Chapter Ten: Carlotta's POV
1388 Words
I sat on my small bed, staring at the ceiling as reality crashed down on me like a cold wave. Registering for the race had been the easy part - just typing fake information into a computer. But now I had to face the impossible truth: I had less than eight hours to find a motorcycle, figure out how to get to the race, and somehow convince Mama to let me stay out all night.
What was I thinking? The question echoed in my mind as panic started to set in. I don't even have a bike. How can I race without a bike?
But underneath the fear, there was something else - a stubborn determination that refused to let me give up. I'd spent two years having every decision made for me, every move controlled by someone else. I wasn't going to back down now just because it seemed impossible.
I took a deep breath and walked into the kitchen where Mama was washing dishes from dinner.
"Mama," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I need to talk to you about something."
She looked up from the sink, dish soap bubbles covering her hands. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"The assignment I was working on," I began, hating myself for the lie. "It's more complicated than I thought. The professor wants us to do extensive research using multiple online databases."
"Okay," Mama said slowly, clearly not seeing where this was going.
"The problem is our internet connection here," I continued. "It's too slow for what I need to do. And some of the sites I need access to aren't working properly on our computer."
Mama frowned. "What are you saying?"
"I need to use the library," I said quickly. "The main library downtown has better computers and faster internet. I could get everything done tonight if I go there."
"Tonight?" Mama's voice rose with concern. "Carlotta, it's already getting dark. Why didn't you tell me about this earlier?"
Because I just registered for an illegal street race an hour ago, I thought, but said instead, "I didn't realize how much work it would be until I started. The assignment is due tomorrow, and if I don't get it done, I'll fail my first week."
Mama dried her hands on a kitchen towel, her expression troubled. "I don't like the idea of you being out late on your own. This city isn't safe at night, especially for a young woman."
"I know, Mama, but I don't have a choice," I said, trying to sound desperate rather than deceptive. "This is my education we're talking about. My future."
She was quiet for a long moment, clearly wrestling with her protective instincts and her desire to support my schooling.
"How late would you need to stay?" she asked finally.
"I'm not sure," I admitted. "Maybe until midnight? The library has extended hours for students."
"Midnight?" Mama's eyes widened. "Carlotta, that's so late. And how would you get home? The buses stop running after eleven."
Good question, I thought, realizing I hadn't thought that part through. "I'll figure something out. Maybe I can call a taxi."
"With what money?" Mama asked practically. "We can barely afford groceries, let alone taxi rides across the city."
My heart sank. She was right, of course. Even if I could somehow get to the race, I had no way to get home afterward.
"Please, Mama," I said, trying a different approach. "I know it's not ideal, but this is important. I can't fail my first assignment. What would that say about me?"
Mama looked at me for a long time, and I could see the internal battle playing out across her face. Finally, she sighed deeply.
"Alright," she said reluctantly. "But I have conditions."
"Anything," I said quickly.
"You come home as soon as you're finished, no matter what time it is. Even if you have to walk."
"I will."
"And you call me every few hours to let me know you're safe."
My stomach twisted with guilt. "Of course."
"And if anything feels wrong, anything at all, you leave immediately and come home. Your safety is more important than any assignment."
"I understand," I said, touching her arm gently. "Thank you, Mama. I know you're worried, but I'll be careful."
She pulled me into a hug, and I had to fight back tears at how much I was deceiving her. "You're all I have left, Carlotta. I can't lose you too."
"You won't," I whispered, hoping it was true. "I'll be back before you know it."
An hour later, I was walking through the darkening streets with nothing but my determination and a growing sense of desperation. I had told Mama I was heading to the library, but instead, I was making my way to Papa's old garage.
This is insane, I thought as I approached the familiar building. Even if there's still a bike there, it probably doesn't run. And even if it runs, I don't know if I can actually ride it in a race.
But it was my only option. I had to try.
The garage looked even more run-down than it had that morning. The windows were boarded up, and weeds had grown up around the entrance. A heavy chain and padlock secured the main door, but I remembered Papa mentioning a side entrance that the landlord sometimes forgot to secure properly.
I made my way around to the back of the building, my heart pounding with nerves and guilt. Breaking and entering wasn't exactly how I'd planned to start my new life, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The side door was locked too, but the lock was old and rusty. I found a piece of metal pipe in the alley and worked at it until the lock finally gave way with a loud snap that made me freeze and look around to make sure no one had heard.
Please don't let me get arrested, I prayed as I pushed open the door.
The smell hit me first - motor oil, rust, and years of accumulated dust. I pulled out my phone and used its flashlight to illuminate the space, my heart sinking as I saw what awaited me.
The garage was a disaster. Tools were scattered everywhere, covered in dust and grime. Parts and pieces of motorcycles were piled in random heaps, most of them looking beyond repair. It was like a graveyard for machines, and I was supposed to find something race-worthy in this mess?
This is hopeless, I thought, feeling my spirit crumble as I picked my way through the debris. What was I thinking? Papa's been gone for years. Anything valuable would have been taken long ago.
I spent twenty minutes searching through piles of rusty metal and broken parts, growing more discouraged with each passing moment. The clock on my phone showed 9:30 PM - I had less than three hours to find a bike, figure out how to start it, and get to the race location.
Maybe I should just give up, I thought, tears of frustration starting to blur my vision. Maybe Paxton was right. Maybe I am just some helpless freshman who doesn't know what she's doing.
I was about to turn around and leave when something caught my eye. In the far corner of the garage, hidden behind a pile of old tires and covered by a stained tarp, was the outline of something that looked like it might actually be a complete motorcycle.
My heart started pounding as I made my way over to it, pushing aside the tires and grabbing the edge of the tarp.
"Please," I whispered to whatever gods might be listening. "Please let this be something I can use."
I pulled away the tarp, and my breath caught in my throat.
There, covered in dust but seemingly intact, was a midnight blue Yamaha R6. It wasn't new - probably at least ten years old - but it looked like it might actually run. More importantly, it looked fast.
Papa, I thought, remembering how he used to talk about this bike when I was little. You kept it. You actually kept it.
For the first time all day, I felt a spark of real hope. Maybe this crazy plan wasn't so impossible after all.
- Writer
