Familiar Much?

The next course of the Survivor Series was at Kirikala and now I had something to prove. Namely that I deserved my Pro title. I woke up at six in the morning and paced around my room. I stopped for a moment to chastise myself, but before I could get any words out, I realized I still heard pacing.

"Speed?" I whispered. Did that kid ever sleep? Or did he just have long-life batteries? I skipped over to his room and opened the door. It creaked.

"HUH?!" he shouted. He stuck a defensive pose. He was still in his pajamas, the white t-shirt and those blue sweatpants. His hair was matted and all over his face. Then he saw it was me and let his guard down. "Oh, Trix," he said. "Don't sneak up on me like that. You're up?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "How long have you been up?"

"About an hour," he replied. "But what's eating you?"

"I'm scared," I confessed. "If I screw up again, I'm not going to make it to the Pro Tour. And I'm not ready to stop yet." He moseyed over to me and put his firm hands on my shoulders. "Today's gonna go great," he predicted. "You'll see."

I playfully stroked his hair, pulling his bangs into his face. I advised, "You should wear your hair like this outside. It looks all rebellious."

"Oh yeah," he said sarcastically. "Because I'm bad to the bone."

I gave him a quick kiss on the lips and walked away. Before I got out of the doorway, I looked back and said, "You always know how to make me feel better."

Bewildered as to what exactly he did, Speed called after me, "Anytime?"

"You're stressing yourself out," he said at breakfast that morning after I knocked over the sugar saucer.

"Sorry," I said softly to Mom Racer. I got under the table and repeated it, "Sorry." I picked up the cup, swept the sugar off the floor with my hands, poured it into the trash bin, put the cup in the sink, and started washing it out.

"You'll be great, Trixie," said Speed. "You know you are."

"That's easy for you to say," I snorted from the sink. "Everyone loves you. Everyone knows you can do it. You won the Grand Prix, Speed. You've proven yourself. Whatever you do, people will think you're great. Me … I mess up and people think the past year was one whole big fluke."

"Trixie, not many drivers can make it from Amateur to Pro in a year," Speed said. "You've proved yourself just fine."

"Yeah, okay," I sighed. He got up from the table to get a mug from the counter. He past me, still rubbing soap off the sugar saucer, and warned, "You might want to lay off that thing. I think you took some of the finish off. I placed it on the counter and gave him a playful push, "Oh, Speed Racer, you are just the worst." We took our places back at the table.

"You're gonna shine today, baby," I said to the TRX-1 as I rolled it onto the start line. "Nobody's gonna stop us."

This was a signal to me that I'd been around Speed way too long. He was good for talking to his car. I once asked him why, and he replied, "Because the car is a living, breathing thing." I didn't understand it then, but once I got the TRX-1, I guess my line of thought changed. She was, by all means, my baby.

I parked her on the green and white checkered start line. The track was full of candy colors and archways that looked like ice cream scoops with cherries on them. I could see Togokahn from my rearview mirror. I snorted. At least I did one thing right at Fuji.

"Hi, Trix," said a friendly voice. Speed gave me a wave.

"Hey, handsome," I said. "Is the Mach 6 all parked and ready to go?"

"You know it," he replied. He put a hand on the TRX-1, "And how's this little beauty?"

"Are you talking about me or the car?"

"You, of course," he said after a brief pause.

"Yah-huh," I snorted. "We're both rearing to go."

"Speed, Trixie," said the deep, droning, unmistakable voice of Racer X. Speed and I turned around quickly. I looked up. He seemed to look more intimidating than usual. At least … I think he was. It was so hard to tell when all you could see was his mouth …

"X," Speed bade him.

"I just wanted to tell you how disappointed I was with both of your performances yesterday," said Racer X, not even returning the hello.

"Isn't everyone entitled to an off day?" asked Speed.

"Not in this sport," said X frankly. "I expected better. Especially from you, Speed." His head moved down. I only thought he was staring at me, until he said the worst thing I could have ever imagined, not even with a hint of tact.

"Maybe you should keep the girlfriend at home."

"What is that supposed to mean!?" I yelled indignantly.

"You distract each other," he explained his reasoning. "Each of you is so concerned about the other you don't concentrate on yourselves."

I couldn't believe it! He was criticizing us for caring about one another!

"Trixie's a great driver, X," retorted Speed. "You know it. You've seen it."

"I also saw Snake Oiler almost cut her head off with a tire at Casa Cristo," he pointed out. "What would she have done without you there?"

You make one mistake, and you get it thrown in your face for the rest of your life! I had a great line in that rally! Sparky said so! Oh, God, am I using Sparky as a reference? I'm really desperate.

"Trixie made her way to Pro, fair and square," said Speed. "She deserves to be here as much as you and I … or any other driver here does."

"Let's see you both drive like it," X drawled. And without another word he meandered back to the Shooting Star.

I sank a little lower into my seat, muttering, "Why is he always so … so?"

"We've been around X before," Speed said. "You know how 'matter-of-fact' he is. He doesn't like to wrap things up with a pretty bow."

"No wonder Taejo wanted to get in his face after the whole poison thing," I mumbled. Back in Casa Cristo, Taejo had been drugged by ninjas (I know it sounds a little stupid, but it was what happened) and Racer X said it like it was: "You can't drive a race car; you can barely stand." That's how I ended up driving in his place. But there was a big difference between what X had said then and what he'd just told us.

I was perfectly able to drive my car, and I'd show him that.

"All drivers to your cars," said the monotone voice of the PA.

"I'll see you at the finish line," said Speed.

"I'd say good luck, but we all know you don't need it," I responded. He grinned and started back to the Mach 6. I stared forward to the Shooting Star, thinking, And no matter what you think Mr. Harbinger of Boom, neither do I.

The countdown began: "3 …"

I tapped my foot up and down on the petal on the TRX-1.

"2…"

I hit the accelerator.

"1! GO!"

I pounded my foot on the petal and took off. Speed and I whisked past Snake Oiler.

"And Speed Racer and Trixie Shimura cut right in front of Snake Oiler!" said the track announcer's omniscient voice. "I'll bet he didn't see THAT one coming!"

The Shooting Star and the GRX were the only cars standing between one of us and the lead. Speed looked at Cannonball Taylor.

"Welcome to Speed Racer's Driver's Ed course," he said. "I see you enjoyed my last tutorial so much at the Grand Prix that you've come back for more. Today's lesson: Car-Fu is your friend!"

He Sweet Span him.

"That'll be 90 dollars please!!" yelled Speed as the Royalton GRX tumbled behind him. "I'll send you the bill in the mail!!"

"Don't let Sparky write your shtick," I warned him.

"Sparky?" he asked. "But that was all me!"

"Really?" I asked. "Well … then … don't quit your day job, Speed Demon." I looked away from the Mach 6 and back to the Shooting Star.

"I'll see you later," I said. "I've got some unfinished business to attend to." I hit the petal harder and rushed in front of him.

"Trixie Shimura, starting out in fifth place, now nearing the lead as she comes up on the Shooting Star!" said one announcer.

"Can she take the Harbinger of Boom?!" asked another.

"We'll see," I whispered to myself. I veered sideways until Racer X and I were right beside each other.

"They're neck and neck!!" yelled the first announcer.

Somehow, I could tell what his evasion was. He rammed the side of the TRX-1 and drove off to the left, attempting to leave me in the dust. But I knew how to come back from it. Speed did that to me in practice all the time. That was when it occurred to me …

He drove just like Speed … but a more experienced Speed. If I could go into the future and see Speed race, surely it would have looked just like Racer X now. And Speed learned everything he knew about driving from …

"Rex?" whispered I. I sped back up to the Shooting Star and stared at him. I don't know why. There was no way I could have seen his face. He noticed my presence again.

"Hi there, remember me?" asked I. Racer X gave me a smile that implied shock and slight amusement.

The smug bastard.

I rammed the side of the Shooting Star three times and cut him off on the turn.

"Trixie Shimura just survived a tangle with the Harbinger of Boom!" yelled an announcer. I couldn't tell which one anymore.

The crowd went wild. "TRIX–IE! TRIX–IE! TRIX–IE!"

My car rushed onto the finish line, with Speed just behind.

"She just …" Mom Racer said in the stands, breathless.

"Placed in front of Speed," said Spritle unsurely.

"And the winner of the Second Course of the Survivor Series is TRIXIE SHIMURA!"

I could care less. All I knew was I'd just shown Racer X that I wasn't just 'the girlfriend.' I was a driver. It took a few moments for me to actually realize they'd said my name. I looked around bewildered, "Huh?"

A reporter came up to me, looked at the checkerboard on my car and asked, "Trixie, how would you like to be called the Pink Queen, like in chess!"

"Yeah, okay." I laughed.

Speed jumped out the Mach 6 and gave me a hug, "You won! You won it, Trixie!!" He took me in his arms and spun me through the air.

"I'm so proud of you!!" he yelled. I grasped my arms tightly around his neck, "Oh, Speed!!"

As we put away dinner dishes together, I asked Speed, "You remember telling me that theory last year? The one about Racer X?"

"What, the one about him being Rex?" he asked.

"Yes."

"He's not," he said, a tone of disappointment vaguely in his voice.

"Oh," I said, regretting the whole conversation. "I just—when I was driving against him today he—his—he reminded me of you. You drive so much alike; it was sort of eerie."

"He's not Rex," Speed said simply. "I've seen his face. He—he—he's not." He put down his last dish, gave me a kiss on the cheek, said, "Good night," and went back to his room.

Lying in my bed, I realized how insensitive asking him that really was. His brother was dead and he thought for a moment he might still be alive. Then his dream got crushed, and I brought it all up again.

I took my pillow, tugged at it, and pressed it over my face as I shouted, "I'm the worst girlfriend EVER!!"