Pitbabe S2, Chapter 17 pg4

 Pitbabe S2, Chapter 17 pg4

   

   JEFF:

   “Need help?”

   I couldn’t help but ask. Seeing the captain standing there, frowning at the new engine in Dean’s car for a while now, and Phii Alan with his hands on his hips, looking more like he wanted to pick a fight with the engine than tune it, I figured he might need a hand.

   “Nah,” the (original) garage owner replied, his brows still knotted tight. “I’m almost there.”

   “Almost what?”

   “That…” He nearly let his thoughts slip but caught himself just in time. “Not telling.”

   “Huh?”

   “If I tell you, you’ll try to help.”

   “Can’t I help?”

   “Wanna do it myself,” Paul said, turning to me with a softer tone. His resolve was firm, but his voice sounded like a kitten pleading for sympathy. I knew that tone meant he wanted to tackle this problem on his own, but at the same time, he didn’t want me to be upset that he was turning down my help. “You’ve been doing a lot lately. I wanna take a crack at it myself.”

   “If you want it that bad, go for it. I won’t meddle,” I said with a chuckle, leaning my arms on the car door, looking at the master mechanic’s face instead of the engine—his personal Everest. “Just standing here for moral support, that’s okay, right?”

   “Puts a bit of pressure on me, but it’s nice you’re here,” Phii Alan gave a faint smile before bending down to fiddle with the engine. I chose to leave it at that, knowing if I leaned in to take a look, I wouldn’t be able to resist chiming in. So, staying blissfully ignorant was probably the easiest route. “If I can’t pull this off, I’ll be kinda embarrassed.”

   “Embarrassed why?”

   “Cause I wanna look cool too, you know?”

   “But you’re already cool.”

   “Sweet talker.”

   “I’m not that type, and you know it.”

   Phii Alan grinned, clearly pleased. He knew I wasn’t great at complimenting people. I only started learning and practicing—getting halfway decent at it—when I got together with him. Maybe because Phii Alan was the captain and the big brother to a whole crew of younger guys, being around him every day slowly taught me how to get along with others better. Back then, I never thought about looking out for anyone besides Charlie. Then Phii Alan came along, someone I found myself worrying about often. That general human concern for others? I learned it all from him. Phii Alan never told me to follow his lead, but his natural actions made me want to be kinder to those around me. I wanted to care for others instinctively like he did, not just through calculated effort like I tried at first.

   I don’t know if I’m on par with someone as kind-hearted as him yet, but I think I’m getting better, bit by bit.

   “Phii Alan,” I called out.

   “Hm?” he responded, pulling out a new set of tools from the box, probably because the scattered ones around him weren’t cutting it for whatever new technique he was trying.

   “Why did you stop racing, Phii?”

   Alan went quiet for a moment, as if my question came out of nowhere and threw him off a bit. He set his tools down on the rack by the car’s hood, crossed his arms, and looked deep in thought, making me wonder if I should’ve asked at all.

   “Because it feels good to help others reach their dreams.”

   His answer caught me off guard. I thought I might’ve hit a sore spot, but with his relaxed expression and faint smile, I figured there was nothing to worry about.

   “You mean the kids?” I was referring to the younger guys on Team X.

   “Yeah, all of them,” Phii Alan nodded before ducking back under the hood to tinker with the engine again. “Back in the day, I enjoyed racing. Winning felt like a dream come true, made me proud. But I realized there’s something else that feels just as good—maybe even better.”

   His voice was soft, like cotton candy. I could feel his kindness, even though we weren’t making eye contact. All I could see were his shoulders and arms moving, his clothes stained with engine oil.

   “When Babe got first place for the first time, I was thrilled—happier than when I won myself. It’s like I’d watched him from day one, when he didn’t even know how to start a car. I saw him practice every day—excited one moment, discouraged the next, sometimes whining. Honestly, when I watched him train, I didn’t expect him to be the best, to be number one, or unbeatable. I just thought it’d be nice if he could do what he wanted.”

   “But you’ve got an eye for talent. Even without expecting it, Phii Babe went that far.”

   “He’s got his own talent, sure. I just supported him where I could. Same with Way.”

   “Don’t you ever want to race again?”

   “If I went back to racing, who’d look after those kids?”

   “So, if you could, you’d want to race, right?” I wasn’t trying to press him, but sometimes I feel like Phii Alan overlooks his own feelings without realizing it. Sure, he finds joy in supporting others—it’s like it’s woven into his soul, watching over, helping, and guiding the younger guys toward their paths, taking their successes as his own. I don’t quite get how that feels so rewarding, so the question slipped out. “Don’t you miss being out on the track yourself?”

   “There are moments I miss it,” the seasoned captain said, stepping away from the ugly-looking engine, his face showing satisfaction. I figured he’d just solved whatever problem he was working on. “But dreams change, kid. There was a time I only cared about myself, and that’s not wrong. But now, my dream’s bigger. My dream is to push our team forward, to let those kids shine as much as they can, and to keep us together for as long as possible.”

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