Non-classifiable
I push all thoughts of falling out of my mind and focus on being one with the trail. I roll along, up rises and into dips like a wave following the ocean floor. I steal a peek behind me, the wind rushing through my helmet openings.
Warren has dropped back. He's slowed down to take the hill. Good. I've bought myself some time. I'm formulating a devious plan. If it works the way I want it to, I'll be able to put Warren away too. Without getting myself killed in the process.
The Sharks called us "pond scum."
I breathed deep, like I always did before a race, filling my nose with the smell of chlorine. The Sharks were about to see that this pond scum could swim.
The rumbling didn't come as noise. It came as a vibration that hummed in my chest. Even thought I was blindfolded, I turned my head, as if I needed my eyes to tell me what I already knew. The train was close and coming fast. With me stuck on the tracks...
I stripped down to my tighty-whities, and Hammy slammed the hotdog over my head before I could change my mind.
