Hey guys! Sorry for the delay. I haven't been very productive lately... been playing a lot of SoulCalibur, actually XD Here ya go!

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After a few days, Atlanta became as familiar to me as San Diego. Apone let me work in his garage during the day, and the guys there accepted me as one of their own. Soon we all were heckling each other in exactly the same affable way the guys in my uncles' garage did. Some nights I went out racing as practice for the tournament, some nights I simply stayed in with Apone, developing a fast friendship. We'd take turns making dinner for each other: he would make me fried chicken and I'd make fajitas for him. The first chip he had of my salsa, he choked and chugged about three glasses of water. I just about cried with laughter as he swore I'd burned a hole through his tongue.

After dinner, we'd play some video games or take walks. He'd taken to calling me "Dirt"; when I asked why, he shrugged and just said it was because I played dirty at his video games. I playfully shoved a throw pillow in his face and laughed as he chucked it back. Other than that, he was always respectful and polite in a way guys in San Diego never are. Southern charm, I supposed, but that didn't stop me from blushing every time he held open a door for me.

The morning of my third day in Atlanta, I wake up with an odd knot in my stomach. I lay in bed for a minute, trying to puzzle it out. After a moment, I realize it's because the tournament is tonight. The knot tightens unpleasantly. I scold myself for worrying, but it doesn't make me feel better. I get up and dress in my second favorite tank top (gray with a butterfly stamp), my lavender zip-up hoodie, and skinny jeans. Summers in Atlanta are the same at home – hot and humid – so I knew I'd be dying in the garage that didn't have air conditioning, but for some reason I feel strangely cold.

I make my way downstairs to find Apone frying bacon. He hears me and turns to me, saying brightly, "Good mornin', Dirt! I'm making a special breakfast for your big day."

I manage to smile back. "Thanks Apone, but I'm not hungry." Like I could fit anything else in my stomach around this huge knot.

"Not nervous, are ya, Dirt?"

"No," I snap a little too quickly.

He grins. "No sweat, Andrea. You'll smoke 'em all for sure. C'mon, you'll feel better if you eat something." He ushers me to the table and I sit down. For some reason, hearing him say my real name makes me feel calm enough to eat a couple slices of bacon and some scrambled eggs. Apone seems satisfied even with the small amount I've eaten, and after we clean up, we head to the garage for work.

Dusk has fallen, but my anxiety has risen. I fidget as Apone drives us home from the garage. I've never been this worked up over a race before. I feel like everything hangs on this tournament and I can't help feeling like I'll end up disappointing everyone somehow.

"So what'cha want for dinner tonight?" I hear Apone asking as we head in the house.

I shrug; food is the last thing on my mind. He smiles at me and says something about a frozen pizza before disappearing into the kitchen. I make my way into the living room and sit down on the edge of the couch, staring at the blank T.V. My chest feels tight with all the tension inside me; it holds me up as rigidly as a straightjacket.

All of a sudden the T.V. turns on and I blink. A weight sinks the cushion beside me. I turn and see Apone smiling at me in a sympathetic way. He inclines his head in a "come here" sort of way, at the same time wrapping his right arm around my shoulders. I fold into him, bringing my feet up on the couch in a cheerleader sit and resting my head on his shoulder. We spend the time in companionable silence, and when we get up to take the pizza out of the oven, Apone gestures for me to stay. He comes back with two plates laden with pizza, which he eats with relish but I just pick at.

"You better get ready, Dirt," he says as he gathers up our plates. The panic, which had ebbed somewhat while we were eating, returns in full force. Apone notices the look on my face and smiles a little, "You'll be fine. I'll be right there rootin' for ya."

For some reason that comforts me a little. I nod, unable to smile back, and head up the stairs to brush my teeth.

I know it's short, I'm sorry; I was going to write the tournament in this chapter but I ran out of inspiration. Plus I'm kind of a sadistic little beyotch who likes keeping you guys hanging XD *shot* Reviews are much appreciated! Keep a lookout for the next chapter!