he whole ride home, my parents can't stop gushing about my win. Even my mother has forgotten how worried she was about my safety and tells me she knew I could do it. I try to enjoy it, and a big part of me does, but I also can't stop thinking about Tyler. I've messaged three times, and other than a brief I'm okay and I'll see you tonight, there's been nothing; I just hope I was able to get through to his dad, or tonight won't be much of a celebration.

Back at the house, Mom surprises me with a two-tier cake shaped like a motorcycle, the words Congratulations on your win written in icing across the top. Smiling, I say, "What would you have done if I'd lost?"

Dad grins as Mom starts to cut up the cake and serve it onto our plates. "Feed it to you anyway."

"Sociopaths."

"Hey," Dad says through a mouthful of cake, "we're not the ones who used to tie up Barbie and Ken and waterboard them in the bathtub."

Mom gives him a disapproving look and says, "Just be happy she turned out as well as she did. It was touch and go for a while there."

"True," Dad says, and they give me this look like they think they're so funny even though they're not. "Anyway," Dad continues, "I kind of have some news I wanted to share with you both. I'm thinking of spending more time at the track – maybe get a job there helping the riders out or something."

He risks a look at Mom, no doubt expecting her to be mad at the thought of him wanting to go to the track, but instead she smiles softly and pushes back his hair before giving him a kiss on the forehead. "I think that sounds like a lovely idea. You can keep an eye on Roxy while you're at it. Speaking of which–" she turns to me now, raising an eyebrow in that motherly way she's perfected so well, "–we've been invited to Mojack's tonight to celebrate your win. You don't mind if we come, do you?"

"As long as Dad keeps his psychopathic stories of my childhood to himself, I don't mind."

The plan is for everyone to head to Mojacks for seven, so as soon as I've finished my cake, I shower and change into something more casual before checking my phone. There's a message from Kianna asking how the tournament went, and I send her one back saying,.

Straight away, her name pops up on my screen as a FaceTime. "Oh my god," she says over and over, "I'm so frickin' proud of you, Roxy."

Just the sound of her voice has this way of comforting me. Despite the distance and us not talking as much as I once thought we would, it's nice to know that no matter how much time passes, she's always my biggest fan. "I just wish you could have been here," I say. "Can't you come and visit in the summer?"

"I know, me too," she says. "If I can save up enough money, I should be able to come for a few days, though there's no way you're getting me on a bike."

"We don't have to ride. There are other things to do here, surprisingly."

She snorts. "Not from the way you tell it."

I realize she's right. I've spent so much time focused on riding that I wonder if maybe now's the time to explore Pinewood properly. "Well, then you'll just have to see for yourself."

She grins in the way I've missed before catching me up on everything back in Arizona. When we're finished, I tell her I'll talk to her soon and finish my makeup before heading downstairs. For some reason, I'm nervous about seeing everybody tonight. It's not often the whole town gathers in one place. For once, those different versions of myself I've been trying to balance will be forced to coexist; I just hope it works out.

By the time we get to Mojack's, the place is busier than I've ever seen it. Mom pushes Dad through the doors as I bring up the rear, but I can barely walk two feet before people start cheering and patting my back. I manage a few smiles and lackluster waves before making a beeline for Niko and Vanessa over by the bar.

"Okay, how long before these people forget about me," I ask.

Niko laughs and orders me a drink before shrugging. "You've made it onto Pinewood's wall of fame, reserved only for championship racers. I'd say never."

"I'd agree," Vanessa says.

"Oh come on," Dad says behind me, "this is great. My own daughter's like a celebrity."

I turn around to grimace at my parents. "If you guys are going to be here, could you go and hang out with the other old people?"

Mom rolls her eyes before pushing Dad over to one of the tables, where she parks him next to the booth. I turn back to Vanessa and Niko, catching sight of the nasty red bruise on Niko's knuckles – a bruise he's conveniently yet to mention. "What the hell happened to you?"

Before he can speak, Sam pushes through the crowd and heads straights for the bar, where I catch a glimpse of his shiner. To Niko, I say, "No way. Really?"

"Unfortunately so," Vanessa says with a glare at Niko. "Could have broken his hand."

"And then what?" I ask. "Did he hit you back?"

"Nah," Niko says, "some people came and broke it up. So, did we come here to talk or to dance?"

I'm about to protest that I came here to relax – I'm not exactly known for having rhythm – but he's already dragging us to the dance floor. The three of us take turns practising the robot before my feet start to hurt, and I get the distinct feeling that I'm being third wheeled, so I head back to the bar to text Tyler.

I'm still looking around, nervous he might not show after all, when Tyler, Alex and their dad walk in. For a minute, I'm so surprised – relieved – that I don't make any effort to head toward them. I just sit here, stunned, hoping against hope that I haven't made things worse.

Alex spots me first and nudges Tyler with her elbow, directing his gaze toward me. His expression is serious, and as he pushes through the crowd , I'm praying he won't be mad that I yelled at his dad, even if it was on his behalf.

Heart pounding, I get to my feet just as Tyler stands in front of me, now wearing that boyish grin. "I don't know what the hell you did," he says, grabbing my hand, "but thank you."

I smile as the dread in my stomach dissipates. "In that case, you're welcome." I grab his hand and lead him to the dance floor, where I manage to get one dance out of him before he goes and sits at the bar with his dad, leaving me to dance with Alex.

"That was brave of you to stand up to my dad like that," she says, and I can see in her eyes that she feels somewhat guilty for not being the one to do it. "I kind of wish I'd had the guts."

"Hey," I say softly, "it's easy for someone else to come along and act tough when it's not their family."

"I guess," she says, "but–" she stops dead, focused intently on something behind me, and then, "jeez."

I turn around to where she's looking and spot Niko and Vanessa locking lips. Jeez, indeed. Somewhere between their dancing and kissing, Niko manages to catch my eye and gives me a solid thumbs up.

Alex and I share a horrified look. "Please tell me this means his crush on me is over," she says, and we both burst out laughing.

When it starts to get late, Tyler drags me away from Alex and pulls me into a quiet corner before lowering his head. "Hey," he says against my ear, "you want to get out of here?"

"Oh, definitely."

We end up jumping onto Tyler's bike and heading toward the track as usual. It's late by the time we get there, the hustle and bustle from earlier now gone and the track once again its peaceful state. I'm not complaining – as much as I've enjoyed today, a part of me is glad that it's over.

We push his bike back down toward the track, then pause for a moment to look at the moon. It's full tonight, a bright white orb that casts a ghost-white dust over the track. He raises an eyebrow and slips down his visor before climbing back on. Even without speaking, I know where we're going, so I climb back on too and hold him tight.

We end up at our favorite place. It's so quiet and still, a welcome relief from the noise back at Mojack's. After taking off our helmets, we settle onto the groove of the cliff overlooking the small town of Pinewood. It's strange – a few months ago I'd never have considered Pinewood to be home, but now I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be.

A few minutes pass before I rest my head in the crook of his shoulder. "What do you think you'll do now if not compete?"

He shrugs and looks forward, out toward the glowing lights of Pinewood. From up here, it's hard not to look at the tiny lit-up homes and feel insignificant. Or maybe it's not insignificance I feel, but the realization that a lot of things I've been worrying about don't matter in the grand scheme of things. At times like this, when I take a step back and view the world from a lens, it's hard to remember why I worried at all.

"I've been thinking about it," he says finally, "and I think I want to finish college and become a riding instructor." He looks over now, a gleam in his eye, "a real, qualified one."

I smile at the thought of him still wanting to ride, but just in a different way; a way that he chooses. A way that makes him happy. "Hey, you helped me to win the tournament," I say, "I can't think of a better instructor. You might need to work on your patience though."

"Yeah?" He pulls me closer, allowing his gaze to fall on my lips as the corner of his mouth lifts. "I'll have to remember that. What about you, what's the plan, sirenita?"

"Good question." I take his hand in mine, settling back into the warmth of his arms as I recall what that reporter had asked me. Where do you go from here?

The truth is, I have no idea what I'll do next, whether I'll enter more competitions or if I'm content enough with keeping racing as my hobby. But one thing I do know is that no matter what I choose, racing isn't everything. It can't be. It's the people around me that matter the most: my parents and Tyler, and all of my friends who make life worth living, even on the hard days. And hopefully, when I'm old and I look back on my glory days, it won't be with sorrow or regret.

It will be with happiness.

❤️