After I drop off Kelsie, I head home. The results of the race eat at me again. I know I could have done better. I could have won. Things are going to be different next time. More training. Less thinking about Lucas and things I cant change. I dont care how hard its going to be or how much time it takes. Im going to get my life back, beat Whitney at our race in two weeks, and after that, Ill get first in my division. And maybe, just maybe, Ill agree to be captain and race for my schools team again.

Maybe.

My smile returns. I can do this.

I pull in my driveway, take my bike off the car, and roll it into the garage. I set it on my bike stand and start a mini tune-up before heading inside. I check the brakes and the tires for flats and a.s.sess the rest of it. The frame and chain are all dirty, so I grab an old towel and run it under the sink in the garage.

Have I mentioned I love my bike? No? Well, I do. I built it. I got the frame from a bike I found at a second-hand store a few years ago when I first started biking. It was in perfect condition. Not top of the line, but Trek is a good brand so Im happy with it. Its white with black lettering, so I knew it would be a pain to keep clean when I bought it, but I didnt care. I was in love. Still am.

After taking a few cla.s.ses on how to build and fix-up bikes at the bike shop down the street, I started buying some old bikes, fixing them up, and selling them to earn money to buy new parts for my bike. Im really proud of my handiwork. Ive replaced every c.r.a.ppy part on my baby with better ones. Brakes, gears, pedals, handlebars. Even the seat.

Now Im kind of obsessed with it. Besides actual riding, fixing up bikes is kind of a pa.s.sion. And as soon as I fix up and sell the two hanging on the wall above me, Ill have enough money to buy the new rims Ive been saving for.

I wipe down the frame, rub the dirt off the pedals, and check out the chain. Dirty, but Ill clean it a little later. I dont realize how hungry I am until my stomach rumbles. Im starving. Which is weird because I just finished a gigantic shake.

I shut the garage, grab my bag full of biking stuff, and trudge to the front door. I smell cookies when I walk inside and my mouth waters. I throw my bag in the corner next to the door and slip my shoes off before heading to the kitchen.

Mom and Dad decided to redo all the flooring in the house a year ago and both of them almost have a heart attack every time anyone forgets to take their shoes off before they walk well, anywhere. Youd think theyd be a little less crazy by now, but no.

I chuck my socks up the stairs, hoping someone will get them to the laundry room before Mom sees them, and start down the hall. The hardwood floor is cold and feels good on my bare feet. I glance in the mirror as I pa.s.s the bathroom and my eyes widen at how c.r.a.ppy I look. Flyaway hairs are everywhere and I have dark mascara marks underneath my eyes. I look like a zombie who likes to wear spandex.

And people actually saw me like this? Nice.

When I walk in the kitchen, Moms in her ap.r.o.n, her hair up in a messy bun. She has flour in her bangs, on her cheek, and across her chest. She pretty much always looks like that when shes been baking. Shes not the tidiest, but she makes the best cookies around.

Hey, Mom. I give her a quick hug, then sit down on a barstool and relax for a minute, drumming my fingers on the marble counter. Im antsy. Not sure why.

I glance at the black-and-white cows decorating the room and hang my keys on the cow key-holder hooked to the wall by my head. Mom sure loves her cows. I usually have to warn my friends before they come over, because theyre freaking everywhere.

Where have you been? Mom asks, running her hands under the faucet.

I shrug.

She takes in my outfit and smiles as she wipes her hands on a towel. Biking again?

Where else?

She chuckles but grows serious just as fast. Were you alone?

No. Kelsie came with me. It was actually a race today.

Her eyes widen in surprise. What? Howd you do? You should have told me. I would have come to see you.

I got second.

Really? Thats amazing!

She leans forward and hugs me, flour falling from her shirt onto my shorts.

I wipe the flour off and smile. It wasnt a huge race. Not a big deal.

Still. Im proud of you. Next time tell me, okay?

I didnt think you cared about mountain biking.

She washes her hands in the sink and shoots me a grin over her shoulder. I dont, but I like to support my daughter. Is that okay with you?

Yes. Youre the best. Mom walks over and sets a plate in front of me and I pile a bunch of cookies on it. And you made cookies for me, too.

Technically, they arent for you, but you can have a few. She grabs a gla.s.s out of the cupboard and puts it next to my plate. Theres milk in the fridge.

Thanks. So, if the cookies arent for me, who are they for?

A lady who comes in for prescriptions at the pharmacy every week or so. She pulls another cookie sheet out of the oven. She needs a friend right now, so I thought Id make her some cookies.

Shes always thinking of others before herself. Even when she barely knows them. I need to be more like her. Care about more people. Especially ones I do know. Youre too nice, you know that?

Being nice isnt a bad thing, you know.

Yeah, I know. I watch her roll more dough into b.a.l.l.s and put them on a new tray. Want to go to a movie later? I know we couldnt do a girls night last week, but theres a new chick flick playing at the theater. We could go if youre not busy.

She smiles. That sounds fun. Im sorry I had to cancel.

Its okay. I say it even though Im still a bit disappointed about it. We havent missed a girls night, or mom and me night, for years. Second Wednesday of every month since I was twelve. But conference calls and meetings with bosses can put a damper on things sometimes.

Ill see what Dads doing, but that sounds fun. I definitely need some girl time.

Great. I take a bite of the cookie and chew. A strange flavor hits my tongue and it takes everything I have not to spit it out. I swallow as fast as I can and hurry to the fridge to grab some milk. I twist the lid off and pour it in my gla.s.s, downing most of it in a few gulps. I swish the rest, trying to get the gross taste out of my mouth. After I swallow, I lean against the fridge, watching Mom put another cookie sheet in the oven with her black-and-white oven mitts.

Um Mom?

She turns, takes her mitts off, and tucks some hair behind her ear. What?

Did you forget to put the sugar in the cookies?

She frowns and glances at the plate on the table. Thats impossible. I know this recipe better than I know myself. She picks up a cookie and takes a bite. Her eyes widen as she chews and she leans over the garbage can to spit it out. She stares at the cookies, her hands on her hips. I dont know what happened Ive never done that before.

I chuckle. Its not a big deal.

Not a big deal? Ive wasted a whole batch of cookies.

I shrug and glance at the recipe book gathering dust on the counter next to the microwave. I can make some more.

She frowns again, the crinkles near her eyes more p.r.o.nounced than Ive noticed before. She grabs a tray full of cookies. Youre not making more. Its fine, she snaps. She tips them into the trash can and mutters something under her breath. Besides. You need to clean that mess of a room you live in. Then she frowns at my outfit. And go change your clothes. You look ridiculous in those spandex shorts.

I stare at her. What the heck just happened? Uh thanks?

She doesnt say anything else, just stands there, staring at the mixing bowl with a frown on her face. I wonder why shes so upset. Theyre just cookies.

Here. I grab another tray and the plate off the table. Ill clean up. Maybe Dad or Gavin can bring some pizza home.

She stares straight ahead and Im not sure she heard me.

Mom?

Still staring.

I touch her arm. Mom?

What? Shes frowning at the garbage can now.

Ill clean up for you. Go sit down. You look tired.

She closes her eyes and rubs her temples. Sorry. Ive been a little stressed out at work lately. Maybe Ill go take a nap or something.

Okay.

She looks around at the messy kitchen and finally goes down the hall to her room. I finish cleaning up, call my brother to tell him to bring dinner home, and head downstairs to my room.

First things first: a shower and a change of clothes. My biking gear is fine and comfortable when Im riding, but walking around in spandex for a while, especially in my padded shorts, tends to feel like Im wearing a giant diaper. And Moms right. I do look ridiculous.

After a quick shower, I opt for my pajamas and grab a notebook when Im changed.

If Im going to beat Whitney, I have some training to do, but more importantly, I need to figure out what to do exactly. I try to start my list, but sit there, pen in hand, staring at the paper in front of me. I have no idea where to start.

So instead, I grab my iPod and stick the ear buds in. Nothing better than a bunch of girl music to get the ideas flowing.

After a while, I doze off. Until my older brother, Gavin, bursts into my room. He jumps onto my bed and knocks my notebook on the floor. Which, for the record, I havent written anything in.

Gavin and I are only eleven months apart, but we couldnt be more different. I swear all he cares about is long boarding and work.

Long boarding is weird and I dont work.

Huh. Maybe Im just a slacker.

What are you doing in here? I ask, ripping my ear buds out of my ears.

Pizzas here. He tackles me and we both fall off the bed. Mom told me to come get you.

Youre such a b.u.t.t-head. I scoot away from him and stand, giving him the evil eye.

He snorts. Seriously? Are you in third grade?

I roll my eyes. Youre my brother. I can call you whatever I want.

Thats the best you could come up with?

I glare at him. Also, theres a thing called knocking. You cant just come down and barge in here whenever you want. I could have been naked in here.

He looks horrified and closes his eyes with his hand held in front of his face. Fair enough. He grins and lets his hands fall to his sides. For the record, though, Mom said I could come get you. She didnt say anything about knocking first.

Of course she didnt.

He raises an eyebrow and swipes his light s.h.a.ggy hair away from his eyes. You two fighting or something?

No. I think about the cookies again. So weird.

Gavin sits down on my bed and looks around my room. Lots of biking posters.

Youre very observant. Its not like I just put them up. Theyve been up forever. And hes been in my room before.

He chuckles. Go on a ride today?

I had a race.

Howd ya do?

I try to smile, but the thought of Whitney winning makes it not as genuine. I got second.

Awesome. He hesitates a moment. Did Kelsie race, too?

I shake my head. Shes having problems with her knee, so no.

Oh.

Im beginning to notice something about my brother: Im pretty sure he has the hots for my friend. Too bad that would be super weird. For me. Theyd actually be kind of cute together. I stand and grab my dirty biking clothes off the floor to go throw them in the wash.

So, do you want to come biking with me tomorrow? Well go on an easy trail. Promise.

Gotta work from eight till ten.

Sounds awesome.

I know. Lucky me.

Well, when youre done waiting tables, you can come with me anytime you want.

Nice try. Ill stick to long boarding.

Lame. I dont know how you can do that. Ive heard its dangerous.

And flying down the side of a mountain on a bike isnt?

Nope. I smack him on the shoulder as he rolls his eyes.

We should probably go eat.