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UNRULY TEENAGE POGUES FROM EVERY CORNER OF THE CUT were tucked onto a vacant street as two daring boys, who held a grudge against one another since seemingly the beginning of time, geared up to race against the other.
Every weekend, kids on The Cut gathered on any unoccupied back street, preferably off of Shoupe’s radar, to watch the unorthodox relay— where two bike-obsessed, thrill-seeking teenagers went head to head. For being an unofficial Pogue event, it was fairly well organized.
There were mechanics who made sure the bike were good to go, flag girls who strut their stuff in checkered outfits and signaled for them to go, and people like you who advised your racer of their route, their speed, and whatever else to make sure they got to the finish line first.
So, while the crowd cheered, you were busying yourself with securing JJ’s helmet as he strapped on his gloves. You pushed his head up after he looked down to fiddle with the velcro strap for the fifth time.
“Someone’s a little rough tonight. You alright, mama?” He questioned, the only readable part of his expression being his eyes that peeked through the small part of the hard headgear. You offered no response, only continuing to loop the straps through the adjustments before he grabbed your wrists gently, lowering them in front of his chest.
“Talk to me.” His voice was slightly muffled and his concern gleamed through his eyes.
“It’s just…” You started apprehensively, looking to your left where Rafe Cameron and some kook chick stood in a similar stance, her adjusting his helmet before tapping him on the head. “If you don’t dust his ass, we won’t hear the end of it. But I don’t want to put that kind of pressure on you…”
JJ bent his knees slightly, bringing his face closer to yours. “Hey, there’s no pressure. I’ve been doing this way longer than him and you know how that asshole gets; too blinded by his own rage to do anything right.” He assured you, speaking hearteningly.
“The thing is, I may have already come up with a…system, of sorts…” You started, avoiding JJ’s eyes as they fell into confusion. “C’mere.” You mumbled, slipping your wrists out of his grip to grab one of his, leading him to your setup off to the side of the main road where the bikes waited to be driven— two portable laptops, a keyboard, and your headset that connected to the mic inside of his helmet lay on the small table. You released his wrist in exchange for pointing at the dimly lit laptop screens, a path outlined in red on the screen.
“What’s this?” He asked, bending down next to you to view the monitor.
“I made a slight alteration in your route.” You started. “You already know how to read this; the red line is your entire path, the yellow dots are your mile markers, the flag is the finish line, yada yada.” You continued, trailing your finger up the display and stopping on the fifth yellow dot. “Right here is where I made a change. Originally, I was going to have you follow along to the end of the road and make your right turn to the finish line as sharp as possible to cut down on the speed lost during the turn…”
“Mhm.”
“But this is a street race, so we can bend the rules. Considering, y'know, there aren’t any.” You tapped the panel with your finger twice for emphasis. “Once you hit the five mile marker, I made it so that you’ll veer off the main road. You’ll end up on another street, much more narrow and risky but you can do it and it cuts down the distance between you and the finish line by an entire mile, leaving Rafe a good distance behind you.”
“And how will I know when to make the turn?”
You looked up at him in question. “The same way you always do — I’ll tell you. Just keep your mic on and make sure that you can hear me.”
“And you’re sure this’ll work?” He was looking down at you now, standing to his full height.
“No.” You were honest, this was JJ’s well-being, and his reputation, on the line. Lying wasn’t in his best interest. “But I’ve gone over it in my head so many times, you wouldn’t believe it. This is our best shot.”
He let out a deep breath, shaking his shoulders out and bouncing slightly on his feet.
“If you don’t think this’ll go smoothly, we can stick to the original route-”
“No, no, It’s good. I’m good.” Once he was steady and unmoving, you looked him in the eyes — any sign of uncertainty and you were going back to the original plan. But as you scanned his eyes, you couldn’t find one. So without any other protests, you nodded and edged closer to him, kissing the side of his helmet.
“Ok then.” You turned your head towards your station once more, picking up your headset and adjusting it to your head, leveling the small microphone with your lips. “You better get out there.” You encouraged, head tilting in the direction of his waiting bike, hearing your own voice in your ears due to the close proximity.
“You got me?” He asked.
“Always.” You smiled, turning to make sure everything with your display was up to speed. JJ took the opportunity to grab a small handful of your ass considering you were bent over the table slightly. “Get away from here.” You chuckled, swatting his gloved hand away.
“Can’t help myself.” He joked, retreating towards his motorcycle with his hands up in mock surrender.
As you hit keys and adjusted settings, you could hear the crowd get louder as the boys mounted their bikes. You took your eyes off the monitors in front of you to see the flag girl strutting between the two with the checkered banner held high in the air, crossing one leg over the other as she walked to the front, the crowd dying down as she turned to face the two boys.
It was a small pause, a brief second, then she was bringing the flag down like a hammer on a nail and all that was heard was cheers and engines popping, tires creating clouds of smoke in the empty space behind the vehicles as the bikes practically launched themselves off the concrete.
You wasted no time in whipping your view back to the monitors, the icon that resembled JJ’s bike position moving fast along the path.
“Hey, J, can you hear me?”
“Crystal clear, baby.”
You smiled, letting your elbows rest on the wooden surface, eyes never leaving the bright interface, watching as JJ practically zipped past the first mile marker.
“You’re doing good, alright? Keep going at this pace for now, but once you start to come up on your turn, you’ll need enough time to slow down. It’s a narrow path, JJ. I need you to focus.”
“I hear you.”
“Good.” You continued watching as the crowd watched the race on a bigger monitor that was set up within their view, watching the live feed from small cameras attached to both of their bikes streaming side-by-side. It wasn’t long before JJ passed the second marker, then the third, coming up on the fourth.
“Okay, this is where you need to decrease your speed. Not too much, about two-thirds of what you’re going now.”
“If I do that, I’ll fall behind.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Baby, I’m telling you. He’ll pass me and be miles ahead before I even reach the mile marker.” His tracker was showing that he hadn’t dropped his speed at all and he needed to if this was going to work.
“Listen to me. The path is shorter and allows you to travel less distance, you’ll still be ahead. Slow down, now.”
You could hear him sigh into the mic. “We’re doing this your way.” He said almost skeptically, like he didn’t believe this was his way to the finish line. Your eyes zeroed in on the computer screen, watching him roll through the forth mile marker at a more compatible speed.
“Okay, edge towards the right side of the road to get further out of Rafe’s peripheral. If he sees you, he might follow.”
You watched him veer off down the path with no issue. A bright smile crept onto your features as you silently cheered to yourself. “Yes! Okay, we can do this. Just keep going, J. You’re not far from the end.”
“The hell?” JJ’s voice boomed on the other side of the line. His tracker icon swerving side to side on the screen. “Shit! He’s tailing me!”
“What?” You could feel the way your face immediately fell.
“He reversed his fucking bike to follow me… Dammit!” His frustration was as clear as day, the sound of engines revving growing louder in the mic. The crowd’s demeanor changed as well, causing your vision to reluctantly drift over to the large TV monitor, watching as Rafe’s side of the screen grew closer and closer to the back of JJ’s bike.
“JJ, speed up!”
“I’m going as fast as I can! Is there a way off this damn road?!”
“No, there isn’t! When I- fuck!”
You were frantic, hands above your head as you paced around in your space. Eyes never leaving the screen as the crowd grew more and more anxious.
You were trying to think. If this were any other person, your assumptions that they would run your boyfriend into a ditch would be low. But this was Rafe Cameron. A man with something severely wrong with him. And you could hear your heartbeat racing, thump after thump, as you watched Rafe’s bike grow close enough to collide with JJ’s back tire, sending him flying off of the bike into the middle of the street. The screen showing JJ’s bike view as it slid across the concrete before glitching out.
The crowd grew half-angry with Rafe’s actions and half-shocked, loud protests breaking out as arms flew in the air. Your eyes burned with tears and your voice croaked as you practically hollered into the speaker unit. “JJ?! I swear to God, can you hear me?!”
You snatched the headset off your head before making a b-line for your own bike that you’d rode here, wasting no time in knocking the kickstand and taking off. The wind blasted the tears out of your eyes as you followed the path you’d mapped out yourself, coming up on the road where you could see your boyfriend curled up into an unmoving ball.
Your bike screeched as it came to a halt while you hastily hopped off with not a care in the world as it clambered to the ground. You almost tripped over your own feet as you ran towards JJ, skinning your knees as you fell to your knees next to him before you stopped running practically sliding before you flipped him over onto his back.
“C’mon…” You mumbled to yourself as you worked on getting the helmet off of his head, throwing it to the side without caution as his face was exposed to you — blood leaking from his nose and trickling from his now split lip accompanied by a large bruise on his cheek. He was coughing and groaning and you were too focused on scanning him for more injuries that you didn’t hear the distinct rumble of John B’s van pulling up, five distressed friends who had been watching from the sidelines piling out of the vehicle and surrounding the both of you.
“Oh my-”
“Is he okay?!”
“Does he look okay?!” You yelled, lifting his shirt to take a look at his torso — purple-ish splotches blooming around his ribcage, red and irritated skin abrasions beginning to bead with blood. You cursed under your breath, slipping your arms underneath him in an attempt to lift him on your own. “We need to get him to the garage.” You spoke as your friends crowded to help you carry his weight as you all hoisted him into the van.
“Why not a hospital?” Cleo quizzed incredulously.
“Too many questions,“ John B offered.
"And they’ll call his father. We can handle it.” You spoke absentmindedly, carefully laying JJ down on the floor of the Twinkie as you, Kie, Pope, and Cleo piled into the back while John B and Sarah rounded the front. The automobile jumped as John B turned the key before the engine roared and it was taking off down the road.
“I think we should get him to a doctor.” Kie spoke up in a troubled manner.
“No! Okay, we all know they’ll call his dad and he’ll walk out of there with more bruises than he went in with.” You reprimanded. JJ’s health was the first thing on your mind and though they may not understand, taking him to a hospital would make things worse. Between racing illegally, his abusive father, and his already not-so-clean record? Walking into a building full of mandated reporters was not an option.
The van fell silent, all eyes on JJ’s heaving figure or looking out the window watching street lights go by. Deep down you all knew he’d be fine but until you knew for sure, the space hung low with tension from worry and disagreement on how to handle the situation.
“You’re bleeding…” Pope pointed out, motioning to the blood leaking slowly from your knees. It must’ve happened when you ran over to help JJ.
“Don’t worry about me.” You eased the boy’s concern. It wasn’t long before the van was pulling into the garage, the fluorescent white light illuminating the space in the dead of night. The vehicle hadn’t even come to a full stop before the side door was flung open as you, with the help of the others, hauled JJ’s limp frame to the sofa in the corner of the workspace. Once he was situated, you rushed over to the opposite corner of the room, sifting through boxes of tools and manuals until you found the long buried first aid kit and medical supplies.
JJ had sustained a decent amount of injuries in the duration of his hobby of his but it never exceeded much more than a few shallow cuts here and there. Kneeling next to the worn down sofa, you doused a cotton ball with alcohol and dabbed it onto the injured parts of his face. Of course, you were met with the loudest groan he’d made since you all plucked him from the road.
“I’m sorry.” You mumble apologetically, turning your head slightly when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder.
“You’re shakin’.” Cleo observed. Looking down at your hands, she was right. From your wrists to the tips of your fingers, you were trembling. “Go pull yourself together, girl. I’ll patch him up.”
You gave her the best appreciative smile you could muster, truly grateful for her kindness and keen eye. Handing her the cotton ball, you placed your hands on your stinging knees to help yourself up, walking a just few feet away. You’d clean yourself up later. You just needed a moment to collect yourself.
You couldn’t help but feel some guilt. There was a part of you that was mentally scolding yourself like a parent for suggesting the route change in the first place. What possessed you to put JJ’s safety on the line like that? But then there was that more lenient part of you that kept reminding yourself that Rafe Cameron was not one to play fair and that there was a chance that he would’ve pulled something like this either way.
You were facing away from the group, one hand on your hip as the other ran down your face until it settled on covering just your mouth as you finally allowed the hot tears that took home in your waterline to fall. A small, almost inaudible sob left your lips before you shook your head; sniffing up your tears, rubbing the wetness from your eyes, and telling yourself to stop being ridiculous.
As your mind cleared, you could hear engines in the distance, your brows pinching in puzzlement. You, along with Pope, Kiara, John B, and Sarah, edged towards the opening of the garage as Rafe’s bike pulled up with Topper’s truck trailing close behind. Cleo was still kneeling and attending to JJ’s wounds.
Rafe stationed his bike and tore his helmet off as he dismounted, Topper and Kelce hopping out of the truck behind him. Rafe’s lips curled into a smirk, parting to say something but he never got the chance before you were closing the space between you two, clocking him in the jaw.
You stumbled forward a little as you did so, watching him recover from the hit as he took the opportunity to grab you by the shoulders and spin you around and push you down, practically pinning you to the solid ground. You could hear his friends and yours screaming as you both brawled on the concrete.
Rafe’s first raised and came down, just missing your face as it collided with the street, causing him to let out a mangled cry. Distracted by his own pain, you managed to push him off of his straddling position above you as he fell on his ass, you taking the opportunity to kick him in the chest, knocking him completely on his back. You scrambled to your knees, little rocks getting in the cuts on them and strand of hair obstructing your vision as you frantically hit his chest and face. Not landing every hit but enough of them.
He spoke through the blood in his mouth from your initial hit, calling you all sorts of names ranging from ‘lowlife’ to ‘bitch’. He eventually managed to grab a hold of your wrists that were coming down on him in a frenzy. He pulled you up by them, slamming you against Topper’s truck that was still running, your head spinning for a few moments from the collision.
“Get off of her, you psycho!” Kiara’s voice rang out.
You found enough strength in your daze to snatch your arms out of his grip, pushing his shoulders back cruelly just in time as John B and Sarah stepped in between the both of you. Rafe wiping blood from his lip as John B pushed him further back while Sarah’s hands were on your shoulders asking you questions you could barely hear through the ringing in your ears.
Your eyes wandered, seeing a frazzled Kie and an enraged Pope in front of Topper and Kelce who were trying to get past them to get to Rafe, Cleo seemingly safe-guarding JJ’s resting figure as she was crouched beside him with a switchblade clutched in her hand.
Once the humming in your eardrums ceased, you could hear John B telling off Rafe and his goons. “She’s a girl, dipshit! You don’t touch her!”
“She hit me!” Rafe tried to defend.
Then Sarah’s blonde hair was whipping in front of you, now facing her crazed brother. “Because you ran her boyfriend off the road, Rafe!” She screamed. “Just…go! Okay, leave! Go home.”
Rafe licked his lips, nodding his head and looking side to side before shrugging his shoulders. He rubbed his jaw, taking wide strides towards his bike as he snatched his helmet that had fallen out of his hand in the scuffle from off of the ground. He stopped less than a foot in front you, his face distressed and eyes mad.
He didn’t say anything, just glared at you before chuckling under his breath and throwing himself over his bike. Topper and Kelce following his lead and clambering back into the truck before both vehicles reversed and sped back in the direction they came.
"Jesus…” John B breathed out, running his fingers through his hair.
You took a deep breath, running a hand over the top of your head.
“Guys,” Cleo called out. “I think he’s wakin’ up.” She waved you all over.
You all rushed over, crowding around the injured blonde who was shifting as his eyes squinted, groaning as he clenched his torso.
“What the fuck…”
A small chorus of laughter was shared amongst the group, looking at each other in relief.
“My ass hurts.” JJ pouted, Cleo shaking her head and rising from her crouched position beside him, patting him on the shoulder.
“Don’t move too much, blondie. You need to heal.” She offered before leaving the space beside JJ open, motioning for you to take it. John B and Pope walked by him as well, giving him a pat on the shoulder, mumbling similar variations of ‘Glad you’re okay, man.’. Sarah offering a simple smile while Kie rolled her eyes telling him he was reckless.
“She’s totally glad I’m alive.” JJ tried to joke.
You brushed the sweaty strands of hair from his forehead. “We all are.” Your voice was solemn. “This was my fault. I should’ve stuck to the initial plan.”
“Don’t start that.” He insisted. “I agreed to it and it wasn’t our fault, regardless.” His voice was strained and raspy. “He couldn’t stand to lose. That’s all. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay?”
Reluctantly, you nodded, laying your head on his shoulder as one of his arms went around yours.
You both laid in comfortable silence for a few moments until he spoke again.
“I know I was out of it but… did you fight Rafe?”
You smacked your teeth and groaned while he chuckled. “I was upset. I got him in the jaw one good time, though.”
He squeezed you closer to him as much as his body would allow for a quick moment, planting a small kiss on the top of your head. “That’s my girl.” He praised. “I’m still gonna kick his ass for putting his hands on you, though.”
“I expected nothing less.”
“Glad you know.”