"Larissa Taylor," the email from my teacher read, "I'm very concerned with your lack of attention to your schoolwork. I'm afraid you'll have trouble finishing up junior year on time"

This was the third e-mail I've gotten from my history teacher Mr. Krynn, about how far behind I was. I leaned back in my chair and sighed. School just hasn't been on my mind lately. 

There were more important things. My work, for instance.  I have a job at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. It's the racing capital of the world and I work in Gasoline Alley as a mechanic's helper. I do pretty much the same things the real mechanics do. 

My dad has been a mechanic for over 20 years. He's taught me everything I know. Cars are about the only thing I really love. I've never been interested in anything else. 

Unfortunately for me, these past few days have been torture. Good old Brandon Oaks had to go and blow two engines in a single week, which forced me to work overtime. Sure, the extra money was nice; but how in the world was I supposed to have a life if all I did was work and school? I was home-schooled too, so that practically made me a hermit. 

The thought of school brought me back to reality again as I stared at the giant stack of school books in front of me. Why me? Too bad I couldn't just be one of those genius kids who finished their school in 5 minutes without a sweat. 

Forgetting about my homework, I decided to go hang out at the Speedway. I slipped on my favorite denim shorts and pulled my long honey-blonde hair into a pony-tail. After grabbing my sunglasses I headed downstairs. 

As I walked towards the door, Mom called out, "Lissa? Where are you going?" 

Of course she walks into the room now. "I'm just going...out." I tried to open the door but she cut me off. 

 "I'm not about to let my 17-year-old daughter just go 'out.' Where are you going?" she probed. 

"The Speedway, that's all." 

"It's Saturday morning. You don't work," she pointed out. 

"Exactly, I just feel like going there. And Mom, please stop calling me a 17-year-old like I'm a 10-year-old."            

Slam. I quickly closed the door and hopped on my bike. The speedway was just a mile away from my house. When I got there, Sierra was working at the check-in office. "Hey Lissa honey, what are you doing here on a Saturday?" 

"I just thought I would drop in to see how things are going with..." What was I here for?  "-with uh, Brandon's car." 

Sierra chuckled. "That man's sure somethin' else."

"Yeah. Well, see you later," I said. 

I made my way down to Gasoline Alley. It was so beautiful there. All the trees that were planted near the sidewalks were a deep green and the sky was just as deep of a blue. 

Springtime in Indiana is just perfect. Not too hot, not too cool; just right. I was rudely awakened from my poetic observations when I tripped over a trashcan and face planted into the grass. Luckily, my face was still intact. "I'm such a klutz," I muttered to myself.

"That's too bad," a surprisingly deep voice said, "with those legs you could've been a top notch model." I looked up with annoyance into the face of a towering stranger. Ignoring both the comment on my short 5'2 frame and the muscular hand that offered to help me, I got on my knees and stood up. 

"I didn't realize there was someone behind me." I brushed the grass off my hands and quickly walked away. 

He laughed and within two strides, caught up to me. "I wasn't exactly stalking you. Just following since it seemed like you knew where to go." 

"Sure. Or is it because girls are much more pleasant to follow behind than, say, Travis," I sneered while motioning to the 76 year-old transportation guy driving by in his golf cart.

"I don't know Travis," the tall stranger said somewhat innocently. "Look," he continued, "why don't we start over."

I let out a sharp sigh. "Whatever."

"I'm Devin," he paused, "Marsh. And you are?"

I stopped walking. "You're Devin Marsh?"

"Yeah."

Devin Marsh, also known as the first racer to drive an Indy car two years before he got his standard license.

"Have you heard of me?" he asked. 

"Yeah, I've heard of you. Not much, but I've heard of you. You're here for training," I stated.

"Yes," he said. "You...work here?"

"I do. In the garages... I'm Larissa," I said reluctantly.

"Larissa?" he questioned.

"You can just call me Lissa. My mom didn't want to name me anything normal and she thought Larissa was kind of whimsical or whatever and... yeah..." I trailed off.

"Ah, I see," he nodded and looked around. 

An awkward moment of silence passed before a familiar voice welcomed from across the alley, saying, "Hullo Mister Marsh." I looked up and saw Dad walking towards us. Praise God. 

"You must be Mr. Taylor," Devin said. 

"Call me Jim, son," my dad shook his hand. "Well I see you've met my daughter."

"Larissa's your daughter?"

My dad said yes and then made a joke that I didn't hear because I was too busy observing Devin. I took my sunglasses off. He was kind of attractive, I permitted myself to think. Like, maybe more than kind of. 

He ran his fingers through his sandy hair and I continued staring at him. Within a second I caught myself, but it was one second too late. His dark brown eyes shifted towards me and a slow smirk spread across his face. He raised his eyebrows and gave an amused look. I tossed my head away from him in annoyance. What a haughty hottie. 

Devin turned back to Dad and said, "So where's my baby?" I must've looked really confused because Dad quickly explained that his car came in early this morning; and he'd been working on it ever since. 

"I better get going," I said, beginning to move along. Pulling out my phone, I saw that it was almost noon. I didn't even feel like hanging around the garages anymore so I turned and walked back where I'd came from a few minutes earlier. 

Before I took 10 steps I heard a deep voice call after me, "Watch out for that trash can." I stopped. It was right in front of me. I glanced back to Devin and saw his playful eyes dancing at me.

~~~ 

When I got home, I found that Mom had left, probably to pick up food. I ran upstairs, changed into sweatpants and a tank top, and sat down at my laptop. Contemplating whether to study or procrastinate, I chose the latter. 

Without even thinking I found myself typing "Devin Marsh" in Google. There was a picture of him with his arm around a slim, brunette-haired woman. She had a million-dollar looking diamond ring on her hand. He's married. 

I remembered the comment I made about him following me and felt a little bad. But then again, I recalled what he said before that about my legs. Never mind, I thought, the tables of guilt have turned. 

Slapping my computer shut, I began to wander aimlessly around my room. I looked in the mirror and saw my icy blue eyes, fierce with anger. "The irony," I spat out at my reflection.

"Larissa?" Mom stood in the doorway. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Nothing-oh, nothing! I'm just thinking about that Henry VIII paper I'm writing for history and man, what an idiot he was, like you know?"

She looked at me confused and slowly nodded. "Uh huh... Well, I got Chinese take-out if you can spare yourself from this hate session against Henry VIII."

"Sure, totally Mom. I'll be down in a bit."

"Okay," she hesitated and walked away. 

Phew, close one. I plopped myself down on my bed and called my best friend Kaity. 

"Hey Lis, what's going on?" she answered the phone. 

I told her all about what happened today and continued to purposelessly rant before she stopped me and chuckled, saying, "Lissa, you need to get out." 

"Why?" I asked, not really wanting an answer.

"Because," she said, "You're losing your head over a hot rich guy who's married."

"Oh please, I'm not losing my head over him," I said stubbornly as I twirled a section of my hair. "Who said I even glanced twice at him? He's just a cocky racer, and it annoys me."

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "That's besides the fact. Seriously, when is the last time you went out?"

I didn't answer. 

"Lissa," she huffed.

"Fine," I said, "What do you suggest? I go out, disguise myself as a boy, and join a fraternity club to add some excitement into my life?" 

She waved off my sarcasm. "There's a concert tonight at Rita's Pub; and a bunch of kids from my school are going. How about we go?" 

"Okay," I said, "But if we're doing this, you'd better get over here. I have nothing to wear." I glanced down at my shorts that looked a little worse for wear.

"Lies," she declared, "I'll be over around 5."

~~~

A few hours later I had half my wardrobe spread across my floor, leaving barely any room to walk. 

The front door opened and I stuck my head out in the hallway, yelling, "Kaity? Is that you?" A much more masculine voice than Kaity's replied. "No, it's me." 

"Oh, hi Dad," I said, "Kaity invited me to go to a concert at Rita's, is it alright if I go?" 

"Sure honey, sounds fun. Just try to be home before eleven." 

"Yeah, no problem." 

Someone knocked on the door. 

"That's probably Kaity, can you get it?" I asked. 

He opened the door and Kaity walked in. "Hi Mr. Taylor, how are you?" 

"Good, thanks. Lissa's up there."

She ran upstairs and found me awkwardly standing in my doorway, motioning to the piles of clothes on the floor. 

She laughed, "Alright let's get to work."

~~~