Pitbabe S2, Chapter 10 pg1

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 10 pg1

   Chapter 10:

   CHARLIE:

   “What’s up with him, bro?” 

   Dean asked, arms crossed, watching Pete nod like an eager front-row student while North played the role of teacher. Many forget that North isn’t just a junior racer anymore. Sure, to most, he’s still the kid who messes around, but on the flip side, he’s a key asset to Team X. Not just a trainee, but a member who’s raced alongside the King, Babe, countless times. So, if someone had to mentor a businessman dad, I think North is the right call. Unexpected, sure, but correct.

   “You talking about Pete or North?” I teased, because nothing about this scene looked normal. The big-shot CEO playing rookie racer, learning from the team’s least serious “instructor.”

   Looks like today’s gonna be full of fun stuff to watch.

   “Forget about North,” Dean said, leaning his hand on the hood of his car, which I was tweaking. Since coming back, Dean’s been training hard to make up for lost time. I told him to take it easy during the off-season, but this kid ignores me, showing up to practice every damn day. His talk about overtaking North soon doesn’t sound like just talk anymore. “I’m talking about your buddy. Why’s he suddenly wanna race?”

   “He’s probably bored, man. Burnt out from working too hard. What do you expect from rich folks?”

   “Uncle’s rich too. Never saw you itching to be a businessman,” Dean said, frowning in confusion. “Or do you want to?”

   “What do you think I’m doing every day?” I said lazily, hands busy with the guts of Dean’s prized car. Left to rot for years, this baby’s been sickly, not running at full strength on the track. Even now, I’m not entirely sure what’s wrong with it. “Racing’s not charity, kid. It’s business.”

   “I know, but would you call yourself a businessman?”

   “Hmm… nah,” I shook my head lightly, imagining myself in a fancy suit, hearing dress shoes clack on shiny tiles every day. Gave me chills I couldn’t explain. “At most, call me… Uncle.”

   “Fits you!” Dean nodded in agreement. I was hoping he’d defend me, say something like, “You don’t really look that old,” but guess I aimed too high. “Uncle’s better suited for the garage, the track.”

   “Like Pete’s better suited for the CEO desk.”

   “Maybe not, though. He might have some skills. Just hasn’t had the chance to show it.”

   “You think?”

   “He’s got a good build, seems sharp too,” the young star analyzed, sounding (almost) logical. “But the key is heart. I think his heart’s in it.”

   “What do you know about his heart?”

   “Dunno, just a guess. Feels like he’s always got something weighing on him, like he’s determined to make something happen.”

   Sounds like he’s just rambling, but his instincts are sharp. Only a few know about the deal between Pete and Way. Everyone can sense there’s something tying those two together, especially obvious when Way died. Pete got involved in every step, despite only recently getting close to him. No one questioned it, though there was plenty to ask. Why’d he cry at Way’s funeral? Why’d he beg to keep all of Way’s stuff with X-Hunter? But the team just acted like it was nothing, quietly acknowledging that something happened, and left it at that.

   “There’s probably something on his mind,” I replied vaguely. I knew exactly what that “something” was, but it wasn’t my place to broadcast it to the world. “Let it go. Let him do what he wants. He’ll get over it eventually.”

   “Guess that’s the way,” Dean nodded in agreement. “But are you sure about letting North handle it alone?”

   “Shouldn’t be a problem.”

   “Do you even know North?”

   “What, you saying your friend’s a slacker?” I chuckled.

   “No, not about his skills,” Dean waved his hands quickly. “His character.”

   “He knows what he’s doing,” I said, straightening up and subtly massaging my lower back after bending and twisting in awkward positions for a while. Despite doing this kind of work for years, my body still hadn’t fully adjusted—or maybe it’s because I’ve done it too long and my body’s starting to protest. I’m not sure. “It’s not just you who’s grown these past two years.”

   “He’s gotten a lot better, huh?” Dean snorted, glancing briefly at me before turning back to watch North, who was earnestly explaining the basics of racecar driving.

   “A ton,” I said, unable to help feeling proud of my little brother. “You’d better keep up with him.”

   “I’m flooring it already.”

   “We’ll see.”

   The Dean of today is barely different from the Dean of two years ago when it comes to ambition. He’s still the kid who’s always looking up and pushing himself. But what’s changed—and what I’m happiest about—is that now he can truly appreciate the beauty of competition.

   “Ready?”

   “Always ready.”

   I answered Dr. Chris without hesitation, then sat down in the usual chair for the injection. Because of my dumb choice to wear a hoodie today instead of a T-shirt with easily rolled-up sleeves, I had to take it off so the doctor could jab my upper arm. Honestly, it was a bit embarrassing to strip in front of everyone, even if they were all colleagues. If Babe knew I was taking my shirt off in front of Liu, he’d probably set me and this building on fire.

   “Your arm looks pitiful,” Dr. Chris said while wiping my upper arm with an alcohol-soaked cotton pad. The “pitiful” part probably referred to the marks from previous injections. For regular vaccines everyone gets, the puncture site is barely noticeable within an hour. But for the drugs we’re developing? Some versions are brutal. Not just the side effects—some cause swelling like fire ant bites for hours, others leave my arm purple and scary (like the one I got the day I ditched Babe halfway, which not only bruised my arm but was also a total flop), and some leave lasting marks even now. So it’s no surprise Dr. Chris pities the state of my arm. “Get someone else to do this.”

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