Julian studies her for another few seconds, then nods to himself. He snags a box of food, sits back in his chair. “I want better incentive.”
What? No. That’s not what he was supposed to—
PK groans. “You already agreed!”
“I agreed to participate. Now I’m asking for better incentive.”
“I hate you,” PK says. “We’ll have to run anything additional by Val, you know that, but what do you want?”
“I want my and Clarke’s race. The one-on-one.”
Clarke’s breath catches on the swell of longing that rises.
“No,” Naomi says.
“Val already said no to that,” PK adds.
“I’ll handle Val.” Julian’s eyes lock on Clarke, and she can’t look away. “After the season. We can use a neutral track, neutralmachines. I’m sure there’s no shortage of lower circuit teams who’d kill to have us fly their ships for something like this. We can donate the proceeds from ticket sales.”
Damn him. There’s one thing that would make Clarke put aside her reservations about pretending to be friends, and it’s this, and Julian knows it. Competing against him on a level playing field is something she hasn’t been able to do in years.
She, Julian, and Connor were all so close in skill level that there was never a front-runner among them. Clarke tended to do better off-planet, Julian did better on the twistiest tracks, and Connor did better on courses that played the most with the true zero G aspect, forcing pilots to completely dispel any sense of up or down. Clarke came out ahead their last year in Juniors, but it was close, and then they all moved on to different pro and semi-pro circuits. Clarke genuinely doesn’t know which of them would win now, as adults and with matched ships.
She wants to find out.
“I’ll do it,” she says, breaking away from Julian’s eye contact to look at Yves. “Can we?”
Yves is looking at the EM-64. He was on that winning team, Clarke remembers. A mechanic. “There will be conditions. Val has to approve, or we’re not doing it. If you don’t cooperate with the friendship plan, we’re not doing it. If you keep fighting my decisions on the track like a child, we’re not doing it.”
Humiliation at being publicly scolded colors Clarke’s cheeks. She sees Julian open his mouth out of the corner of her eye, and hears PK whisper something that shuts Julian up before he can get a word out.
There’s another condition that goes unspoken due to present company. If her contract doesn’t get renewed, there’s no wayElemental goes through with a post-season exhibition. This is another way for Yves to keep Clarke in line. It’s why he’s agreeing.
All the more reason to work her ass off in the coming months.
“Deal,” she says, and settles in to eat her lunch (in a separate box, helpfully markedClarkeby a well-meaning nutritionist) while Naomi, Sara, and PK spar over format and content.
Julian’s shoe brushes hers under the table. There’s concern in his eyes when she looks up, and the idea of him pitying her is too much to bear. She pulls her feet under her chair and stays quiet for the rest of the meeting.
12
Julian and PK get escortedoff Elemental grounds after lunch, and Clarke gets hustled back to the design meeting. The tone doesn’t change in the afternoon, and no one says they’ll consider any of Clarke’s suggestions, but she still walks out feeling a tad optimistic. She understands the EM-82 better for having gotten this glimpse of how the EM-83 is developing. Elemental seems invested in improving Clarke’s image, and tentatively committed to something with her post-season.
Nothing’s definitive, but Clarke knows how to work with what she’s got. And for the next three weeks, work is all she does. She’s at Elemental HQ from sunrise until well after dark, spending endless hours in racing sims and spinning around the test track. She films a bunch of hype stuff for the second half of the season, some on her own and some with Matthew. Anders comes by for an afternoon, also for media work, and Clarke manages to stay polite the whole time.
On the Friday before break is over, she gets a message from Thierry in the early evening.I am one hundred percent sure you forgot, so here is a reminder that my birthday party is tonight and you said you’d be there and I KNOW you’re on-moon, so if you don’tcome I will definitely cry and then you’ll be the person who made me cry on my birthday.
Clarke didn’t forget, actually. She’s not great with birthdays (or anything that’s not a racing event) but she knows this about herself and is diligent about putting reminders in her calendar. She has a present ready. She went through the trouble of getting Elemental to approve her attendance. And it’s just one city over, less than an hour by aerotrain. She can celebrate Thierry and still be ready to wake up early tomorrow and keep working.
The plan does not go out the window when she walks into the restaurant and sees Julian sitting across from Thierry. Itdoesn’t. Yes, she goes straight to the bar instead of heading to the table, but that’s just—she’s been working hard, and this is the only downtime she’s granting herself. That’s all.
“Having a rough night?” the bartender asks, watching Clarke rush through a second drink. It’s more smoke than liquid, and leaves a pleasant crackling on the roof of Clarke’s mouth.
Thierry just had to pick a restaurant with human bartenders instead of droids, didn’t he? “More like preparing for one. See the guy at the big table behind me? Dark curly hair, green shirt?”
The bartender flicks her eyes over the group. “He’s hot. Your ex?”
Clarke’s been watching for a glint of recognition, but there isn’t one—just appreciation. It (and the alcohol hitting her system fast,whoa) makes her feel safe enough to say, “No. He’s my almost.”