A/N: Please don't hurt me. It took me forever to get back into the writing mood. I don't think I suffered a writer's block… I think I suffered from a lack of interest in continuing the story. But I said it earlier somewhere that I'm more of a writer than I am an artist but more of a scientist than I am a writer. Briefly, I was too distracted by reading about chemicals and explosives than characters and automobiles.
I've got to wonder why no one ever wants to hear my point of view on things? Am I that boring? Or am I only the comic relief? Whatever. You shall now listen to the all-mighty Selphie because I say so. So.
My fellow driver and companion Squall seemed very much out of it as we walked towards our separate cars. His eyes were cloudy, as if the glaze on doughnuts had gone straight to his eyes, making it harder to see into his soul. He blinked a few times and the cloudy look evaporated out of his eyes and they became steely and empty. He climbed into his car and didn't return the jest of wishing me good luck.
I don't blame him: today is a pretty important day. There's the morning's race wherein only the top thirty drivers would make it to this afternoon's race. Thirty of the fifty that showed up would move on; twenty will be cut. Those twenty might stick around to see the outcome or they might leave, calling their driving bullshit and how the other guys had cut them off or how they had almost died when they crashed into the tires along the track. It's a pretty big deal. I wonder if the organizers even cared about those who didn't make the cut?
Anyway, we sat in our respective cars as we waited for the light to turn green. There was a minute that was to pass by before the cars would get the chance to go once around the track with the lead car before the actual bumping and grinding (not the dirty kind, you perverts) would begin.
The top pair of red lights went out before the second pair lit up. Forty-five second to wait. I looked to the drivers to my left and to my right. They looked ready to try to squish my car to a pulp. I couldn't wait to see them try.
The red lights went out and the yellow ones lit up. Ten seconds to go. The engines began to reeve as the drivers kept their foot on the gas petal but the hand brake locked. You'd think that the time between lights would be consistent. But this is a profession where anything can happen. The car in front of you could blow up and you'd think it was normal. It's also a profession of reflexes.
The green light lit up and rubber was burned as the cars sped off behind the lead car. The pure white car drove past the bleachers with us to follow them. Behind me, I could her one car crash into the bumper of the one in front of it: car number 44 had crashed into car number 34. Number 34 did not have the chance to release the hand brake and things went downhill from there for them. I suppose that leaves only eighteen more to cut.
We drove straight for quite some time, the people flying by and the cars shown one by one on the big screen TV. I smiled as I passed the TV and saw Squall's steely gaze on the road ahead of him, almost as he were studying the terrain. I realized that it wasn't a particularly bad strategy and did so myself but my high school teachers would tell you that I was brilliant but lazy. I stopped as soon as the asphalt changed to gravel and then dirt. Up ahead, I saw something bright reflect off the ground only to realize that it was water. There was a gigantic puddle ahead. And there was a sign next to it on the right: we were going to have to turn right in the puddle. This was something that I had never seen before. I could easily look out my windows to look at the other drivers and see that they were quite taken aback by the sign.
There were right turns upon left turns and U-turns and wrong ways, short cuts and lengthy paths. This was a tack that required a map. It required a map that neither of us had. It was an unorthodox track and a challenge for even the most experienced drivers.
Eventually, we reached the stands again and the white car drove to the side: the race had finally truly begun.
As we passed the starting line, we could see that car number 34 and number 44 had been removed and the drivers stood on the sidelines yelling and shoving one another. I could only imagine the amount of embarrassment the two had to endure while everyone drove past them.
Not even three feet past the starting line and the cars began to break away from the original formation. I felt the car that had be next to mine bump into me. However it wasn't a bump because for five feet, I could see the driver's grinning face as he forced his car next to mine, trying to slow me down. Not one to take such bullshit, I pushed the gas pedal a little bit more, gradually increasing speed. I pulled halfway up his car when his car swerved out of his control. He had applied so much force on my car that when it left, it had nowhere else to go but into the air. The 100 Newton's-per-square-inch atmospheric pressure did less than nothing to help him regain control. I saw car number 32 crash into the tires on the side. Seventeen left.
I could hear the announcer's voice boom over the intercom, announcing what was happening to the cheering crowd. I could feel the terrain alter into the gravel as I snaked through the cars. A particular detail caught my eye as I looked for the next opening to pass through: Squall was second to a license plate that belonged to only one person: Seifer Almasy.
Exiting the shifty terrain, I zipped through an opening that brought me to third. With a hundred and fifty yards before the finish line, I pushed hard into the gas pedal, as did Squall and Seifer.
Squall pulled into the first position but was still fighting for the lead with Seifer and I.
To decide who had crossed the line first, a picture was taken as well as shots from all different angles. The checkered flag was waved and within the next five minutes, all of the remaining drivers passed the finish line.
The first round had only one lap to it but the second round this afternoon had three. This afternoon was the first of the races, the last taking place Tuesday afternoon where the winner would be announced.
The cars gradually came to a halt and everyone gathered outside of their cars. An organization representative came to meet us on the sidelines.
"I know you're all wondering who came in first but I can't tell you: I don't know myself. The review board is upstairs trying to determine the winner as we speak. If you wouldn't mind, you'll have to wait for ten minutes to see who got cut and what your times were. It you would like, you can all go wait inside the building where we've set up an after race buffet where you can eat in the mean time." The pudgy man said.
I walked through the crowd and found Squall. He hadn't seen me yet as I was right behind him and, without thinking, I hugged him from behind. I felt him jump three feet into the air before his hands circled my wrists and he pried me off his back. He had a smile on his face but a threat in his voice.
"Don't do that. Especially not here."
"Okay." I said. I could hear the other drivers around us give out wolf whistles and catcalls. Squall blushed and I smiled. They knew nothing and nothing was what their thoughts were.
"Now, I'm hungry. Let's go eat." He said as we followed the rest of the drivers. His eyes became cloudy once more, as if his thoughts were buried in the past that was long behind him.
We walked through the double doors, past the locker rooms and found the buffet table. There were plates upon plates of food. We picked out food and sat down across one another near the standings board.
The same representative excused himself for disturbing us before removing the board from it's current position on the wall and carrying it away with him, back up the stairs and into one of the offices above.
We heard an exchange of formalities above us before the sound of heels clicking on the marble stairs echoed throughout the hallway. All eyes turned upwards to see Rinoa Heartilly descend the stairs with a smile on her face: a forced smiled. Her eyes betrayed her facial features and her thoughts screamed at the distortion of her face pulled into a mask of utter deceit. I'm a girl; I can sense these things at the mere sight of them.
"Congratulations on a race well driven today. It's not the easiest race out there; you are, after all, the best that there is in the world of racing. At the same time, it's not the easiest track either. I've driven the track a few times and I must say, don't let the bumpiness of it all get to you. After a while, you get used to it… But I suppose that you would all know of it better than I do." She said, an ambassador of her father's. That was, after all, the reason for the distaste in her eyes.
She continued down the stairs and talked to the drivers, trying to make the pleasantries less painful. She made her way through the crowd and stopped at our table. She congratulated us once more on the heart-stopping leap at the finish line. Her eyes smiled in admiration at me while they clouded over with disdain at Squall.
Squall gave her a confused look but she said nothing more and merely walked on, stopping to talk to the drivers.
"Jeeze, what'd you do to her?" I asked Squall.
"Does this look like a face that knows?" He asked as he pointed to his face, "I didn't think so. Trust me though, if I knew, I would've tried to justify long ago."
"Hm. Maybe it's something that you did in your past? Did you know her then?" I asked. I could feel that I was on the right track but I also had the feeling that Squall wouldn't remember it even if it meant his life.
"I don't think so. I would remember such a pretty face." He said. That was a minor detail that he would never remember. Long ago, her face wasn't the prettiest thing out there.
I was about to tell him when the chubby representative came down holding the standings board. Rinoa saw him and excused herself from the current driver that she was talking to before cutting through the crowd to take a stand on the stairs.
"Gentlemen, and lady, we have here the results of today's race. In third place we have Ms. Selphie Tilmitt. In second, we have Mr. Squall Leonheart. In first place, we have Mr. Seifer Almasy." Rinoa announced. It wasn't the standing that Squall wanted to hear but at this point, all that mattered was that he had made this afternoon. As for me, I didn't mind third place although I had a craving to take down Seifer. The air around that man screamed out "Asshole!"
Squall pulled a smile on his face so that he would not seem as shallow as he felt. I didn't mind third place, it was a place that had to be conquered before you could move forward. It's a cozy spot that will change this afternoon and change once more over the next few days.
Squall and I left the hall, completely forgetting about the topic that we spoke of earlier since we were absorbed in talking about the days to come and predicting what those who were cut were going to do and how they felt. But the later was easier to guess than the former.
A/N: Oi! Guess what! I'm not dead yet and this story just transcended all my expectations (I.E: not to continue because I'd lost mind in an ocean named Ignorance). But I'm alive and well and good fucking god, it's late… or early. Depends on which day you're in. It's kinda late, this chapter may sound rushed but I just wrote and I have no idea what I'm doing. I can't tell the difference between my ass and my elbow when it comes to the direction of the story but I'll manage. I hope you aren't mad at me for taking my sweet time here but I haven't really felt the writing vibe lately. Anyway, criticism is good, blatant or constructive shall take it. Just REVIEW. Thanks-a-many.