The Ghost in His Mirror

"Jake Carter, so what if you topped qualifying? In the final, you're moving aside for Mason Vale. That's the team's order!"

Coach Wade Barrett slammed the strategy board onto the table, jabbing a finger at my nose so hard that spit flew from his mouth.

I sat in the corner of the locker room, looking down at the badly worn racing gloves in my hands. I said nothing.

"Are you deaf? I'm talking to you!" Wade stormed over and kicked the chair in front of me.

The chair crashed into the metal locker with a loud bang.

I slowly lifted my head and looked at his face, twisted with anger.

"Why?" I asked.

"Why?" A contemptuous voice came from the doorway.

Mason Vale walked in wearing a brand-new custom racing suit, casually twirling my helmet in his hands.

He stopped in front of me, looked down at me, and curled his lip into a mocking smile.

"Because I'm the absolute core of this team. Because I'm last year's champion.

"And you're nothing but a benchwarmer who can't even bring in a sponsor."

He tossed my helmet onto the floor and kicked it aside like it was trash.

The helmet rolled twice across the floor and hit the corner of the wall with a dull thud.

I stared at it. It was the only thing my father had left me from his racing days.

I shot to my feet, both fists clenched tight.

Wade immediately stepped across to block Mason, pointing at my nose.

"What do you think you're doing? Starting a mutiny?

"Mason's the champion. Disrespecting him means disrespecting me. Do you still want a place on this team?"

Looking at Wade's bootlicking face made my stomach turn.

"My qualifying time was a full two seconds faster than his." I stared into Wade's eyes and said each word clearly.

"Mason was holding back! What the hell do you know?" Wade argued without a shred of shame.

"And even if you were faster, so what? The team's resources go to Mason.

"The final decides everything. Win, and you enter the national program. Lose, and you're gone. That spot can only belong to Mason."

Mason pushed Wade aside and stepped up to me. He leaned close to my ear, lowering his voice.

"Jake Carter, are you upset?

"You're just like that deadbeat father of yours. Useless for life.

"Twenty-eight years ago, he couldn't beat me. Twenty-eight years later, you'll still be under my foot."

He deliberately emphasized the words "twenty-eight years ago."

My eyes narrowed.

Twenty-eight years ago.

My father had been destroyed by the same man, on this same track. His spine had been broken, leaving him in a wheelchair for twenty-eight years.

In the end, he died of depression.

Before he passed, he had been nothing but skin and bone. He gripped my hand with all his strength, coughing blood.

"If he ever does it again, don't let it slide."

Those were his final words to me.

I took a deep breath and forced down the killing rage churning in my chest.

"And if I refuse?" I looked at Mason. My voice was so calm it almost startled me.

Mason froze for a second, as if he hadn't expected me to talk back.

The smile vanished from his face. His eyes turned vicious.

"Refuse?"

He suddenly raised his foot and stomped hard on my helmet, grinding it under his sole.

"Refuse, and I'll make sure you don't even get a chance to start!

"You think I can't get you packed up and thrown out with one word?"