason."

"You're not denying it."

"Har har."

His grip tightened so quickly I felt the breath escape me in a cigarette-scented wind. His fingers inched up my chest, towards my throat.

"Old habits die hard, Kitae," he murmured. "I just get worried, is all."

I grimaced. I sighed. "Let go."

"Kitae."

"Let go, Luan," I said, springing out of his grip so quickly I jammed my knee into the bedside table. I cursed. I felt my cigarette shake. "And stop calling me that."

Luan stared at me for a long moment. Then, he threw his head back and let out a raucous laugh. 

"Fuck," he muttered. "You're so serious. You're no fun." He shook his head, turned onto his side away from me. "It's just a joke, xīngān. Can't you take a joke?")

It was Vann that moved me in. He always had the higher tolerance.

Vann Janssen was an eighth wonder of the world, or something like that. He was every inch a lucky star, Malibu beach waves, eyes like rare ores, skin a shade behind tan but after pale, a height from his mother, a smile from his father, and the kind of patience you could only find in a Wattpad picket fence fantasy. So, not here, clearly.

"King of the world!" I whipped my head to the gate. Vann jogged out in a cream sweatshirt and shorts, his hand up to greet me. He swiped his card and the gates buzzed open. "Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome!" I stared. He hesitated, then cleared his throat. "Cabaret? No?"

I said, "What?"

Vann tugged at his collar. "Never mind. Forget I did that. Come in." He grabbed one of my two suitcases and the duffel. "You're the last to move in, so everyone's there already. We're all gonna have dinner together in the cafeteria tonight, too. Oh, you'll meet Uma too, she's a sweetheart. You might run into other athletes, but don't sweat it—oh, and—"

Or something like that.

I let Vann talk my ear off from the entrance to the elevator to the top floor to the unit. I was just content to spend my time praying we got our own rooms.

"Final crow in the nest!" Vann jutted his thumb back at me as I tore off my shoes. "Everyone cheer?"

"Everyone's out," a voice called, and Diego's face appeared from the kitchen. He spotted me, hesitated, then decided on waving. I just nodded. He shrugged and said, "AJ wanted to show them the Dunkin'. I'm supposed to catch up with them after this." He held up his phone to show an ongoing call that was muted on his end.

Vann smiled back at me. I blinked away the sunlight in it. "Then you're right on time, you can drop your stuff off here and join them. It'll be a good chance to introduce you to the Cafes before they get crowded."

I wasn't very keen on the idea of more socializing than I needed, but he was already walking away before I could voice that protest. Vann stopped at a door to the right, one away from the farthest one, and pushed it open with his foot. 

"You're in here," he said. "I'm in the room across from you—we share a bathroom and a balcony. Kenzo's on the right from you, and Diego and Zahir are over to the left." He flicked on the light, and let the white haze swallow up any square footage that wasn't illuminated by the gaping glass door. He grinned and gestured at the view. "Sweet, huh? That's a top-level tier view."

I said, "We are at the top level."

"Well, yeah, exactly—hey, you know what, the room's nothing special, let's drop all this off and head down."

"I was going to unpack," I said.

"You can always unpack," he assured and set my things down in the corner next to a plain white nightstand that sat beside a plain white bed, two blue pillows plump and plush against the cream headboard. "Come on."

"I—" But he was whisking me away before I got the chance to protest.

Vann patted my shoulder. "Come on," he tried, softer. "Best way to get to know a team is to spend time with them. Don't worry."

But no matter what, the ill feeling wouldn't leave.

"Cafe A, Cafe B, Cafe C, Cafe D, and Cafe Café," AJ listed out, pointing at each set of double doors respectively. "Cafe Café is Cafe E, but it's got the best coffee."

"Dunkin'?" Rosalie asked.

"Dunkin'," the upperclassmen agreed with a smile.

Qi held up a finger at us. "The general rule is that lacrosse, football, and square racing sits in Cafe A. B is for swimming and volleyball. C and D are melting pots of sorts. E is free-for-all, and coffee. Lots of coffee."

"We should sit with our subs, for today," Poppy said. "Dinner starts in half an hour anyway, so we can stay and talk in here before then."

I swallowed at the idea of eating dinner in the Cafe, let alone with an audience. I shoved my hands into my pockets and took a deep breath. The only thing I needed to focus on was getting through the night.

Everyone lined up for their coffee. I searched through my wallet, but Yami hastily waved her hands at me with a shake of her head, sending her braids flying every which way.

"No, no!" she demanded, and held out her key card. "It's a swipe to get in and then you eat whatever you want. Poppy swiped you in."

I paused. "How much is it?"

"It's transferred from the meal plan you bought," she explained, then spread her hands out towards the Cafe. "But athletes get an extra eighty swipes when they come into the Talon. Gotta feed the champions, you know?"

"Yeah, we work hard to desecrate lycans and their precious metals," Qi drawled.

"Exactly," AJ agreed, slinging an arm around her shoulders. She made a move to bite him and he winked at Yami, who looked confused.

"Are those two...?" Rosalie asked Poppy.

Poppy threw her head back with a bright laugh, the kind that made the air draw back to make way for it. Her auburn hair framed her brimming grin, shone red in the heat of the setting sun. "They're fun," is all she said. "How are you all liking the Talon so far?"

"Amazing," the rookies chorused.

"I heard you guys have a sauna in this place," Zahir said.

"Two," she replied.

"Amazing," they whispered.

I searched the menu. The day was late enough I wasn't in much need for caffeine, and I had no idea what dinner entailed since I'd eaten lunch without its anticipation. I settled for a black drip coffee.

"Where's your soul?" Diego quipped. "Do you really like black coffee? I feel like most people just say so for the aesthetic."

I stared at him. "It's fine," I replied curtly. "What aesthetic?"

"The soulless one," Rosalie snorted, flicking her blonde waves over her shoulder. "Diego, you can't just go around calling people soulless."

"I'm asking if he's soulless."

I sneered. "What kind of question is that?"

"Hey, it's a valid question," he said, and narrowed his eyes at me. "Sometimes the pretty faces have the least soul."

"You must have plenty," Rosalie murmured.

"Say that to my face."

I turned away in an effort to leave the conversation and retrieve my coffee, but Meredith was speaking before I got the chance. 

"I like black coffee," she said, as if to comfort me. She smiled softly. "Only with a sweet treat, though. Did you get a donut? I love their powdered one."

I didn't really understand what she wanted from me at that strange interjection. "I don't like donuts," I said. Which might or might not have been a lie, considering I'd never had one. "So, no."

She nodded. "Don't like sweets?" she asked.

"No," I said, hoping it'd end there.

"I love pastries, but not candy," she went on. "What about croissants? Those aren't too sweet."

"What about them?"

"Do you like them?"

I shook my head. "Don't know," I sighed.

"Oh," she said, a bit surprised. She frowned at me, tilting her head. "Do...you not eat many pastries?"

"What?" I said.

"I just mean..." She tried to find her words. "I heard you're from Korea," she tried, and the hair on my arms stood up. "My sister visited, I remember her saying they had so many delicious pastries that were so unique to their culture, I was just thinking you might have more—"

"I'm not an alien," I retorted, cutting her off and sending her mouth snapping shut. "I haven't lived in Korea for years. Maybe don't get all your questions off the internet."

Meredith looked as if I'd struck her. Everybody else was too engrossed in their own conversations to bother listening, but I likely shouldn't have been so doubtful of people's attention span, because Poppy spoke up only a few moments later.

"Everyone have their drinks?" she asked. "Let's sit, before the rush starts."

I brushed past Meredith and headed towards the booth Corvus chose in the farther back corner. The team dutifully rearranged as if reordering themselves by number, before they slid in with Yami on the furthest left, Zahir next, then Qi, Rosalie, Poppy, me, Vann, Meredith, AJ, Diego, and Kenzo on the furthest right. 

"Is this a seating arrangement?" Diego quipped. 

"Yes," Qi replied, solemn. 

"Why?"

"Keeps the subs with the subs, fronts with fronts, tails with tails. Is that butter pecan swirl, with almond milk?" she asked, gaping at his drink.

Diego frowned. "What's wrong with that?"

Zahir said, "I get mine with almond milk."

"Zay gets it," Diego said.

"Zay?" Zahir asked, raising a brow.

"Zay-hay?"

"What?"

"I'll work on it."

"Stop him before he works too hard," Rosalie advised Zahir, who was staring at Diego like he was uttering hymns.

I leaned back against the seat and drank my coffee. I watched the clock posted on the furthest wall. There was a cage around it, and with a Cafe full of canines, I didn't really want to know why. Maybe it was to force it to tick slower, because it sure as shit felt like that.

My phone buzzed me out of my daze. I pulled it out and looked down.

6:03 PM - luan 

hey
yubaek is in town for the weekend, says there's a race happening in Cat's Eye at 10

bets are up to 800 !
i can pick u up?

I pursed my lips tight. It was the precise problem I feared upon living with Corvus. It wasn't just Luan himself, but everything that came with it. Second birth had to mean a first death. I didn't need old ghosts haunting me where others could see them—not if I could help it.

"Where are you from, King?"

My head snapped up from my phone. I glanced to my right, where Poppy was watching me as she sipped her French vanilla iced coffee. The sun made her look half-dipped in gold.

I shut off my phone and shoved it into my pocket. "What?"

"Where are you from?" she asked again calmly. "Where you grew up and stuff."

I picked at my possible answers. "I was born in Korea, but I've been here for a while."

"Where'd you go to school?"

"Greylaw."

"You liked it there?"

"It was fine."

"What got you into square racing?"

Survival. "It's fun."

She grinned at that, but it looked courteous. "I watched the video you sent Coach," she said, and I froze. If she knew about me then, then did she know about my name? "You race like it's a lot more than just fun."

I blinked. "Okay."

"I just mean, you've got a unique way of racing," she clarified. "Where'd you learn?"

"A friend. Practice."

"Were you always front port?"

The sheer amount of questions was making me both tired and nervous. "Yes," I said.

"Do you go back to Korea often?"

"Sometimes," I said. The seconds couldn't pass slower.

She hummed, then said, "Why'd you want to come to Avaldi?"

I shrugged, swirling my coffee around. "Corvus."

"Why?"

"It's a good team?" I said, because it was obvious.

"Is that it?" she asked, like she knew it wasn't.

I stared at her for a long moment, before my phone buzzed with an incoming call. I didn't need to check who it was to know, and I snatched my coffee from the table, looking away.

"I need to take this," I said. "Can I go?"

Poppy frowned, about to ask, before I forewent even bothering with her answer and standing up on my own. Corvus moved for me to flee, and Poppy called, "Wait, King!"

But I was already out the Cafe's door and heading back where there'd be no one to hear me.

The last people I wanted to see where Yubaek and Luan.

But in a place like Cat's Eye, I didn't have many other allies.

I sat on my bike fixing my gloves when Yubaek approached me. He gave me an easy smile, and saluted me as he approached. He jutted his thumb behind him, where the streets lay ahead. "Look at the king of the streets," he drawled. "Hey, might be the easiest 1,050 you ever make."

"1,050?" I snapped, my head swiveling to him. "Luan said 800."

"Up to," he corrected. "Up past, more like."

I looked around at the racers. I could already see the blood on the concrete in front of me. "You're both out of your mind. Do you know what these racers will be willing to do for that kind of money? Someone could get killed out here."

"Well then, pretty boy," Yubaek tossed me my helmet. "Better not get killed."

The only way to do that would've been to win. Which wasn't usually an issue. But the exhaustion of practices, the lack of dinner in my stomach,  the terse conversations with Corvus in my skull, and a particularly small racer that moved faster than light could hit my eye and had a knack for getting on my nerves, put a bit of a notch in things.

I watched everyone dual out their money to the mystery winner, who looked to be no bigger than a child under his helmet. He pocketed the money quick as a blink, and before I could even pull my helmet off to say something to him, he was racing off into the night and leaving me to the wolves.

Yubaek slung an arm over my shoulder, narrowly avoiding wiping the blood from my chin onto his hand. "Christ alive, Kitae," he whispered to me. "Are you an amateur or something? And here Luan told me you'd put on such a show." He laughed into the midnight air. "Maybe if you had a dick in you instead, you would've rode the whole show to—"

I shot my fist into his gut and Yubaek went stumbling back, his breath leaving him in one sharp gust. Heat swarmed up my arms, my neck, into my ears and down my throat. Humiliation was nothing new. But that didn't mean it fucking helped.

I sank onto my bruised knees to clock him in the jaw before he could say more. His hands reached wildly for me and grabbed onto my neck. Yubaek threw me to the concrete, the cold stone skinning my temple and lip where I went tumbling. Some people started shouting at us. The roar of ongoing traffic and fleeing engines echoed in time with the ringing in my ears.

"Kitae."

I opened my eyes. Luan hovered above me, his hands holding my face. He bit his lip, then released me and got to his feet. He said something to somebody that I didn't bother making out. I was too busy trying to figure out how to stand. Once I did, I didn't wait for Luan.

"Kitae." Everything hurt, everything burned. I kept walking towards my bike as salt fed into my wounds and tongue. Why couldn't anything ever be over? "Kitae. Kitae. Just—just wait, hold on—"

"Stop calling me that," I yelled.

I whirled around. Luan stood with his hand outstretched to me, aloft between us. He looked silver and blue in the night's colors. I shook my head and pushed my bleeding knuckles to my bruised temple.

"Why'd you even bring him?" I snapped. "Why the fuck did he even want to come?"

"Calm down," he said. "You're hurt."

"Because of you," I said. "The only reason I'm ever hurt is because of you, Luan."

Luan stared at me for a beat. Then, as if by a magic word, let all remorse or regret melt away from his figure like shedding his old skin. He tossed his head to the side and scoffed, took my breath out with it. His eyes were cold when they settled back on me, stiff with ice and an unsatisfied type of disdain. I took a step back towards the bike.

"Because of me?" he repeated. "You're hurt, and that's my fault?"

"You got me into these stupid races," I hissed. "All those friends, this—this god-awful dynamic you've roped me into—"

"I roped you into this?" he repeated, incredulous. "You want to blame this on me?"

I turned around. "I'm leaving."

"No." A hand grabbed my left wrist, yanked me back with such force I felt my shoulder flare with a sudden, piercing pain. I winced as Luan held my wrist above his head. "You don't get to throw your temper tantrum and leave when you feel like it, Kitae."

"Stop. Calling. Me. That," I gritted.

"Who are you lying to?" he snarled. "You think anyone would have thought you were worth a fucking dime if it wasn't for me? If I hadn't gotten you into racing, into Greylaw, into Corvus? You wouldn't even be Kane King without me. You wouldn't be anyone without me." He scoffed. "You'd be a good-as-dead ghost."

I tore myself from his grip and shoved him. His fist was an expected force against my cheek. His fingers a familiar pressure against my throat. I closed my eyes. I tried to remember my back against his chest, a sunlit church's rafters, an empty high school track, the sensation of Busan's shores against my skin. Something, anything, worth holding onto.

I felt it slip from my fingers.

"I hate you," I whispered to him, when he'd let me go and began to walk for his car, leaving me bloody and bruised beside my bike. 

Luan laughed at that, a hollow, lighthearted sound. "No, you don't," he said. "You just hate that you know I'm right."

I closed my eyes, and drove back to the Talon alone.

Kenzo said, "What happened to your face?"

I'd avoided all of Corvus until that next day's practice by getting up at a perfectly unholy hour to escape seeing Vann before strategically hiding out in the library until my eight AM and staying in said library between each class thereafter. At some point, Corvus had gotten my phone number, and Poppy had sent me a text asking about lunch, because the universe had dealt my hand that way.

1:03 PM - Unknown Number

hey! it's poppy! did you want to get lunch together? 

[Unknown Number changed to poppy captain]

1:09 PM - Me

i'm ok thanks

1:10 PM - poppy captain

ok, see u at practice!

I sadly knew so.

There was no avoiding anything in the locker room. Kenzo was in my row, leaving me subject to his inevitable questions when I started changing out for the evening. Even Alpha healing couldn't fully compensate for the blow of yesterday night.

"Nothing," I said. "I fell."

"Into barbed wire," he deduced.

"Forget it." I grabbed my gloves and shoved my locker door closed. "It's not your problem." I left before he could contest. Everything, from skin to bone, ached ferociously.

Kitae can't be a—

"Line up!" Edwards yelled. "We'll run some laps, do some stretches, then we'll get on the track."

I ducked my head as I got into the lineup between Poppy and Vann. I wished for a hood of some sort, maybe a goddamn ski mask. Time moved like crude oil. I counted the seconds in my head like counting a ticking time bomb.

"So then I told her that I've got my mom's mouth, you know, so only so many fists can fit such a perfect incisors—holy Hell alive, what happened to you?"

I glanced up. AJ had Rosalie and Zahir behind him as they headed for the lineup. He gaped at me like I'd emerged from some other realm. One by one, Corvus followed suit, their jaws dropping down the line. Even Kenzo looked surprised.

I turned my eyes away from them. "I fell," I said blankly.

"Fell? From Heaven?" Diego said, and touched his own face as if he could feel my injuries on him. "Jesus, man, you look awful."

"Oh, my God, Kane." Ramos walked up from the pit. There was a pity in her eyes that made my vision bleed. "What happened? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," I snapped. "I told you, I fell."

"Fell? On what? A rabid raccoon?" Rosalie said. "Which metro train ran you over?"

"And which one ran you over again?" Qi added.

"An inefficient one, because I'm fine," I replied. "I can still race."

Edwards opened her mouth, closed it, thought about it, then tried again. "Ramos, take a look at him. You look like you can barely finish a lap."

I shook my head. "I can race."

"Ramos will determine that."

Ramos made a move towards me, but I shot her a glare and she took a step back. I turned back to Coach. "I can race," I pressed. "She doesn't need to check me."

Corvus glanced amongst each other, half-confused and half-shocked. But I didn't need their clearance or their concerns. The only thing that mattered was when Edwards would give me the go-ahead, and what happened on the track.

"Kane," Ramos tried. "I need to check you. Let me at least make sure your wounds are clean—"

I stepped out of her reach. "No," I hissed, and she got that same look that she'd gotten in the pit on the first day, which only made my stomach churn worse. "Let me race."

"For the last time," Edwards warned, "you're not racing if I don't—"

"Let him race."

Everyone paused. Poppy fastened her gloves and gestured nonchalantly at me. "Let him race," she repeated. "If he thinks that he can and he wants to that badly, then let him. We were gonna do test runs anyway."

Vann blinked. "You...aren't serious, Poppy."

She fastened her ponytail. "I am," she contested. 

"Will he even stay in one piece if we put him on a bike?" Qi scoffed.

"We'll find out," she replied with a curt grin. She turned to face me. There was a strange calm in her expression, not a reassurance but rather an acceptance, and with it, an intrigue. She tilted her head towards the bike. "Put your gear on?"

The race began with a bang. 

I zipped past Poppy within the first lap, swerving around the corner and heading for the ramps. I passed her again on the next, striking concrete and evading obstacles. I passed her again on the next. And the next. And the next, and the next, and the next.

The halfway mark hit.

I was losing steam fast, both on my bike and in my body, the speed from the beginning of the race taking the breath out of me and the sharp turns causing my muscles to ache. I briefly and foolishly wondered where Poppy had gone, how she'd become captain being so slow, and what the fuck was I thinking in the first place?

A bullet sailed past my bike. It took me a second to realize it was Poppy.

She soared past me in a flash of light and a burst of sparks. A newfound energy had overcome her, sending her through pole series without so much as a ding, into tunnels, through chicanes, up the ramps and flying like an elegant dove through the air. 

I pushed my foot to the accelerator and gritted my teeth. Kitae can't be a—

On and on and on, I never passed Poppy again. 

The seconds bled into minutes melted into hours, the sky undergoing a slow cyanosis until it was void of life and blue as death above us. I'd gotten so clumsy under the anvil of exhaustion on my back in addition to all the bruises and cuts from the night before that I'd begun crashing into obstacles left and right with every lap. By the time Edwards decided to put me out of my misery, I hadn't been able to ride straight enough to make it out of a single pole series.

"Stop!"

My bike sputtered to a pathetic halt at the finish line, and I barely managed to shove the kickstand out before I was falling out and onto the concrete. I clutched at my ribs where the gashes had likely reopened, or been accompanied by new ones, and tore off my helmet to gasp for some sweet air. The night swam in my head. I wondered if it was the impending humiliation or plain old pain.

I heaved a shaking breath. I pushed my knuckles into my ribs and bit down on the groan that sank claws into my throat. My vision bobbed up and down, up and down, up and—

"Kane."

I opened my eyes. A hand was splayed out in front of me in offering. I looked up. 

Poppy stood above me, her helmet under her arm. She barely looked winded. She said, "Are you all right?" When I just stared, she sighed and went to grab my arm. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and Ramos can take a look at you."

My temples burned. Jesus Christ, what a—

I swatted her hand away from me and shoved myself onto my feet. "Don't touch me," I snapped, turning away from her. I grabbed my helmet. "Aren't we racing?"

"You're hurt," she said carefully. "You should—"

"You said we were racing," I snapped. "I can race."

"Like hell you can," Qi said, making her way onto the track. "Give it up, kid, you got humbled and now you can shape up and ship out."

"What she means," Yami said, giving her a significant look, "is the race is over and you need help."

I clenched my jaw. "No, I don't."

"It wasn't a suggestion." Edwards made her way towards us. "You're done, okay?"

"I can race," I snapped. "How do you think we get better if we're not racing?"

"By not walking around like a corpse on my track," she retorted. "Check your attitude. I said you're done, so you're done, got it? Ramos."

Ramos tried to reach for me but I fled from her reach without thinking and she recoiled like I'd burned her. Corvus stared amongst each other, at me. I felt the heat eat away at my face like an acid, like a poison, infesting my system from the inside out and cutting off my circulation by inches. Oh, my God, are you crying?

I turned around and snagged my helmet, but Poppy said, "No."

I turned on her. "You made your point," I bit out. "You're better, you won, you're captain." I flicked her off with a turn of my wrist that had me biting my tongue from the burn. "Congrats."

"Excuse me?"

"Hey, man," AJ tried with a careful grin, "it's just a race, some basic initiation, you know?" He reached for my hand. "Calm yourself, young one, let's grab some food—"

I dropped the helmet and took a step back. "Don't touch me," I snapped.

AJ stepped back. Everyone glanced amongst each other, but Kenzo was watching me with something like intent. He turned his gaze to Poppy.

Poppy stared at me, blank-faced. It was somehow worse than having any other expression, and the knife of shame sank further into my chest. I wanted to cry as much as I wanted to scream. 

"Kane," she said. For a moment, I didn't even know who she was talking to.

I shook my head. "Leave me alone," I hissed.

I turned and fled the Corvidae without another word.

[DIALING luan...]

"Hello?"

"Luan?"

"What's wrong?"

"Can...can you pick me up?"

"What?"

"Can you pick me up?"

"Are you sure you want me to pick you up? Last time I heard, you never wanted to see—"

"Please, Luan. I...I don't know anyone else."

[INCOMING CALL - poppy captain]
[HOLD luan?]
[END CALL luan?]

"Where are you?"

"Avaldi. The Talon."

"I'll meet you outside."

[MISSED CALLS (1) - poppy captain]

Luan placed a final bandage over my cheek. He reached up and brushed a hair from my face, let his fingers pass the bruise by my eye and instead glide under my chin. 

"Xīngān," he murmured softly, and my heart ached. "You look awful."

I closed my eyes. "Thanks for picking me up."

"I'm sorry, about the race," he said. He grasped my hands. His grip made my knuckles sore. "I'm sorry, Kit—Kane, about everything. I haven't known what to do for a long time, my mom is on my back every day about racing, I've been stressed without any real sleep, it's just—I miss you so badly sometimes I get angry." He sighed. He let his forehead rest on my hands. "I love you. I love you and it just hurts that much more when you hurt me, so I get angry." Luan kissed my knuckles. "I love you."

I felt the words wash over me like lukewarm water. I blinked. Said nothing. I tried to feel it, but all I felt was an ache, an ache, an ache.

I was so tired.

"I know," I murmured. "I'm sorry."

Luan hummed. He let his fingers run under my lips. He leaned down.

"Do you want to go back to the Talon?" he murmured against my mouth. "Or do you want to sleep over?"

It was a trap I'd walked right into, set from the very start and foolproof. 

I pushed fingers against his heartbeat. "Can I stay?"

Luan smiled. "Of course."

[ATLAS WORLDVIEW ALERT: poppy captain started sharing their location with you.]
[ATLAS WORLDVIEW ALERT: Share your location with poppy captain?]

______________

So forth. So on.

"Kane."

I kept walking.

"Kane!"

I kept walking.

"Kane. Please."

Poppy stopped in front of me, her hands up between us. Her auburn hair was tied back in a bun that was quickly coming loose from her haste. She wore a CORVUS RACING embroidered jacket, and a bandage was wrapped about her hand, scratches from a race across her cheeks, blood dried on the wrap around her wrist. I raised a brow, but said nothing.

I made a move to go around her. "I have a lab."

"In twenty minutes," she said, and I gawked. How the hell did she get a hold of my schedule? Her eyes flowed from mine to my neck, and I yanked my hoodie up higher. She sighed. "Give me fifteen."

I tightened my grip on my backpack strap. I closed my eyes. This is your chance. 

"Ten," I said.

Poppy took that without argument. She let her arms fall at her sides. She kept an arm's length of space between us. When she spoke, she didn't sound angry, but strangely calm. 

"I'm sorry about yesterday," she said. "I didn't think it would get so heated. I never meant to make you feel embarrassed or like you were being punished, I just wanted to—"

"Prove a point?" I said. Poppy pursed her lips. "You proved it. I said so. Are we done?"

Poppy blinked at me. "What point do you think I'm trying to prove?"

"You're captain, you know better, you race better. You are, you did." I turned around.

"This isn't about racing."

I stopped. I turned my head and couldn't help the sneer that stretched across my lips. "What sport are you playing then?"

"Yesterday wasn't about racing," she clarified. "I'm not trying to prove I'm captain, or that I'm better, you know. I have no need to prove that to you." I gritted my teeth, but she pushed forward. "No one here is against each other, and no one here is against you."

Everyone here was here for their own gain. What was she talking about? "I know."

"I just want to make sure you're okay," she said. "Are you okay?"

No. No, because I missed home, I missed my cousins, I missed Luan, I missed Aster, and I hated all of them the same. I wasn't okay. Every word felt like a knife. Every race felt like a war.

"I'm fine," I said. "Don't worry about me."

Poppy looked at me like you looked at an abstract painting; a foreign entity had presented itself to you, and though you knew it was supposed to mean something more than the mess you saw, you just didn't know its language well enough to know what that was. Still, you tried.

"We're your team now," she said. "Let us worry."

I stared at her at that. The words struck me upside the head, leaving my temples sore. I gritted my teeth. I turned around. 

"I never asked you to," I replied. "The only thing you should care about is how well I race." I headed down the hall. "I'll see you at practice."

She let me go without another word.

"Oh? The king has finally returned to his palace?"

I looked up as I shut the door behind me. AJ was snickering to himself, but Yami was quick to slap his arm to shut him up. I ignored that and kicked off my shoes to head for my room.

"Oh, King!" Yami tried, going to stop me. "We're going to grab lunch in a few minutes. Would you like to come?"

I didn't even look at her. "I have homework."

"How much?" Diego said from his place on the couch. Zahir was beside him, watching us. "Don't you just read Wikipedia?"

I sneered. "What's your major?"

"He speaks," Diego said, and Zahir elbowed him. "Liberal studies, thanks."

"Do you just read Twitter?" I snapped, and he glared. I headed for my room. "Count me out of lunch."

"We're going downtown," Vann tried from his place at the island with Kenzo beside him. "You should join us. It'll be fun. You don't have lecture until six, right?"

"Homework," I reminded. 

AJ snickered. "Oh, sure, lobo," he muttered to Vann. "He's real busy with homework if that neck says anything."

Vann gave him a look, but Diego was already laughing. My skin broiled. I made a beeline for my room and ignored as Vann tried to call for me.

Yami hesitated. "Wait, King—"

I shut the door in her face.

[GROUP poppy's poppies ADDED YOU]
[GROUP poppy's poppies CHANGED TO lil nest]
[GROUP lil nest CHANGED TO crowtime bootycamp]
[GROUP crowtime bootycamp CHANGED TO family counseling (welcoming the chicklings)]

5:06 PM - Unknown Number

aj go jump off the fkin capitol building we're supposed to send him one text
this is qi btw

5:07 PM - Unknown Number

Wait I loved poppy's poppies !!! I don't think chicklings is a word?

This is yami!

5:07 PM - Unknown Number

crowtime bootycamp is wild lemme say
vann!

5:08 PM - Unknown Number

Vann gets me and Qi drinks children's blood in her gatorade

this is AJ <3

5:09 PM - Unknown Number

It's Zoe!

5:09 PM - Unknown Number

this is wynter

5:10 PM - Unknown Number

kenzo

5:11 PM - Unknown Number

Honored to be a chickling 
Zahir!

5:12 PM - Unknown Number

chickling is def not a word
rosalie

5:13 PM - Unknown Number

What's bootycamp?

Meredith :D

5:14 PM - Unknown Number

(Replied to Unknown Number) bootycamp = ur guys' entire next season is what :)))
this is Yami!!!

5:15 PM - poppy captain

welcome chicklings
ok now aj change it back, that bit is done 
this is poppy 
anyone wanna get dinner in 10?

5:17 PM - luan

hey 
wanna call?

On and on and on.

"I thought you had a boyfriend," the girl murmured into my mouth.

The whiskey made my head buzz. I didn't even remember what she was talking about. What was she talking about? Was it Thursday or Friday? I had a paper due tomorrow. Breathe.

"Dunno," I said. I pushed my hand up her shirt. "Do you have one?"

She giggled in my ear. She hooked a nail into my collar. "Oh, you wish," she whispered, and undid my belt.

[INCOMING CALL - luan]
[10 MISSED CALLS - luan]
[19 MISSED CALLS - luan]
[29 MISSED CALLS - luan]
[47 MISSED CALLS - luan]

[12 MESSAGES - luan]
[18 MESSAGES - luan]
[30 MESSAGES - luan]
[49 MESSAGES - luan]
[88 MESSAGES - luan]

"I loved you, I really loved you," he hissed, his fingers pressing against my windpipe. "I loved you when you were nothing. You were fucking nothing. Who the hell do you think you are?"

I closed my eyes, and saw red.

Who the hell do you think you are?

I didn't know.

"Did you eat dinner? You can come with Qi and I, we're grabbing sandwiches," Vann said.

I spit out my toothpaste. I felt dizzy, my stomach recently emptied and my teeth aching. I sighed. I shook my head.

"Not hungry," I said. "But, thanks."

"King."

I stopped. I supposed that was me. 

Vann opened his mouth, thought better of it, then tried again. "We're around, you know? You can just come and talk to us."

I stared at him. I suddenly wanted to see Sunhee. I hummed. "Thanks."

I left without a goodbye.

10:01 AM - poppy captain

anyone wanna go to target

i need a new mirror TT

10:03 AM - aj corvus

lets gooo
target and i r religiously joined

10:04 AM - qi corvus

lets go and grab coffee before cuz imma need the energy to interact with aj

10:05 AM - aj corvus

why do you hate me

10:06 AM - vann corvus

i'm in!

10:07 AM - meredith corvus 

i'm in too! sounds fun!

10:08 AM - rosalie corvus

target? say no more

10:10 AM - diego corvus

i'm w rosie

10:10 AM - zahir corvus

I'm in

10:11 AM - poppy captain

everyone find a car and we'll leave at 1030~

I shut my phone off and rolled back into the covers. I closed my eyes and sat in my exhaustion for the rest of the day. 

3:03 PM - Sun 

Want to call soon?

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"Hey, you have Jansen, right? I've got Fischer," Rosalie said. "Have you guys read The Odyssey yet?"

"No," I said, not looking up from tying my shoes. 

"Then...The Stranger?"

"Yes."

"Great. You got notes?"

"Not good ones." I got up and made a move for my bag.

"I'm going to Glassell Tower, too," Meredith added, peeking around at me with a grin from the doorway. "Want to walk together?"

I blinked. "Why?"

"Hey, me, too," Diego added. "Rookies, onward!"

We walked, to my reluctance.

"Why history?" Zahir asked me.

"It's easy," I said.

"Do you like Avaldi so far?" Meredith asked me.

"It's fine."

"The dining food makes me feral," Rosalie said.

I didn't answer.

"Do you even talk?" she asked me.

"Sometimes," I told her.

"We don't bite," Diego assured. "Most of the time."

"Dude," Rosalie said.

I closed my eyes and kept walking.

"Is Kane King your real name?" Rosalie asked me.

"Rosie," Meredith said, but she ignored her.

I glanced at Rosalie. "What?" I snapped.

She shrugged, her ponytail swishing this way and that as she walked. "It's just a weird name," she said. "In a good way. Just a question."

"A weird question," I said.

"Well, is it?"

"Yes?"

"I think this is the most syllables I've gotten out of him," Rosalie muttered to Diego.

"Yeah, you're a real pro," he scoffed.

I rolled my eyes and kept walking. 

Zahir said, "I heard your parents are in tech. Mine is, too."

"Okay," I said.

"My mom wants me to have a part in it but racing, you know?"

"Okay."

"Someone screwed his bitchy screw a little too tight," Rosalie murmured behind me, and Diego snickered.

I bristled. I turned to face her. "What?" I urged.

Rosalie looked unimpressed. "You could at least be a little polite, you know. I don't really get what your problem is with us, we're just talking to you, man."

I sneered at her, and she hesitated. "Take your talks somewhere else," I snapped. "I'm not here to do some tricks for your entertainment."

"What's your problem?" 

"Never mind," I said, and fled around the corner.

"Faster, faster, come on, what the hell are you, a bunch of kindergartners?" Edwards shouted in our ears. "King! I didn't recruit another corpse, I've already got Miller!"

"Right for the throat and it's only nine AM," AJ sighed. "King! You sleeping in there?"

The world spun. I took a deep breath. 

Poppy's bike struck me in the side. I cranked my nose into the metal guts of her vehicle and sent her spinning. I raced ahead.

"We're on the same team!" Poppy snapped.

"King!" Edwards demanded.

But I just kept racing.

"What are you doing for Thanksgiving?" 

I looked up from my place in the table. Vann sat down across from me with a heaping plate of grilled chicken and rice. I shook my head.

"Nothing," I said.

"Really?" he said.

I nodded. I ate another spoonful of my yogurt. 

"Did you wanna do anything?" he asked me. "My aunt is in Sacramento, I go up there for the week."

I blinked. In reality, Luan had told me he wanted us to go to New York for the break, but just the idea made dread fill my lungs. Sunhee had tried to call me to ask. I knew better, I knew better, I knew better.

I pursed my lips. "It's all right," I murmured. "But thanks for the offer."

Vann paused, then nodded. "If you want to at the last minute, it's okay, too. Poppy's gonna come with, too."

I nodded, and we didn't talk more of it.

"You don't look well."

Ramos wrapped the last bandage around my arm. I didn't look at her, even though I could feel her gaze on me.

"Racing," I told her. 

"No, not that," she said. "Do you feel all right? Are you sleeping well?" She bent down in front of me. "You seem faint. Sort of ill." She reached up to feel my forehead. 

I suddenly missed Nami. The feeling made me swat her hand away. I had to catch my breath. It'd been months. It felt like years.

"I'm fine," I snapped. "I'm just tired."

"Kane—"

"You don't need to worry about me other than whatever injury I get on the track," I muttered. I got to my feet. "I'm all right."

I pulled my shirt on and grabbed my bag before she could ask further. When I headed out the door, she was still standing by the bench, watching me go.

"For the last time, King, watch your corners," Edwards snapped, jabbing her finger at me. "I'm not suggesting crap for you, I'm telling you to do it."

I pursed my lips and said nothing. Edwards sighed. Qi glanced at AJ and murmured, "Is it too late to get a new one?"

I glared at them. AJ held up his hands at me. "Down, boy."

I got to my feet, but Yami stood between us. "AJ, stop it."

"I'm kidding. Jesus Christ."

What a loser—

"I'm not taking orders from you, so butt out," I said.

"It's our team, kid," Qi snapped. "Don't get this twisted."

"I'm not talking to you."

"What the hell is your problem?" she spat. 

"You," I replied, and she made a move towards me. I stepped back towards Edwards, turning my gaze to her. "I'll work on my corners."

"I'm figuring your corners are the least of my worries right now," she sighed, rubbing her temples. 

"An equal worry," Qi argued. "He's a mediocre racer and a crappy teammate, Coach."

"You can't even make it through a pole series without making the track a Fourth of July show," I snapped back.

"Good thing I'm not a front port," she hissed.

"Good thing," I agreed. 

"What is your deal with us?" Rosalie piped up. "They're trying to help you." I didn't even look at her and she scoffed, stomping towards me. "I agree with them. Is it too late to trade out the pitbull?"

I turned on her. "Fuck you."

She gaped. Then, heat flooded her face and ears, spitting out in flames from between her teeth. 

"You think you're better than everyone else here," she deduced. "You really, truly, honestly think that you're better than everyone here, when you were lagging laps behind Poppy on that track."

"I don't think I'm better than anyone," I said. "I just think you could quit pestering me and focus on the race instead of singing kumbaya."

"Singing kumbaya," Rosalie repeated, incredulous. "We're trying to get along with the team we're gonna spend the next several seasons with because we don't know jack shit as rookies. It's not a fucking thunderdome. How about you try a hello?"

I bristled all along my arms, the feeling pricking my skin and racing down my spine. I sneered at her. Baluyot's mocking voice banged against my eardrums, his scoff, his snarl, the venom in his stare when I was announced captain. I swallowed it down like a spoonful of salt.

"Fuck you," I said. "We're all here to race and we're all here to win, don't sit here and act like it's anything different."

"Maybe it is."

"Maybe to you," I snapped. I grabbed my things and shoved past her, my shoulder knocking into hers. "But I don't really run with losers."

Rosalie grabbed me by my forearm and yanked me back. I had a few inches on her but not enough weight to counteract the force of her grip. It sent me stumbling backwards and crashing into Qi, who shoved me forward to crash against Rosalie. I pushed her by her shoulders and she fell against Diego, who shouted at me to stop. But Rosalie's eyes were burning violet already, and she balled her fists up to let the blood bead where claws threatened to emerge. 

If not you, who else?

"King, wait!" Zahir tried.

"Rosalie!" Meredith said.

She bared her teeth at me, and from her incisors broke out bloody fangs. She snapped her jaw at me and I ducked to sink my fist into her stomach. My vision blurred and buzzed, slurred together and became red with the scent and sight of my blood. Claws scraped along her arm and she grabbed the back of my neck with her own hands. 

I whirled around, and dug my fangs into her shoulder.

Who else, who else, who else?

Arms came around my midsection and tore me off of her, iron still sweet and warm on my tongue. I spat out a mouthful of it onto the concrete. A hand clapped my head back against a chest, and held me there with an iron grip, another pair of hands holding my wrists back. 

"Enough," Poppy yelled. "Enough, both of you, for God's sake. AJ, get her to Ramos, go. Now." 

AJ spared me no glance and hauled Rosalie off with her hand clutching her bleeding shoulder back into the tunnel. She turned her head to look at me, her violet eyes blazing black and jacaranda, something less than hatred stirring in them. Something the same color as fear. 

I spat out the blood again. A low voice in my ear said in horrifically curt Japanese, "Stop it. Stop while you can."

I craned my head to the side. Kenzo was stone-faced and staring me down with black eyes. Embarrassment was sudden but familiar in my bones, an unwelcome guest returning for a long stay. I closed my eyes. I stopped.

Where's Luan?

Where's Luan?

Where's Luan?

Where's—

"King." Edwards's voice shattered my daze. The hands around me released my body and sent me tripping forward over my own cleats. Her hand smacked me upright my by shoulder. She jabbed a finger into my chest. "You're done for the day. Get off my track."

"She started it," I began. "She said—"

"I don't give two shits what she said or who started what," she sneered. "I said, get off my track. You're done."

Edwards made a violent gesture at the rest of Corvus to follow. They all gathered their things and headed down the tunnel. As they went, I saw their eyes linger on me, on my bloody hands and mouth, my bruised stomach and bones, and saw their shock ripple into disgust. 

I hung my head. I licked the iron from my teeth.

Only Poppy remained behind from the crowd. Edwards said something to her as she left, but Poppy just shook her head and gestured for Edwards to go. When they'd all disappeared into the tunnel's mouth, Poppy turned to me.

I said, "Just say what you want to say." Even I could hear the shake in my voice. But to cry? Grow up. I winced. I swallowed. It tasted like the metal between my knuckles.

She hummed, nodded, then said, "Come on. You look awful."

She turned on her heel, and headed out.

I had no choice but to follow.

Poppy did not go where Corvus went. Rather, she headed past the Talon and towards the town, where evening was threatening life in the windows of groggy bars and frantic diners or stirring shadows in dying coffee shops and comatose libraries. The sky was streaked with remnants of gold, beginnings of violet, waves of indigo, a summer storm battling in the iris of the atmosphere. I would have had time to appreciate it if Poppy wasn't walking as if her life depended on it, too.

"Where...are we...going?" I panted, clutching my stomach as I fought to catch up with her again and catch as little stares as possible—both endeavors were failing comically.

Poppy looked, if anything, refreshed by the incoming nightlife. "Somewhere to eat," she said. "Racing makes me starved."

I gaped. "Is now the time to—"

"I don't know, King," she sighed, and gave me a look over her shoulder. "Is now the time?"

I took that admonishment with silence and she nodded, trudging on. We headed past several more shops and diners and bars before we finally settled upon a pale restaurant with a bright red neon sign below a little angel smiling down at us, the letters scrawling out a cherry-colored NANCY'S CAFE for all the world to gulp down, with a refreshing finishing touch of the 24/7 stamp on a paperboard in the glass window.

I said, "What's this?"

"The best diner food you'll find this far in to Avaldi," Poppy said. "There's no Denny's here, sadly."

She didn't let me reply and opened the door to head in.

Poppy held up her hand at a pixie serving drinks. The pixie stared at us for a long moment, along with several other concerned patrons, before she slowly nodded and pointed towards a corner booth lined in red. She made a beeline for it and gestured for me to catch up. 

When she plopped down on one side, me on the other, she finally took the time to take a breath and give me a small grin. That there was a grin at all on her face was shocking in it and of itself. The pain in my body subsided just long enough to make room for guilt. Still, I held my tongue, and waited as a passing waitress poured us water.

Poppy took a long sip and hummed to herself. She set the water down and gestured at the menu, rattling off an order to the woman who gave her a barely-there nod before scurrying off towards the kitchen. The restaurant around us buzzed and hummed with life, its heart beginning to beat with the black blood of the evening.

I said, "What are we doing here?"

Poppy brushed her hands on her pants. She looked up, blinking innocently. "What? You've never been to Nancy's?"

I frowned. "Why are we at Nancy's?"

"Why not?"

"What are we doing here?"

"What wouldn't we be doing here?"

I stared. I said, "What do you want?"

Poppy stared back. She considered me for a long, long moment, then said, "What do you want?" When I gave her an unimpressed look back, she shook her head. "No, really. I would like to know. What do you want?"

I blinked. Poppy looked strangely calm for the topic being discussed between us. I opened my mouth, closed it, then re-thought about her question, wound it around my fingers and pulled tight. I frowned at her, half because she was the one asking, and half because I didn't really know what to say.

I said, "Why do you care?"

Poppy pursed her lips. She said, "Why'd you join Corvus?"

I blinked. "It's the best collegian racing team in the nation."

"Why do you want to race?"

"What?"

"Why do you race?" Poppy tried again patiently. "Why do you race, Kane?"

Because I have to. Because I want to. Because I have to want to or what else is there? Because what else is there? Because what else has there ever been?

Racing was the blade that killed my life and the breath that revived it, a complex, finicky poison that kept my body alive through the very illness that it caused. It was my world and its shape, one shade of my Hell, the only shade of my Heaven, the blood and the clot. Racing was not a question you asked. Racing was not a choice. It was a need, an obligation, a want, and a reason. What else had there ever been?

In that state of shock, an unexpected bout of honesty flew from my lips. 

I said, "There's never been anything else."

Poppy blinked. She nodded. I figured most people took that as, I don't want to do anything else. But sitting there, watching her watch me the way she did, I figured she knew it was not that, but I cannot do anything else.

It was terrifying, and liberating, to be seen.

Poppy leaned back against the booth cushions. She drummed her fingertips on her thighs. The clock ticked. The sky let the black ink overtake it like an oil spill, let it infest the woodgrain of its body. I watched it drip onto the streets and alleys, blooming in midnight blue shadows warded off only by the faint, immune glow of golden lamplight.

Poppy said, "I didn't want to be captain of this team at first."

I stared dutifully at my hands on the tabletop, my knuckles scarred from the years, freshly re-scratched from Rosalie. The diner felt too big and not big enough all at once. I didn't meet Poppy's eyes. I figured she wasn't surprised.

"I loved racing," she went on. "But class and subspecies didn't really give me many options to start with. When I came to Corvus, everyone thought I was some sort of freak anomaly, some error in the system. Not even your upperclassmen talked to me for the first two weeks." I figured she meant of Corvus. I had the urge to say they weren't mine. "I wanted to quit. I just wanted to race, but it felt like that was the last thing I was worrying about while I was on that team. All those politics of racing, I'd never encountered it before. It was a bit debilitating. All everyone talked about was racing, but really, it felt like what happened on the track was nothing but a bleak reminder of everything going on off the track."

"That's how it is," I said.

"Is it?" she asked. I paused. "What do you think racing is about?"

I blinked. I said, "What?"

"What's the goal?" she clarified. "What's the point?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. Winning. It's a sport."

Poppy nodded like that was fair. "True," she acknowledged. "But, you win every week, you win every practice, you win gold, you win Red. You take off your gear, you ride back home, and what then?"

I shook my head. I set my hands below the table. "What's your point?" I snapped. "I know you're trying to make one, so whatever you're trying to say, just say it. What's your problem here?"

Poppy didn't seem offended by that sharp cut-off, if anything, like she expected it. She just nodded, pursed her lips as if to think.

She leaned over the table at me. "My problem," she said carefully, "is you."

I blinked. 

Poppy calmly clasped her hands between us. "I don't know where you're coming from, Kane. I don't know who you were before, I don't know what you were doing before, who you knew before, what you wanted before—I don't know and I frankly don't care. That's not my job and it didn't involve me. The only thing I care about is what you're doing right now. What are you doing right now?"

To my horror, I didn't answer.

Poppy pursed her lips. "I said yes to captain because I didn't feel like a winner, not even when we won," she said. "If anything, I felt like I had nothing to do with it at all. I thought maybe, if I just tried, then I could see something else about racing I still loved. It wasn't really racing or winning that kept me there. It was feeling like I was part of something, like I was doing something worthwhile for me."

Why do you race?

"Why are you telling me this?" I said again.

Poppy paused, then shrugged. "Don't know," she sighed. "I just figured you might find it helpful."

"You think I need an attitude adjustment."

"I think you're a jackass with some issues you don't want to talk about yet," she said, and I gaped. "And I wouldn't care about that, but you're on my team and I'd like for my team to be on good terms, for the most part. As good as it can get. I have the feeling this is not as good as you can get."

"Is this a pep talk or an intervention?" I snapped.

"Neither," she replied. "It's a conversation. We haven't really had one yet." She took a sip from her perspiring water. "Do you want to have one?"

I took a long moment. My phone buzzed with a distinct tone that told me it was Luan. Poppy stared straight at me, as if waiting, daring me to choose.

I set my palms back down on the table. "About...what?"

Poppy's lip twitched. The night stilled.

"Anything," she said. "What do you want to talk about?"

The night slept.

__________________

It went:

"Hey, you giving out free ones?" A boy held up his Atlas to me, waving it around like taunting a cat.

I stepped back, then sneered. "What?"

"What? Don't speak English? Phone? Phone?" He shoved his phone into my face and began laughing. The sound ran nails over my eardrums.

I snatched his phone from his hand and slammed it into his chest. "Fuck you," I hissed. 

All the mirth fled his face. He grabbed me by the collar and shoved me back. "The fuck you just say to me, chink?"

I pushed him by his shoulders and he grabbed me by my forearm to bring me down with him. I slammed my knuckles into his cheekbone. He swung his fist into my stomach. I wheezed and toppled over into the concrete, left shoulder first. He slammed his foot into the space between my chest and shoulder, and I cried out. 

I grabbed his phone and threw it against the wall, watching the screen shatter on impact. He stood stony for a second, frozen in shock at his damaged goods on the floor. I pushed him off of me and made a run down the hall.

"Hey!" he yelled.

"Kane!" I heard.

But I kept running.

"What's this?"

I looked up at Luan. He had water in his hand and bent down to hand it to me from my place on the floor. A lecture on Plato and Socrates sat beside my feet, half-finished, my vision and head too blurry to go through with the rest. The evening looked pinkish, yellowish, something something or other. I sighed.

"Some kid said something stupid," I muttered as he dabbed a washcloth to the scrapes along my cheek. I figured he must know what to do about wounds by now. The bitterness was washed away from my throat when he frowned at the blood. "Don't worry about it."

"I'm worried," he said. "You're getting into a lot of fights."

"It's from racing."

"All of it?"

"It's fine, Luan." I got to my feet. "I promise."

He grabbed my hand. I flinched. He didn't let go, but he did frown. He said, "Kitae."

I took a step back and headed for the door like Hell was on my heels. "Stop calling me that." I shut the door. He didn't come after me. I had a lingering question stuck in the back of my throat about why he liked that better, why he liked it better so much to the point he'd never give me Kane.

You don't know him.

You don't know him.

My phone rang with a call from Poppy.

It went:

"You didn't eat much at dinner."

I glanced to my left. Poppy stood with a chocolate muffin in her hand in my doorway. I suddenly felt strangely naked, her standing there and watching the walls and windows like she was seeing where I started or ended. I got to my feet and hastened towards the doorway, pushing her out and shutting the door in my wake. She frowned. The muffin watched me.

"Wasn't hungry," I said. "What are you doing here?"

She gestured at the muffin. She said, "You should go up a weight class. You're easily rattled on the track."

I stared. "I'm not." Up a weight class. A part of me felt nauseous. 

"You are. Athletes need protein."

"That's chocolate."

"Chocolate protein. It's also delicious. Here."

"I don't want it. And don't come into my room."

"I wasn't in your room," she pointed out.

"Eat it yourself." I turned away from the muffin. "I'm not hungry."

"You barely ate."

"Why's that your business?"

"Sluggish sub means you can't pick up after me quickly," she replied pointedly. "You want the muffin or not?"

"No," I said. "Don't worry about me."

"Kane."

I closed the door.

It went:

"This Friday."

Edwards looked up. "That is what I said, yes."

The freshmen gaped at her. I said, "Can we watch?"

She blinked at me. "Obviously."

They began to chatter amongst themselves. I closed my eyes. I could almost smell the blood and smoke on the concrete, the promise of a damn good race. Red Diamond. With my own eyes. 

Poppy smiled fiercely. "How could you miss it?"

"I didn't think you cared enough to show."

I glanced to my left. Rosalie stood in her fresh, new trainer jacket, AVALDI CORVUS embroidered on the breast in royal purple thread. She stared at the track like she could make it bend, like she could make it break. 

"It's Red," I said, like she was being stupid. "Who wouldn't show?"

She just scoffed. We watched the track. After a beat, she added, "I heard about your fight. Or, one of them."

I said, "What about it?"

"You know if you keep doing that, you'll only make your whole situation worse. If you want people to shut up about your family, you won't do it by punching them in the face."

I bristled. "I don't remember asking for your advice."

"You need it."

"Because you're such a sage yourself," I snapped. "When I want your unsolicited opinion on my 'situation', you'll be the first to know, I promise."

"I thought Poppy had a conducive talk with you about your attitude problem."

"Clearly, no one had one with you about yours." I turned around to head down the stairs and towards the track as it brimmed with bikes, racers, and Those That Watch. 

"You keep fighting like that," she called, "they'll suspend you. You think you've proved you're anything but a growing liability to this team that they'll go out of their way to keep you on it?" I froze. She scoffed again. "Get off your high horse. You haven't proven shit." 

I heard her footsteps walk away, leaving me alone to watch Corvus start their engines for their next trophy.

It went:

"Pick it up, King!"

You haven't proven shit.

I took a breath. I thought I did. I tried again but it tasted metallic. I kept running. 

"Let's go, crows! Any slower and the grocery scooters will pass you!"

"C'mon, lobo!" AJ called from behind me. He struck my shoulder with a hearty slap. I felt the reverberations rock my whole body, send me spiraling in my unsteady head. "You usually clear us in seconds! You sleepy?"

"Maybe he wore himself too thin on the warm-ups," Rosalie remarked.

"What else is new?" Diego muttered.

"Pick it up, crows, come on," Vann sighed from behind us. "King, that means you, too."

The world kept spinning.

I once read gravity is not a downward-acting force, but a centermost-acting force, and you are not in fact being pulled down, but being pulled in. I could feel that now, could feel that very proof coming to fruition right before my eyes. My body was not toppling. Every molecule of my being was being sucked straight to the center of the Earth.

"King!"

I blinked. I saw the crust, mantle, outer core, inner. I went hurdling towards it, on and on and on and on. I closed my eyes.

"Kane!"

I went in.

It went:

"I need you to answer me this honestly," Ramos said, and set her papers down to stand across from me, eye-level with the help of her platform sneakers and my withered posture. "Are you eating?"

I looked up at her. She gestured back at me. I frowned. My vision was still spotted with gold flecks of leftover sunlight, white spots where my lens forgot to refract, black holes where gravity was still going, going, going. I blinked. I wondered how long it'd been since I'd called Sunhee.

"Yes," I said. "Why?"

Ramos gestured at her papers. "It's sixty-eight degrees out, so heat exhaustion is out of the question. You're not allergic to anything you've come in contact with in the last twenty four hours. You haven't sustained any major head injuries in the past seventy-two hours. No one pushed you, no one pulled you, no one hit you," she observed. "But, your blood tests are awful and you're shaking and Meredith told me she didn't see you eat your lunch." 

I remembered to make a note about cursing Meredith later. I pursed my lips. I said, "I'm fine."

"I don't know about that," Ramos argued. "You're showing signs of malnutrition."

"I'm fine. I'm eating. Stop—"

"Your bottom left tooth." She tapped her own mouth for emphasis. "It's showing signs of early decay. That almost never happens thanks to Alpha healing unless it's from something corrosive or repeated, or both. Like stomach acid."

My heart was in my throat. I wanted to run. Something was buzzing so horrifically loud in my head, I swore it was a cicada trapped in my skull. I wanted to leave. Byungali.

"I want you to be healthy, Kane," she tried. "It's extremely important that you're healthy, to all of us, to your racing and your recovery from it. You need to tell me what's going on so I can help you."

I stared at her. Ramos pursed her lips. She held out her hand between us.

"Let me help you," she said, softer. "I'm here to help you."

Something cotton-like and horrifying clogged my throat. I dug my nails into it, but felt the puncture like a shot and gagged on it. My vision clouded. Gravity, gravity, gravity.

I got to my feet and pushed past her. "I have to go."

"Kane—"

I went.

"Kane King, in the flesh." Yubaek blew the smoke out from his cigarette, and smiled at me. "Oh, you must be having the time of your life."

I wasn't. Not even with three shots and half a pack in me. Not even with Luan lingering in the corner, with all of Greylaw's shadows over the house floors. Not even with Corvus on my back and in my brand new phone. Not even as a golden child. Not even in America. Not ever, never, not. When was it supposed to start again?

I pursed my lips. "It's a time," I said. "What are you doing here?"

"We have a match against UCLA tomorrow. Thought I'd drop by to catch up. Can we catch up, Kitae? Oh, my bad." He laughed against his cigarette. "I meant, the King."

Yugyeom glanced up at me. His smile was shaky, full of uncertainty and unfamiliarity. "Let's...catch up?"

Aster was nowhere to be seen. I said, "I should go."

"Too good to sit with the normals," Yubaek sighed. "After all we've done? You've got quite the head on your shoulders. Is there anything else on those shoulders?" He laughed at his own joke, then struck my forearm. "Yeesh, kid. Are you even eating?"

"What are you doing here?"

"We missed you so. And a birdie told me you're giving out free phones."

I blinked. He laughed. Yugyeom frowned. I made a move to leave.

Yubaek didn't try to stop me, but did say, with no mirth in his tone to spare, "I guess all kings need someone to build their throne."

I stopped. I said, "What?"

"What?" Yubaek returned. "You say that with so much surprise."

I gritted my teeth. I felt the heat pop on my tongue. "Funny you say that. If anything, I should thank you," I snapped. "You're one of them."

Yubaek's face fell in a second. He got to his feet and dropped his cigarette on the floor. The ember caught a taste of the rug under our feet. He swung for my face. I grabbed the nearest object—a whiskey bottle—and slammed it into his gut.

He doubled over and sank his foot into the flames. I shoved him off of the fire, just as someone began screaming. He sprung for me, tackling me at full force and smashing me spine-first into the hardwood. I opened my mouth to scream, but he was already sinking his knuckles into my cheekbone. I grabbed the bottle, and struck him on the head.

Yugyeom grabbed my arm and yanked me out from under him. A new set of arms grasped me tightly from behind and wrenched me upright before clapping a palm over my mouth.

"Stop," Luan's voice hissed. I stopped. "We have to go. Drop the bottle. Come on."

I dropped the bottle. It began to leak whiskey. Fire ate it like it was candy and began to dance a sugar high up towards rushing bodies. Yubaek's voice called for me, but everything else he said was drowned out by smoke and Luan's orders.

When we returned home, smelling of ashes and alcohol, I said, "I'm sorry."

Luan let out a dry laugh, and sighed. "No," he snapped. "You're really fucking not, Kitae."

I whirled on him. "Stop calling me that," I yelled. "Just stop saying that name."

"Why? It's yours. I don't know a Kane King, I don't know whatever the hell this is." He gestured at me from top to bottom. "I don't know you."

"Have you ever?" I said. "Or were you too busy trying to make a pet rather than a person?"

"Shut up."

"Fuck you. You think this is my doing?" I pushed him by the shoulders, back towards the door. "Fuck you. This was your idea, this was your plan. All of this is your fucking fault."

"I tried to make you a goddamn champion," Luan roared, grabbing my wrists. "You made you an embarrassment all by yourself."

"Trust me, I was not doing this alone."

"So because you fucked up, you're blaming me when I'm the reason you're even still alive?"

"You're the reason I wish I'd stayed a fucking ghost," I snarled.

Luan slammed me into the dining room table. The heat was immediate on my ribs, singing hymns and ballads of white-hot pain. I coughed, gagged, but no breath entered or left. 

"Why don't you just keep doing what you think you know is best," he snarled in my ear. "You'll get your wish."

I spat out spit and blood. I wheezed, "I hate you."

Luan scoffed. "See if I care," he said. He headed for his door. "Jesus, Kitae," he sighed. "You're so...pathetic."

He closed his door.

I grabbed the edge of the table, hauled myself to my feet, and walked out the door.

[CALLING poppy captain...]
"Hello?"

"Poppy?"

"King? What's wrong?"

"I...are you at the Talon?"

"Yeah, why? What's wrong? What happened?"

"I just...I'm sorry. Could you pick me up?" 

Silence.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry, never mind, I shouldn't—"

"Send me your location."

"Poppy—"

"I'm coming now. Send it."

I sent it. I waited, the scent of blood still in my nose. I idly wondered how long it'd been since it'd left.

Poppy drove a white Toyota Sequoia from five years ago, its innards made for families but its beehive grille and gaping bumper and sleek pearl finish meant its body was made for directors. It had a decent silhouette, a large shadow, the type of body that was industrialized for sake of size and simplified for sake of consistency. It was not a beast and not a flower, not pretty and not distasteful. A vehicular masterpiece, maybe. But I didn't really know cars well enough to say so for sure. I just knew it looked a lot like my guardian angel when it pulled up in front of me. A Toyota Sequoia, 7VOG715 licensed angel.

Poppy got out of the driver's seat and glanced down at me. She took one look, took a deep breath, then gestured at her car and said, "Get in."

I got in.

We didn't speak for the rest of the ride. Save for Denny's.

"Did you eat?" she asked me as we began to near the yellow sign. When I just went quiet, she nodded and said, "I'm starving."

She pulled into the parking lot. We went inside. I didn't know if this entire ordeal was funny or, pathetic.

The latter was too much on an empty stomach.

"Their french toast is underrated and delicious, by the way," she told me as we slid into the booth. "We can get two or three things and split? I'm starving. Have I mentioned?" She tied her auburn hair up into a tight ponytail and let the flower on her throat breathe. I stared at her, and decided I couldn't tell if she was gorgeous or she was earnest.

I said, "You've mentioned."

Poppy hummed. "Well. Good. Let's do the French Toast Slam, All-American Slam, and two sides of hash browns. I don't share hash browns."

"Doesn't the All-American already come with—"

"Capiche. Cool." She closed the menu. "Let's talk?"

I stared. I opened my mouth, thought better of it, then said, "I'm sorry, for calling you out of the blue."

"Don't be," she said, holding up a hand. "I'm glad you called me." She said it like she meant, I'm glad you called me. "But...can I ask why?"

"Why?"

"Why you called me," she explained. "Can I ask why?"

I clenched my fists, dug the knuckles into my thighs. I thought about Luan's words, the shape acidic and the taste oblong. All of this. Everything. I got everything. I got everything I asked for, and I'd never felt worse. 

Sometimes you think you want something only to realize you only wanted it because everyone else told you that you're supposed to.

I stared at Poppy. She waited for me, gently, silently, like waiting me out. Like she knew what I was going to say before I even said it, and I suddenly, viciously, missed my cousin so fiercely I thought the weight was going to crush me right then and there.

I don't want you to become who you think you're supposed to become. 

I got everything. I got it all.

"Kane," Poppy said carefully. "What's wrong?"

I don't want you to live your life on what's supposed to be.

I got to my feet. "I'm sorry," I breathed. My eyes burned violently, solidified the magma in my throat and made it hurt so badly I thought I was dying. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I have to go."

She paused. "Wait, what? What do—"

I bolted from the booth, rushing for the door and slamming it shut behind me to cut her protest off at the heel. I ran through the lot, towards the street. Blood pulsed against my temples with angry fists, demanding teeth. Sometimes you think you want something—

I ran and ran and ran.

"Kane!"

I turned the corner. I felt ill, sick with blood loss and earnestness. I scraped the screen of my phone with my franticness. I ravaged my contacts. Only to realize you only wanted—

I ran and ran and ran and ran and ran.

This was everything.

"Kitae," Aster said.

"You're in town," I said, foregoing the question. I wondered if my voice sounded as awful as I felt. "You're in town right now."

She paused. "I can't talk to you right now."

"Aster," I tried. "Please. You're the only one—"

"Luan told us," she said, and I nearly tripped over my own feet skidding to a stop. "Luan already told us, so you don't have to say anything, okay? Kitae. What are you doing?"

"What?" I breathed. "What are you talking about?"

"You know." Her voice wasn't coarse or serrated though, but spoke in broken, jaded emphasis. "The money, you fighting, what you've been taking, what you said about us. Kitae, just...stop. We know. Why are you calling me?"

I blinked. "What the hell are you—what am I taking? What fighting?"

"Those bruises...I should've known," she sighed. 

"Aster," I tried.

"What are you doing, Kitae?" Her voice was hushed, not by necessity, but with sadness. "Why didn't you just tell me the truth?"

"Aster, wait." I fought for breath. "Please. Please, you have to believe me. It's not that. It's not—" I shook my head. The night was criminally cold, full of December and potent with promised ice. "I've...never lied to you about what I wanted."

Aster took a long moment. The wind howled like it could see red.

Eventually, Aster told me, "Be careful with yourself. Please." Then the line clicked dead.

I buried my face in my hands. I tried desperately to think of someone to call, but I drew blank after blank after blank. It crescendoed in my head with a terrible cry; no one no one no one. I got everything I have everything I got everything I have everything—

I opened my eyes. 

I was alone.

__________________

Forget Christmas. Brr (!). Nutmeg? Cue New Year's. Kachow (!). Fireworks fireworks fire. February. No Luan. Have I mentioned no Luan? Because, none. Blocked. March. Unfriended and muted. Whoa there! Whoa there. Have I mentioned Yellow?

"Suspension?"

Edwards held up her hands at me. "Until further notice."

"Until further notice," I repeated, incredulous. "You can't suspend me."

"I didn't. The board did. And frankly, I can't blame them." Edwards sat down on the couch across from me. Corvus looked amongst each other, but said nothing. Edwards gestured at me. "You're becoming an issue, King."

"So you suspend me from Yellow Diamond?" I asked, incredulous. "Right as the Diamond Prix starts, that's when you choose to suspend me?"

"I didn't," she re-emphasized, harsher. "But you know what, I wouldn't have trusted you on the track as you are anyway."

"My racing is fine."

"Your racing is the least of my worries," she snapped. Edwards got to her feet again to jab a finger at my face. "Your racing is the least of everyone's worries because this is not about the race."

"What the hell else is your club for?" I retorted. "Why do you care about anything else?"

"Club?" Qi repeated. "Christ alive, if our egos were liquified in gold, you'd be the true king of us all."

"You're not the captain or the coach, so butt out," I said.

Qi stood and leaned over me until our foreheads were nearly touching. Her sneer could burn skin, peel tissue, drown veins. "This 'club' is more mine than yours. You think you can waltz in here and spit your poison like you deserve it? Who's suspended here?"

I turned my gaze away from her with as much nonchalance as I could muster. I could feel her bristle. "If I can race well, what does the board care?"

"Your turn ratio isn't going to save you in the Diamond Prix," Vann warned, who was the only member of Corvus that looked genuinely troubled other than Edwards and Ramos. "Racing as a team in the championships is the most important, it's the reason we've made better records in past few years than those before us."

"I'm on the team."

"That's not the same thing," he said. "That's the issue."

"Or it's you," Rosalie sneered. 

"I don't remember asking the golden doodle to bark," I muttered.

Rosalie was out of her seat in a second, but Poppy pushed her shoulder back down. She shook her head at her, but she didn't speak. She simply gestured to Coach, who rubbed the space between her eyes and took a deep breath. When she looked at me, she already looked defeated, and the expression only served to both make me angrier, and make me shatter.

"You've gotten countless warnings on the fights, you treat this team like they're the bane of your existence, I and your captain don't even know where you are half the time, and I can never tell if you want someone to help you or want someone to punch," she said bluntly. Corvus went quiet. I balled my fists, but said nothing. "I recruited you for your potential. But you're gonna get yourself expelled for your attitude if you don't figure out what the hell your problem is and fix it. This isn't your high school team anymore. This isn't high school." Edwards dropped a paper in front of me and turned for the door. "Now say a proper hello to your tracker."

My heart froze. I grabbed the paper. 

"Tracker?" Corvus chorused, along with me when I stared down at the paper to see it printed in bold, black ink.

I looked up. Poppy caught my eye, and grinned. She pointed at me.

"Trackee," she said.

__________________

It went:

"Morning."

I swallowed the bite of the breakfast bar wrong and began choking. Poppy watched for a few seconds before giving me a thump on the back. I gasped for air. I gaped at her. The rest of the students in my Intro to 1800s Euro-Asian Art were equally confused.

"This isn't your building," I gasped. 

"Do you even know my major?" she asked me.

"Not...history?"

"Not even a little?"

"Mech E?"

She shook her head. "Anthro," she replied, and turned on her heel. "Come on. I'm starving. Dunkin'?"

I shook my head. "Already ate." I turned to leave.

She appeared at my right as if by magic. "Just a treat then."

"Don't feel like it," I muttered.

"Not even a little one?"

"Not even."

"Then, coffee. You and coffee are practically inextricable."

"No."

"Then, water refill. My bottle is low."

"No." I stopped by the South Hall entrance and faced her. "What are you even doing here?"

She held up a hand at me. "Trackee?"

I held up a hand at her. "Tracked. I'm alive. Promise. Thanks." I turned to flee.

"Yes but you might not be in three seconds," Poppy said, returning to my side. "Best to be sure."

"Stop."

"When you stop."

"What?" I stopped to face her. "What are you talking about?"

Poppy watched me for a few seconds, then said, "Do you want to go somewhere?"

I blinked. "Where?"

She spun on her heel. "Not here. Come on."

The truth is, Poppy was a very difficult person to hide from. There are some people in your life like that. When you run into them, you can either be mortified or grateful. Most of the times, you're both, and with it, unconsciously desperate to keep them with you wherever you go. They keep you earnest. The price of that is they keep you exposed.

Poppy said, "Why do you fight?"

We had driven somewhere towards the coast, where the wind rocked her white car back and forth like a wave, where the sky was the same shade of an exhausted artist's paint water, where the clouds couldn't decide if they wanted to rest on the ground or hang from the air. She played a song on the radio that talked about coming back home, not because they wanted to, but because there was nowhere else anymore. No hiding.

I said, "What do you mean?"

"Stop that," she said. "You know what I mean."

"I don't."

"You do. Why? You don't have to."

"I won't do it anymore."

"That's not what I asked."

I closed my eyes like that would stop her. The car rolled around a turn. I felt my body sway with it. My stomach felt too empty and too full all at once. A dizziness spun around in my skull.

Poppy said, "I hated my captain in high school."

I glanced at her. The flower on her throat pulsed and glowed with the cloudy sun. She sighed, and the petals grew.

"She's the reason I go by Poppy," she explained, and I frowned. "It was my freshman year and I got on the track for the first warm-up. She was a foot taller than me, a junior, very good. I think she's at NYU now. The first thing she said to me when we saw each other was a question about the burn on my neck. I told her it wasn't a burn. She said, then, a weed. A clover.

"I was Clover for the first four months of that. At first, I figured maybe it was a funny joke. But when I got on the track and she nearly killed me running me over because 'weeds should be pulled out early', I realized she just didn't want me there. The only person that I could ever depend on was my senior at the time, but even she couldn't do much against the captain. In high school, there was a place for everyone. You never really got out once you were in yours," Poppy sighed. "When the nickname got so prevalent, a classmate in the next semester asked me if I was named after a clover. My senior was there, and I was so humiliated I was speechless. She tried to help me out and said I was more like a poppy." 

"A poppy," I repeated.

She gestured at her auburn hair. "I guess it was the first thing she thought of. I didn't think anything of it until that classmate started calling me it. I thought it was a way to get back at my captain, so I told everyone to start calling me Poppy instead."

"Did...it work?" I asked.

She grinned. "For the most part. Clover fell off enough she had to start calling me Poppy if she wanted me to respond. I sort of loved the name anyway. Poppies are pretty, no?"

I stared at her for a while. I said, "Why are you telling me this?"

Poppy pursed her lips. We took another turn. The sky greyed, darkened, brewed with oils and gouaches. She said, "No one gets to make you feel like a loser." I blinked. She glanced at me for a moment. "And if you want to change yourself, if you want to change how people see you, then that's your right. But it's also your responsibility, you know? If you let everyone have their take on you, then you're bound to that. But you don't have to be. You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. Fuck everyone else. You know?"

I was silent for a long moment. She didn't try to get me to talk, which I appreciated. I watch the Pacific Highway come into view. I could smell the salt through the vents.

"You make it sound easy," I said.

Poppy hummed. "Not easy," she admitted. "But, very simple."

"I thought I've hit my three strikes."

"I'm not your high school captain." She pulled into a wide, dirt-covered shoulder, where several other cars were parked to overlook the green and sandy cliffs. "And you're not a high schooler." She gestured for me to get out. "Nothing's over until you say so."

I got out. The wind was crisp and frigid on me. It took bites out of my body, ripped off skin and muscle, left me to bleed out and freeze to death on the cliffside. March whistled sweet nothings into my ear, horrid melodies and terrified lullabies. The smell of the sea made me wonder if I was dreaming in Busan. Suddenly, I missed.

I stood on the edge. Poppy came beside me. We watched the waves. She splayed her hand out to grab a white flower from the brush. We stood that way for an endless minute or ten. I missed. 

"It came with racing," I finally said. Poppy glanced up at me. I pursed my lips at the salt, at the memory. "I learned a lot of racing from street races. I got into a lot of fights because of them. So, it feels easier to do things that way."

"Is that what all those bruises are from?" she asked, and I felt my whole body go rigid.

I bit the inside of my cheek. I could smell Luan in the salt breeze. 

"No," I admitted. "No, not really."

Poppy watched me. I watched the sea. When eons had passed and our feet had become dust, she said, "Do you miss Korea?"

I kicked a clover away with my foot. I considered that. "I miss some people there."

"Do you wish you'd stayed?"

"No."

"Do you like it better here?"

"No."

"Do you miss home?"

I felt something break and drip in my chest and throat, as if a sledgehammer had been taken to the fluid in my sockets. I gagged on the liquid, on the earnestness. I felt smaller than the clover at my foot.

"I don't really know where I am," I said, which was an answer and not all at the same time. I didn't know the words for it. I'd quote Sunhee if she could understand. Some missing is not for what you want back, but for what you want to become. Not all missing is longing. Most is wandering. "I don't really know."

We stood in that as the sea rushed past us. Poppy watched the clovers dance. I wondered if I could swim to Busan from here.

"You're where you are," Poppy told me. "You're where you are and what's wrong with that?" When I looked at her, she was smiling, and it sent me doubling over with a splice of fire in my throat. "I'm glad you're here."

The wind broke the clouds, and a streak of sun lit up the flower on her throat for all the world to see.

__________________

"Suspension?"

I winced. "Umma, it's not that bad, it's just a temporary—"

"Not that bad?" she repeated back, incredulous. "I'd argue it's more insulting than expulsion."

"What?"

"Suspension, and you're not even done with the first round of Yellow," she snarled. "How am I not supposed to think you're better off coming back to Seoul right now?"

My heart stuttered, tumbled over itself. "Umma. It's not that bad."

"Are you even racing?"

"If I keep quiet, I'll be back on the track in a few weeks."

"A few weeks? You don't have a few weeks, Yellow is now."

"I know," I snapped. I bit my lip. "I'll be fine. It's a few weeks."

"A few weeks is all it takes for Elias and everyone else to be years ahead of you," she said, and I winced. "Honestly, Kitae."

"That's not my name—"

"It might as well be if you're benched for 'a few weeks'. What are you worth as Kane King?" she sneered. "As of right now, this King is worth less than a little league dog."

My body went hot. I got to my feet and opened my mouth to snap back, but she'd already ended the call. My vision blurred and my bedroom melted together in front of me. As if slowly washing away under the waves of KitaeKitaeKitae.

A few weeks is all it takes.

I felt ill.

"Kane?"

I blinked away the tears. A few dropped on the hardwood floor and I scurried to wipe my face free of their trails. "What?" I snapped.

A knock came, then Poppy's voice. "Can I come in?"

No. "What?"

"Please?"

I checked the clock. I was five minutes late to practice. I cursed. 

I grabbed my bag and wrenched open the door to find Poppy on the other side. She frowned at my face, but I was shoving past her before she could speak. "Kane—"

"I'm sorry," I said. "I lost track of time."

"I was just—"

"I won't be late again."

I fled the apartment before she could even take a step.

"You're—"

"Late," I finished for Coach. My stomach churned, growled. I swallowed the nausea. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Do you and are you?" she said, raising a brow. "Did something happen?"

"No," I said too quickly. I turned towards the track. "What are we doing?"

The rookies were lined up, watching the bikes zip past like comets. At my approach, Rosalie sneered and sent her icy gaze down the road. "I thought you'd died in a ditch somewhere."

I bristled. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You have no idea."

"Why don't you worry about your game and I'll worry about mine?"

"What game are you worried about that involves anyone but you?" she scoffed, and I bit my lip to swallow the response. "As far as I'm concerned, you clearly couldn't give a shit about anything that happens between this team."

"You don't know anything about me so you can sit on your high horse on the other side of the bench, thanks," I muttered.

"And whose fault is that?" she snapped.

"Rosie," Meredith tried. "Let him be."

Diego raised a brow."Everyone lets him be perfectly fine if that suspension has anything to say," he murmured.

I twisted my head to look at him but withheld my response. Any more fights and I'd be on suspension longer than I already was. Longer the suspension, the faster that flight back to Seoul would be. I swallowed hard. 

"Nothing to say? I'm surprised," Diego went on. "Usually he's flying."

"No one is helping anyone by fighting," Zahir snapped, elbowing him. "Everyone, focus on the track."

"Who died and made you king? Oh! Poor manners?"

Rosalie laughed high and obnoxious at that poor joke. I glowered. "Your point of being a jackass doesn't prove anything against me as much as it does make you look more pathetic than your excuse of a race does."

Diego's eyes blazed red. He took a step towards me. "Excuse me?" he scoffed, shucking off Meredith when she tried to push him back. "What does your racing say about you? That your mouth runs twice as long as your bike does or that you can't bear to let the spotlight go on anyone but you?"

"What kind of racer are you that you're content in the benches?" I said, and flicked him away. "It's a miracle you're on this team."

"Stop picking fights, both of you," Zahir demanded. "They're finishing up. Come on."

"I could say the same for you," Rosalie interjected, her arm shoving me back. I snagged my hand away so fast I nearly struck her. She paused, even if only for a moment. Her eyes zeroed in on me. "Such a miracle I could almost thank someone else for it."

My heart stopped. "What?"

"Rosalie," Meredith warned. "Stop it."

I turned on my heel as the blood rushed for my head. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"No? Maybe you could ask your precious boyfriend."

Corvus was midway through walking off the track, and the sudden conversation snapped their ears towards us. Poppy stopped in the tunnel, staring down at us with expectant eyes. Dread bubbled in my throat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I said.

"Oh please. I'd think with all the time you spend on the streets you'd have heard the story going around by now!" she said, so loud it echoed. "Kane King, so-called budding prodigy, scooped up by Corvus for all that promising acclaim."

"Stop," I gritted, my back still to her. Luan's voice pulsed in my ears over and over and over. You'resoYou'resoYou'reso—

"Rosalie, enough," Vann called.

"But you didn't get in here for all your promising acclaim. You learned your tricks on the fucking streets. You buy your tuition with a silver spoon and drag races," she laughed, then murmured in terrifying French, "You're like a mutt forging purebred right before our eyes."

I turned on my heel. "Fuck you," I hissed. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Quit playing stupid," she shot. "You rag on all of us, but we're more racers than you ever were. The only reason you're here is because you sucked enough dick to get your master to slip your tape in. You're not here because you're a racer, you're here because you're someone's prized puppy and you can't stand the fact it might be all you ever fucking are."

I wanted to lunge for her. Corvus, Coach, Poppy, the rookies, the track had gone dead silent, either out of shock or dread. Either way, the soundlessness was deafening, a jackhammer drilling Luan's and Yubaek's voices into my skull without mercy. Blood flooded my mouth. I tasted teeth and tongue. Luan's. My own.

Rosalie shook her head. "Go home," she hissed. "You don't belong here."

Who else? Who else? Who else?

I worry you'll be alone.

And you won't even know it.

I took a step back. Meredith turned towards me. "King, wait—"

I headed for the tunnels and shoved past Poppy, fleeing from the wolves behind me.

It was Kenzo who found me.

I was seated on a bench outside of my four PM British literature class, watching Avaldi's student body run away from the dreaded classroom halls and bolt towards the parking lots to beat the five PM traffic for their beloved, off-campus home or trudge up the cobble hills to their sad, shoebox dorm rooms to eat instant dinners alongside evening calculus. College anywhere was busy, frantic and frenzied with constant draws between the really real world and the suspension of disbelief of a world, one foot in blackened Los Angeles streets and the other in hardwood lecture halls, one eye up towards glass-faced buildings waving flags of freedom and 401ks, the other cast down Greek Row where spiced ciders lay alongside bracelet-making club fairs. I felt my eyes roll in my skull constantly between the worlds, while my feet stood planted in the parallel between, soles dusted with motor oil and the sound of an engine in constant motion inside my heels. Three worlds. Three places. Yet, I managed to be a stranger in all of them.

You don't know much about my life outside of Corvus because there wasn't one. You don't know about Latino Student Association's biannual Uno competitions because that was what Diego did. You don't know about the Crochet Club's fundraiser at Nothing Bundt Cakes because that's what Meredith went to. You don't know about beach volleyball on Fridays when the weather gets warm because that's what Zahir liked doing. You don't know about Alpha Chi's Hawaiian pool parties on Marigold because that's what Rosalie wanted to do. You don't know about 7-11 after Thursday dinners because I didn't go with them. You don't know about Silver Stop's Mars bars and student discount gas because I didn't go with them. You don't know about Korean American Student Association's kimchijiggae nights because I wasn't there. You don't know about that cafe on Willow before stats, or that brunch spot downtown every other Sunday, or window-shopping TRAX bikes between classes, or cheaply customizing gear before drills, or decorating rooms for Christmas, or going to the bonfires in fall semester. You don't, because I don't. 

I pulled out a Lucky Strike and lit it up, not caring for the faces students made at me as they passed. I couldn't care. I couldn't care for whether Luan called me or didn't to tell me he was spouting my guts to the world and then some. I couldn't care if Aster never wanted to speak to me again, if Yubaek wanted my head on a pike, if Yugyeom blocked my number, if Baluyot was sharpening his claws for Yellow. I couldn't care if my mom ordered me a plane ticket back to Seoul right now. I couldn't care if Sunhee cried or didn't when she saw me. What I ate next. If I ate again. If I never stopped eating. If I stopped racing. If I raced elsewhere. If I raced.

I blew the smoke out into the February air. I sighed, and waited.

A body sat beside me and I jerked. A voice said, laced with Japan's hillsides, "You look like a loser."

Kenzo sat in a CORVUS RACING hoodie and a pale red scarf, his blue jeans wide enough to let the cold in but his socks long enough to mitigate the chill. He was one of the older ones, but his face was deceptive, features so plain and soft the years seemed to slip right off of them and into more quiet things like his astute patience and his unkempt manners. His hair was white like moonlight.

I said, "Thanks."

Kenzo craned his head up at me, then gestured at the cigarette, then at the rest of our surroundings. "Why?" he said.

I blinked. I sighed. "What are you doing here?"

"I just asked that."

"No, you didn't."

He performed the same gesture. He blinked at me like I was stupid. I did not appreciate it at the time.

"What are you doing here?" I repeated again, harsher. "If you're here to say something to me, you might as well just say it, so go." 

"I just did." I gaped. He shrugged, then tried again, but in accented Korean. "What are you doing here?"

I was frozen for a second. He looked unimpressed by my shock. He said, "What? You don't speak either language?"

"You speak Korean."

"It seems you don't."

"My Japanese is not very good," I tried, in not-very-good Japanese.

Kenzo peered at me for a moment. He said, "I know. Maybe you should fix that."

"I'll try that."

"Your Mandarin must be good, though."

The world spiraled like a corkscrew. I clenched my fists, but forgot about the cigarette. The ash burned my finger and I hissed, dropping it onto the stone. Red bloomed on my skin.

Kenzo raised a brow. He took out his water bottle and a napkin. "You are not speaking to him anymore, are you?" he asked, more of a question than a push. The water was frigid, but kind on the burn. He wrapped my finger with delicate hands. "You two are broken up, I heard."

"Heard," I repeated. "From who?"

"Him," he said. "Word travels fast in the racing world."

"No kidding." Rosalie's words were still enough to make me wince. "He's got a pitchfork out for me."

"You watch a lot of movies," he observed, and I flushed at the reprimand. Kenzo held the napkin over my finger and watched the last of the students run by across from us. "He's angry. He likes the leash he has on you. He would rather choke you with it than let you leave."

I was—and still am—extremely unnerved by how quickly Kenzo was able to figure the entire thing out, at least between me and Luan, without having ever known either of us very well. I'll find out later down the line how and why that is, but for the time being, the reasons were less important. In that moment, there was just something so infinitely relieving about being seen by someone who didn't care enough to fix it or you or anything else. Just being. Just seeing.

I swallowed. I stared at my burned finger. "He and I are complicated."

"You are complicated," he corrected. "He is not."

"We have a lot of history."

"Everyone has history. Whose gets told?" Kenzo let go of my finger, then said in English, "History is just story. We listen. You tell. Who's telling?"

I stared at him for a long moment. He shrugged. He gestured towards where the Corivade lied and returned to Japanese. I leaned in to hear.

"You think you are special, that your life is not like anyone else's, that no one has experienced what you have. You think your history is new. But you are exactly where a hundred other racers and subsequent champions have stood before and have left before. You are not special," he said. "So you're not done, and it's not over. You're not alone. You're not special. You're just a racer." Kenzo got to his feet, and took a cigarette from my box. "Stop waiting for someone to make you so."

He got to his feet, and began for the Talon.

In the moment, his advice was cruel, and rather cold-hearted. But I'll tell you now, because I never really told him—it was true. 

I got to my feet.

You're just a racer. You're not alone.

I took a breath. 

"Kenzo," I called.

He paused. I cleared my throat, and began walking.

"Wait up," I told him.

His black eyes watched me sidle up beside him. He held his hand out for a lighter, and I placed mine in his palm. The cigarette burned like a distant, dying star, and I swore he almost smiled.

"I'm not going anywhere," he assured.

__________________

It went:

Poppy hadn't said anything to me directly about the incident at the Corvidae. Upon my return, she was finishing dinner in our room with Vann and Qi at her side. They exchanged looks between themselves, but said nothing more to me upon scurrying away. Poppy remained. When I just frowned, she gestured at the pot on the stove and said, "You haven't eaten yet, have you?"

I hadn't. I grimaced at the pot of pasta with oil and greens spotted in it. She said, "What's wrong?"

I said, "What is that?"

"It's pesto pasta."

"What's pesto?"

Poppy paused, a bit surprised, but quickly ratified. "It's a bunch of herbs and olive oil in a sauce, essentially. It's delicious despite being so green."

I frowned. "Oh."

She grabbed a bowl and a fork. She said, "Can I ask if you enjoy American food?"

I shrugged. "It's fine. I don't dislike it." Where most of everyone's inquiries came out as mocking or ignorant, Poppy's was conversational, curious, something she genuinely wanted to know and keep in her pockets like precious rocks. It wasn't until later I realized it was her way of talking to you about important things. "I prefer Korean food."

"I can see that," she said. She spooned a bit of pasta into my bowl. "I went to Japan once with my family for a trip. Once, we were so lost and so hungry we went into a restaurant on a corner just to eat some decent dinner. Turned out it was Korean, actually. It made me want to visit just to try more of their soups."

A certain bout of pain stabbed me. I swallowed. "It's delicious," I said.

Poppy's grin was bright like stars. "Oh?" she said. "Tell me about it."

I thought just talking about Korea would make me want to vomit, but maybe all the constant chaos was dulling my senses, or the night was too tired to make me care, because I fell into the stories so quickly with such ease it startled me. It felt like taking a train back to Busan, riding the shores and going into town, taking day trips to Gangnam and Seoul and Pyeongtaek. Sunhee with her sunhat and Sungho watching Sungki run through the sands. Blues and greens and home. Was that home?

I took a bite of the pasta, and raised a brow. "Not bad," I said.

Poppy grinned. "Right?" She gestured at me. "If you could eat anything from Korea right now, what would you eat?"

I considered her. I said, "Yukgaejang?"

Poppy nodded. "I haven't heard that one before."

"You should try it."

She narrowed her eyes. She pushed herself off her chair, and patted my shoulder as she headed for the door. 

"I should," she told me, then, "Come on."

For once, I didn't question her. 

The night felt blue.

My course of action had to be this, according to Kenzo and Poppy:

"Part one," Poppy said.

She took the metal chopsticks from the container and passed a set to me. She clasped her hands together on the sticky wood tabletop, her elbows nearly surpassing the edges of the tiny eating space, our neighboring tables filled with braised tofu, brisket, spicy stews, marinated veggies, and plenty of soju. Afterparties overflowed from corner tables, couples ate in silence over lukewarm kimchi and bony fish, workers who looked steps away from death's door but moved with the agility of a spry collegian spawn ran amuck through the non-existent aisles, and the world of West 6th Street pulsed with the night's dying flames in none other than K-town, Los Angeles.

"Part one," I recounted.

Poppy pursed her lips. "You're an absolute jackass, Kane."

I gawked at her. She nodded and continued.

"Right now, everyone thinks you couldn't give two shits about Corvus, especially now that you're suspended. Right now, you're the most hated member of that team and rightfully so. Right now, I'm fending off press and board of all kind that want you booted."

I kept gawking. She nodded again.

"Lucky for you," she went on, "I don't think you're completely gone."

"Wow," I said. "I'm tearing up."

"You made your bed, you lie in it." A waif of a man brought a tray of side dishes for us and laid them out one by one. I stuck to the bean sprouts while Poppy began to work on the spinach. "And you've made a king-sized, triple-layered, double-comforter, mound-of-pillows, luxury bed for yourself."

"Tears running," I said. "Rivers down my cheeks."

"The good news is, you're a rookie and the year isn't over yet. So you still have plenty of time to make a different bed." She frowned at the fish and I offered my chopsticks to her to begin picking away at it the same way Sungho had showed me to. "First off, dinner. You need to start coming to them. I'm making it mandatory for everyone to have dinner together every night."

"What," I snapped.

"It doesn't have to be in Cafe A, but it's got to be together." I pushed the pieces of fish at her and she lit up. "Second rule, you've got to start coming out with us."

"Where?"

"Anywhere. Everywhere. Malls, parties, movies, beach days, etcetera. If we have something, you have to say yes. No matter what. It'll show them you don't hate them."

"If I do?"

"Not in the rulebook," she reminded. "Third, stop going places by yourself. Trackee?" She stabbed her finger at me. "If I can't come with you for some reason, then ask Vann or Kenzo. Us three tolerate you the best so we're your way back in. Corvus just wants to know you care, and that you're not just itching to shun them or compete."

This isn't high school. "All...right."

The waiter set two bowls before us, the yukgaejang red as blood and steaming. Poppy held up her hand. "Fourth," she said, and her face grew solemn. "You need to stop talking to your old...crowd."

I did a double take. "My old crowd?"

"Whoever you've been flocking to instead," she said. "No more of that. They're clearly bad news. That boy you see." She shook her head. "Just...you know what I told you before. Steer clear. Give us all peace of mind—including you."

"Thanks," I murmured.

"Five," she said. "No more fighting. It's what got you suspended in the first place and it's gaining you a shitty rep of being like that all the time. You're not. Stop acting like it." She gestured at me. "Okay?"

I pursed my lips. I thought of what Kenzo had said. After a long beat of staring at the stew, I finally managed a, "Okay. Fine."

Poppy beamed. "Last thing," she said. "It's probably the easiest part for you."

I frowned. "What?"

"Your racing," she said. She shrugged when I just gaped. "You're good, obviously. But you're hasty and you get aggressive when you're panicked which wastes valuable energy on making it through harder things like pole series or tunnels. You suck at pole series, by the way. You race like you're from the streets."

I said, "A little."

Poppy paused, then shook her head. "Well, the Corvidae isn't the streets. And Yellow Diamond's begun." She gestured at me. "Right now, you're not Yellow Diamond level."

I tried to pretend that didn't feel like a knife in my chest. I didn't have another choice at this point. I didn't have anyone or anything else. Poppy, then and now, felt like a lifeline.

I said, "All right."

She looked pleasantly surprised at that acquiescence. "All right," she agreed.

Kenzo said, "Part two."

I cocked a brow up at him. I had barely taken one sip of my black coffee before he'd spoken. I wasn't very happy at being interrupted. It was eight AM. Luan hadn't called me in months. An anonymous Tweet tagged me in an obscene photograph of a bloody dog hit by a car nearby. I hadn't called Sunhee in weeks. Time felt like a joke and a whore and a fucking prison. I digress. Part two?

Kenzo said, "You're dying."

I said, "Aren't we all?"

Vann said, "Yeesh."

Kenzo looked unimpressed by my response and kept on like no one had replied. "You're dying. Like, faster." He made a "faster" gesture. "You look like death."

I made a gesture at my face, then to the coffee, then an imitation of his "faster" motion. He blinked. I nodded. "What's your point?"

Kenzo frowned at Vann, who looked more confused than anything. He looked at me, and I performed the same motions. He thought of the words, then said, "You...do not like yourself."

Vann and I went still. My heart twisted in discomfort. I scowled at him, taking a step back. "The hell are you on about?"

Kenzo forewent explaining and skipped to, "We go to the gym Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday. Eight AM on the first two. Eight PM on the last. You do not have class until ten and you and Poppy will not be together the other days. You'll join."

"Ah, the gym bro era," Vann said, nodding. "I approve of this for you, King."

I grimaced. "Gymming?"

"You run too much," Kenzo said and turned to leave. "Lab," he said, and promptly fled.

Vann gestured at the four different bags of whey protein on top of the fridge, then flashed me a grin. I felt strangely happy at the sight of it. Although it was diluted by Kenzo's haunting words. He took another bite of his yogurt.

"This'll be good for you," he said. "You need to go up at least two weight classes. Ramos will be over the moon."

I narrowed my eyes. "Why would she be over the moon?"

Vann waved me off. "C'mon. We'll help you out. Team bonding?" He got to his feet and deposited his bowl in the sink, then frowned. "What's part one?"

I took a sip of my coffee and headed for the safety of my room. "Bye, Vann."

"Good talk!"

Winter was ending. Someone didn't tell California that, because even as March approached Los Angeles's doorsteps, the wind still swang its fists like a frigid beast every morning, afternoon, and night like it couldn't eat up enough of the bruises that showed on red cheeks and bleeding lips. Fuck-all winter. Who let that happen? How I ever survived Busan, I'd tell you if I knew. Part three. Part three. So many parts.

I was asleep at some point on some day a week before the third Yellow Diamond match. A part of me wants to believe it was restful, but I couldn't tell you so when there was Poppy and all her fucking parts.

"Kane?" A jab. A cough. "Kane. Kane." I blinked in the blurry darkness. Another cough. "Kane?"

I said, "Huh?"

A pillow came for my face at such an alarming speed and force, I swore some of my skin was still on its cotton cover when it left me. I swung my arm so quickly and so violently, I felt my muscles screech with the sudden effort, and burn badly when it met a gut.

The swing was too much for my body to handle and I went careening too fast and right over the edge of the bed. In another world, I would have anticipated my misfortune better and bought a rug. I didn't have a rug. I suppose I didn't think I'd be so close to the floor that it'd matter. 

I met the ground with a shuddering thud and my heart ready to spill out of my mouth or dislodge my eyes right out of their sockets with all its beating. I gasped and groaned. I kept swinging. The hardwood was fuck-all-winter cold.

"Holy hell alive, is someone getting fucking murdered in here?"

I grabbed the nearest upright thing, which happened to be a leg. I yanked myself upright and slammed my body against my bed frame, hands up by my face. Someone said my name. I wondered when it'd gotten so cold.

Poppy's face came into view when the light turned on. She was doubled over, holding her gut and wheezing as she tried to stop my hands. 

"It's...me," she gasped. "Holy...fuck."

Diego and Zahir stood in the doorway, watching us half with interest and half with horror. Diego seemed more keen on the interest part. It might've been partially because he rather hated me at the time. What else is new?

"Are we scaring King?" he asked. "And you didn't let me in on it? Are you kidding?"

"Not...the time," Poppy heaved.

"Are you killing him?" Zahir asked Poppy. "Have you caved?" Because Zahir also mildly hated me at the time but was too concerned with decorum to be loud about it.

"Thanks," Poppy snapped.

I said, "What the fuck."

Diego said, "Is this an initiation? An intervention?"

"What intervention is happening at ten PM?" Zahir asked.

"The kind that involves the best local zombie we've got to offer."

"What the fuck," I said again. "Who the fuck. Why. Zombie?"

"He looks plenty alive to me," AJ said, because he'd decided to join the conversation as well, considering AJ hated me a little more than everyone, and could only be bested by Qi and Rosalie at the time. "Too bad. Oh! Who said that?"

"Maybe you all need an intervention," Vann said, frowning at them.

"What the fuck?" I snapped at Poppy.

Poppy finally righted herself. She cleared her throat. "Part three," she said. "Training. Come on. You suck at pole series."

"We've been over this."

"Have we? Let's be sure."

"An intervention for pole series," Diego snorted. "What are we, racers?"

"Hah," AJ said, staring blankly at him. "Oh, hah. Ha ha. Oh, God. Oh, wait. I'm dying."

"Like that one?"

"Diego," Vann said.

"Back me up here," Diego said to Zahir.

Zahir glanced at Poppy. "Tracker?"

Poppy said, "Everyone go back to your rooms."

"No murder?" Diego murmured. "Not even a little one?"

"Diego," Poppy and Vann said.

"What they said," AJ added, then frowned at my room. "Why does this place look like a garage sale is getting ready to happen?"

"He means why does it look like you blew up your closet?" Diego told me.

I closed my eyes. "No more talking. There's a lot of talking."

"He speaks."

"Diego!"

I got to my feet as they all left. Poppy frowned at me. "You wake up violent," she sighed.

I bit my tongue and swallowed the taste of Luan's fists down. I pushed the clothes and books and randomized candy wrappers or packages from the floor to make it to the closet. I grabbed a shirt and a pair of joggers. "What are you doing here?" I snapped.

"Told you. Training. Didn't you get my texts?"

"My phone turns off at nine," I said. "So, no. Didn't you knock?"

"I did. You didn't answer."

"It's a hint," I snapped.

Poppy jutted her thumb behind her. "Talk and walk. Come on." She turned around to head out. As she did, she passed a wall of photographs, and paused at one. She reached up. "Who's—"

I turned around. "I'll meet you outside, Poppy."

She left and didn't ask again.

Constantly. Over and over. I think it has to go like that when your world changes. Constantly. Awfully. Day to day to day. Over and over and over and over and over and over—

"Kitae."

I glanced down at the call. It'd been going for almost a minute. I'd barely realized I'd called Sunhee at all.

"Kane," she ratified. "Kane. Are you all right? What's wrong?"

I stared at the wall across from me. I watched the photographs move. Two AM ticked away March on the clock.

I said, "I'm sorry. I know it's early, I didn't think..." I pursed my lips. "I just wanted...we haven't talked."

A few moments of static went by. Two AM. Tick tick tick.

"If you miss me," Sunhee said with a fond sigh, "you could have just said that."

I bit my tongue. Like a lung. "A little."

"A little? Wow, so brazen! Ya. Say you miss me, Kane."

"I...miss you, noona."

"Mhm. Well, I miss you more," she said. "Now, tell me about it."

"About what?"

"What else do I want to hear about?" she said with a laugh that took tons off of my shoulders. "You."

I tilted my head back against the wall, and began to talk into the silence.

It went:

"Joining us? You're kidding. Is it Christmas?" Diego laughed. I didn't. But I also didn't say anything, and I figured that was a win.

"Diego," Poppy warned. She turned to me. "Kane?"

I said, "Dinner?"

The rookies looked at Poppy. Rosalie turned her perfect little nose up and said, "If he wants to, I guess. I'm surprised at even that, though."

"Rosalie."

"Don't tell me we're the ones you're chastising."

Poppy glanced at me. I took a step towards Cafe A. My stomach roiled—half with hunger, half with four bodies standing watch.

I said, "Dinner."

I went. I didn't wait to see if they followed. 

Dinner was hell on a ceramic plate. The salad bar had been shut down due to a water leakage. The sushi bar wasn't open on Sundays. Neither was the deli or the half a dozen Asian eateries. Someone had complained about a bad apple at the market. For the most part, students were left to pizza, the bakery bar, and fast food. I sighed. I felt like screaming. If anyone noticed, it was Meredith, who knew her timing and said, "I love Chipotle."

I said, "Oh."

She smiled brightly up at me. I wanted to feel irritation, but all I could muster up was relief I wasn't the only one going towards there. 

"What do you usually get?" she asked. "I love their steak, but their new barbacoa is my go-to now. Did you know cilantro-lime rice is coriander-lime rice in the UK?"

I debated that. I frowned. I tried, "Are...you from the UK?"

She laughed. "No, no. I was born in Switzerland, actually. But I've been all over." She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. "Have you ever been?"

"To Switzerland? No."

"Would you like to?"

"What's there?"

"Swiss cheese." We turned around. Diego flashed Meredith a grin, and diluted it to a nod for me. He turned his joke back on Meredith. "Swiss alps. Swiss chocolate?"

"Swiss delight," she said happily.

"Baby swiss?" Zahir exclaimed from behind him, popping up like a bunny so quick I nearly stumbled. "I bought some from Ralph's the other day."

"Not Swiss," Meredith corrected.

"If you ate baby swiss, are you his murderer or his father?" Diego asked.

I blinked. Zahir frowned at him. "Why would you be his father?"

"If you are his father, do you know have to eat real Swiss. Like formula?"

"Wouldn't that make me its mother?"

"You're a mother?" Rosalie scoffed. I stumbled this time. She looked unamused by such an act. I grimaced. All this talking only made me dizzier. "Are you people engaging in another strange excuse for a conversation?"

"Sometimes you're a real asshole," Diego told her with a scoff. "It's a real conversation."

"Most times you're a real dumbass," Rosalie returned with a spiteful chomp of her teeth. "Chipotle? Which beans do you get, because there's a right answer."

I didn't answer and was content to let them fill the silence, as the idea of speaking made my tongue feel heavy. I thought of Poppy. I tried to sponge up details they spoke, overlook the grate in Rosalie's voice or the twinge of anger I felt at every sore joke Diego spat out. I tried to swallow but it made me nauseous. I breathed instead.

"Beans?" 

I looked up. The woman gestured at the bins in front of her. I frowned. I said, "Um, none."

She nodded and moved on. Diego gasped.

"No frijoles?" he gasped. "What kind of demon bowl are you making?"

It was the most he'd said to me that wasn't a direct insult I'd heard in a while. I opened my mouth, closed it, tried again. My voice was surprisingly unsure when I answered.

"I don't like them," I said. Which could or could not be true. I'd never tried them.

Diego waved me off. "Demon bowl! C'mon. Try them, they're not half-bad. This is the food of my people, King! Straight from my coast." I tried to shake the shock off my face. So many syllables, I couldn't even count them.

The lady looked up at him with a raised brow. "This is the food of Denver, Colorado, sir."

"Don't listen to her, she looks like how Denver, Colorado feels."

"I like Colorado," Zahir said, frowning.

"I'm from Delaware," the woman snapped.

"Oof," we said, and she gaped.

The man doing toppings glanced at me. "Salsas?"

"There's a right answer," Rosalie said.

Meredith pointed at the red one. "That's the best."

"That is not the right answer."

The man began looking impatient and I hurriedly gestured at the entire row. "Er, everything. Just...give me everything."

He gave me a look, but shrugged and began piling everything on accordingly. Diego let out a hoot. "Now that's what I'm talking about. Good to know you're not too Americanized, King—ow." He frowned at Zahir, who pushed him forward.

I held my tongue and moved on.

We sat down at the respective booth in the somewhat-respective order. I stared at the mountain of a bowl in front of me and felt my stomach churn. I grimaced, but took the first bite anyway.

"What suddenly sparked your wish to have dinner with the rest of us?" Rosalie asked.

I paused. "What?"

"You could give a shit to have dinner with us usually," she said, ignoring Meredith's jab. "So, what changed?"

I couldn't really blame her for her bluntness, but it didn't make it sting any less. I bit the inside of my cheek to withhold a snappy comment at that. I tried to think of the track, of SUSPENSION in big bold black on my papers.

I glanced at my bowl. "We're all rookies."

"Oh, so he does know," she said with a nod. "I've been wondering if we should start hedging bets on whether or not you actually would ever use the term with yourself included."

Never mind. "I've been hedging bets about whether you had a heart under all that bitchiness."

She let out a mirthless laugh. "Never mind. Still a dick."

"I'm not here to fight."

"Oh, was that comfort?"

"I'm not here to fight," I snapped again. "I'm not gonna fight with you. The reason I'm even having dinner is to stop fighting with all of you."

"Because your tracker told you to play nice?" she said. At my hesitance, she scoffed again.

I tried, "I don't want to fight."

I felt my eyes burn, my ears with them. I tasted blood. It tasted rather shameful, for the first time. Poppy's words suddenly became child's play.

"Maybe he just actually figured we were fun," Diego tried. "And not an enemy made by breathing wrong."

"Rosalie," Zahir said. "Lay off, come on. Let's just enjoy the fact we're even having dinner."

"I'm just asking what everyone's thinking." 

"You're pestering."

"You're not going to ask?"

"Who cares anymore?" Diego muttered. "Yellow Diamond? Let's just care that everyone's getting along."

Rosalie considered that, then threw her head back with a laugh. "Oh, oh,  I get it," she said. "You're not here to play nice because you feel like you should, you're just here to check off your tracker's holier-than-thou reformation arc checklist."

Diego frowned. "What checklist?"

"What are you talking about?" I said.

"You're not having dinner with us because you feel bad about anything you've done," she said. "You just want to race."

The accusation sat between the rookies like fresh acid on a field of flowers. It singed my tendons and ate away my veins. It felt a lot like humiliation.

I said, "Don't we all?"

Rosalie's gaze was frigid, blocked off and shadowed as if looking down upon me. She wasn't unimpressed. She was ice cold and angry.  As angry as I felt.

She nodded. "And here I thought you had a heart under all that bitchiness," she sighed. She grabbed her food and slid out of the booth. "You can spare me your charity dinner."

Meredith grabbed her arm. "Rosalie, wait—" But she was already fleeing the Cafe and heading for the exit. 

Meredith spared me one apologetic glance before heading after her. Diego and Zahir didn't even spare me that and followed. I sat alone at the booth, watching them go. 

But, you don't have to hear the rest of that story.

______________

I took a philosophy class once for a GE fulfillment in my freshman year, some month in the fall. Something about Plato and Beauvoir and Socrates and Descartes. I think they mentioned Hume. I remember something about circles and reality and who is who or what is what or who made what and when. Once, when we were discussing whether Descartes was a reasoning genius or just skilled with useless tangents, our professor said something about triangles and minds and who's a good person.

"Who's a good person?" she asked the hall. They stared at her. She shook her head. "A more interesting question is, why is someone not?"

Hands. She asked them, "Do you think there is bad anything in the world?" More hands. She said, "Great! You're all wrong." It was an early class. I couldn't tell you the rest.

It was the first and last time I raised my hand in that class. I sat in the leftmost region, in her optimal blindspot. What propelled her eyes to find me to call on me in the sea of hands, I couldn't tell you. 

"What makes a person, a bad person?" I asked.

She smiled slowly, like she'd been waiting for that. She clasped her hands together. "We're talking Descartes, yes? You know, from that perspective, there isn't anything bad. Actually, all things are only ever good things," she said. "There's just a lack of orientation."

"Orientation," someone repeated, distrusting.

"If there is ice cream on the table, and I want to eat the ice cream, it is a good thing. If someone is sad, and you give them ice cream that makes them happy, it is a good thing. If I choose to eat a bowl of ice cream, but not grade your assignments, ice cream is not a bad thing, it's just in the wrong timing, the wrong context," she explained. 

I thought of Sunhee, her hands around mine, her words now jumbled and lost in my skull. I saw them blur on the board before me. Smoke filled my nose.

"Why do you care? Well, because then everything can be good. Nothing is ever truly bad—there is no 'bad'," she said, and crossed out the very word on the board. She faced us. "Sometimes, you just have to pivot."

We never spoke of the principle again. But even after she'd closed her laptop and gathered her things and shooed us out of the lecture hall for that morning, I spotted the word still stricken through on the board.

Pivot.

I let the crowd whisk me away.

__________________

Luan came to see me on a Thursday afternoon. If I'd known, I would have more to say about that day. But, surprises do such a thing. Surprise?

"Surprise."

I stopped, one foot above the steps leading down towards the path to the Corvidae.

Luan stood with half an inch off his hair and a Pepperdine jacket hiding him from the cool breeze. He was rather innocuous among the Avaldi student body, but the smile he flashed me, the stance he stole from the air, I could pick it from a crowd in seconds.

My heart filled with all the blood in my body and grew so big it couldn't make its way any farther than the bridge of my mouth. I tried to breathe, but all I smelled was blood, blood, blood. Luan smiled. I saw fangs in them.

He said, "Hey, Kitae."

I flinched. I took a step back. Another.

"Hey," he said again. "Hold on."

I nearly stumbled. "That's..." I shook my head. "That's not my name."

"I want to talk to you."

"Go."

"Not even a chat?"

"Luan."

"Hey." I froze. He frowned. "I'm talking to you. That's rude."

My feet cemented in their place. My heart pounded so violently I swore it would burst and send blood flooding my whole mouth, force it out of every orifice and leave me bleeding out in a gory, obscene deflation on the concrete. I couldn't breathe. My vision became a barcode of black clouds and Luan himself. No one was here at this time of day, at this back alley of the university. No one but Corvus this season. No one but us.

You don't know him.

"I have nothing to say to you," I whispered.

"Kitae."

"Stop. Wait."

He stopped a foot from me. I held my hands up between us. He frowned, like the gesture was inappropriate. Luan sighed. "I just want to talk."

I swallowed. I took another step back. "You shouldn't be here."

"Won't you listen?" he snapped. "Just for a second? I'm here to apologize."

"I don't—don't apologize. Don't say anything, just go."

"You can't ghost me for months and expect no consequences," he hissed. "You honestly thought I wouldn't try to find you?"

"You shouldn't be here."

"You're a coward," he snarled, and I flinched again. "Where's this fighting spirit everyone warns me about from you? Throwing fists, screaming bloody murder? Wolfing out?"

"Stop." I shoved him back with palms to his chest but I felt like a child when he barely even twitched. "Just...stop." I shook my head. "You need to leave, Luan. We can talk later."

"What if I want to talk now?"

I tried to dart past him. "No."

His hand flew so fast I didn't see it until it was wrapped around my forearm. He yanked me towards him like pulling a bullet back into the chamber. Violet flooded his eyes, flew from his mouth like poison when he spoke down at me.

"No?" he repeated. "You think you're in any position to say no?"

"Luan—"

"You think you can just walk away with your shiny new life and leave us all in the dirt?" he said. "You like being Kane King? I fucking hope you do. Because you owe him to me."

I tried to pull my arm from his grip, but he held tight and fast and so furiously I felt my bones bruise. Practice had begun. I was late. 

"Please," I whispered. 

His sneer was black as night. "So now you say it."

I pushed him. He grabbed my other arm. 

"You can't just walk away. You can't just leave. Everything you have, everything they think you are, you owe it to me," he hissed. "I own you."

In a panic, I swung. My fist struck his jaw. His head snapped back and he let go of my arms. I fell to the concrete with a stinging thud. My feet scrambled to get my body upright, but he was already recovering and grabbing a fistful of my hair. 

"Don't," I cried.

He yanked my head back, and clocked his knuckles right into my nose.

I could the sickening crunch of bone, could feel the hot, gushing blood spurt over my skin, could taste the thick, black iron flooding my mouth and staining my teeth. My head swam in a centrifuge of colors and sound. Something stung my cheek and I guessed it was the concrete. I coughed—I'm sure I did. I said something—maybe a plea.

I pushed myself up on my hands and knees. I spat out a puddle of red and gagged. The pain was so severe, it felt like ice.

"...Kane!"

A jolt of panic at the unfamiliar voice sliced through the sensations altogether. I scrambled to my feet, ignoring how I swayed and hummed. I spotted a flash of auburn hair running for me from the Corvidae, and wanted to die.

I cursed. I shook my head and turned towards Luan. I didn't dare touch him, but I let my hands hover over his chest. "Please," I whispered. "Go. Leave. I'll talk to you."

Luan stared down at me. He said, "That easy?"

"Go, I'll do anything, just go."

"Tell them to leave. I want to talk now."

"Not now, any other time—Luan, go."

Luan's gaze was unreadable as it always was and will be. But I swore, for a moment, there was a glimmer of pity in the purple fog. He shook his head, and laughed. 

"You're...," he tried, then stopped. He tried again in quiet Mandarin. "You are your worst work."

I went still, and he was gone.

Poppy finally approached me, Vann and Kenzo behind her. At the sight of my face, they halted in their tracks. 

"Oh, my God, King," Vann breathed, going pale. "What happened to your nose?"

Poppy gaped at me like she couldn't believe what she was seeing. Every time I thought I couldn't feel more humiliated, I proved myself wrong. This was fucking humiliating.

"Kane," she gasped. "Oh, Kane. Oh, God. Oh, God, there's so much blood."

I held my bruised forearms to my chest, and spat out another mouthful of scarlet. I said, "Don't tell Coach."

Kenzo took off his Corvus jacket and slung it over my shoulders. He tilted my head down. He said, "Car. We're going to the hospital."

In said car, he asked me in faint Japanese, "He found you."

I closed my eyes. "Please don't."

He said, "I won't."

I said, "I'm sorry."

Kenzo glanced at me. Then said, "Don't be."

We drove.

Poppy wasn't as forgiving with her reaction, and with her, the rest of Corvus. I suppose Kenzo was always a little too comfortable with me.

"Who was it?"

I sat on the edge of the bed, the hour inching towards midnight, nothing but pale walls and fluorescent light by my side to defend me against the racers. I pushed the toes of my shoes against each other as I stared down at my feet. They were from Sunhee, and had been crisp blue when I first wore them. The light bleached them, and time had beaten them to a pulp, nothing but faint navy shadows left. I thought it, dismally, fitting.

"No one," I said.

"If the board thinks he got into another fight, if word gets out," Qi said to Yami, and shook her head. "He's suspended now. They'll expel him completely."

"Qi," Yami tried. She glanced at me. I realized I hadn't talked to her in a long while. "What happened? If this was an attack, we should try and find out who it was, do something about it, or...or—"

"No," I said curtly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You never want to talk about it," Rosalie said. "I really wouldn't have thought someone scrawny like you would've survived this long, frankly."

"Thanks," I snapped. "I'm fine, all right? You all didn't have to come."

"Fine?" Edwards scoffed. "Your entire nose bridge is broken and you look like you just came out of the seventh ring of Hell. I want you to tell me what happened—who happened—to you, and I don't frankly care whether you want to or not, because I'm telling you to."

"You could be expelled, King," Meredith tried. "What's wrong?"

I stared at them. A part of me wanted to, a part of me wanted nothing more than to spill every last honest truth to them and let it all flood the hospital floor, not for any other reason than just to be fucking rid of it.

I swallowed. I shook my head. "I know him," I said. "We got into an argument."

"How do you know him?" Qi interrogated.

"We know each other," I said. "We've known each other for a while."

"What, bad ex?" AJ tried to joke. "You fuck a bad egg?"

Vann bumped him and gave him a look. AJ held up his hands, but my silence sent Qi's head snapping to me.

"You're kidding," she said.

I shook my head. "It's none of your business—and it's not your guys' problem."

"A bad ex?" Yami repeated, her face dropping. "That does not sound safe. That—King, he did this to you?"

The rookies looked taken aback by the sudden additional detail. Regret was immediate and sent heat to my ears and head, sent a flare of stinging electricity down my spine. Will I ever get the timing right?

"I don't want to talk about it," I whispered. "I know it's selfish of me, but, please let it go."

Vann reached for me, but I flinched away. He pulled back. Rosalie narrowed her gaze.

"You...just let this happen?" she said. 

"I didn't let it happen," I argued.

"You let him do this," she repeated. "All those fights have been him?"

That snapped all of Corvus's attentions to peak. They began to chatter, but what they said was lost on me in the rush of blood to my temples. No. No. Not like this. Just wait. Please wait please wait please—

"Enough." Poppy pushed her way through them and splayed her hands out. "Just—enough. Get out, all of you. None of you are helping him right now."

"Poppy," Yami pressed. "This is serious."

"I think we all know that," she replied. "Go. Before you give him a heart attack."

Corvus exchanged glances, but ultimately, left without asking again. Only Edwards remained, alongside Poppy, who watched me like she could make me talk simply by will. She probably could. 

I watched my shoes. Poppy sighed and took her seat beside me on the bed. She said nothing for a long while. I didn't make her. I watched the clock strike twelve.

Eventually, she said, "It was him, right?" She gestured vaguely towards me. "Your guy."

I pursed my lips and didn't answer.

"I know you think you...owe him something, or that you still love him, or that he loves you, but he's not—"

"Stop."

"Kane."

"Just stop," I said, but it came out as a plea. "Just...you don't understand, okay? You don't understand and I'd wish you stop acting like you do because it's not—you don't know what's going on." I swallowed. "He's not like that."

"Kane," she said, incredulous. "You can't be serious. Your nose—"

"Stop." I shook my head, felt my head buzz. "Please. Please stop."

Poppy stopped. We sat in endless, ongoing, unceasing silence. Constant silence, and never where I ask for it. I hung my head. I watched my shoes go back and forth, back and forth.

She said, "You're not alone, Kane." Poppy scooted closer. "You have somewhere to go."

I didn't answer. I let the morning come for me.

__________________

[33 MISSED CALLS - luan]
[63 MISSED CALLS - luan]
[79 MISSED CALLS - luan]

[12 NEW MESSAGES - luan]
[34 NEW MESSAGES - luan]
[56 NEW MESSAGES - luan]

[Block luan? You will not be able to view any incoming messages or receive calls from this number. You will not be able to send any messages or make any calls to this number.]
[Block]

[4 MISSED CALLS - sunny]
[2 MISSED CALLS - umma]

[Do Not Disturb - ON]

[Slide to power off]
[Powering off...]

________________

Again:

"Nose reconstruction," I repeated. "A nose job?"

The doctor pursed her lips. "Well, sure, you can call it that. We have to rebuild it either way if you want to breathe right, and fast, may I add, or your body will heal it incorrectly." She gestured at the X-rays. "We can rebuild it how it was before, or we can make some small adjustments."

I frowned. "Adjustments."

"Think about it," she said, and slid the papers to me. "You're scheduled for tomorrow at six."

I never did like my nose. Call me opportunistic.

"Noona," I said into the phone. "Can you send me pictures of your nose?"

"What?" she snapped. "Why?"

"It's a long story."

"Kane. What happened? Why do you want my nose?"

"Noona. I'm gonna send you some photos. Copy them."

"Kane."

"I miss you." She paused. I said, "Please?"

Sunhee paused for a long moment, then said, "Okay, Kane."

I showed the pictures to the surgeon. She grinned, said, "A very good nose!" and took out her pen. No one but Ramos was there, because I had no one else who knew my medical record or state and I didn't have the energy to argue.

Ramos smiled grimly. "I liked your nose from before, too."

I shrugged. "Thanks."

Again:

"Your suspension is up this week," Poppy said. She sat beside me as I downed my water, the night frigid and icy on my skin. She said, "Green Diamond starts."

"Just in time, then. Are you sure you want me on?" I drawled.

She waved me off. "It's all you've talked about and now you're chickening out?"

"I'm not."

"You seem like it."

"It's Green Diamond," I said, and left it that that. 

Poppy cocked her head at me. "It's the best," she said, and I raised a brow at that. She shook her head, smiled. "It's everything."

I wanted badly to believe her. But Luan's words were like bullets, and I feared the torn-up flesh wouldn't survive a round on the track. Not with Corvus by my side. Not with a hundred cameras in my face. Not now. But, it was never the right time.

I held my head. Nausea from my growling stomach made my eyes spin. My nose was due to cure by the end of tomorrow. I thought I'd feel happier about such, but all I thought of was Luan Luan Luan waiting to see me again.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

No. No, no, no. "Fine. I'm gonna go back."

"We're not done."

"Give me a break for the night."

"I thought all you wanted to do was race."

"I'm tired."

"Aren't we all?"

"I'm tired," I tried again, and felt the lump in my throat break my voice. She stopped, her eyes honing in on me. "I'm tired, okay?" I got up and headed for the tunnel before she could see the glass in my eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Kane, hey, wait—"

No, no, no. This isn't how it's supposed to go. This isn't how I'm supposed to feel. This isn't how it's supposed to be. This isn't how I'm supposed to be.

Again:

"You're not failing," Sunhee tried. "You just need to study."

"I can barely focus on where I'm walking," I muttered. "Who the fuck said history majors need chemistry?"

"Language," she said. "Can't you go to office hours?"

"It's during practice."

"Tutoring. TAs."

"Practice."

"Then, study methods."

"I can't focus."

"Why not?"

"I just can't, okay? I can't focus like I used to."

"That's not an excuse, Kane."

I felt my eyes burn. I shook my head and sighed. "It's harder than I thought, noona."

"What is?"

Living. Being Kane King. Being alone. "Making it work."

Sunhee was quiet for a beat. "Good things can't be easy, Kane," she told me. "Then they wouldn't be worth it."

Again:

Kenzo shoved my door open. I yanked the last of my sweater on over my head just as he looked up. I gaped. He cocked his head. He said, "Nice nose."

I frowned. He'd been the only one other than Poppy bold enough to call it. I said, "What the hell?"

He said, "I heard you're failing chemistry."

"A C is passing."

"So, you're failing."

"Why are you here?"

He lifted a stack of notebooks and his laptop. "You can't get suspended again," he said. "Come on."

So, it was chem tutoring before dinner, racing after dinner. Kenzo bought me cigarettes for incentive, while Poppy simply threatened benching me as hers. How I survived, well, I'll tell you when I find out.

"Don't you eat?" Kenzo scoffed as he tossed me two packs of Lucky Strikes. "Don't you like to eat?"

I stared at the cigarettes. You're so...pathetic.

"I'm not hungry," I told him, and lit one up.

Again:

[3 New Emails - [email protected]]
[10 New Emails - [email protected]]
[19 New Emails - [email protected]]

[Restrict [email protected]?]
[[email protected] has been restricted.]

[1 MISSED CALLS - Unknown Number]
[2 MISSED CALLS - umma]
[2 MISSED CALLS - sunny]
[4 MISSED CALLS - Unknown Number]

[1 NEW VOICEMAIL - nami island]

"Hello, Mis_Kane. I want to wish you luck on your match tomorrow. Miss Wang told me about it. You'll be fine. Drink lots of water before. She said to be careful of your nose. You will do well. Get good rest beforehand. I believe that's what you are doing now. Okay. Make__water and yes. All right. Bye. This is Nami, by the way."

[4 New CANVAS Alerts - Overdue Assignment]
[2 New CANVAS Alerts - Direct Messages]
[9 New CANVAS Alerts - Assignment Comments]
[22 New CANVAS Alerts - Grade Changes/Releases]

[1 MISSED CALL - Edwards]

Again:

"Your second midterm will be next Thursday," the bloodsucker recited off her laptop. "We'll be covering everything from the Enlightenment onward."

I took another swig of water. I held my temples. She said, "Okay?"

The class said, "Okay."

Again:

"Homework due tonight," the professor said, tapping the chalkboard. "Basic stoich. Twenty through forty-four. Skip thirty-two. Yes?"

I squeezed my eyes tight, felt my lenses struggle with the effort it took to keep themselves stretched open. He said, "Yes?"

The class said, "Yes."

Again:

"Pair up, you're gonna need a partner for this one," the werewolf snapped, gesturing at the student body in the lecture hall. "I want you to write 'ECON320' at the top of your paper so I know which section's which. Yes? Great. Find a partner, you're gonna tell me the answers to these four questions—I want pictures. Okay?"

The class dispersed. I let my gaze glide lazily about the rows. A siren tapped my shoulder and grinned brightly at me. "Want to pair up?"

I just nodded wordlessly, bit down on a yawn. The professor said, "Okay!"

The class said, "Okay."

Again:

"King, salad? Where's the meat?" Diego quipped. "You made the weary trek just to have dinner with us."

"Which we're very happy about," Meredith added hastily. "I love vinaigrette with my salad."

"Ranch or bust," Rosalie argued. She took a bite of her roast beef sandwich, which smelled so good I swore I was going to start drooling over the table. She made a scene of wiping the juices from her mouth and I wanted to slit my throat. I took a fork and stabbed the leaves instead. She said, "They have a special today. Want some real food?"

"I'm fine," I said.

"Bread, at least," Vann said, sliding in beside me. His smile was warm, but hesitant. "How you feeling? You seem stressed."

"I think that's just his face," Diego murmured, earning a look from Zahir.

I sighed. "I'm fine."

"Kane," Poppy called. I looked up. She said, "We practice after this. Yes?"

I swallowed my leaves. I took a breath. I said, "Yes."

Again:

"King, are you half asleep, for fuck's sake!" Qi yelled at us as we ran another lap. "Green Diamond is this week, rookies! Pick up the pace!"

"That means 'run faster'," Diego panted.

"No shit, Diego," we snapped.

"Kane, pick it up!" Edwards yelled. "Are you half-alive or something?"

I closed my eyes and ran. Faster, faster, faster. I tasted blood. I breathed a lot better with this nose.

"No," I called, and ran ran ran.

Again:

"King, smoke outside," AJ called. "I can smell that nastiness from all the way over here. You and Kenzo are going to keel at forty."

"I'll go outside," I promised.

"Since when do you smoke?" Vann said.

I turned to leave without answering. He shrugged. I took a drag when Kenzo said from behind me, "You have a test tomorrow."

"I'm tired."

"Too bad. Come on."

"Kenzo."

He said, "You're going to fail on your own." He turned on his heel. "We start."

I blew out the single drag. I pinched the space between my eyes. I was so tired. "We start," I repeated.

Again:

"Kane, you didn't call me yesterday," Sunhee said. "I heard Nami wished you luck."

"Yeah."

"Are you nervous?"

"A little."

"Are you scared?"

"Sort of."

"You must be so excited though."

"It's nerve-wracking."

"What's that?"

"Means...I'm nervous."

"Ah! Why? You're Kane King!" Her laugh was like the sea. "You'll come out on the other side."

But how? I wanted to ask. At what cost?

I closed my eyes. "Yeah, noona," I sighed. "I will."

Again:

"King," Rosalie called. I looked up. I tried not to let the shock show. She frowned, took in the cigarette in my fingers and the darkness around us. She scoffed. "Really? Are you forty and alone?"

I got up. Eighteen and exiled. "Halfway to nineteen and freezing." I gestured at the cigarette smoke curling around my fingers. "What are you doing here? This isn't your building."

"I have econ in here," she explained. "Don't you have class?"

I did. Not that that was of her concern. I stubbed out the cigarette. "I've gotta go. I'll see you at practice."

I turned to leave. Rosalie cleared her throat, then called, "Hey."

I stopped. I glanced behind me and spotted her coming after me. She gestured down the hall. "Come on."

"You...don't have to—"

"I'm not, I'm just going this way, too. Besides, you look sad." She jutted her chin up ahead. "Kill your pride, King. Would it kill you?"

I watched the night go fuzzy. "No," I said.

Again:

"King, gear." Edwards slammed her fist against the doorway and gestured for me to hurry it up. "You gonna be late for your first match?"

My first match. I tried to realize it was my first match. But the rush felt more like illness and the buzz more like nerves and the noise more like ear-splitting drums. Everything was right but wasn't at all in the slightest one bit. Everything was was wasn't. My head hurt.

I grabbed my helmet. I caught myself on the bench. I said, "Stop." For one second.

"King!" AJ yelled. I felt his arm around my neck in another breath. But the grip was too tight to be friendly and his voice was bitter. "You gonna chicken out now when this is all you've talked about since you stepped foot on this track? ¡Qué broma! Hey. Don't sweat it, kid." He pushed me forward so harshly I nearly tripped. "You're Corvus. Don't blow it."

I swallowed, and tasted acid. 

"Okay," I breathed.

Again:

"King, your turn for trash," Vann said. "You getting sick? You don't look good."

"Fine," I said. "I went running."

"It's seven AM."

"I'll take it," I said. I grabbed it. 

It was heavier than I expected, as was my body, and I stumbled. Vann grabbed my shoulder and yanked me upright. He shook his head.

"You don't look—"

"I'm fine." I pushed past him. "I'll take it."

Again:

"Kane," Poppy said as we sat on the track in the dead of night. "You're not going to go see him, are you?"

"It's what we agreed on," I said.

"You can't. He'll kill you."

"I have to."

"You don't have to do anything. You don't ever have to do anything."

How nice, I thought idly. To live in a world where there is no "have to".

"I have to see him," I said. "I'll settle things with him."

"Is he someone you can settle with?"

You can't just leave. You can't just leave. You can't just leave. You can't just—

"I'll handle it, Poppy," I sighed. "Please? I'll handle it so let's stop talking about it. Okay?"

Poppy stared at me with something like sadness. She sighed, but she said, "Okay."

I said, "Okay."

Again:

"Welcome Corvus and Tritan fans alike, to this year's Green Diamond!" the unofficial-official announcer of the lower west coast—and as you came to find, really, just fucking everywhere—Nathan Roe announced. He laughed heartily into the mic. I wanted to throw up. "We welcome returning champions, Corvus, with their fresh lineup to their home track. They've got a real treat for us tonight—we'll be seeing the long-awaited, brand new rookie for none other than captain, Poppy Wilder!"

The crowd screamed, roared, pounded fists against my skeleton. I felt absolutely ill. The rhythm jostled me endlessly, rocked me back and forth like a riptide, tore my body in two with the force of the waves. I let my head hang as the track below my eyes spun around and around and around.

"You ready, rookie?" Diego called to me. "Hah, kidding! You look like you're not kidding."

"It's fine," I breathed. "I'm fine."

"King!" Coach called as she approached us in the tunnel. "You ready?"

I wasn't ready. I'd lied to myself, I'd completely lied to everyone, I wasn't ready and I wouldn't be ready and I couldn't do it, couldn't stomach it, the very idea, the very concept, I wasn't ready.

"Yes," I said.

Again:

"Smoking before a game," Kenzo observed. "You're not well."

I took another drag. I watched the ashes fall as my hand trembled something awful. "It's all right."

"No."

"Leave me alone."

"You're sick," he said. "Or going to be." He took my cigarette. "Something is wrong with you."

I wanted to cry. This wasn't how this was supposed to feel. My chest wrapped my skin over itself so tightly I felt every injury I'd ever sustained reopen and re-bruise. I pounded my knuckles against the leather on my chest. 

"No," I said. "Nothing's wrong."

I headed out.

Again:

I can't tell you how the match went. It's been too long. There've been too many. I was too tired. I can tell you the important parts.

"King!" Poppy snapped. "You're cutting corners and you're lagging behind on defense, pick up the pace!" 

"I think your trackee's asleep!" AJ cackled. "Like he hasn't been crashed into enough to wake him up!"

"AJ, not the time," Yami snapped. "King, are you all right?"

"I'm fine, I'm sorry," I said. "I'll watch my corners. I can handle it."

"King—"

I sped ahead. Nathan said, "Looks like King is getting ambitious out there with his new team. Is he going to get them the points to back it up?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, and kept going, going, going. I had to. 

I have no choice.

Again:

"King walks away at number three tonight, right behind his captain, Yang, and Janssen for points earned, and I have to say I very much enjoyed King's racing for the night! I haven't seen racing like that in a while, something that gritty but still some fantastic technique. I'm excited to see how this kid grows outside of Janchi..."

I threw my helmet into the locker. My heart threw its body against my ribs with such desperate ferverence for air that I swore it would tear the final artery clean off. My vision spotted with black like ink spots on paper, and the world bled together in a disorganized, blurry, blotchy mess. I pressed my hand against the cool locker metal, but my arm shook with the effort, and holding myself upright felt like the hardest task since I'd gotten on the fucking track.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathebreathebreathe.

I breathed. It tasted like blood.

"King!" someone said. I couldn't tell who. My head hurt something awful. "Hey, you actually pulled that off, I was a little uncertain—ow."

"King, get changed, man." A hand pushed me playfully, but it sent my hand slipping from the safety of the locker and tumbling into the nearest something, which happened to be a body.

The scent that found me said it was Kenzo, and he grabbed me by my shoulders. He frowned and said, "You're sick."

"Fine," I rasped. "I...just need to lie down."

Someone said something again. My ears swam with non-existent water. I breathed, but such water had made it into my lungs and it got stuck in my esophagus. I choked. I was so tired.

"King, hey." Another voice. Zahir? I couldn't tell you. "King."

I was so tired.

Again:

"Call 911." A warm hand. A cold hand. Cold floor. The sound of tearing, of talking, of arguing. "Now."

"What's wrong with him?"

"King!"

"King?"

The tick of a clock. Someone telling me to open my eyes. But my eyes were open. I swore so.

I was so tired.

"Someone take off his gear."

Again:

"Kane?"

I was so tired.

"Move out of the way!"

Again:

"Mister King. Can you hear me? Please nod if you can."

I could've nodded. I didn't. I let my eyes slip shut.

I was so very tired.

Again:

"He looked sick," Ramos whispered. The beep of a machine. The smell of white walls, blue blankets. The prick of a needle, of a few more. People. No people. Talking. No talking. "He seemed sick. I should have known."

"He is," Kenzo's voice said, then after a hesitation, "You shouldn't have."

I was so very, very tired.

Again:

"Has he eaten?" someone unfamiliar asked.

"What?" Poppy asked.

"Has he slept well?"

"What? I don't know."

"He seems very weak."

"What?"

I was so, so, very, very, very tired.

Again:

"Kane?"

"Leave him."

Again:

"King."

"Hold on."

Again:

"He's awake."

"He doesn't look good."

"Wait."

Again:

"What the hell is wrong with him? What is always wrong with him?"

Again:

"What the fuck is going on? Someone ask him."

Again:

"Kane?"

Again:

"King."

Again:

"Kane."

Again:

"King."

Again.

Again.

Again.

Again. 

Again.

Again.

Again. 

Again.

Again

again

again

againagainagainagain—

"Excuse me."

I looked up. 

A boy stood adjacent to where I was leaned against the wall, my body in a pair of too-loose Care Bear sweats and a LITTLE MISS SUNSHINE sweater that had been rushed to me from Meredith's locker and I'd failed to muster up the energy to take off in the past two days since putting it on. The nurse had told me she'd be bringing back breakfast for the day, but the very idea of food made me ill to my empty stomach and I'd fled the moment she left to the nearest adjoining hallway containing all types of trauma victims and ambulance passengers. 

It was equal parts stupid and clever of me, considering I was so weak that my injuries sustained from the race were still in healing, and said weakness meant the rush from one hall to another was far too much for my body to sustain, leaving it limp against the doorway of room 517. Where the boy found me.

He had a gray hoodie on with, its comically-large hood over his head with an even more comical cartoon cat on its breast. His eyes were cast down curiously at my Care Bears and his hands were  shoved inside the pockets of his beaten black jeans. From beneath the hood, strands of bright green and cyan hair peeked out at me; behind them, two black eyes staring out from between scratch marks and bandages made their way up to mine. His stare wasn't shocked, or pitying, or even remotely alarmed at seeing me. At most, he was surprised, and at least, inquiring.

"What?" I said.

He gestured down at our shoes. I looked. My slippers were beside an empty pudding cup. I said, "What?"

He said, "You knocked into my pudding cup, man." He bent down and grabbed the cup. He tilted his head at me without ever really fully looking at me. Then, he said, "You look like you need it more than me."

He couldn't have been less than a foot shorter than me, maybe more than, scrawnier than a matchstick and frankly, in a comparable state to me. But I was too tired, my head too cottony and my mouth too dry, for me to come up with anything more than a, "I'm all right."

The boy paused. He reached into his pocket. He withdrew a second cup with nimble fingers, then offered it to me. He said, "It's better than the Jell-O."

"I don't—"

He startled at something behind me. He pushed it into my chest, forcing me to grab it. 

"Wait," I said.

"You're welcome," he replied.

By the time I turned to look, saw nothing but a few doctors and nurses, and turned back to say something more to him, the boy was gone from sight.

I made a move to go forward, but my nurse came sliding over to stop me. She shook her head and gasped for breath.

"Mister King! There you are! Please do not run off without saying anything, goodness, I was worried sick. Come on, you can't be up and moving." She reached for me. "Let's get you back to bed." She paused, frowned down at the cup. "Where did you get that?"

I'd never had pudding, I realized. I frowned down at it. I said, "I don't know."

She opened her mouth, closed it, then said, "Well. Take it with you, you can eat it in your room."

We returned. I crawled back under the dreaded covers. I pushed away the plate of pancakes and eggs and bacon, letting the pudding cup sit there instead. I thought of the honey yogurt back in Busan that Sunhee made every morning. Honey yogurt, pudding. There couldn't be too much difference, right?

My heart threatened to tear itself apart.

I peeled back the foil, and took a bite. 

If I was in a different state, your story would have started here. But I was too tired, and the timing, as you can guess. I didn't even remember it until it didn't matter anymore. 

I never asked him about it, you know.

And, again.

__________________

So, sure, to put it short: I wasn't sick. I was depressed. Although, I suppose, the two are not very far apart at all, are they?

"He's not sick," I heard Yami tell someone. "Is he?"

"He's depressed," Poppy replied. "Close enough. Worse, arguably."

"Worse?"

"Harder to cure," she sighed. "He's sick, Yami."

"He's depressed."

"He's—"

"Malnourished," I repeated back.

The doctor shrugged her shoulders, but nodded. "Yes. That is the main issue." She presented the bloodwork to me. All the red underlines were at once alarming, but frankly, should not have been surprising. "I'm afraid your body has been running on very little necessary nutrients for quite some time, and it's taken a very bad toll on your overall health. Some of these labs could take months to return to normal. Alphas are tough, but you are not invincible." She tapped another set of papers. "Your BMI is below healthy range, and your blood pressure is alarmingly high. I take you haven't been sleeping well?"

I said, "I..."

"Your healing rate has slowed to that of an Omega," she continued. "You seem to be experiencing continuous issues with your muscular tension."

"I...I don't—"

"You're not doing well, Kane," she continued. "You're not well."

I stared at her. She sighed. "Do you have a primary care doctor?"

I was too scared to shake my head. I said, "I want to talk to Ramos."

"She's not a certified primary—"

"I want to talk to Ramos," I pressed. "I won't talk to anyone else."

Ramos and I go back in that way.

We sat side by side in the chairs, nothing but the city outside and the commotion beyond the doors to hear us. She said, "Do you want to tell me what's going on?"

I stared at the labs. I thought about racing, about Green Diamond. An Omega. Months. You're not well.

I swallowed. "I think," I tried quietly, "I'm just really tired."

Ramos stared at me for a long, long moment. Then, without warning but with enough trepidation, she leaned towards me, her hands outstretched between us like holding a delicate offering. It took me a moment to realize she wanted to hug me.

I figured, nothing else had worked.

I let her.

She squeezed me gently to her, a firm grasp that swallowed all the air in my lungs and pushed the blood to my head. She rested her chin on my shoulder. I let my cheek fall against hers.

"Oh, Kane," she whispered. "It'll be okay, okay?"

I was so fucking tired.

I closed my eyes, and hoped.

"You need to eat if you want to leave."

Kenzo stood in the doorway, watching me rearrange my steak and mashed potatoes into a smiling face with ribeye for hair. I shrugged. I said, "Not hungry."

"Liar," he replied. "A lycan that doesn't eat meat."

I shook my head. "I'm just not hungry."

"Dry steak and cold potatoes will make you ill," he said in Japanese. He sat down at the foot of my bed. He made a dismissive gesture at the plate. "What will you eat?"

I shook my head again. "I said I'm not hungry."

Kenzo held up a box of Lucky Strikes. I frowned. I reached for them, but he snagged them back. He said, "You'll get them back if you eat."

"You can't hold those hostage, they're mine."

"Mine now."

"You barely know how to smoke."

"You barely know how to eat." It was a rough blow, a dirty strike. I gaped at him. He shrugged me off, then, pushed his phone at me. An order window from Sun Nong Dan was open. "If you'll eat anything, it'll probably be this, yes?"

"Don't bother," I told him.

"You want to race?" he asked, and I paused. "A dead racer is no good to us. A dead racer will not win Green." He tapped his phone. "Order. I place in five."

I lost four minutes in, and ordered mushroom soondoobu. Kenzo got a beef combo, and he left without another word, only returning again that day to drop off the steaming dish complete with bean sprout sides.

He left me alone, and I felt a lot like dying.

I ate four spoonfuls with two spoonfuls of rice, before I threw the rest in the trash and cried myself to exhaustion.

Surprisingly, at least to me, Yami was the next in their arsenal.

She smiled brightly at me after knocking, waving hello when I hauled my head up to look at her. She carried two containers with her, and set them down at the foot of the bed, one filled with noodles, the other with something like curry. Her black hair was pinned back into Dutch braids, and when she spoke, she spoke like carrying a secret just for me.

"It's coconut curry," she told me. "My aunt back in Myanmar used to make it for me all the time."

I stared at it. I could smell the spices through the container. But I said nothing, turning my head the other way. 

After a few moments, Yami continued. "You know, I came here in high school, too." My head snapped to her. She grinned at my surprise. "I grew up in international schools, so I knew English perfectly well, maybe even better than Burmese, but that doesn't change the fact I barely knew anything about American culture. I remember feeling so lost—I barely knew how to cross the roads at first. My mother mainly spoke Burmese so I had to do almost everything myself in terms of researching colleges, finances, the works.

"I remember feeling so bitter that I couldn't feel as at home here as I did in Yangon," she went on, slowly unpacking the curry and noodles. "Up until college, all I wanted to do was go back. I thought to myself, if I'm not comfortable, how can I be happy? And college sounded even worse than high school. I was nearly ready to leave."

She poured the curry into the noodles and pulled out a pair of wooden chopsticks. She set them inside the container and placed it on the table beside the bed. Her face was a distant type of sad. 

"When I got into Avaldi, my mother told me I should go, especially since it was on scholarship. I told her I missed home too much, that if she was going back, I'd go with her. But she told me, home is not always what you know, but it's what you need. That's why home isn't somewhere, it's something—someone." Her brown eyes were soft on me, not pitying, but hopeful. "I know you think that we can't understand you, or that we're not what you're used to. I know it's hard to trust people in new places." Yami got to her feet. "But I hope you try."

She left me with the smell of coconut curry slicing through the hospital's dim air, and the burn of honesty in the back of my throat.

I'll be upfront with you that I wish I'd asked her how to make the curry when I could've.

On, and on, and on it goes.

Meredith, unsurprisingly maybe, was the first to get me to talk.

You might've guessed it already, but of all the people that have gone through Corvus in my time, Meredith and I might have the least in common—at least in where we overlap. Meredith Russo, a square racing princess, a dynasty carrier, who's never worked a day in her life and has never known a family that didn't do everything in their gentle power to care for hers, who has nothing but good things to say about everyone, who manages a strange softness even in the brutality of racing, who has a divine patience and a legendary earnestness. Meredith who was nothing like me, so I figured.

Even if you ask me now, I couldn't tell you what about Meredith made her understand people who seemed so apparently her adversary like Kenzo or me. The few times I'd tried to ask her just what enabled such understanding, she'd brushed me off with a laugh and a blank stare. Maybe that in itself said something. I really couldn't tell you for sure.

Certainly not then.

"It's raining sphinxes and werewolves out there," Meredith said, rushing through the door with a damp red coat over her shoulders and a black drenched umbrella beside her. She tore off her coat and her soft white hat to deposit on a chair. Her wild red curls were captured and pinned into a bun, leaving a few rebellious strands to dance on her cherry-tinted cheekbones. "Ever heard that variation?"

I blinked. I shook my head.

Meredith smiled and sat beside the bed. She glanced at my unfinished breakfast, the depleting heartbeat on the monitor. The nurses had all waved me off by now, only coming by to deliver meals and sit boredly at the bedside for approximately ten minutes, maybe just to say they tried when they knew damn well as I did that that tray was leaving the same way it'd came. I didn't have the energy to feel bad.

Meredith set a bag down and withdrew two peanut crumb buns. She handed one to me. She didn't even try to get me to start talking before she did. "Kenzo said you like this," she said. "Vann drove us. He says it's for you, but I know he likes it just as much. He's sweet, though, no?"

I shrugged. "Thanks," I said blandly.

"You're welcome," she replied dutifully. She withdrew began to eat away at her bun. I thought of the sweet and fluffy peanut bread I'd eaten at Miss Lim's. The idea made my chest hurt. "This one is my favorite, I have to say. I've tried almost every type of bun in the book at that place, but this one never fails me."

"It's good."

"Isn't it? What's your favorite?"

"Dunno."

"Have you ever tried the red bean?" It was an odd question. I was from the very country that her bun was from. 

I said, "Of course."

She nodded thoughtfully, as if we were talking over a coffee table and not a hospital bed. "You know, I was in Japan once for a layover, and they had this booth with dried sweet potato. One of the best snacks I've ever had. But when I asked Kenzo, he told me I ought to go to Korea and try the sweet potato there. I told him I would one day."

I frowned. "You haven't been?"

She shook her head. "I should, huh? It seems like such a nice place to go. Is it?"

"It's...all right," I said with a shrug. 

"I heard the countryside is where to go. Is it?" she continued.

I frowned. "It's different, is all."

Meredith took that in stride. She tore off another chunk of the bread. "I visit Greece a lot because of family, and you know, there's barely any racing there? I thought square racing would be a huge fad, what with Ancient Greece and all. Italy, too! But they only have a small group to show for it and no real trophies. I asked my aunt about it and she said it's because they pushed all the lycans out."

I said, without really thinking, "Fae occupy a large part of western Europe because of the Great Twenty War—their first counsel began in France. And Greece is a soccer country."

"Because of their history?" she asked.

I shook my head. "A lot of humans. Creatures emigrated because of civil rights issues in the 1900s. And humans can't race—not well, that is."

She laughed a little at that. "We'd crush them like grapes, the poor things."

"Not our problem," I said, then added, "We make more money, anyway."

She winked. "And to think I nearly went into soccer."

I glanced at her shimmering rain boots. "Good thing you didn't," I said, and Meredith grinned like she knew exactly what that implied.

"Do you like history?" she went on. "Or are you just good at it?"

 I frowned at her. "What's that mean?"

"Means what it means," she said. "Do you like it? Or are you good at it? If you're lucky, it's both." She took another bite of the bun. "I believe that considers you lucky."

"Or normal. Who doesn't like what they're good at?"

"Fair. So, do you?"

I shrugged.  "It was the only subject I thought was interesting."

Meredith tossed the second to last piece in her mouth. It was only then that I opened mine, and tore off a crumb for myself. She made no comment, didn't even look at the bun, keeping her calm, nonchalant gaze on mine.

"Tell me about it," she said.

I only ate half the bun by the end of the hours we talked, but I felt full for the first time.

I took this philosophy class about reality and epistemology for my major electives once. My professor was an egomaniac and a well-established, six-time published professional asshole who wore some of the most hideous skirts in all of Anthropologie's collection, and could never fully grow out her gray hairs to rid herself of her blonde ones or make her any less grating than she already was. Nonetheless, once she told us something that ruined my day.

"Beauvoir was great friends with Sartre and Camus for a while, but politics, you see," she said with a sigh. She sat on her desk. "Do you all know how Camus died? Fun fact, actually. He died rather young, in a car crash, with a train ticket in his pocket. His friend offered him a ride right before he got on. Dark, but ironically fitting, no?" She smiled sadly. "For an existentialist to die with the opposite direction in his pocket."

Class ended. I thought about it in my walk back to the Talon. During dinner that night. In my homework the next day. I think about it now, too. What she didn't tell us was the manuscript for The Last Man sat in his pocket, right next to the ticket. What she didn't tell us was it was never finished. 

I wonder what was my car crash. What was my manuscript.

What what was my train ticket.

Rosalie Gossard hated me to my guts, and you can quote me on it. Hell, she has.

Rosalie stood in the doorway. She had two Dunkin' Donuts coffees in her hands. She set one in front of me and kept the other for herself. I gaped at her, as if to ask her why she, of all people, was here. She didn't look at me, as if to refuse that question outright.

Many a minute passed. I drank one sip of the coffee, and welcomed the first flood of caffeine I'd felt in days. My dying heartbeat increased by one tick.

Rosalie said, "I don't believe in giving someone a pity pass in life." She sat down. "I think that makes me really bitchy sometimes."

I raised a brow at "sometimes" and she sent me scowl. I kept drinking the coffee. 

"But if someone's got shit going on and they're upfront about it, then I believe in being a decent person and understanding that," she continued. "I'm not heartless."

"I don't need your speeches," I rasped. "You don't have anything to prove to me."

"I'm not trying to prove something to you."

"Then you want me to prove something, and I don't want to." I sighed. The talking took too much energy. "If you're here to tell me I should've been more honest, I should've been this or that, then...I already know, all right?" I pulled my knees up and closed my eyes. "I already know, Rosalie."

We sat in silence for a long moment. The morning whistled outside, singing sad melodies. Rosalie sighed and leaned back. She shook her coffee around and around. 

She said, "I'm sorry."

I frowned. I looked up.

Her eyes were cast off, green and gray, their focus stiff. "I'm sorry for being bitchy, and for picking fights with you," she muttered. "But, you've acted like you think we're the bane of your existence from the start, like all the other rich kid racers that think they're all that, and I figured you couldn't give a shit about us anyway. It seemed like that." She shook her head. "Why do you hate us so much?"

I startled a bit at that. Because I didn't really hate anyone in Corvus. But such explanation felt half-hearted and vague. I scrounged for words like digging for gold.

After our coffees began to grow cold, I said, "I got scared."

You're so...pathetic.

"My old team, everyone was there to be someone. We were each other's biggest competition," I said. "Coming to Corvus, I thought I'd have to do the same things, or that everyone else at least would. Teammates weren't friends. And racing was..." I scraped my tongue on my teeth. I wished I was talking to Sunhee. "Racing is what I have."

I watched her wait for more—I didn't know there was supposed to be more. Not any more that she could know. I could feel Poppy watching me, as if from afar. The words fled from me, and I desperately grabbed their heels.

"I don't hate you," I said to her. "I get angry. You're frustrating. I don't know what it is that you do and how to do that. It's not—I don't hate you." I shook my head. "It's just...not about that."

Rosalie gave me a long stare, her stare hard as rocks and digging into my skin. Eventually, she relented it and stared at her coffee instead. It was the longest I'd ever seen her be quiet in my lifetime. 

Eventually, she got up to leave. As she went, she said, "That bastard of yours that you know. If you've got any enemies here—" She opened the door and pointed at me. "—it sure as shit isn't the crows."

When she shut the door, I realized she meant it as "if you've got any allies".

No one else visited me. Diego tells me later that it was because he felt too angry. Zahir says it was too awkward. Qi and AJ never grew to bother with me enough to answer, not that I even asked. That left one more person.

"Does anyone still call you Opal?"

Poppy startled. She must've figured I was sleeping. I sure looked it. It was a weird experience to be dying and be so starkly aware of it. You'd think you'd be more panicked, and you'd be wrong. You're just in a lucid state of holding your breath, and a dreaming state of never-ending wishing. All in all, you're actually quite calm.

Or, you're asleep.

March was dying now, April zipping on its skin to take its place. You're probably still wondering how I became everyone's favorite racing talk considering I barely even raced for the first half of my first season. You're likely thinking that it sounds sort of unfair of me. But a lot can change in a few months. A lot of people can happen to you all at once.

Poppy unwrapped the thin scarf from her neck and set it on my lap, its threads bluer than the morning sky. She leaned back in her chair. She watched my slow heartbeat wheeze on the monitor.

"My parents, sure," she said. "Relatives and such. People that don't really know me and don't really want to."

"Your parents?" I said.

She nodded. "My dad, at least." When my gaze turned inquiring, her lip quirked, but her eyes were dark and dull. "My dad has well forgotten that I'm in his world for the past several years and didn't really recall the whole name thing. I'm pretty sure he's forgotten what school I'm in."

I frowned. "He's not attentive."

She shrugged. "Not around to be." 

"He left you."

"He's left a lot of people, not that you can tell him that." She waved it off. "That's your long answer."

"I'm sorry," I said. 

"Why?" she asked. "You didn't make him."

I shrugged. "It must've felt very lonely," I murmured.

Poppy stared at me for a few moments. She said, "Why do you let him treat you that way? What do you feel you owe to him, that you let him do that to you?"

I didn't know how to say it to her, in any language, really. I didn't know how to tell her what it was like to have every piece of yourself belong to someone else, how it felt to be constructed by eyes instead of hands and silences instead of words. How it felt for every open hand in your life to close on you like a fetter, every good thing solidify into an anvil, every dream to turn into a trap. How quickly people left, how fast faces changed, how bitter things could grow in such short time. How it felt when you'd mistaken sweet things for good things, nice smiles for kind hearts, calm words for gentle natures. How it felt when you realized you'd built your own traps, your own walls, your own plate and skewer and fire to roast over. How it felt when you'd spent so long in day-to-day survival from yourself, from others, from everything everywhere constantly, that it was almost offensive to leave it. How it felt when your very life had turned into nothing but proof of purchase for everyone else's.

How it felt to be alone in it.

I swallowed. "I didn't come here with much," I murmured. "I didn't know much about racing at all. I didn't know anyone. I met him by coincidence." It was almost comical to remember the scaffolding in the church. I hadn't been back in so long. "He was...nice. He was friendly. He offered to help me out—he could get things or do things for me that I couldn't. And we got close, he taught me to race, he got me into Greylaw, he got me captain, he got me here. He's the only reason Corvus even looked at me in the first place," I said. "My life. Being here. I owe him that."

I could hear the sound of fetters locking on me like a symphony. I closed my eyes. I awaited my fate.

Poppy leaned back in her chair and sighed, almost casually, flicking her auburn hair over her shoulder. "I remember Coach telling me something like that," she said, and I perked up. "Something about a young man pestering her day and night about a senior in some hoity-toity private school. We'd already picked our lineup by then. I had a plane ticket to New York for my sub." I couldn't help it when my jaw dropped at that, and she looked amused. "Coach tossed you in the trash, said your cheerleader was pissing her off. But, I don't know, I just got too curious. I kept thinking about what made you so special that he was willing to knock on our door day and night for you.

"When I saw his name, I remembered he was supposed to be recruited alongside me and Kenzo. So now everything is too aligned and I've gotta see what this kid is all about," she continued, staring off somewhere out the window. "Coach had gotten rid of everything, but I found a physical DVD he'd sent—who even makes those anymore? Is that how devoted he is, I mean, Jesus Christ, I remember thinking. Anyway, the library has old computers so I popped it in one night and watched."

I shook my head. "What...made you change your mind?"

Poppy drummed her fingers on the chair's arm. "I've seen a shit ton of racers being in Corvus. You meet all kinds of amateurs, pros, champions, wannabes. But there's some you watch and you can just feel how much they really want it, you can see every track they'll ever race in them because that's all they see. And you can race a thousand tracks and you can train under a hundred mentors and you can ride ten thousand bikes, but it's something you either have, or you don't." Poppy pointed at me. "You have it, Kane. And that's not something that bastard gave you. That's you.

"You owe experiences to people, you owe memories. But you don't owe your life. He might've helped you build what you've got, but you're the one that wanted it enough to make it happen," she said. "You make you. Everyone else just gets to ask. So who are you?"

We sat in tacit quiet, and waited for me to find my answer.

"Two of you. You're thirty feet away from each other on Mt. Everest." It's honors physics, Greylaw Academy, junior year. I don't remember the teacher, other than it was a young, spry werewolf in a room full of disdainful, prejudiced lycans. Luan took it, so I took it. Aster sat behind me and always slept through the first twenty minutes. He tapped the board. "Ice, sleet, snow, the works. You can barely see your hand. Tell me, how do you know where you are? Better yet, how do you know where not to go?"

Someone raised their hand. "Don't they have a rope tied around them both?"

He nodded. "Yes, but what does that do?"

"You're tied to each other," someone else pipes. "You can communicate with the rope."

He nodded and drew two stick figures, one on each side of the whiteboard, with a rope tied between them extending through the entire board. "How?" he asked. 

"You tug on it."

"Why?" he pressed.

The person shrugged. "It...lets you know someone else is on the other side of that rope."

He nodded, then said, "But, why else have it? And, why so far? Why not closer, wouldn't that be easier to communicate?" He tapped the long stretch of rope again. "Why be so far apart if you're trying to stay together?"

Someone else raised their hand. "Because if one person falls in somewhere, the other person has enough time to react to grab the rope and hold them up."

The teacher grinned, and nodded. "Exactly. Or else, what good is it to have the both of you?"

I stared at the figure on the board for a long, long moment. I traced the rope back and forth and back and forth, over and over again. 

I wondered should I tug my rope, if there would be anyone on the other side to feel it.

_________________

If I'm being honest with you, it took me a month to get out of the hospital.

They never fully admitted me to a specialized program, mostly because I refused and partly because Ramos didn't think it was an ethical enough program to help. She opted to enroll me in a better one, but I didn't want to risk the press or worse, my parents finding out, so I denied that, too. 

Ramos sat down in front of me in the empty office. My sweater hung off of me like a sad sheet, my jeans too low for my liking, my skin too cold for the temperature, my head filled with the clouds of April. April. How was it already April?

She said, "What can I do?"

I shook my head. "Ramos."

"I'm your nurse," she tried. "I'm here to help you, Kane. I want to help you." 

I swallowed. Shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said, and I meant so.

She let me return to my room without prying more. I was content to waste away the rest of the Saturday in bed, but before I could even open the door, Vann was at my side. His grin was faint, but genuine. He gently clapped me on the shoulder.

"Hey, man, you look good," he said, which I could've told you was a lie. "How're you feeling?"

I shrugged. "Fine, I guess."

He nodded. He said, "We're all getting dinner as a group. Come on."

I frowned. "I don't want—"

"Mandatory from Poppy. Come on, we can go together."

"Vann—"

"You don't even have to eat," he sighed, giving me a sad smile. "Just, come with. Talk with the team."

I pursed my lips. I knew I was in no position to argue.

So I grabbed my things and headed to the cafe for everyone's first official mandatory Corvus dinner.

Poppy was always a clever girl, so it shouldn't have surprised me that she'd come up with this particular strategy. After all, if there was anything I was susceptible to at eighteen-and-stupid, it was peer pressure. 

"Philly cheesesteaks and sushi?" AJ tossed his hands up. "It's a match made in Heaven."

"Or Dante's Inferno," Meredith whispered, gaping horrified at the mess on his plate.

"I like to prioritize health," Diego argued, gesturing at his salad.

"And meat," Zahir said, gesturing at the two Philly cheesesteaks on his other plate.

"You wound me."

"Anyone want extra fries? I grabbed two baskets," Qi called, then promptly added, "Not you, AJ."

"The station down had Japanese curry," Yami piped, displaying her bowl. "And I grabbed some strawberry cake!"

"Like the character?" Diego asked.

"Like my dessert," Rosalie said, and opened her hand. "I'd gladly take that off your hands, Yami."

"You need all the sweetness you can get," Diego sneered.

"You need all the cream that you don't get."

"At the table?" Vann sighed at them. "Right in front of my cheesesteak?"

Kenzo plucked the cake right out of Yami's hands. She gaped at the vacant space. He placed his slice of blueberry cake there instead, and said, "You snooze, you lose."

"Sometimes I wonder if Kenzo likes anyone at any point ever," Qi snapped.

Kenzo pretended to think about it, then took a bite of his curry. "No."

"At least he's honest," Vann said.

"Jesus," Rosalie muttered.

"Kenzo," Kenzo corrected.

"Kane," Poppy said, and slid me a plate complete with garden salad, a steaming garlic bread, and a slice of lemon pepper salmon from the hot bar. "If you want some."

No one even acknowledged that gesture, nor did they attempt much conversation with me at all. But I was grateful to be invisible for a little while. It was a grace I wasn't owed often.

The food made me so hungry, it physically hurt to look at it. But I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth and shook my head. "I'm not hungry," I murmured. 

Poppy didn't pry, and left the plate between us as the evening rolled on. When dinner had ended, and everyone was up and leaving with their empty trays, Poppy packed the food into a to-go container and handed it to Vann to keep in our fridge. 

I disappeared into my room without a word.

Green Diamond was nearly over, but Edwards was more stubborn than me.

"You look like death," she told me bluntly when I inquired why I wasn't allowed at the Corvidae. "You can't handle it here right now. You wanna come back on my track, you'll get better."

"What?" I insisted. "That's not fair."

"What's not fair is putting my game in jeopardy for one racer," she replied, and that snapped my mouth shut tight. She shook her head, gestured sadly at me. "If you care about your race, you'll take care of yourself, King. I care about your race. So, go take care of yourself."

Always timing.

Vann opened my door, and Kenzo appeared. He glanced down at Napoleon and revolutionized France, and said, "Fuck that. Gym?"

I frowned. "Gym? Right now?"

"Gym," he replied. "Right now."

Kenzo yanked me past the treadmills and the weights before throwing me in front of a sandbag. Poppy was there, her hands already taped, her gloves at her side. He grabbed a roll of tape and tapped his foot beside him to beckon me.

Poppy flashed me a blinding smile. "Welcome to our hobbies, Kane."

"Boxing is your hobby?"

"One of many. We're interesting like that."

"Are you really?"

"Sometimes I like to crochet."

"I don't even know how to sew."

"It shows," Kenzo said. He opened his hands and waited for me to place mine on them. He began taping them in a rhythmic wrap. "You can finally learn to hit back for once."

"Kenzo," Poppy snapped.

But I weirdly wasn't offended. I let him finish, then grabbed the gloves. "Finally."

If you care about your race, you'll take care of yourself. 

Whatever the hell that meant, they seemed to know.

"Ready?" Poppy asked.

I took a defeated breath. "All right."

"So this is just something we're doing, like, every time?" AJ asked through a mouthful of sweet potato fries. "Like, I'm not getting out of this one, huh?"

"Have some decency and close your mouth when you're chewing," Poppy said.

"Or just keep it closed forever," Qi muttered.

Poppy pushed a bowl of bibimbap to me, a small slice of cheesecake in accompaniment. "The cake is really good."

I stared at it for a long moment. I took a spoon, prodded at the egg. The smell was both appetizing and awful. I took one mouthful of rice, and felt it sting my gums.

"Green Diamond is almost over," Rosalie said. "I have some bets to place."

"With your new money," Yami said, grinning. "We should all go shopping to celebrate. We haven't yet."

Another mouthful. I put the spoon back. 

I listened in silence.

"Why are you up?" Vann asked.

I looked up from my place in the kitchen. I shrugged. "Can't sleep."

Vann hummed. He sat beside me. He glanced over the essay I had due for sequence, and grimaced, before jutting his chin to the black coffee I had sitting beside me. "Black? You're a menace. Not even a dash of cream?"

I shook my head wordlessly. He said, "You know, at the end of Red, in the morning, I make a mean coffee martini. You ever tried one?" I shook my head again. He nudged me. "Well, you're gonna have to get used to drinking real coffee if you want to try."

I hesitated. I closed my book. "Why'd you choose racing?"

Vann's face startled a bit at the sudden solemnity. He opened his mouth, closed it. He got up and grabbed a bag of potato chips from the cabinet and sat back down with a fond smile.

"I love the feeling of working towards something," he said. "I love the satisfaction you feel when you're finally there on the track, like all the practice and the work you put yourself through finally pays off. I like that end goal. I like the ending."

"Do you ever get scared?" I blurted.

Vann blinked. He said, "Of what?"

I shook my head. "Never mind."

We sat in further silence. Vann chomped away on his chips while I tore words out of my head for this awful essay. 

Vann turned the bag of chips to me and said, "Everyone gets scared on that track." I looked up at him, and his smile was gentle. "But if you didn't, if it was easy, wouldn't everyone be on there?"

They choose what they want and who they want to be. It's why it's so hard to be one.

"Can I ask you something?" he said, and I nodded cautiously. He hummed. "Why racing?"

I paused. "It's...all I've got."

Vann looked taken aback at that, but didn't comment further. He just nodded, then added, "Can I ask you something else?" 

"All right."

"When's your birthday?"

"What?"

"When is your birthday?"

"I—May 24th."

"Oh. Spring baby. All right. Something else?"

"Okay?"

"Do you own any color that isn't navy or dark green in your closet?"

"I don't know. Shoes."

"Shoes, huh?"

"They're easy."

"You're funny," he laughed. "How about pink shoes?"

I shook my head. "I draw lines."

He laughed again, and the sound was weirdly invigorating. He popped a chip into his mouth. "You ever watch this show called Friends?"

I shook my head again. He offered me a chip, and surprisingly, I took it. "No," I said, and turned to him. "What's it about?"

Two mornings later, Poppy retrieved me with nothing but the word, "Gym!" yelled at my face. I would've tried to argue, but I knew better.

She pushed me in front of the punching bag. She said, just loud enough for only me to hear, "Pretend it's all those shitty fuckers' faces."

"Who?" I asked.

She splayed her wrapped hands. "Everyone you want it to be."

I faced the bag. 

It's why it's so hard to be one.

You're so...pathetic.

I raised my fist, and swung.

_____________

I'll save you the torture; it took me another month to get cleared back onto the track.

I needed racing like blood transfusion, and at that point in the game, I didn't have to time to get into Ramos's nitty gritty emotional reparations. I needed something drastic, someone drastic.

Kenzo placed two hundred dollars in front of my There, There and with it, a takeout container of beef soondoobu with rice. He said, "Gain twenty pounds in the next two months and I tell Coach to put you on."

I gaped at him. He stared back at me. I opened my mouth, closed it, then said, "You can't do that."

"You want to race?" he asked. I scowled. He hummed, then tapped the money. "Do it."

I knew he was right. Green Diamond was closing in. I needed to race. I had to race.

I took the soondoobu.

The next month was feverish hellhole of everything from midterms to Poppy to Luan nightmares to food. The very sound of probation and the sight of the Corvidae were the only things that shoved two meals a day down my throat and kept it there (at least for the most part). Dinner had slowly become a necessity, as the constant interaction and chaos kept me from thinking about the plate in front of me too much until it was gone and too late. Everyone seemed rather proud of me, but it seemed only Poppy knew the deal I'd struck with Kenzo because she didn't say a single word.

"You look better," she told me one night after a midnight practice. 

"Thanks," I muttered.

"Keep it that way?" she asked.

I pursed my lips. I said, "I'll try." 

I didn't have another choice. Kenzo had a point, after all. They all knew it. More weight was more muscle was a better performance on the track. More energy to blow on laps, more steam to blow on the other team. Everything was for the race. I didn't really have another reason to go off of.

As promised, Kenzo persuaded Edwards to let me back on the track for practices and drills. The final Green Diamond match would be mine to race in if I proved my skills hadn't gone to shit on my too-long break, but I had Poppy to thank for keeping me afloat. Kenzo gave me another two hundred dollars and a pair of cherry red Air Force Maxes to gain another ten, although it took twice as long all mind-fuckery considered.

"It's just food," Kenzo said. "You are a dramatic type."

I spat out the mouthwash and glowered at him. "Fuck you."

He shrugged. He took out a cigarette, frowned at it, then handed it to me. I snatched it and flicked on the light. 

"It's not that simple," I muttered.

"Because you will not make it," he replied. I took a drag and he copied the move. "You are too scared."

"Get out."

He slid me a fifty. "Green Diamond ends in two weeks."

"Stop. I don't want your money."

Kenzo left it with me and took the smoke with him.

Ramos said, "I like your shoes." She said, "You're doing wonderfully, Kane. Your vitals are looking so much better. You're nearing a better range, too!"

I stared at my cleats. I thought of the track, the track, the track. I said, "Yeah, I guess."

"What shifted it for you?" she asked. "If I may ask."

I took in a deep breath. Poppy's wrapped hands, her firm expression, flashed over my eyes. I opened my eyes. I swore, for a second, Luan was sitting across from me. 

"I wanna win," I said.

There's nothing like your first Diamond Prix. It's worse than drinks, than drugs, than sex, than anything anyone can serve you in a glass, a syringe, or a mouth. It's utter hell, bloodshed and brutality and the works of all nine rings. But it's the most alive you'll ever feel in your whole racing career, and then some.

"Welcome back, fellow rookie," Diego called, and tentatively patted me on the back. When I didn't pull away, he hummed, and gave me a more enthusiastic smack on the shoulder. "Ready to finally see the fruits of your labor?"

"Of our labor," Rosalie vehemently reminded. She jutted her chin at me in curt greeting, and sidled up beside me on her bike. They all already looked so geared up, ready to race, the nerves flushed out of their system and left in Yellow. I choked down the feeling of being so far behind. "You gonna show us the fruits of your benching?"

"I've been practicing," I argued.

"For everyone's sake, I hope so," she said, then waved off my scowl. "I'm kidding. You'll be fine. You'll rob these fuckers with the rest of us."

"I heard robbing," AJ called, and swiped his tongue over his teeth with a wink. His eyes flashed red. "It'll be a grand heist."

"Not as long as you're cutting all your goddamn corners like skinning potatoes," Poppy called from behind him. Qi bonked his head on the way to her bike and he stuck his tongue out at her. He opened his mouth to add a comment, but Poppy snagged him by the back of his jacket and yanked him backwards before he could. "Back together again."

"A family reunion!" Vann said with a laugh. "It feels like Christmas."

"I'm glad you're here, King," Yami said with a bright smile. "We've finally got all our crows in a row."

"I was gonna say that first," AJ murmured.

Poppy clasped her hands together. "Enough chit-chat. Let's talk about the match, yes?"

I looked up at the scoreboard, and back down to her. I stepped into the circle. The crowd was like a live wire running through the stadium, the electricity of their padding feet and clapping hands and shouting voices running through the pavement with a current so strong it threatened to break open my skeleton. My hands shook with the effort it took to keep them still, and the metal teeth of my cleats dug eagerly into the concrete below me.

Once we were sent to our bikes, I ran my gloved hand over the nose of mine, the leather handlebars, the metal guts. Green Diamond. Kane King. Class I Drachmann Alpha, front port sub of Avaldi University's Corvus. No Luan. No Yubaek. No Janchi. No Kitae. 

"Hey." Poppy stopped beside my bike. Her hazel eyes burned and blazed with golden brimstone, alight from within her helmet. I could tell she was smiling. I could tell she, just like every one of us, wanted nothing more than to go. "You ready?"

I took a deep breath. I grasped the handlebars tight.

This wasn't high school. This wasn't even first semester. This was now. This a second chance in my second chance.

I breathed it all in.

"Yes," I said.

We won, by the way.

________________

"What is this?" I asked.

Edwards looked at me like I was being stupid. She tapped the envelope window and turned back to her computer. "Payout. Comes every third of the month. It's your first one, so you have to sign the paper inside and give it back to me, all right?"

I stared at the envelope. Now that I was no longer benched and off suspension, I was back in weekly games via Ramos's clearance and Kenzo's bribing, which meant I was now part of the cut of the pay with that. 

Corvus was notoriously the top team to be on, and that came with payout. It was a team that had amassed sponsors from all seven corners of the world, with brand deals and in-match bets that stretched from the hundreds to the hundred thousands. Before Zahir had taken over finances with Edwards, it was Qi in charge of coordinating our bets. And if you thought Zahir had a strategy, then Qi was too smart for her own greed.

"Never bet more than twenty percent of their total assets," she said. "It's too suspicious and it tanks them for future matches. A good bet is never more than they can afford, just enough to fly under their radar, and way above what you would have made alone. This is how you bet, kid. What was your question?"

I craned my neck away from her. "Nothing."

It was an unholy amount of money for a few matches. It was more than I'd ever received from the streets, that was for sure. For a moment, I was certain I was hallucinating an extra zero. But there it was, clear as day.

"What're you gonna do with your first check?" Vann asked. "Every rookie has some big thing they wanna go do or buy."

I stared at the balance on my phone. I drummed my fingers on the table. It was enough to buy a handsome closet makeover, some nice shoes, some bike touch-ups, enough organic, all-natural groceries for two months. A couple diamond rings. A shitty car.

I paused. I glanced up at Vann. "Where do you get used cars in America?"

I could have waited for another several payouts and sidle up with the likes of Zahir or Kenzo or Poppy to get a beast of a vehicle, but when you've spent as long as I had without a way around by yourself, you get creative.

"A Corolla?" Vann said, raising a brow down at me. "Are you sure?"

"Hey," the bloodsucker snapped. "She's a beautiful Corolla."

"She's three years old."

"And not a day over!" he protested, then flashed a red-eyed grin at me. "18000. Take it or leave it. The left backseat doesn't have a seatbelt, by the way."

I stared at the car. It'd been two payouts by then. Spring was hitting its zenith. Green was ending soon and with it came the dread of summer and after that, the dread of Red. Something to make it less dreadful.

Vann eyed me. "I mean, up to you. But, not even a new one?"

I shrugged. I said, "If it runs."

The bloodsucker grinned. "Oh, she runs."

I pursed my lips, and held out my hand. "It's a deal."

__________________

It doesn't matter what they tell you; everything changes when you start making money.

And I mean everything.

It's an impressive phenomenon, really. Especially if you've never had so much money before in your life. The whole world turns into a gambling table, an arcade room, a Swedish candy store. High risk, high price, high rewards; yet cruising altitude, nonetheless.

I didn't know what to do with the payouts at first. Initially, other than the car, I bought odd things as if to cope with the numbers, everything from a pair of vintage red leather combat boots that never saw more than two wears to a limited edition, discontinued card game from Depop. I got a second piercing because Kenzo dared me, because I could. I applied for a high-limit credit card because Qi demanded me do it, because I could. I bought a bag that needed a bag. Fourteen dollar smoothies or twenty five dollar sandwiches or thirty three dollar salads or fifty dollar salmons. Department stores and reservation restaurants and invite-only dinners and list-only deliveries. Dumb decisions. Freeing decisions.

Poppy kept a close eye on my money, mostly because she figured I didn't have anyone else to ask about it and when you suddenly have the amount of money that I did, you had to get smart or you'd pay the price of being particularly stupid later. 

"Savings," she explained, gesturing at the pamphlet as we sat in the velvet chairs, waiting for the bank lady to return to us. "And a Roth. We all have one. You should get one. It's important. Every payout you get, you should put at least thirty percent into savings. Put another twenty into the Roth. The rest is collateral."

"Collateral," I repeated.

"For fun. For all your fucking shoes," she snickered. "That strawberry smoothie you like."

"It's good."

"Sixteen dollars good?"

"Fourteen," I said. "They have a deal on Tuesdays."

She elbowed me. "Good."

"What name did you want on the card?" the woman asked me, then warned, "It's best if you use your legal name, though."

I pursed my lips. I said, "Kane King."

She shrugged, then nodded.

Rosalie said, "I don't know jack shit about shoes." She stood up. "Someone here knows a lot about shoes. I'm forgetting who."

Diego glanced at me. "Don't you have a lot?"

"I have some," I argued.

"Twenty two pairs," Kenzo said.

"Snitch," I muttered.

"Who taught you that word?" Vann asked.

"Qi, watch that mouth," AJ said to her.

"It was AJ," Qi said.

"Snitch," he muttered.

"We should go shopping!" Yami gasped, getting to her feet and brushing off her dress. "We can make a day of it. We haven't all gone to the mall in so long."

"Thank God," Diego sighed, then jutted his chin at me. "Because he needs some style help."

I frowned. "What's wrong with my style?"

"You own three colors," he said.

I gestured at my bright green high tops. Meredith smiled. "I like your style, King." Diego gave her an unconvinced look, and she hastily added, "Although, some color is always nice."

Zahir glanced at Kenzo. "You keep him from buying more shoes, we'll go?"

Kenzo glanced at Poppy, who beamed brightly, the flower on her throat blooming with every word she spoke. 

"Pack your shit, crows," she said. "To the mall we go."

Meredith lifted a jacket up to me. "Isn't it pretty?"

"It's pink," I said.

"And what of it?" Rosalie argued. "Pink is beautiful."

"And bright." I turned around. "I like this one."

"That's black."

"What of it?"

Zahir grabbed an olive green hoodie and displayed it to me. He smiled proudly. "Eh?" I shrugged. He sighed. "I'm gonna lose this bet."

"Bet?" I asked, but Diego was already whirling me around to push me towards a pale yellow cardigan. 

"Imagine this: you're a beautiful lemon," he began.

"Imagine this: you're a baby chicken," Rosalie interjected.

I let loose a laugh. I pointed at a pair of black jeans. "I like those."

"Imagine this: I won a bet nonetheless," Rosalie said to Diego, who looked ready to pop her head off at her smug smile.

Poppy found us with a pile of clothes over her arm and a bright smile. "Who won a bet?"

Rosalie was too busy pushing Diego behind a rack of jeans as Zahir filmed them. Meredith grinned. "Nothing."

I glanced at Poppy. "Is it too late to go back to the bench?"

Poppy pushed my hair over my eyes. "I picked some things. Come on."

"I see color in there, are you sure he won't start convulsing?" Diego called.

"Say it's not too late," I said.

"He's saying that because we're hanging out now," Zahir laughed. "I think that's a Kane King 'thank you'."

"That's a Kane King 'help me'," I said.

"This is a Poppy 'yes'," Poppy said, and dumped the clothes into my arms.

Despite it, my shoulders felt a little lighter.

At the register, I pushed my card to the cashier, but Poppy intercepted with a crisp ebony card in my place. I opened my mouth, but she shook her head.

"You don't have to," I said. She waved me off. "I'll pay you back—"

"Don't even," she scoffed, putting her hand up. She tapped the card. "Just don't go back to the bench, okay?"

We never spoke of it again.

_______________

[12 New Messages - the crow cult]

12:09 AM - diego de la cruz™

HAPPY BIRTHDAY KANE
HAH
I WIN

12:11 AM - rosie

I sent it to him individually at 12:01
get fucked

12:12 AM -  천사

Happy birthday king !!
We celebrate tonight?

12:14 AM - rosalie

Someone congratulate me on winning

12:23 AM - Z

Fuck i lost 
I set my alarm
Happy birthday Kingg

12:33 AM - The Captain

happy birthday dude
we celebrate at dinner tonight ok

be there
i'll track you down

8:09 AM - Number one opp

Happy birthday, King. It's been my pleasure to watch you grow as a racer and as a teammate in this past season, however tumultuous it's been. I hope you have a lot of fun with your teammates and friends. Know I'm always here if you need anything.

9:01 AM - Pseudo-psychic

Happy birthday, Kane! I'm so happy to have been your nurse for the past season! You've gone through a lot and grown up so much. I'm very proud of you. I hope your birthday is fantastic and filled with a lot of good memories! Know I'm always around if you need anything.

10:22 AM - Sunny

Happy birthday !!!!!! Wish I could be there with you but I hope you're having an incredible birthday anyway, although probably not as incredible as if I was there ;) eat lots and be healthy for another year, ok? We eat lots of bingsu when you come back! my treat

[10:25 AM - 2 MISSED CALLS - Unknown Number]
[10:34 AM - 3 MISSED CALLS - Unknown Number]

[34 Instagram Notifications]
[2 New Direct Messages - field.of.asters]

10:55 AM - aster !! (field.of.asters)

hey! happy birthday :) hope your day is wonderful and you celebrate with friends and fam

10:57 AM- aster !! (field.of.asters)

let me know if you ever want to hang. i'm always here

______________

I'm telling you this story from a point that's rather far away from its actual occurrence, and though a lot has happened from it—as you can imagine—I'll be frank with everyone that the summer after my first year was probably one of the best summers I've ever managed.

Our first away game after summer break began was one against UC Berkeley and involved the complex process of flipping coins until, eventually, Rosalie was my roommate, Diego was with Zahir and Vann, Meredith was with Yami, Qi was with Kenzo, and AJ was with Poppy. There were issues immediately.

"I want to trade," Poppy said. "Yami."

AJ gaped. "And what is wrong with me?"

"You snore like San Andreas challenged you," she replied, and waved him off. "It was a five hour drive in that van. I'm gonna kill someone or myself, or both in that order. AJ, go room with Yami."

Yami slid behind Meredith. "But she'd be lonely."

"Very lonely," Meredith vouched.

AJ turned to Qi, who pushed his cheek back. "I paid good money to keep you out of my room."

Kenzo made a show of folding the bills into his pocket as AJ watched with a sneer. He glanced at me. "Trade?"

AJ beamed at me. "King. Have I mentioned you look fantastic today? New shoes?"

"Doc Martens," I said. "And, no."

"I'm your elder. You gotta do what I say."

I glanced at Kenzo. Kenzo shrugged. "Free will."

I glanced at him again. "No. Thank you."

Vann nodded. "Valid."

"You're all against me," AJ said.

I sat in my bed, my phone—the newest Atlas, I'd bought it bitterly—on the sheets. Rosalie was sitting on the other bed, occasionally laughing at whatever was on her phone. I was busying myself eating a granola bar and reading over the Bears' stats as the hour ticked towards midnight.

At some point, Rosalie set her phone down and glanced at me. "Are you seriously reading over stats for fun right now?"

I frowned at her. "We should know them for tomorrow."

"That's for captains and old fuckers," she scoffed. "You're not supposed to care about that until tomorrow twenty minutes before the track."

"That's too close—"

"Too far, arguably," she scoffed. "Fifteen minutes?"

"UC Berkeley is still in the top twenty," I said. "They won Red before we beat NYU out of the streak."

"Yeah, in the 80s. I thought you eradicated your uptightness, not displaced its object." She sighed. "Poppy's making you into her shadow."

I frowned. "You sound mad about it."

"Not mad. I just think it's funny." She sat up. "You do that."

"Be funny?"

"Do funny things," she snorted. "Like things you don't really need to do."

I raised a brow. I debated ignoring her completely and returning to my task, but I took a leap of faith and turned to face her instead, pushing my phone aside.

"Don't you ever get nervous?" I asked, and Rosalie did a double take. "You never seem nervous."

Rosalie opened her mouth, closed it, then threw her head back and laughed. She tilted her head at me. 

"Yeesh," she muttered. "What kind of question is that? Of course I get nervous. I'd be a psychopath if I didn't."

"When?"

"Why are you asking me this?"

I shrugged. "Curious."

Rosalie seemed intrigued. She let her feet hang off the bed. "I get nervous," she said. "I just try not to only be nervous. It's not realistic to listen to it all the time, you know. Just because you're nervous doesn't mean shit."

I said, "Why'd you pick Avaldi?"

She blinked. "Dunno. It's the best one."

"Do you like racing?"

"Of course."

"Do you like anything else?"

"Not more than." She craned her neck. "Do you?"

I shrugged. "Don't know," I admitted. "I've never tried anything else."

Rosalie raised a brow. "Your parents didn't let you try and build a phone?"

I scoffed. "No," I said, more sadly than I intended. "No, they didn't."

She took that without more questions, content to stare at me for a little while longer like she was trying to figure out her question for me. 

"If you could go anywhere else," she asked, "where would you go?"

"For school?"

She shrugged. "Just...in general. At some point. Right now. Later."

I considered that. I drew my knees to my chest. I imagined salt breeze and gold grains, maple syrups and spicy seafood. The taste of the ocean and countryside, the idea of hillside sunrises and a gentle morning. Some peace, somewhere.

"Somewhere quiet," I admitted. "Somewhere coastal?"

She hummed. She made an expansive gesture. "I want a two story house in the Malibu coast, white with blue trim. Nice and simple. But the inside would be a mess. A purposeful mess."

A laugh broke out of me suddenly at the specific idea of such an odd future. I'd never considered such trivial details. I said, "What would your room look like?"

She waved me off. "Easy. Queen size bed—the theme would be blue, of course. Oh, and pink curtains, the silk kind. I want white pillows, too. White sheets, but, like, a soft white. And a lot of windows. And an obnoxiously huge pink carpet."

I laughed again. "The kitchen?"

"Blue and white tiles, easy. I want matching dishware and cookware. Oh, one of those blueberry-shaped bowls." She lit up, her green eyes glowing at the idea forming in her head. She laughed. "What about you? Where would you live?"

It felt almost forbidden to think about something so small. A giddiness ran through me. "I've never thought about it," I admitted. "One story? I don't like stairs."

She hummed. "Oh, what about one of those mid-century modern homes? I see you in one of those. Just edgy enough."

I grinned. "I...like dark wood."

"Done. I see you on a hill."

"Southern California."

"San Marino?"

"Alta Dena?"

"Glendale?"

"Echo Park."

We laughed. She said, "Okay, wherever. I see you in a green bedroom."

I shrugged. "I like gray."

"Dark gray. With blue accents."

"Go back to green."

"You're fucking picky."

I laughed. "Green pillows, at least. I like your big window idea."

"Don't poach my dream home," she snapped, holding up a hand, but she was grinning as she said it, her green eyes brimming with light. "Who would you live with?"

I frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Who would you live with?" she said. "I told Poppy she could get the top floor if I took the bottom."

I laughed. "I could take the attic."

To my surprise, Rosalie smiled. "You'll be too busy in your own champion mansion," she scoffed. "Forgetting about the rest of us in all your glory."

Champion. "I'd be down the street."

"Can you even swim?"

"I lived on a beach for twelve years."

"Oh. Well. Pardon me." We laughed again. She said, "Then, I'll invite you over for dinner."

I grinned brightly, felt my shoulders ease, felt the race flee from my mind without argument. "Thanks, Rosalie."

She waved me off. "Call me Rosie," she said.

We didn't sleep for the rest of the night.

______________

9:01 AM - The Captain

beach day
everyone be ready @girl's place by 1030

9:09 AM - rosie

LETS GOOO

9:10 AM - diego de la cruz™

i just woke up

9:11 AM - Z

diego has been awake for approximately 2 hours

9:12 AM - diego de la cruz™

pay no attention to the man behind the phone

9:14 AM - 천사

beach day!!!
which one?

9:16 AM - The Captain

goldfinch
1030 !!!!

9:20 AM - けんぞう

けんぞう disliked "goldfinch"

9:23 AM - The Captain

kenzo ur driving w me

9:25 AM - けんぞう

けんぞう disliked "kenzo ur driving w me"

9:28 AM - diego de la cruz™

those rxns were the worst update atlas ever made
@king tell ur parents to get rid of em and specifically cite this instance

9:29 AM - AJ

king drives us
he's got a new engine
i call shotgun

9:30 AM - baked yam

I WANT SHOTGUN W KING

9:31 AM - AJ

eat me yami

9:31 AM - rosie

AJ can get the trunk

9:31 AM - AJ

rosalie can ride on the roof

9:31 AM - Me

You disliked "@king tell ur parents to get rid of em and specifically cite this instance"

9:31 AM - けんぞう

lol

9:32 AM - rosie

oh that's funny

9:32 AM - The Captain

10.
30.
AM.
whoever's late runs an extra 10 laps at next practice

9:32 AM - けんぞう

けんぞう reacted with a shocked emoticon to The Captain's message.

9:33 AM - Mystery Vann

What beach
When
LAPS ?????
I JUST WOKE UP

9:32 AM - Qi

wait what's going on

9:33 AM - けんぞう

back to you captain

9:34 AM - The Captain

I'll hurt you all

9:35 AM - Me

You laughed at "I'll hurt you all"

9:35 AM - The Captain

NO MORE RXNS

Poppy said, "All those old, boring photos of yours. Those walls are so goddamn boring. Come on, get in. You can print this and give your room a heartbeat."

Goldfinch was crisp like ice water, golden like egg yolk. I pursed my lips. I slid in between her and Rosalie. Everyone's arms came around each other. 

Yami propped her camera up against the sand castle and pressed the button before bolting over to hide behind Kenzo. He bent down, and she yelled, "Everyone say 'rookies'!"

I grinned a real grin. We yelled, "Rookies!" to the sound of the flash.

Vann said, "Oh, you're joking. À quoi penses-tu?"

I frowned down at the metallic pink sneakers. "You don't like them? Ils sont uniques."

"Ils sont moches," he scoffed. "What about silver? You don't have any silver shoes."

"Silver on a lycan?" I joked, and he scoffed, waving me off. I shrugged. "I'll try it on."

I tried it. I grimaced. He shook his head. "You've got odd taste."

"Unique taste," I argued. "Silver isn't my thing."

Yami said, "King, you're out of your mind."

I let Ramos push the towel onto my bleeding nose and I shrugged, swallowing the wince. "It worked."

"You're crazy," AJ concluded. "Mentally ill. Isn't that move illegal?"

"It should be," Qi scoffed. "You could've landed on your head and been crushed skull-first."

"I wasn't though," I argued. Ramos gave me a look for that and I shrugged. I ducked my head down to let the blood from my forehead, nose, and mouth drop at my feet. It was a miracle I had all my teeth. "We won. I got the points."

"You could've been killed," Vann said. "Poppy."

Poppy cocked her head left and right. "You could've been killed," she agreed.

Kenzo raised his hand. She put it back down. He frowned, then glanced at me and said in quick Japanese, "It's not illegal because they haven't thought of it yet. This so-called IPRA does not know the streets."

I raised a brow. He shrugged. Poppy gave him a look, then said to me, "But, you got the points."

"Oh, you're joking," Rosalie said, getting to her feet. "That cannot be your response."

Poppy said, "Coach?"

Edwards looked up. She jutted her thumb at the scoreboard, then gave a shrug, and said, "Change out. King, for fuck's sake. You look like you got run over."

"I didn't," I reminded.

"You're out of your mind," she said. "Change out."

I smiled. Poppy and Kenzo returned it.

Kenzo said, "The news thinks you're a miracle."

"The news thinks I'm an abomination," I replied through a mouthful of yogurt and granola. 

"Then, the racing community."

"An anomaly."

"Then, us." Kenzo shrugged as I gaped. "Something interesting."

"Is this your compliment of the season?" I asked.

"Enjoy it. Lunch?" He pointed at my bowl.

"Snack. Lunch?" I asked, gesturing at him.

Kenzo pointed at me. "Keys. I want buddaejjigae."

We drove to the sound of mid-June traffic and 90s R&B. At the end of it, Kenzo glowered at me and said, "This is why racers should not drive."

I turned off the engine. "You do better." I got out of the car. "Come on. Lunch is on me."

He smiled. 

You'd have to see it to believe me.

Meredith said, "Do you want to help me?"

I frowned. "This isn't your room."

She gestured towards Kenzo's room. "He let me in. Don't tell." She gestured to our kitchen. "I thought I'd make muffins. You guys have some leftover bananas. Want to help?"

I debated that. I hadn't baked in years. The idea made me antsy. But Meredith's eyes looked so happy at the idea that I felt I'd already committed upon hearing the question.

I set my bag down. "Sure."

She glowed, and I felt a familiarly genuine grin spread across my face. I'd never felt lighter. You had to believe me. 

When Meredith handed me the tray of muffins to slide into the oven, she squeezed my arm and rested her head against my shoulder. 

"They're just muffins, Mer," I told her.

She shrugged. "Thanks for helping, though."

"They're just muffins."

"Sure," she admitted. "But, I don't know. I'm glad you helped."

It wasn't until a lot later that I realized she was saying I'm glad you're here.

I smiled, and hoped she knew it was returned.

"Skincare?" Diego said, staring down at the boxes I'd unpacked from my excursion out with Yami. "That's gay, dude."

Zahir knocked him on the back of the head. "You're gay, dude." He gestured at me. "What'd you buy? I bought a lotion once for my face and it ruined me."

"Lotion?" Yami repeated, frowning.

I raised a brow. "Body lotion?" I said.

Zahir considered that. "I see my problem."

"Dude," Diego said.

"Skincare haul!" Meredith squealed. "Spending your big earnings wisely."

Poppy leaned on her shoulder and held up a finger. "An investment in self improvement is an investment—"

"—in self satisfaction," we finished.

Poppy shook her head. "I've only said that, like, twice."

"A month," Diego murmured and dodged her jab.

I displayed everything I'd gotten alongside Yami's haul. Everyone had their say on what was worth it and what was not, but I didn't really care. I felt giddy with the goods, with the act of buying nice things for no other reason than to feel nice. It felt frivolous in some respect, ridiculous when you considered prices, but that was just the thing—I didn't have to anymore. It was mine. For all the shit everyone had given me, I'd gotten that money for myself and no one was taking it. Kane King belonged, for once, to no one.

My side of the bathroom was rather barren then, even compared to Vann's, which held nothing but a toothbrush, a razor, and some hand soap, shaving cream, and toothpaste. I pushed all the new products into the corner, into the cabinet. It felt almost lived in.

I picked up a jar of silky cream that smelled faintly of aloe and flowers. I cocked my head to the side in the mirror. My hair had grown long, past my ears. A bevy of scars were healing over on my face, my constantly reddened and calloused knuckles. I took a breath.

"Bit by bit," I murmured. 

Poppy said, "It's hot as the inside of a goddamn grilled cheese, for fuck's sake. Ice cream?"

We sat on the pavement, our bikes discarded at the finish line and empty water bottles in our hand. I was lying on the ground, watching the stadium lights above dance and shift with the moving sky. 

A sudden urge overcame me and I sat up. I said, "Have you ever had bingsu?"

Poppy frowned. "No. What is it?"

I got up. "Come on. I'll drive."

She took one bite of the red bean and sweet shaved ice before looking up at me and saying, "You're the best trackee I've ever witnessed."

I laughed. "I'm the only trackee you've ever witnessed."

She pushed my hair over my eyes. "Then, the only one I'll ever need." She stabbed her spoon at me. "You'll get it when you're a tracker one day."

I scoffed. I took a mouthful of the ice. "No. Not if I have to track someone like me."

She laughed. "You never know."

I shook my head. "I'd kill myself before I did," I replied. "Or become a McDonald's cashier. Or an insurance broker."

"What's wrong with McDonald's? Or insurance?"

I waved her off. "It'll never happen," I said. "Trust me."

Poppy laughed, stared at me for a moment, then hummed. "So you say," she replied. "But, you never know."

"You say that a lot."

"Well," she said, and shrugged, "look at where we are."

I took a good look.

Sunhee said, "You don't want to bring someone with you to Busan?"

I frowned. "Bring someone?"

"Sure. A friend, maybe? Wouldn't that be fun? Just a thought."

I drummed my fingers on the table. "I guess so," I murmured. "I don't know who I'd bring."

"Really? No one? Is everyone busy on their own vacations?"

Everyone had something or somewhere they wanted to be come August, considering it was our only chance in the heat of the season to not think about racing. Although, wasn't I always in some way.

I perked up. "Poppy isn't going anywhere."

"Poppy Wilder? Oh, you should bring her! She's your captain, right?"

I said, "She's my friend."

I could hear the smile in her voice when she said, "Even more reason to bring her."

When I brought it up to Poppy over lunch, she gave me the brightest grin she could muster, her hazel eyes beaming. "Busan?" she repeated. "Korea? Are you kidding?"

"Is that no?" I asked.

"You asshole. That's yes." She patted my shoulder. "When do we leave?"

When I told Vann, he just gave me a soft grin, and said, "Oh, how times do change."

"What's that mean?" I asked. 

He shrugged. "Means, it's funny, how it all turns out."

When we went to Busan that summer, Poppy leaned over to me in the airplane, and whispered, "This trip will get me used to long flights. I was never very good at them, to be honest."

I glanced at her. "It's just there and back."

She frowned. "Who else are you gonna bring on this trip next year?"

Next year. I almost never let myself imagine the good things of next year. Only the next race, the next phone call with my parents, the next message from the news, the next issue, the next fight, the next problem. But, the next good thing.

I let myself see it ten years in the future. Down the street, a gray and green bedroom, the sea outside my window, no one but the sun and I in the walls. Poppy and I in an airplane every August until we were sick of it. Racing with Corvus until my heart gave out.

Something in my chest swelled, bloomed, and burst right through my ribs. 

"No one," I promised her. "See you next year."

________________

If you're wondering how I fucked it all up to get to where we got in the end, then you can stop wondering and let me tell you. It happened rather quickly, if you can believe it. That's the crux of changing who you are; sometimes, all you've changed is who you wish you were. 

Luan called me two days after we got back.

The number lit up and stared back at me like Doomsday itself was dialing. I swallowed and it felt like swallowing rocks. I'd barely even woken up. 

I shot to my feet and stared at the number. I let the call die out. It wasn't even a second later it was ringing again.

Again and again and again. 

And again. And again. And again.

If you're asking why I didn't block it, I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell you a lot about anything when it came to Luan. Just know that for as much as you're asking, it's as much as I can't answer. 

On the 23rd ring, I finally picked up with a, "Stop."

"Kitae?"

I winced. "Stop calling me," I hissed.

"Kitae, wait. Please, I need you."

I paused. "What?"

"I need your help. I wouldn't call you if it wasn't an emergency, Kitae, please. I need you."

I felt sixteen again, huddled in a corner, sobbing as I rocked to that mantra over and over again. I need you. I need you. Who am I, if it wasn't for you?

Practice began in twenty. I pinched the space between my eyes. Don't do it. Don't do it. Don't—

"Where are you?" I finally asked.

It was odd, stepping back into that house as Kane King instead of Kitae Wang. Although, depending on who you asked, they were the same person.

Luan opened the door at my arrival. He looked perfectly normal, perfectly healthy, his clothes smooth and his expression pleasant. He glanced behind me at the car parked in the driveway and raised a brow.

"New ride," he observed. "A Corolla? Of all kinds."

I stood a step down from the doorway and gaped. "What?" I said.

Luan smiled down at me. "I didn't think you'd come."

"What am I here for, Luan?"

"You grew your hair out." He reached for me, and I flinched, stepping backwards. He hesitated, frowned. "You seem different."

"What the hell am I here for?" I demanded. "Why'd you call me?"

Luan glanced behind him at the house. He cocked his head. "Come in?"

"What?"

"Please?" he tried. "Just for a bit. No tricks."

But Luan himself was one big, elaborate, kinetic trick.

Still, I walked inside. 

Luan shut the door. It felt like a coffin lid slamming closed. He approached me and we stood a few feet apart. My heart raced, equal parts anticipation and dread. I studied his face, but I'd studied it for so long, too long, beyond masters and doctorates and PhDs could fathom. An expert and a prisoner.

Luan reached his hand out between us, but didn't touch me. He said, "My mom's not doing well. She collapsed the other day, and I don't know...I panicked. I felt lost. I missed you. I called you just—I don't know." He sighed and buried his face in his other hand. "I know I've hurt you. I know you must hate me and want nothing more to do with me, but...please. I just—I need someone, you know? You know." He grasped my hand, and his grip was tight like steel. "I can't do it on my own."

I couldn't tell you. I couldn't. You just wouldn't understand.

I blinked, and let the tears roll beside my nose, down my cheeks. He reached up and wiped them from my skin with his thumb. 

I couldn't tell you. I just couldn't.

I let him pull me into him.

"Where were you?" Poppy asked.

I dropped my things at the pit and jogged to my bike. I shook my head. "Nowhere. Forget it."

Poppy stared. She said, "Where were you, Kane?"

I yanked the nose out and wheeled it to the start line where everyone else was. "Nowhere. Sorry I'm late."

"Kane."

"I'm fine," I said. "I fell asleep."

"Vann said you weren't in your room."

"I fell asleep at a friend's place."

"Who?"

"No one. I'm sorry."

"Kane."

I shoved past her and headed for the start line. 

"Dinner out on the town," Rosalie said, and struck an obnoxious pose in my doorway. "Say I look hot."

"I don't think I'm allowed to say that." I got to my feet. "I like the dress."

"Why aren't you dressed?" she asked, frowning. 

I shook my head. "I have homework. Go without me."

"Dinner is mandatory," she reminded. "Come on."

"So is a 3.0 GPA. I'll see you later."

Rosalie frowned. "King. Dinner. Now. Come on."

I turned my back on her. "Go without me, Rosie."

She lingered in the doorway for a minute more, before she realized I meant it, and closed the door behind her. I sat in front of my work and sighed.

5:05 PM - Mystery Vann

Hey u good?
Haven't seen u like all day lol

6:11 AM - The Captain

where r u
u weren't at dinner

3:01 PM - Mer

Hey! Still walking to Nancy's at 5?

3:33 PM - Mer

??

"It's just hard to get money now," Luan explained. "Pepperdine pays, of course, but not enough to keep the house and pay for my mom's bills and tuition..." He rested his cheek on my lap. "It's just really hard right now. I'm sorry. I want to give you something for your time."

I bit my lip. I shook my head. "It's all right, Luan. Don't worry about me." I gestured towards him. "Let me get dinner. You should eat."

Luan squeezed my hand. It felt like a lock closing. "You're too good, Kitae."

I pursed my lips. "Kane," I corrected.

He laughed sourly. "Right. I forgot that."

[Direct Zelle from XXXX0991 Checking to luan - $4,008.00]
[Message from you: "tuiton"]

[Direct Zelle from XXXX0991 Checking to luan - $2,000.00]
[Message from you: "rent/food"]

4:41 PM - luan

it's ok don't send that
i'll be all right
i'll figure it out

4:45 PM - Me

Just take it

you don't owe me

4:46 PM - luan

i love you
i'm sorry

9:10 PM - Number one opp

Hey, Kane. Just making sure everything is all right. We still have practice tonight at 8. Please be there or let me know what's going on if you can't. 

10:20 AM - Pseudo-psychic

Hi Kane, it's Ramos. How are you? We've been worried you haven't been showing up to some things. If you want to talk, I'm always here!

10:00 PM - rosie

dude wtf dinner???? where are you
i'm serious

11:09 PM - luan

Still haven't heard anything from mom. Im sorry, go with your friends. I'll be all right.
Don't worry about me.

[2 MISSED CALLS - The Captain]
[5 MISSED CALLS - rosie]
[1 MISSED CALLS - けんぞう]
[7 MISSED CALLS - luan]

12:43 PM - The Captain

please just tell me what's going on
i just want to make sure you're all right

[Alert from XXXX0991 - Balance below custom budget: $1,092.00]

[how to unlock UniversityCharge bike lock - Google Search]
[directions to Cat's Eye - Google Search]
[Route from Avaldi University to Cat's Eye]

"You said you loved me," Luan yelled. "You said you cared. You're leaving and that's how you care?"

"I can't stay here," I snapped. "I live at the Talon."

Luan shoved me into the wall. I braced for his fist. 

"You said you loved me," he cried. "You're leaving and that's how you love? You leave?"

Yes, I thought idly. Isn't that how everyone does it?

When I cleaned the blood from my lip afterwards, I figured, yes.

Kenzo said, "You're stupid."

I leaned against the wall, facing him. I offered him my cigarette, but he shook his head, content to stare me down. I said, "I have to."

"No," he said. "'Have to' is a myth."

"I'm just asking you to get Poppy off my back."

"She won't."

"I'm sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Kenzo gestured at my face, at my bruised knuckles. "You are killing yourself. Apologize to you." He shook his head. "He was gone, no?"

"It's complicated."

"No," he denied. "You are scared."

I sneered at him, a black anger settling in my skeleton. I said, "Forget it. I don't know why I asked."

Kenzo blinked, startled. "You are scared," he said, gentler. "Stop trying to be someone you are not."

I didn't get what he meant at that time. In hindsight, maybe if I had, everything would've gone differently. Everyone could have gotten out to the other side.

I shook my head, and left.

"For you," the store lady repeated. 

I pursed my lips. "My sister," I lied. "We have similar skin tones. She wants something with a lot of coverage."

The lady nodded slowly, then headed down the aisles. "Well, we have these two that are big sellers. They're maximum coverage, really only takes one coat and stays on for hours. It's got some serums in it too, as to be gentle." 

I said, "I'll take everything you recommend."

She startled, but ultimately nodded, and began filling the bag.

When I got home, I rushed to the bathroom, and dumped everything into my drawer. I pushed my palms into my eyes, and tried to breathe.

I picked up a brush, and began painting.

"—what the fuck happened to your eye?"

I pushed past AJ. "Nothing."

"Something," he corrected. "You look awful."

"Thanks," I said. "It's natural."

"Kane." Vann grasped my wrist.

I yanked my arm out of his grip. I felt ill. My ribs ached something awful. I said, "It's fine." I headed for my room. "I'll see you at practice."

"Forget dinner, will you look at me?" He tried to step in front of me. "Did you get into a fight?"

"I thought that was over," AJ said. "I thought you were done with that."

"Stop," I said.

"What happened to your eye?" Vann tried.

Me. I grasped my doorknob. "Nothing. Please," I snapped. "I'll see you at practice."

"What about dinner?" Kenzo said.

I paused. "I'm not hungry," I muttered.

"Back for another round?" the racer sneered at me, and threw his head to the side in a laugh. He stepped closer to me. Golden stripes raced down his sleeves in a thin blade of a line. "What's a pretty face like yours doing down here? Don't you have enough money up in the clouds?"

I sneered. I spotted Luan across the street. I said, "You want to race or not?"

He glanced behind him at his friends, who snickered and shook their heads. They sported the same jacket, the same colors, imperceptible save for the yellow line. He jutted his chin up at me. "I want a bet done in."

I frowned. "I thought it was the usual 1200."

He shook his head and held out his gloved hand. I took it, and he yanked me into his body with a thud. 

"Hail Mary," he sneered. "All or nothing, pretty boy."

I gaped. I tore my hand out of his grip and snapped, "No."

"No? Why? You scared you'll lose to a bunch of amateurs?"

"I have nothing to gain from a bunch of amateurs, you're only betting Hail Mary to pull a trick," I hissed. "1200 or nothing."

The racer grabbed me by the collar. "Hail Mary, or nothing."

"No."

"You're a bitch and her dog, then," he hissed. "You scared?"

My blood broiled. Heat pushed through the nerves in my eyes, festered in my waterline. I could feel the violet blazing in my irises, the ink of those challenging words poison my mouth.

"No," I said. "I'm not scared of you."

The racer shoved me toward my bike. "Prove it then," he said. "Show me who's king."

I shouldn't have done it. We all know I shouldn't have done it. Every nerve ending in my body said to not do it. If I had walked away. If I had turned him down. If I'd just said no. If I'd ever said no where it counted.

Luan caught my eye, and nodded. 

It was the only victory in my life that I wish I'd never won.

Edwards sat me down and pushed a red envelope to me. At the top, it read NOTICE OF ATHLETIC VIOLATION.

My heart stopped. I reached for it, but Edwards was pushing it from my reach before I could and folding her hands in front of her. She looked at me, and said, "I'll sum it up for you."

"Coach," I began.

She held up a hand. "I know you're stealing the bike."

My stomach dropped. "Coach," I tried again.

"I got this notice because the sensors on the stand went off when it'd been more than six hours since the bike was on it," she said. "That's a violation. Not against you, but against me. Those bikes are my responsibility."

"Coach—"

"I check every lock every morning and every night on those bikes, you think I don't realize when one of them has been tampered with? If you're gonna steal something, I'll give you a hint, don't make it so obvious you're doing it." She held up the lock, where a dent in the closing mechanism had been made my hasty bolt cutters.

I closed my eyes. "I...I didn't—I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

Edwards held up a hand again. I stopped. I felt nauseous. She pinched the space between her eyes, and gave me a good, hard look in the eye.

"It's Red," she said. "You're a sophomore now. You have gear and a jacket and keys. The team likes you. All this to say, it's not within my current ability to cut you." I flinched. "And as much as I figure I should suspend you or bench you or whatever else, I don't think that'll do anything. Frankly, I don't know what will do anything." 

My throat closed tight, my lungs following suit. I clenched my fists. "I'm sorry," I said.

"Are you?" she sighed. "For a while, I figured you were. But right now, I don't know anymore, King. Are you really?"

"I do a check up on the bikes, everything is fine, they're not broken—"

"I don't give two shits about the bikes," she snapped. "I care about you. I care about my team. I care that they've got a good support system, that they're doing well on the track, that they're doing well for themselves. I care that they're where they're supposed to be, when they're supposed to be." She gestured at me. "I don't know if I can say you've done any of that."

I shook my head. "Please," I tried. 

Edwards considered me. She leaned over her desk. "You're a great racer, King," she said. "I think, if you listened to a few people every now and then, you could be amazing. But, not like this. I don't like to get involved in your guys' personal lives, because we're all adults here. But, I need to know what's going on."

I couldn't tell her. How could I? Where did you start, where did you end, where did you lie? As of that moment, everything felt like one big, obnoxious lie.

I let my head hang. "I'm sorry. It's...it's complicated."

Edwards gestured at me. She looked both sad and frustrated, somewhere between an earnestness and a dissatisfaction.

Still, she said, "I've got time."

The last time I talked to Poppy before the incident, she was about to leave for Christmas at her parents' house, leaving me to celebrate with Kenzo at the Talon alone. 

She had her bags packed to head up north, but had stopped by my room beforehand in the midst of the winter storm. Christmas was rather insignificant at that point in time to me; I didn't have much reason to celebrate other than Corvus's Christmas dinner and seeing them off for the holiday break. Until you came into the story, that unease of Corvus separating from each other wasn't so potent. For good reason, too.

I opened the door. Poppy stood, wrapped in a burgundy sweater and sweats, ready for the airport, her auburn hair tied up to leave the wine-colored flower on her throat blooming for the winter rain. She smiled up at me when I answered, although it looked sad. 

"Hey," she said. "Can I come in?"

I pursed my lips. I stepped aside. I'd left the makeup on my throat because of errands that morning with Kenzo. I was grateful for it now. 

"Sure," I said, because, what else could I say?

I sat down on a cream and blue rug I'd bought and let her sit across from me. She looked up at my wall of photos, a newly installed shelf of trophies, and smiled a little brighter. She pointed at the Polaroid of us at the beach. "I love that one."

I said, "Me, too." I swallowed. "What's wrong? Don't you need to head to your flight?"

Poppy hesitated. She fiddled a bit before fishing through her pockets and revealing a tiny black box. She said, "I will. I just wanted to give you this first, though."

I stared at the box like it was a bomb. "You...what is this?"

"A Christmas present," she said, pushing it to me. "It's not much, but I thought you might like it."

I blinked. I lifted the lid.

A little crow hung from a chain, mid-flight and soaring through the air. I brushed my thumb over the beak. 

"For your car. I feel like it's always cute when you have something hanging from the mirror. A little personality," she tried. "Oh, and this." She lifted the bottom and revealed a similar silver crow, only suspended from an earring. "I saw it just yesterday. I thought it's like a set. You know? Perfect timing."

I stared at the two crows for a long, long while. Cotton and rocks filled my throat, scratched up my vocal chords until I could barely wheeze. Heat and salt filled the corners of my eyes. I suddenly, faintly, felt very sad for no reason at all.

Poppy said, "You may think I'm being annoying or intrusive or overkill when I say this." She took out the earring and handed it to me, letting the crow dangle from her fingers. She held my gaze as she did. "But, you're not alone."

I took the earring. I blinked, shocked.

"You might think I don't get it, and I probably don't," she went on. "But that doesn't mean I can't be there for you. That doesn't mean I don't get you. It's not you against the world, Kane. Who the hell am I?" She got to her feet. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Stop telling me I am."

She nodded, then turned to leave. I got to my feet. 

I held out my hand in front of her, but didn't touch her. I said, "I'm sorry."

Poppy turned to me and sighed. "I don't want you to be sorry," she said. 

I considered that. "Thank you," I tried again.

She blinked. She said, "Don't thank me." Poppy turned to leave out the door. "Merry Christmas, Kane."

I watched her leave.

I don't remember it well, and I know that sounds like a terrible thing to say, but it's sort of like chewing gum; when you've gnawed on something for long enough, hard enough, restlessly enough, it starts to lose its flavor until you forget what it was supposed to be in the first place.

Jump ahead of Red, and Christmas, and New Year's, they seem like important things to talk about, but you've heard them all already ad nauseum. You know those parts. This part, not even I really know.

It was the third week of January. A violent rain had come for Los Angeles with damp claws and watery venom, soaking the pavement with the scent of dirt and sky, the track reeking of wet smoke and rubber. Heavenly houses puffed chimney smoke into the sky, heavenly bodies lighting tobacco pipes and Lucky strikes, the world filling rapidly with a hurricane just dying to start its doom.

It could've stopped somewhere.

"Hey, you coming to practice?" Vann said. "Say yes because you've racked up so many laps against Poppy and Edwards, I'm pretty sure you'll be running until you're sixty."

I slung my bag over my shoulder. "I'll be there. I might be late."

He frowned. "Where you coming from?"

I hesitated. Luan had told me to come over. I didn't need to go—he wouldn't dare confront me alone in front of Corvus—but I felt like not going would only bring me more trouble later. Maybe it wouldn't have. 

I said, "I'll see you at practice."

If I'd stayed put. If I hadn't gone.

Luan said, "Those guys want the money back."

I stared at him from across the counter. "What? What guys?"

"The ones from the race. Those goons, with the yellow stripes." He took a sip of his water like we were discussing the weather. "They want their money back."

"No," I said automatically. "That's not how it works."

"Well, they came to me and said it, I just thought I'd let you know," he replied. "I can tell them that."

"You didn't tell them that in the first place?"

"You seem to have become the type that mitigates a fight first," he replied dryly. "I'll let them know."

"How are you even in contact with them?" I snapped.

"I'm in contact with everyone we race," he said, and something in the back of my head flared red at that. "I'll tell them."

I said, "Just like that?"

Luan waved me off and nodded. "Just like that."

If I'd asked more. If I'd pushed.

I got in my car and drove away. But, if I hadn't gone back. If I'd stayed the night. If I'd gone to the Talon instead of the Corvidae.

I entered the stadium two minutes past eight. Edwards raised a brow and jutted her thumb at the track. "Ten."

"Add another two," Poppy called. "Two minutes late."

"That's a thing now?" I asked.

"For you," Corvus chorused.

I held up my hands. "Fair." I got to jogging.

Practice went on as it did. On the track, it was easy to forget everything else beyond it, everyone else behind the stadium walls. I could laugh about bad plays, illegal moves, shitty jokes and worse jabs. We could run amuck with Edwards in our ear and Poppy at our backs. Like we were friends. Like we'd known each other for twice as long as we actually did. Something normal, for a little bit. 

Poppy said, "I could eat a fucking horse. I could eat AJ."

"Are you calling me fat?" he asked. "It's muscle."

"Soft muscle there," Qi said and jabbed him in the chest. He gasped, clutching his arms to himself. "I say we go out downtown, towards Moon King. We're Red Diamond winners and legal. Let's celebrate."

"We've celebrated at least four times now," Poppy said.

Yami hugged her arm and smiled. "Then, fifth time's a charm! Who's driving?"

Poppy raised her hand, but Kenzo put it down. "I'll drive."

"We'll barely make it to the first stoplight," Qi muttered.

"I'll take the rest of you," Vann said. "Come on, before Edwards catches on and we're all running laps."

If Poppy had driven. If we'd gone to her car first, as a group, altogether. If the weather had been kinder or I hadn't cared as much. 

"It's cold as shit out here," Poppy muttered.

"It's not even that cold," AJ said. "C'mon, I'm hungry."

"You're wearing four layers," Rosalie said.

"Five, if you count the underwear."

"No one is counting that." She turned around. "You two can ride with Poppy, we'll meet you."

Kenzo and I were left at her side as the others fled. I made a move to go, but hesitated. "Oh, hold on." I rummaged through the contents. "I forgot my jacket."

Poppy paused. "The black one?"

"I left it in my trunk," I said.

She hummed, then gestured at Kenzo. "Meet at my car, I'll go grab his jacket. Your car is unlocked, yeah?"

I always forgot to lock it. "Yeah. It's all right, I can go with—"

"No, you always park far away, it'll save time if I just meet you." She made a move to leave.

Kenzo frowned. He jutted his chin at her. "Dark," he reminded. "Don't go alone."

If I'd agreed. If I'd gone with. If Poppy had told me to get it later.

She waved him off. "It's fine. Go ahead. I'll catch up."

Kenzo said, "Poppy."

Poppy was already leaving. I didn't go after her. 

If I'd gone after her.

Night had settled, twilight dimming into nothingness until it was midnight blue and purple haze. Winter bit at our heels with fangs, slicing into the skin without regard or remorse. The air was potent with winter. We talked about where everyone was going after this break was over, where they'd graduate to, what we'd become without them. 

We stood by Poppy's car for a moment, a while, a long while. After a few seconds, I was antsy enough to try and text her, but the service had never been very good in the lot and it failed to send. I sighed.

Kenzo said, "Where did you park?"

I said, "H section."

Kenzo said, "Go check on her."

An unease appeared in my stomach, thick and dark like viscous molasses. I began towards H.

If I'd picked up the pace. If I'd gone sooner.

I spotted Poppy first. She was talking to someone, and seemed rather unhappy about it. Three other heads appeared on the other side of the vehicle. With them, yellow stripes.

She said, "I said, leave."

If I'd been more careful. If I'd thought it out.

"Where's your pet, blossom?" the racer sneered. "I think you should be careful where you go with this."

"Get the hell out of my stadium," she hissed, but her eyes were frantic, her fists balled tight and shaking. "You have no right to be here harassing us."

"Us? Harassing you? Hah! You pompous blue-blooded bastards really think we owe you?"

"I don't know what you're here for," she said. "But this is not the time or place. Leave. Before I call—"

"The police?" a racer sneered. He took a step to her. "With what cell service?"

She paled. The head racer grasped her by the chin and grinned. "C'mon, princess," he sneered. "Where's your pretty little friend?"

She shoved him back. If I'd been calm. If I'd stayed put.

I snapped, "Hey!"

They turned. I snarled, "Get the fuck off of her."

The racer raised a brow. He stepped towards me. "Or what?" he said. "You've already sapped me dry, you fucking leech. You've got a lot more to lose than we do."

"Kane!" Poppy snapped.

But I was moving. I grabbed him by the collar. He withdrew something and snapped my head to the side with it in such a dizzying collision, I felt the bones in my ears ringing with it moments after. A hand grasped my arm and yanked me up.

"You think you can just come down to our territory, dry out our wallets, and come back here to your palace on the track? You're not spoiled enough, King?" he growled. "You think you can just walk away? Fuck you." Something cold and sharp jabbed into my thigh, stung just the slightest. "No one can ever just walk away."

Before I could speak, a body slammed into him. The two collapsed onto the pavement. Another racer grasped my collar and tossed me into the side of my car. I swept my leg under his feet and he crashed against a nearby sedan. 

The body that had collided into the head racer was Poppy, and she went springing up as fast as she could. When she did, I spotted blood dripping from a cut across her bicep. She raced for me. 

I sank my knuckles into the third racer's cheekbone as he came for me. I let him fall face-first before running to meet Poppy and grabbing her forearm.

"I'm sorry," I tried. "We have to go."

"What did you do, Kane?" she hissed.

"Get in the car."

I made a move to dodge past her, for the driver's seat. 

She yelled something. To this day, I don't know what. Stop. No. Wait. Kane. Kane. Kane.

Poppy yanked me towards her. The head racer let the knife sink into the side of a neighboring car, hissed a curse, and turned blazing red eyes on us. He sneered black anger at me. 

Poppy grabbed her shoe, and whacked him over the head. He stumbled, disoriented for a moment, and she kicked him in the gut for good measure. She turned to me. I wish she hadn't. I wish she'd ran.

"Kane," she said.

A flash of silver. A stray hand.

The knife sank into her body like a blade to butter. It went so far in, right in the space between her first and second ribs, I swore I could see the tip of it on the other side. A sinister wound for an Alpha, a severe one for a Beta. A fatal one for an Omega.

The racer pulled out the blade, and laughed. He didn't even look at her as she crumbled. He glanced at me. 

"Some king," he hissed.

I charged for him.

I tasted blood through the flames of white hot anger and panic in my mouth. The sting of fangs and claws sang in my veins, howled through my nerves. I could barely feel it at all as I tore into skin, bit into flesh. I could barely feel his knife pierce my back, until a sudden illness, burning like acid and aching like a wolf's bite, overcame my body.

I looked down. He spat out a mouthful of blood and glared at me through his one good eye.

"You think you're a champion?" he snarled. "You think you're anything but a pathetic amateur playing dress-up? Kane King?" His laugh was wet and bitter. "Don't make me laugh." He turned around and grabbed his friends by their collar to throw them towards their bikes. "Die on these fucking streets where you belong."

I watched them go, and could do nothing more than watch. I coughed up blood. It was so dark, nearly black, a deadly shade. A pulsing, blaring, unholy burn was racing through my veins, as if every molecule in my body was being torn apart and crushed back together in all the wrong ways. If beryllium broiled you, then silver downright scorched.

"Poppy," I wheezed. I dragged my body towards her. She lied on the pavement, her body twitching ever so slightly as she coughed midnight blue onto the ground, all over her CORVUS RACING sweatshirt. I willed my shaking hands to pull her body into my lap. "Poppy. Poppy. No, no, no. No. Poppy, Poppy."

She blinked up at me. Her hazel eyes looked murky, dotted with red. I pushed my palm into the wound to stem the blood, but more flooded out. There was already so much. Too much.

"Hold on," I whispered. "I—hold—hold on. Please. Wait. Poppy. Hold on."

She glanced at the wound. She shook her head, ever so faintly.

"Help!" I screamed. "Someone help! Help! Help!"

Her hand made its way to mine. She pushed it off her wound. She shook her head.

No.

NO.

NO.

My head swam like a tsunami. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't think. My lungs were potent with silver. Silver. Oh, God. Oh, God. No. No. NO.

"I'm sorry,"  I whispered. "Please. Hold on. Poppy."

"It's okay," she murmured.

"Stop. Just stop. Stop."

"Kane."

"No. It's all right. Poppy. You're all right." I pushed into the wound, felt my vision water at the blood spilling out. How did someone have that much blood? "Just hold on. Wait. Just—"

"Kane."

"No."

"It's okay," she told me. "It's okay."

She stopped twitching. Her heartbeat went quiet.

"Poppy. Poppy. Poppy! Poppy!"

Over.

"Poppy!"

And over.

"Poppy!"

And over again.

"Poppy!"

__________________

My humanities elective literature class read a book once where the author said something about losing people.

"'It's that what we call 'love' is actually letting your identity fill in around the shape of the other person—you love someone by defining yourself against them'," the professor recited. "'It says loss hurts because there's nothing holding that part of you in place anymore. The thing you shaped yourself into by loving them, you never stop being that'." She gestured at us. "Thoughts?"

Discussion broke out rather immediately. The book itself was rather morbid and surprisingly contemporary, but as an elective goes, and so such a heavy line made the class uncharacteristically angry. I didn't have much to say at the time, because I didn't really know what it was supposed to do.

I think about it now, though. I think about all the concavities and corners and unreachable crevices made in myself by people I'll never see again, people who never think of me twice, people who can't. I think of how enraging it is to be made by people who don't even know the person they created. I think of how unfair it is to be made without your own say. I think of how many monsters I've created and been created into, how many saints I've become and collapsed out of. I think of how many wounds it takes to make a king, how many more makes a survivor. Which one matters, which one tips the scale; which one makes me a legend, or a warning. Whether I've been someone's final wound. Whether I get a say in any of it at all.

By loving. By surviving it.

Let me tell you a story.

Someone like Poppy isn't a simple person to lose. There were consequences involved.

I never told anyone but Ramos about what really happened. As far as Corvus was concerned, even Kenzo, the strangers were thieving kids and no-good jackasses looking for a purposeless fight. It was a cowardly move, I know, but I was someone like that back then.

The silver had been in my system for nearly twenty minutes by the time Kenzo found us, and by the time the ambulance came, nearly one and a half hours. If silver isn't extracted or medicated by the ten minute mark, you're already in trouble. One and a half hours? Things turn dark rather quickly.

I stared down at my bandaged hands. Ramos knelt beside me, her own hands shaky.

"It's still in your system, Kane," she whispered. "They said...they won't be able to get it all out. It's already in your bloodstream."

I blinked. "What else?"

"What?"

"To get it out," I whispered.

Ramos closed her eyes. "The 607. They said it's all there is."

I winced. "I can't afford the 607," I hissed.

"Insurance might—"

"No," I snapped. "No, I mean I can't afford it." To race again after the 607 was not a high chance. To even get it at all required a hefty price. No. I couldn't. My parents would kill me before I even step foot into the operating room. I was barely a sub. No. No, I just couldn't.

Ramos gently grasped my shoulder. "It's all right, Kane. Okay? It's okay."

It's okay.

I closed my eyes. "Did you know?" I whispered. "Did you know she was an Omega?"

Ramos went very quiet. I shook my head. I buried my face in my hands. If she'd been a Beta, an Alpha. She could have had a little more time, a little more of a chance. Timing, timing, timing. 

I felt ill. "How could you let her race?"

Ramos let her hand drop. "It was all she wanted to do."

"How could you let her?"

Ramos stared. I knew she was asking me the same thing. I wanted to vomit. I said, "I want to leave."

She stood up. She said, "All right. We'll leave."

I didn't speak to Corvus for days. If they weren't already in mourning about Poppy, they were downright petrified at the sight of the black scars from the silver on my body. Rosalie was white in the face when she asked me.

"They're just scars, right?" she whispered. "They aren't...you're not still..."

I didn't have the wherewithal. Say what you will to me, I know it's well-deserved. I know, no matter what happened, I was wrong. But I couldn't do it. I was that person back then.

"They're just scars," I said. "It's all right."

She nearly sobbed. She grasped me tight. "Thank God," she whispered. "Oh, thank God."

Guilt filled the gaps in my person, pushed it around until I was shaped around it like a perfect mold. I didn't hug her back; I feared she'd make a dent.

Ramos said nothing. 

The funeral was miserable. 

February meant it was raining at True Souls Cemetery. I wore a black Armani because it was the nicest suit I owned, and because Poppy had come with me to buy it for the spring banquet. Foolishly, I thought it'd make me feel better. It only served to make me feel a thousand times worse.

I stood above the plaque for a long, long moment. I figured it was fitting her grave was free of gold or silver or marble or glass. Poppy never cared for such. The Armani was choking me alive.

"Kane," Ramos whispered. "We should go now."

Never doubt the underdog.

This wasn't happening. She wasn't there, under my feet. She was at the Talon, binding her hands and beckoning me to the sandbag. She was at the Corvidae, fixing her bike and biting a joke at AJ or someone. She was barking orders from the canopy. She was eating sandwiches beside me. She was eating shaved ice across from me. She was lifting a trophy above her head and screaming through blood and tears. She was asleep on my shoulder as we drove to the next match down south. She was ringing my phone, sending me a message, invading my room, crashing our unit. She was sitting in the plane seat beside me while we landed in Incheon International Airport. She was posing for a photo by the Busan shores. She was telling me something about why it's hard to be a winner, to be Corvus, to be Kane King. She was holding my hand. She was right there in front of me. Right there behind me. 

I turned around.

Ramos said, "Kane?"

I closed my eyes. I said, "I drove here. I'll see you back at the Talon."

"Kane—"

"Please."

Ramos paused. She reached and squeezed my good shoulder tight once before murmuring a soft okay and heading down the hill to the rest of Corvus. 

I crouched down in front of the grave. Water flooded my vision, as if the rainfall had made it into the space behind my eyelids. I let the storm fall out onto my cheeks, down my nose and chin. I didn't even care as they fell upon the suit's lapels. 

"I'm sorry," I whispered to her. "I'm so sorry. Poppy. I...I'm so fucking sorry." 

I dropped my head onto my knee and sat that way for a long, long time. I dropped my umbrella at some point, letting the rain drench me to my bones and ruin every last thread of the suit. I cried like I wouldn't get another chance to again. She was right there. She was right there. She was right there and I just...

Please. Please come back. Who the hell am I if you're not here?

"Stop that," someone said. "Wet hair and you'll catch a cold."

I blinked. I looked up.

Kenzo stood with his umbrella over me. He stared down at me something that wasn't quite pity and wasn't quite admonishment, but a pitch black sadness. 

I got to my feet. He glanced at the plaque. He said, "Let's go."

I said, "Wait."

Kenzo paused. He sighed. "She's not here, Kane," he told me, and turned around to go. "Come on."

I clutched at my heart to keep the water from flowing out, and followed in his wake.

I was at a crossroad in some sense. I don't really know what made me go the way I did. Guilt, maybe. Greed.

Every part of me wanted to waste away until I was bones and then some in my room, never see the light of day again and greet the same fate Poppy lied in. I wanted so badly to leave. To go home. To stop. Everything to just stop.

"You can come home," Sunhee told me one late night as I sat on the Corvidae's track, the night restlessly silent, my fists bloody as the calluses on my feet. "You can come home, Kane. It's okay. We can help you. We'll talk to your parents, negotiate something. Kane. Come home."

It was so tempting. 

But the smell of silver on my skin was too much, and I said, "It's all right, noona. I'll be all right here." And hung up. 

My mother called me a week later. She said my father was too busy to, and I figured that sounded right. If I tell you the truth, at that point in time, I hadn't heard my father's voice in nearly four years. 

"The team will not survive," she said. "Wilder is undergoing issues. Opal is dead. You must leave. You think you can survive this sinking ship? Kitae. Think, for one second."

I looked up at the stadium lights. I blinked up at them, like watching shooting stars coming right for me. I thought of Poppy, holding up her trophy, red confetti falling around us. The rush. The thrill. The race. 

The silver.

You make you. Everyone else just gets to ask. So who are you?

I said, "I'm staying here, Umma." I got up off the track. "And, it's Kane."

I hung up.

I said, "How long?"

Ramos looked up from her desk. I shut the door behind me. I gestured at the wound in my side. I said, "How long would I have, if I didn't get the 607?"

She blinked. She stood up, considering that. "I...would say about two years. At most," she said. "The symptoms will worsen."

"How much?" I asked.

"The scarring will get worse," she explained. "Your healing will slow in this side of your body. Fevers. Shakes. Vomiting. Pains. Kane." She gripped my wrists. "Kane, we can help you get this surgery."

I shook my head. "I don't want to." 

"You'll die," she pressed. "This is serious."

"What about Valatro?" I said. "I heard that mitigates it."

She gaped. "Valatro isn't meant to mitigate symptoms like that," she said. "I can't give it to you."

"Then at least help me mitigate it some other way," I tried. "Please, Ramos. I can't afford to take the time off to get the surgery—I can't even afford it." 

"Kane—"

"Please." I grasped her hands back. "Please."

Ramos stared at me for a long moment. Then, she sighed, and said, "All right. I'll help you."

Two years. Only two years.

I breathed easy. "Thank you."

She shook her head bitterly. "Don't thank me."