It's Hard to Explain

by Sarah the What

Jack is a boy suffering from memory loss who would be willing to do anything to remember his past. Hiccup is his new friend who would be willing to do anything to forget his. During their many adventures involving dangerous bikes, cute girls, and protective parents, both boys learn through each other that they can't continue living their lives in the past.

8. Just Don't Die, Okay?

Surprise! Guess who found time to update earlier than they expected?

Ah man, this chapter was definitely interesting to write. Not gonna say anything about it though, since I don't want to ruin it. Just... the much anticipated race finally arrives and SHIT GETS REAL.

OH, and a new character is introduced. They're from the HTTYD book series, which I hate to admit, I haven't read yet (don't worry though, I ordered them and they'll be arriving soon!). I love this certain character too much though - from what I've read and heard about them - and just couldn't help but put them in this story. So sorry if they seem a little... out of character? They might be off a bit. I dunno. Sorry if they are though.

Anyways! Thanks for all the lovely reviews and for reading and, blah blah blah, you guys already know the drill.

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On Saturday morning, I let myself sleep in, since the race isn't until noon. Toothless also decides to grace me with no morning attack, therefore allowing me to stay in bed. At around ten though, a wave of energy overcomes me as I open my eyes, and I instantly know it's time to get up.

"Big day today, bud," I tell Toothless, who's now made his way on to my chest and is peering down at me with large, green eyes.

He reaches out his small, black paw and pats me gently on the nose, letting out a soft meow.

"Tell me 'bout it."

I follow my everyday routine: get up, hobble into bathroom, shower, put on prosthetic, and dress for the day. The entire time, Toothless follows me around like a tiny, annoying shadow, close to my heels, meowing at me to get a move on. I make the motion to kick him, which causes him to stop and flinch, then playfully attack my foot when he sees I mean no harm.

My dad's watching television as I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen, my stomach growling with a just now appearing hunger I hadn't been aware of while I was upstairs.

"Might not want to eat a big breakfast," he warns me as I open the fridge and bend down to scan my options. "Don't want to spoil your lunch, now do you?"

"That's probably a good idea," I say, closing the fridge and making a beeline for the pantry, where I know we keep the Pop Tarts.

"Speaking of lunch," I hear my dad continue, turning down the volume to the television. "I hope you don't have any plans for today, son, because I made some reservations somewhere for lunch."

I instantly stop peeling off the wrapper of my breakfast, letting his words sink in and compute in my brain. As I turn slowly to look at him, I register that, yes, I actually do have plans for today. Really, really, super, extremely important plans that is.

"Do we, uh… have to do that today?" I ask him, walking up to the counter separating the kitchen from the living room, setting my Pop Tart down.

I can tell my dad was not expecting this type of answer from me at all; he has the same dumbfounded expression on that I was probably wearing only moments ago on hearing that he had made plans in the first place. He blinks a couple of time, clears his throat, and says, "Well, yes. I mean, we have to do it today. I made reservations and… we're not going alone, you know."

I raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Bertha and her daughter and joining us. Her brother, Erik, he owns the restaurant, so we're getting a nice, little discount."

"Why Bertha?" I ask, even though I think I already know the answer.

"Well… she's, uh… she's kind of my new… new girlfriend. Yeah."

"Ahhhhhh, Daaaaaad," I go, reaching out and scratching the back of my neck. For a second there, I actually thought getting out of this lunch would be easy, but now that I know that this Bertha woman is my dad's girlfriend - when did that even happen anyways? - I see that the odds of me sitting this one out are definitely not in my favor. "This really isn't a good time. I mean… this… this thing I have planned today. It's really, really important that I go."

"And may as I ask what this thing is?"

"Um… it's just a, uh… a race."

"A… bike race?"

I nod. Now there's physically no way I can go, now that he knows it has to do with bikes. Great.

"Hiccup," I hear my dad go on with a sigh. "I… I'm sorry, but you're going to have to miss it. This is very important to us. Bertha and I have been planning this for the past week."

"Well, you could've at least told me about it," I tell him with an edge in my tone. Despite the fact that telling me wouldn't have change anything, since the date for the race had been set in stone almost two weeks ago, it still would've been nice to have known about it in advance.

"I wanted it to be a surprise," my dad defends himself, scratching the back of his thick neck. "Her daughter's ten, so I thought you two would get along nicely too."

"Wait. She's ten? And you thought- Dad. You are aware that I'm, like, fifteen now… right?"

"Of course I'm aware! How does that change anything?"

"Well, ten and fifteen are quite some distance apart from each other, aren't they? Especially when it comes to, oh, I dunno, ages."

"I… guess so."

"But, Dad, I seriously need to go to this race," I change the topic to more important matters; having to deal with a ten-year-old girl isn't the biggest problem for me right now. "I mean, I promised someone I would be there for moral support, y'know? I can't let them down. We've been working really, really hard with training and I want to see that-"

"Training?" my dad interrupts me.

"Yeah," I go with a shrug, looking at the microwave sitting in the corner. I completely forgot to mention to my dad about Jack's and my little deal, but then again, I guess he never really showed any interest, did he. "I've been training this guy. You know, to bike and stuff."

"So that's where you've been every day?"

I nod. "His name's Jack Overland. He's, uh… he's a friend… of mine… now."

At hearing this, I notice my dad's eyebrows rise well into his forehead. I try not to look annoyed that the idea of me having a friend is so surprising to him.

"Well, it's nice to hear you've made a new friend, son," he tells me with an approving nod, "but you're going to have to tell him that you're busy today. I'm sorry, but I can't let Bertha down like this. She's really looking forward to sitting down and getting to know you."

"But, Daaad," I start, but he swiftly stops me before I can go on.

"You're going to this lunch, Hiccup. End of discussion." He stands up, flipping off the television, and starts heading towards his bedroom, I assume to get ready for the day.

"Dad, I really, really-"

"Hiccup. No. We're done talking about this anymore."

"But, Dad. You don't-"

"Do I really have to repeat myself? The answer's no. Now eat your breakfast."

"But this is really important to me!"

"Go eat your breakfast. We'll be leaving in an hour or so."

"Can you not hear me?" I say, but he's already closed the door behind him.

I forget my breakfast sitting on the counter, since the hunger I had been feeling earlier has completely vanished. Toothless can sense that something's wrong as I enter my room, weaving between my legs and glancing up at me as I fight the urge to slam my door.

"This is a mess," I tell him, stroking his arched back. "Jack's gonna be so… ugh. And Astrid. Oh man, she's never going to let me hear the end of this… dang it." I walk over and grab my phone sitting on my nightstand, Toothless now stationed on my bed. Scrolling through my contacts until I come upon the new number I had only added a few days ago, I press the call button and peer down at Toothless, whispering, "Here we go," and he meows up at me for reassurance.

The phone only rings twice before I hear a woman's voice answer.

"Hello?"

"Hi, this is one of Jack's friends," I tell her simply, trying to get the anger and frustration that I was earlier feeling out of my voice. "I was wondering I could speak to him."

"Oh. What did you say your name was?"

"My name's Jo-"

"Thanks, Mother!" I hear a familiar voice pipe in before I can finish, making me jump a little. "I can take it from here!"

The woman, who is apparently Jack's mom, sounds a little shocked by her son's abrupt entrance into the conversation, and she even begins to say something back, like she's seriously about to start scolding him right there on the phone with me listening. Every time she starts though, Jack cuts her off, and after her last attempt fails, she silently hangs up the phone, leaving Jack and me on the line alone.

"Sorry about her," Jack goes with a nervous laugh. "She's really, uh… well, you know."

"Have you not told your parents about me, Jack?" I ask him, pretending to sound offended by this. "She seemed rather shocked to hear you had a friend."

"First off, your voice sounds really different on the phone than it does in real life. And two, pfft, no. She never asks about my friends, so I never tell her about them."

"Hm. Seems fair enough. Though I do feel somewhat insulted that I'm not important enough to you for your parents to know about my existence. For shame, Mister Overland. For shame."

"Oh, boo hoo," Jack laughs. "Why are you calling anyways? The race is in, like, an hour and a half, and I wanted to go out and practice some before- oh! You think you can come over and we can bike to this racing place together, maybe race some for practice?"

As the words of the race only about an hour away are mentioned, I feel something drop to the pit of my stomach and then start to make its way back up my esophagus. This is the part of this conversation that I wasn't looking forward to, but I guess I have to tell him, since he's going to find out anyways.

"Yeah, uh… about that…" I go. "I have some… really not so awesome news."

"Uh oh."

"Yeah. Um… so apparently my dad decided to make lunch plans without telling me for today? And, well… they kiiiiiiiiinda occur during the race, sooooo…"

"Sooooo… you're not going to be able to make it to the race?"

I pause, hearing the obvious pain in his voice that I can tell he's trying to his best abilities to mask - and failing miserably. Even though I can't see his face, I know what he must be thinking: we worked so hard for so many hours at making him a good biker, and now I won't even be there to see him race.

"I'm really, really sorry, Jack," I tell him, pacing from my bathroom door to my desk on the other side of my room, Toothless watching me with curiosity. "Trust me, I'd much rather be there cheering you on than at this stupid lunch thing."

"Who's it with? The lunch."

"My dad's new girlfriend or whatever and her daughter."

"Oh."

"Jack. Gods, I'm sorry. I know-"

"No, Hiccup, stop," Jack tells me with a sigh. "I… it's okay, really. I understand. You can't do anything about it, and… and that's okay. I'll just get Fish to take me."

"Okay," I breathe, closing my eyes and rubbing my forehead in anguish at this whole awful situation. "Just… you're gonna do great, you know that? You really are."

"You think?" I can tell by the uncertainty in his voice that he's beginning to doubt himself, and I really hope it isn't all because of the unfortunate news I just told him.

"Duh, of course, you idiot," I tell him with a laugh, earning a chuckled from his side of the line.

"But what if I get hurt? Lout's a lot better of a biker than me, so…"

Astrid's threat from a couple of days ago echoes in my mind as he says this, but I dismiss them before I can begin to dwell on them too much. "You're gonna be fine. There's no way you're gonna get hurt, 'kay?"

"Really?"

"Yeah. I promise. You'll be fine. I mean, you've practiced too hard for too long not to win this thing. Go show Lout that he can't just pick a fight with anyone, alright?"

He lets out a more heartfelt laugh. "Yeah, yeah, Okay."

We talk for a while after that, me trying to lighten his obviously downcast mood, but after about half an hour, my dad knocks on my door, telling me that we're going to be heading out soon. I tell Jack that I need to get off, and he replies by telling me that he should probably call Fish to get a ride anyways, so it's all good. Wishing him good luck, I can tell that maybe some of his confidence has been restored, but not all of it. I just hope that, by some miracle, something - anything - will happen in order for him to feel better about his himself and his racing.

As my dad and I make our way into town to this restaurant ten minutes after hanging up with Jack, I don't say one word to him. My silence towards him doesn't really matter though, considering he doesn't make any attempt to talk to me either.

The restaurant that we arrive at is this little mom-and-pop kind of place, giving off that real homemade kind of vibe that I normally find appealing, only I really don't want to be here. As my dad tells the host standing by the door that we're here with Bertha Bog, I examine the crowded and almost overwhelming interior; each of the four walls are coated with random street and various other signs, vintage and newer photographs of all sizes of random people, those glowing banners for beers and other drinks, and other such things. Booths line the walls, and small, round tables litter the center of the large room, their surfaces covered with a sheet of glass to protect postcards and photographs stored underneath them.

I recognize Bertha right away as our host walks us to a booth near one of the back corners, further away from the kitchen. Across the table from her though sits an unfamiliar, small head of bright blonde hair, appearing to have not been tamed this morning in the slightest. As we get closer and Bertha greets us with a sweet, "There you two are!", I notice that the hair has two hands that are furiously scribbling away on a piece of paper.

"Stoick, Hiccup," Bertha tells us after we've taken our seat, "this is my daughter, Cami."

The small girl's head pops up at the sound of her name, and she quickly turns towards me, showing off a pair of pale, baby blue eyes, faint freckles spotting her cheeks. After a moment, she shoves the piece of paper she had been drawing on towards me, and I look down at it to see a bunch of scribbles done with green and red crayon that make the outline of an odd looking animal-like thing.

"It's a dragon," Cami tells me, sounding like this should be obvious. She turns and grabs another piece of paper out from a small, turquoise colored bag positioned in the seat beside her.

"Cami likes dragons," Bertha tells me with a laugh. "They're her favorite animal." I attempt to smile back, but I know I do an awful job at it. As much as I want to like this woman - mostly for my dad's sake - I just can't get myself to do it. She truly seems like a nice person that I would normally like to have a conversation with, but there's just this wall blocking me from being able to get passed the idea that she's now my dad's girlfriend.

Cami begins to scribble furiously on another sheet of blank paper with a purple and yellow crayon at the same time as our parents go into their own separate conversation, appearing to be talking about the menu and what to order. Cami turns towards me all of the sudden and asks, "Do you like games?"

"Uh…" is all I can say in response.

"Wanna play a game?"

"Uh…"

"You say uh a lot. Is that your name? Can I call you Uh?"

"My name isn't Uh."

She narrows her eyes, leaning towards me. "Then what is it?"

"Hiccup."

"Pfft. That's a stupid name."

I let out a sigh. This girl can't seriously be ten, can she? I've only been talking with her for not even a minute now, and I feel like I'm exchanging words with a preschooler.

The waiter finally arrives, and we all order what Bertha suggests, since she knows what's best on the menu. I glance at said menu as she places our orders, and I discover that there really isn't that much of variety here. At realizing this, I begin to wish I had made an escape for Jack's house when I had to chance, skipping out on this lunch entirely.

After the waiter leaves and our parents start talking about what sounds like business talk, Cami turns back towards me, shoving another scribbled picture of what I assume is a dragon my way.

"Wanna play a game?"

"Depends," I tell her. "What kinda game are we talkin' about here?"

"Depends," she throws back at me. "What kinda games are you into?"

I pause, thinking over her question. By the looks of things, Bertha and my dad are probably going to do most of the talking, and it appears that that talking is only going to be between each other. I decide, for my own sanity, that playing along with this weird, little girl is probably my only option as to keeping myself occupied for the remainder of lunch. I decide to embrace this.

"I like thinking games," I tell her.

She nods and turns towards her backpack again, sticking her small hands into it and shuffling things around. After a moment, she pulls out two sheets of crumbled up paper and hands one to me from under the table, looking like she's trying to be all secretive about it. Not going to lie, but this manages to get a smile out of me.

"What's this?" I ask, putting the paper in my lap and glancing down at it.

"Scavenger hunt," Cami tells me. "When my mom takes your dad to go meet my Uncle Erik after they're done eating, we start, okay?"

I'm a little taken aback by these sudden instructions, but I nod nevertheless.

Our food arrives within minutes of Cami's and my agreement, and as I try to eat my generic hamburger, Bertha decides it's a good time to bombard me with questions about myself and everything that can possibly branch off of that. I answer them to my best ability between bites, only doing it to humor my dad, who gives me an unapproved look when I tell her the story of the one time when I changed my name in his phone to God, and when I heard him swear from in the other room, I texted him 'I HEARD THAT', which confused and frightened him beyond belief. My dad doesn't find this quite as humorous as Bertha does, who laughs so hard, she nearly chokes, but oh well. You win some, you lose some.

Once all the food on our plates have vanished for the most part - Cami refuses to eat her green beans her mom ordered her - Bertha takes my dad into the backroom of the restaurant to meet her brother, just like Cami had told me she would. Once the door closes behind them, the small girl turns, locking eyes with me, and says, "Ready?"

"One question," I say back, pulling out the sheet of paper she had given me earlier.

She lets out a heavy sigh as I hear her crawling under the table and to the opposite side as me, where our parents had been seated only moments ago. "What's your question, Burp?"

"Hiccup."

"Whatever."

"Where am I expected to find a potato?" I ask, pointing out the word on the piece of paper.

"We're in a restaurant that has a couple of dishes that involve potatoes," she tells me simply. "It really isn't that hard to find one. Someone's bound to order one today."

"What exactly are you saying…?"

"What do you think I'm saying?"

I stare at her for a moment, letting what she's told me sink in. I suppose it's safe to say that I'm about to participate in the strangest scavenger hunt ever.

"Ready now?" Cami asks again, not even trying to hide her impatience. I nod in return, and before I know it, she does a quick count down and, upon hitting three, she's off, disappearing around the corner into some unknown territory of the building.

Well. This is should be interesting.

Most of the objects on the list are pretty simple to find, though they do prove to have their own complications. Number one, written in which I guess is Cami's nearly illegible handwriting, is a yellow gumball. I recall a gumball machine sitting in the front of the restaurant, so I assume this gumball is going to be easy to obtain. I'm proven wrong however when I put a quarter in the slot and receive a blue instead of a yellow. Another quarter gets me a green, and another a red. I end up having to spend $3.25 in quarters, and even get a few strange stares from onlookers as I stuff my short's pockets with gumballs, just to get the yellow one I need.

On finding the yellow gumball, a box of cheap crayons without a green inside, a bent fork, and a sugar packet opened but not used, I come to the point where I'm told to retrieve a potato, and it's then that I decide it's probably about time to call it quits on this whole scavenger hunt deal.

I wander back to our table, holding the items I was able to find in my hands. Once I get there, I see that Bertha has found her way back to her seat, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she stares out the window, a vacant look on her face. She must see me out of the corner of her eye though, because she turns and lets out a smile and, at seeing all the odd objects in my hands, says, "Oh dear. Has Cam got you on one of her scavenger hunts?"

I nod, taking a seat on the opposite side of the booth, putting the objects down on the table.

"Sorry about that. She had this thing with… well, I don't really know how to put it. She's a bit of an oddball, isn't she?"

I nod again, allowing a smile to slip. She's an oddball alright, to say the least.

"Please tell me you didn't find the potato."

I shake my head. "I decided to quit when I reached that one."

"Well, thank the gods for that."

"Where's my dad?" I ask after a second pause.

"Still in the back," she tells me, resting her hands out on the table now. "Him and my brother are getting along a lot better than I expected."

"That's good."

"Yes, it is."

Another moment of silence comes upon us, and I'm forced to look in the opposite direction of Bertha, studying some of the other fellow diners eating their lunches. I get this weird feeling in my chest, like I know I should be talking to her, but I can't get my mind to think of anything to say, even if it my mouth would allow me to say them to begin with.

Bertha's the one that breaks the silence in the end.

"Hiccup," she goes quietly. When I look over at her, she's looking right back at me, her kind, blue eyes that are identical to her daughter's making it to where I can't pull away. "Listen. Your father… he… he told me about what happened… with your mother."

I feel the bones in my back and shoulders stiffen. It's then that I'm able to wrench my eyes off of her and retreat them down at my own hands. If I had known that this unexpected conversation would be occurring today with this woman, I would've made a much better effort at sneaking out to Jack's to go to the race instead. The last thing I want to talk about with not only Bertha, but with anyone for that matter, is the subject of my mom.

"I know that, well… he hasn't gone out and seen other women since it happened," she continues, "and that's completely understandable. But now that he's… well, now that we're together-"

The feeling moves into my chest, making it a bit of a challenge to breathe.

"-I feel like I need to make one thing clear with you." She doesn't say anything after that, so I look up, to see if she's trailed off or something. When our eyes meet again, she goes on. "I know that you had a very… very strong bond with your mother, and that her death had a very… well, a very large impact on you. Right?"

I want to speak, I really do, but it feels like there's a wad of something stuck in the back of my throat, making me unable to say a word. I weakly nod my head instead.

"But I want you to know… well, that I'm not here to try and replace her. Okay? I just… I don't want the loss of your mother to get in the way of any type of relationship we could have. I've heard only good things about you from your father, and I-"

"Hey! Cheater!"

Bertha's monologue is cut short at Cami arriving back at our table, her arms filled with each object I assume I was supposed to find. She's giving me a death glare, her blue eyes narrowed as she places all of her treasures in front of me, mixing in with mine.

"Camille Bog, I was talking. It's rude to-" Bertha begins to lecture her daughter, but Cami doesn't appear to hear her over her own frustration with me.

"You couldn't have finished finding everything before me!" she goes, her hands on her hips as she continues to glare. "No one's ever beat me at one of my own games!"

"Don't sweat it, kid," I tell her, finding the words in me to speak again. "I only got to number five on the list. I forfeit. You win." I toss her the yellow gumball I had spent too much money on, and she catches it rather easily in her small hand.

At the news of me giving me, a large, toothy smile spread across the young girl's face as she looks up from the gumball. She jumps up and down at bit on her toes, then pushes me over in the booth seat so she can squeeze in beside me, popping the gumball into her mouth. "I bet you didn't have enough guts to find the potato!" she sings through smacks. "No one ever has enough guts to find it but me!"

Laughing at this, I ask her where she found hers, and as Cami goes into great detail about her adventure in the back kitchen against the chefs, I notice Bertha staring out the window again, her chin back in her palm, that vacant expression on.

I want to feel sorry for not responding to her earlier when she made such an effort to talk to me. I want to feel sorry for making it seem like I have this grudge against her simply because she's my dad's new girlfriend who claims she won't try and replace my mom.

But if I were to admit to that, then I'd be lying.

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Fish is the one that drives me to the racing grounds after my parents backs are turned and I'm able to sneak out without their knowing. I discover upon arriving that this said racing ground is just an abandoned amusement part, only it's smaller than the ones that I read about in Emma's books back home. As we pull into the desolate parking lot, a few other vehicles spotting the vast space - people here to watch the race, I assume - I notice the faded colors of long forgotten tents and unfinished rides.

"They began building it back in, like, the mid 1900's," Fish tells me as we get out of his car. "It never actually opened or anything. Apparently the budget for the rides weren't enough to make them safe enough to ride, so they ended up just scraping the entire project."

"That's sad," I say as I unhitch my bike from the back of his car. I do it rather effortlessly, which I'm proud of, since I had been practicing on mastering this skin, as lame as that may sound. I guess I just didn't want to embarrass myself when the time came for me to do it around other people. "Berk could use a carnival like this. You know, so people can have something fun to do every now and then."

Fish shrugs as he takes my gear out from the backseat, locking the car after he shuts the door. "Well, in a way, we are making the most of it. We use it to race, y'know."

There's something beautiful, yet haunting about the deserted carnival ground. After Fish and I crawl through the opening in the rusted, locked gate, I find ourselves standing at the very start of a long, dirt pathway, booths and stalls, some caving in on themselves, surrounding us on both sides. Some of the booths I can tell were meant for games; I can see their beaten targets with their faded red and white paint hanging on walls inside, stout stands without fake guns attached where a child would stand to shoot and try and win a prize. In the distance, I'm able to see what I assume was supposed to be a ferris wheel, only the wheel part never quite made it on to its stand. A wooden roller coaster, its beams bent and broken in some places, glides over tents and booths, abruptly coming to an end, showing that it had never been finished.

Once we've walked the entirety of the "main street", we come to a small roundabout, several other paths branching off from the center, which holds a worn looking merry-go-round. I notice once we move pass it that the paint's chipped from the faces of honestly horrifying looking animals, and some of them haven't seen a coat of paint to begin with.

Looking down at my feet, away from the creepy children's ride, I see a white arrow, spray painted into the gravel. I point this out to Fish, and he tells me, "That's a part of the race. They tell you where you gotta go."

"They're all over the place then?"

"Yep. We're actually almost to the starting line, I think."

We turn the corner around an out-of-order fortune telling machine, and I see this said starting line. It isn't at all like I had been expecting; the same spray paint that made up the arrow from before makes up a thick line, spanning across the ground a good ten yards. Other than that, there really isn't much there. A good dozen of people are waiting around though, only one with a bike, who I recognize as Lout instantly. As we approach, I see that the damage I had done to his precious bike two weeks ago has completely vanished, like they had never even happened.

"Fish! Over here!" I hear someone yell from the pack of people. As Fish waves and starts ushering me towards the voice, I see that it's that Astrid girl that Hiccup introduced me to a couple of days ago. Her blonde hair, pulled back into a thick braid, flies behind her as she meets us halfway.

"Hey, Astrid!" Fish goes. "How's the competition lookin' today?"

Astrid rolls her blue eyes, brushing her bangs out of the way. "Do I really have to answer that? I mean, this is Lout we're talkin' about here. He's all the competition this kid's gonna need." She turns her head slightly in my direction and gives me a quick smile, which I return. She then looks around, a confused expression making its way on to her face, and asks us, "Where's Hiccup?"

"He couldn't make it today," I explain to her quickly. "Something popped up."

She rolls her eyes again. "Of course something popped up."

Before I can defend him, some other girl with a long face and even longer blonde hair standing with everyone else calls out her name. Astrid starts heading over towards the girl, waving back at us and telling me that if I need help with anything, I can just call for her.

Fish takes me up to the starting line, and as I put on my gear, he double checks my bike to make sure everything's in shape. I see Lout, wearing a very peculiar helmet with what appears to be ram horns planted on the sides, checking out his bike as well. A skinny, blonde boy that looks oddly like the blonde girl from before walks up and starts pushing a pair of elbow and knee pads towards him, but all Lout does in response is gives him a glare and swats the gear away, saying something that makes the blonde boy wander off in defeat.

"Well, everything looks a-okay to me," Fish tells me, taking my attention away from my competitor. As he puts his hands together, I notice him taking a quick glance over his shoulder, and as I peer over him, I see that he's sneaking peeks at that same blonde girl from before, who's still talking with Astrid.

"Do you want to go talk with them?" I ask.

He looks shocked by my question, probably not expecting me to catch on to his action. "Oh, no. Pfft, no. It's totally fine. I don't… no."

"Fish, you can go if you want," I tell him. "I have my gear on and you checked my bike. I'm good to go. Now you go and talk with your friends."

"Really?"

"Of course."

"Y-you sure?"

"Fish, yes. I'm sure."

The large boy gives me a grin, thanking me and wishing me luck on the race, just in case he doesn't catch me before it starts.

"You're gonna do great, Jack!" he yells back at me as he jogs over towards the girls.

"Yeah, thanks," I say back, only he doesn't hear me. Probably for the better though, since I honestly don't feel any real power behind my words. After Hiccup had told me that he would be skipping out on the race, there's just been this hollow feeling in my chest. I know he really wanted to come and that he was being pretty much forced to go to this lunch, but I can't help but feel a little, well… abandoned.

"Nervous?"

I turn around, breaking away from my negative thoughts, to see Astrid standing in front of me.

"A little," I say truthfully.

"Good. If you weren't, I'd be concerned." She walks up , standing on the other side of my bike, and gives me a look like she's asking if it's okay for her to touch it. I nod and smile, watching her trace her long, black painted fingers over the handlebars and seat.

"This is really nice bike," she says after a moment.

"Thanks. It used to be a lot cleaner, but after all that practicing with Hiccup… well, it got kind of beaten up. Not too bad though."

Astrid doesn't say anything to this, just continues to inspect the bike in front of her. Only her expression has changed, I do notice that. Before my comment, she had had a grin on her face, like she was really appreciating checking out my bike. Now, after bringing up Hiccup and our training sessions, she appears to be thinking something over in her mind.

"You don't have to race, you know," she tells me abruptly. By the look in her eyes almost hidden behind her bangs, I can tell she seriously wants me to consider this option, but I decide not to budge. I've practiced too hard, gotten too many scars and bruises, to back away from this now.

"I know," I tell her.

"I mean, Lout's a really dirty racer. The odds of your winning are slim."

"I know."

"You may even get really, really badly hurt."

I knock my fist against my helmet, which now fits me, after a few readjustments. "That's what I have this for."

She removes her hands from my bike, placing them on her thick hips. "Did some of Hiccup's stubbornness rub off on you or something?"

I shrug. "I guess so."

Her eyes are closed and she's shaking her head, and for some reason, seeing this makes me feel a little agitated - agitated at her obvious disapproval for Hiccup's teachings and my racing, and to make it even more agitating, she isn't even trying to hide it.

"He really isn't that bad," I tell her cautiously. "I mean, yeah, he can be a little sarcastic at times, but he means well. I mean, he didn't even have to teach me how to ride, but he did." I decide to stop there with defending Hiccup, despite my want to go on, since after what I saw and was able to overhear while at The Ring the other week, I gathered that this girl has quite a fiery attitude, especially when provoked. Though I want to show her that she can't just throw insults at my friend, I don't necessarily want to push her over the edge.

"Yeah, I know," I hear her say under her breath, a lot more calmly than I had expected. "It's just… sometimes he can be a real nuisance. He's always been like that, ever since we were kids. Like, you'll tell him to do one thing, and then he'll go and do the complete opposite. It's like he lives to piss me off, y'know?"

"He likes you," I say without thinking.

She isn't looking at me as I say the words, but I can tell that she hears me.

"Not in that friend kind of way either," I go on. "Like… in a romantic kind of way."

She lets out a small sigh at this. "I know."

"Then why are you so mean to him?"

That gets her attention. As her eyes lock with mine, I can tell she wants to throw something back at me, make me look like a fool instead of her, but she can't. I know she can't. I know because what I said it true, and she knows it is too.

"I… I don't know," is all she tells me.

"That's not a really good reason."

"I know…"

A teen that looks around my age with a tattoo on his shoulder, holding what I think is called an air horn, yells that the race is about to begin. As I move my bike up to the starting line, the tattooed teen says something else about each racer getting their "token of luck".

I turn towards Astrid, still standing on the other side of my bike. "What's that?"

"It's this stupid racing tradition that some idiot made up years ago," she tells me, rolling her eyes. "Each racer has to find a person of the opposite sex, and they kiss their helmet. It's supposed to bring good luck or something stupid like that."

I look over at Lout to see a girl with shiny hair the color of sand standing up on her tip toes in order to plant a kiss on his horned helmet. Her friends behind her giggle as he winks at the girl before she scampers away.

"Oh, here," I hear Astrid say, and before I can even fully turn back towards her, she's grabbing the sides of my helmet, pulling me down to her level. After hearing the faint sound of her lips making contact with my helmet, I throw her a curious look.

"I thought you said it was stupid," I point out with a smirk.

She shrugs, not making eye contact with me as a hint of pink showing up on her cheeks. "Well, you need all the luck you can get."

"Thanks."

"Yeah, just… just don't die, okay?"

The tattooed teen yells for us racers to get in position. Astrid wanders over back toward Fish and the blonde boy and girl, who I recognize as the twins I saw while at the skate park. Fish gives me a thumbs up as I mount my bike, and I try to give him a confident smile.

"When I blow the horn," the tattooed teen tells both Lout and me, showing both of us the air horn in his hand, "that signals that the race has started. One lap around the track, and whoever crosses the finish line first, wins!"

I don't know why I do it, but I make the grave mistake of looking over towards Lout. His eyes are already on me, and he's giving me this hideous smirk that makes a shiver go up my spine.

I wish Hiccup was here.

"Ready…" the tattooed teen goes.

I look forward, closing my eyes, and clearing my mind, just as Hiccup had taught me.

"Set…"

My eyes open and focus on the track laid out in front of me, a straight away and then a turn, the track disappearing behind booths and stands. I know exactly what I need to do to get ahead of Lout before we even cover thirty yards.

The piercing sound of the air horn goes off, and I kick my feet off the ground, placing them on my pedals and pushing my weight forward.

.

---

.

Right as my dad pulls into our driveway, a slight drizzle coming down from the graying sky, I make a beeline for my bike sitting in the garage. My dad doesn't even ask me where I'm going - just tells me to be careful with all this rain on the road - as I mount the seat and kick off, booking it down the driveway as fast as my wheels will let me.

Getting to the racing grounds take me a lot longer than I hoped. By the time I pull into the barren parking lot, the rain coming down from the sky is almost what one would call a downpour. I tread carefully over the concrete and through the gate, not wanting to make a wrong move and crash to the pavement.

Riding on the gravel is a lot easier than the parking lot, so I pick up my speed towards where I remember the starting line slash finish line is located. If they started the race at exactly noon, that means the race should be over by now, but people still have to be hanging around, since I noticed the handful of cars still sitting in the parking lot. When I reach the starting point though, there's no one in sight. I roll up quickly to the line and look over the carnival grounds, which is harder than it sounds, because of the curtain of rain.

"Jack?" I yell out to no one and, as expected, no one answers.

I push forward, rolling down the hill and on the track marked by the familiar white arrows. Looking back and forth between all the booths and rides, I see no sign of any people being here before me. Maybe they rescheduled the race because of the rain? No, Fish would've called me to fill me in on something like that. The race had to have still happened - I just can't find anyone to prove that I'm right.

As I approach the base of the familiar ferris wheel, I begin to hear voices, causing me to pick up my speed. There's more than one, and some are speaking loud and faster than others, sounding panicked, which only sends a surge of panic through me.

I round the corner, and the very scene I had been praying wouldn't happen for the last two weeks is laid out in front of me.

The first thing I notice is the blood. There's a small trail of it, splotching the dirt and trailing over to the side of the track, the water pouring from the sky causing it to run through the small rocks, leaving a trail of red behind.

My knees go weak, but the shock and horror growing inside my body doesn't stop me from jumping off my bike, allowing it to fall to the ground with an echo of a crash, and running, running as fast as I can. The group of kids - maybe only three or four of them, I can't tell - standing off to the side, their eyes wide and mouths whispering words to each other that I can't hear, see me glide by them, but don't say a word to me. By getting pass them and towards what they're looking at, I can see a boy and girl, both who I recognize as Fish and Astrid instantly, crotched over a body, the name of that body I can't even think of without feeling sick to my stomach.

"What happened?" I yell through the rain as I approach the two. Fish turns quickly, his blue eyes telling me everything I need to know and wish I didn't know.

"He… he…" Fish starts, but he's unable to finish. I push pass him hurriedly, not allowing him to finish, and come face to face with the same pale, blue eyed face I had only seen, laughing and smiling, just yesterday afternoon. Blood and dirt stain his white hair mostly hidden under his helmet, several large gashes still leaking blood outlining the left side of his jaw and upper arm, right above his elbow pad. It's on seeing his eyes that I notice that he's not completely gone from us though; no, instead of lying still, his body is seizing up, then relaxing at a very fast rate, his head being held in Astrid's lap, shaking rapidly.

Astrid looks up at me, fear in her eyes. I can tell that she's asking, begging, for me to tell her what to do.

"What's happening to him?" she yells up at me. "Is he… is he having a seizure or something?"

I jump down beside Jack's shaking figure, putting my equally shaking hand on his face. I call out his name, hoping that it'll snap him out of whatever he's going through, but nothing changes. He continues to seize, then relax, his eyes wide and glossy, staring up at the pouring sky.

"Who did this to him?" I ask Astrid, not being able to look down at Jack anymore.

"You did this to him!" she yells back at me, anger suddenly in her eyes. "I told you, Hiccup! I told you not to let him race against him! But did you listen? No! You never listen to me!"

She doesn't even have to say his name and I know exactly who she's talking about. I ignore her lecturing me, telling me this is all my fault - which I know it is. The fear I had been feeling earlier is completely washed away with the rain now, and is replaced with nothing but pure hatred for the person responsible.

I jump up and look over towards the crowd of kids staring, and standing near the front is Lout. His eyes meet mine as soon as they land on him, and his jaw tightens.

"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM!?" I scream, hurling myself in his direction.

The small group of kids on either side of him disperses as he moves backward, yelling back at me, "I didn't do anything, I swear!"

"Oh, so he just fell of his bike and skid across the ground on his own?"

"No, he… he was in my way!"

My eyes grow wide as he puts his hands up to I guess protect himself against me, a wary and frightened look in his eyes. I wonder why he's scared, since I know I can't look that threatening to him, no way. As I connect the dots though using what he said, I feel my hands curl into fists, my breathing growing so heavy, it's almost too hard to breathe.

"YOU KNOCKED HIM OFF HIS BIKE?"

"He was in my way!" Lout defends himself. "I wanted to win so-"

"You wanted to win so badly, that you decided to knock him off his bike?" As I yell each word at him, my throat throbbing, I can feel myself moving closer and closer in his direction. "Dear gods, Lout! That has got to be the lowest and most dirty thing I've ever heard before in my life!"

"It's not my fault!"

"How is this not your fault!? It's all your fault!"

"The retard shouldn't have been allowed to race!"

Something snaps in me when he says those words - referring to Jack as a retard, yeah, that's definitely what got me - and I, so full of rage towards him and what he did to my friend, lunge myself at him, my fist up at the ready to strike. Lout looks like he's ready to fight back, his beefy arms put out in front of him like he was probably taught to do, but before I can make contact, I feel the tight grasp of someone wrap around my body, shielding me from Lout's attack and myself.

"Control yourself, Hiccup!" I hear Fish yell through the rain.

"Let me go!" I yell up at him, pounding my fists against his arms, encasing me. "He did this! He hurt him! I promised him this wouldn't happen! I promised him he wouldn't get hurt! I promised!"

"Hiccup!" The voice this time is Astrid's, and the urgency in it is enough to make me forget about Lout and Fish and everyone else there. I snap my head in her direction, and she's still sitting on the soaked ground, Jack's head lying in her lap. "H-he's waking up! He's talking!" she yells at me, forgetting that this is all my fault for only a moment.

At hearing these words, I gain enough strength to force Fish to let me go; that or he lets me go on his own, seeing that my attention has been drawn away from getting revenge against Lout and towards Jack's wellbeing. I collapse beside Jack again as I hear Lout shout something through the rain and run off. To my relief, his white haired head turns slowly to look at me, his blue eyes only slits, blocking out the rain as it trickles down on to his cut up face.

"Jack! Oh gods, Jack! A-are you okay?" I say down to him, not being able to keep a smile from peeling across my face. "I'm so sorry! This is all my fault, Jack! I shouldn't… gods, I shouldn't have let you race!"

"My head hurts," is all he says back like he didn't hear a word I said. There's a confused look on his face, like he can't possibly understand how he got where he is.

"I bet it does," I laugh. I see Astrid out of the corner of my eye give me a dirty look, but I just ignore it. My friend's okay. He's alive and okay, and that's all that matters to me right now.

"Hiccup. Am I going to die?" he asks next, and I laugh again.

"Over my dead body."

I notice the deep gashes on his cheek, still leaking blood at an alarming rate. Looking up at Astrid, I say, "We need something to stop it. A towel or something. Anything."

"What about this?"

I look up and see Ruff, the girl twin that follows Lout around like a puppy, only she looks different. Her slanted, blue eyes aren't narrowed like they usually are when she laughs at one of Lout's jokes as he torments me, but instead they're wide and scared as the rain runs through her drenched, blonde hair. I see that she's holding out a piece of cloth in her hand, and I don't hesitate to grab it from her.

"Is he gonna be okay?" she asks as I press the white cloth against Jack's red cheek. Astrid answers her, but I'm too focused on Jack wincing at the pain of my touch to hear what she says.

"Hiccup. I need to get home," Jack tells me in a whisper once he gets used to the cloth being pressed against his cheek. "I got to get… I got to…"

"Shh, Jack, stop talking. You need to conserve your energy."

"But I got to get home."

"Why? Why do you need to get home?"

A small smile that I hadn't been expecting makes its way on to his face as he whispers, "Emma. She's… she's leaving for camp tomorrow… I got to… I got to say goodbye to her… before she leaves."