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go wide for an instant. “True.”
     
     
    A short while later, a pretty girl in a skirt similar to mine sings the National Anthem, and the races begin. I ask Dad what I should be doing, via my walkie-talkie and he tells me to enjoy the races. I take a seat on the bleachers and try to gain interest in the sport that’s supposed to be in my blood. The first few motos are smaller bikes; kids younger than Teig who make ridiculously slow laps around the track. It isn’t as much fun to watch like the big bikes are. But I stay anyway since I have nothing to do until intermission.
    The bleachers are packed, most of them worried mothers or younger sisters who are as bored as me. It doesn’t help that the day gets warmer as time creeps on, and my neck is soon sticky with sweat.
    “Hi. You’re Mr. Fisher’s daughter, right?” A girl to my right flashes me an uncomfortable smile, as if she’s being held at gunpoint to talk to me.
     “Yeah, that’s me. I’m Hana.” I shake her hand. It’s sticky like mine.
    “Your dad’s really excited you’re here,” she says, scooting closer to me. “He talks about you a lot. I’m Shelby, by the way.”
    Maybe I’m confusing her with all the people I’ve met recently, but her heart-shaped face is so familiar…it’s like I’m experiencing déjà vu. She’s plain, with naturally tanned skin and no makeup. Her dirty-blonde hair falls loosely on her shoulders. I know this is my first time meeting her, but there is something in her eyes that I can’t quite place.
    She flinches and turns back to the race. I realize that only creepy idiots stare at people for as long as I just stared at her. “I feel like I’ve met you before,” I say, trying to sound friendly and not like I have a staring problem. “But I know I haven’t.”
    “You’ve met my brother, then.” She smiles, looking a lot less freaked out. “It happens a lot.”
    “Who’s your brother?”
    “Ash.”
    So that’s where I’ve seen her eyes before. They are the welcoming eyes of a stranger this morning when he signed in, and then much colder when he registered a while later.
    “You look so much alike,” I say, still wondering why he was worried about getting disqualified from racing.
    She shrugs, keeping her eyes on the race. “He’s my twin.”
     

Chapter 5
     
     
     
    Shelby and I stay on the bleachers and watch the next ten motos. The younger kids take forever to race four laps around the track. But the older, faster racers finish their six laps in just a few minutes. Shelby explains that Mixon is a two-minute track, meaning the fastest racers can complete one lap in two minutes. She knows everything about motocross. Despite Molly’s crash course in how to work at a motocross park, I don’t know a thing beyond working here.
    I know it is unintentional, but she has this way of making me feel like an idiot when she says something about motocross and I give her a blank stare. Every single time it happens, her eyes widen and her jaw falls open and she says, “I can’t believe you don’t know this stuff!”
    I listen and ask a lot of questions because every detail I can memorize about Ryan’s sport is sure to impress him later. She tells me about the black foam thing many riders wore under the bottom edge of their helmet and how it prevents their neck from breaking in a crash. She snaps her wrist in a pantomime of how the brace works. My stomach feels like I just witnessed a real neck breaking. Teig flashes through my mind – I hope he wears one.
    A guy on a blue dirt bike flips off the side of a jump and lands on top of his bike. The crowd makes this excited yet worried, but mostly excited sound. He shakes himself, then waves a hand in the air before lifting up on his hands and knees.
    “Is he okay?” I ask Shelby.
    “Yeah he’s fine.” She nods, “It’s standard to wave if you’re okay. When they fall and just lay there then you know something is wrong.”
    Sure enough, the guy stands