Twisted Steel: An MC Anthology: Second Edition by Elizabeth Knox (top 5 ebook reader txt) 📕

To Joseph Reardon—

With thanks and gratitude for 40 years of faithful service.

—Southern Pacific Railroad

I smile, remembering the model train setup we built in the basement when I was ten. I click the watch closed, press it to my lips, and slip it in my pocket.

There’s one room in this place calling to me. I climb to the third floor and to my old room. It sits in the dormers, the ceiling sloping. It’s not a fancy room, but it has a skylight and a small window with a great view. My bed is still here—an antique twin sleigh bed—but the bedding is now a floral print, probably from when Gram used the place as a B&B.

I drop to the mattress and tilt the bottle up for a long pull. I lean back against the headboard, putting my feet up, and I stare out the skylight. A crescent moon glows, shining back at me.

I take another long drink, draining a good portion of the bottle, then set it on the nightstand, and stack my hands beneath my head.

I haven’t slept in this bed since I was eighteen. I drift off as memories flood through me.

Twenty years ago . . .

I sit on the steps outside Santa Cruz High School. Home is only a couple of blocks away, but since my grandfather died, it’s been a sad place, and I’m in no hurry to go there. It’s sunny but cool out. Most of the students have left, all but a few stragglers.

Ryan waves at me, but I barely lift a hand. We used to be good friends in junior high, before my grandfather died. After that I sort of drifted away from everyone. I dropped out of the track team and also wrestling. I just didn’t give a damn anymore. I guess it’s depression; that’s what Mom says. She wants me to see a therapist, but that’s the last thing I want to do. All I want is to be left alone.

So, that’s what I’ve become—the school loner—the one no one asks to be in their group in biology or invite to parties or ask to tag along to the football game. That’s okay with me. Lately, I’ve been losing myself in video games.

I stare at the concrete, supposing that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go home and play Tomb Raider or Medal of Honor, or maybe Tony Hawk’s new one.

A shadow falls across me as someone sits next to me on the steps, drawing my eyes. Holy shit, it’s the chick from the cafeteria today. I’d laughed when our geeky chemistry teacher walked by and I made some snarky comment. She’d snorted milk out of her nose, laughing at what I’d said, and I’d smiled at her. Probably the first time I’ve smiled in this school in fucking forever.

“Hey,” she says, smiling.

“Hey,” I reply.

“You’re a pretty funny guy.”

“Am I?”

“When you aren’t all depressed, anyway.”

“Guess that’s all the time.” I glance down at her notebooks and spot a colorful graphic book. I lift my chin to it. “What’s that?”

She pulls it out and shows it to me. “Legend of Lemnear. Do you like anime? I’ve been really getting into trying to draw it lately.”

I study the colorful comic style art. “You can draw this stuff?”

“Well, I’ve been trying.” She flips open one of her spiral notebooks to some pencil drawings she’s done, and I’m amazed at her talent.

“Wow. Those are really good.”

“Thanks. Sometimes when I get bored, I do them in class.”

“Better not get caught. Especially, in Mr. Cantor’s class.”

“Yeah, he’d send me to detention for sure.”

“Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Do you get detention a lot?”

“Some. Mostly for missing class.”

“Why do you miss class?”

I shrug.

“Hey, I was just going to see if the latest edition of this is out yet. Want to come along?”

When I hesitate, she pushes.

“It’s not far. We can walk.”

“I guess.” I stand and, for some reason, stick my hand out to pull her to her feet. She looks up at me for a moment, then smiles and slips her hand in mine. I tug her to stand and we stare at each other for a moment. I feel a strange crackle of something between us. It’s not really sexual, it’s more like a mental connection. Something inside me tells me this chick just gets me on some level I’m not even sure I understand. It’s almost like I already know her, like we’ve been friends forever. Which is crazy, because before a few hours ago, I’d never even noticed her.

“I’m Sara, by the way.”

“Tim,” I reply.

“Nice to meet you, Tim,” she says, then skips ahead, and turns, walking backward. “Come on, they close at six.”

The further she gets away from me, it’s like I feel some invisible string stretching between us, a connection. And suddenly I’m afraid it will break. So I follow her, the corner of my mouth tugging up.

Now I stare at the ceiling, remembering that fall, twenty years ago. After that, I pretty much followed Sara anywhere she wanted to go. God, those were the days.

I lift the bottle to my lips again and chug the balance down. Wiping my mouth with my sleeve, I set it down, close my eyes, and pass out from exhaustion.

I come awake with a start. Early morning sun filters through the skylight, warming the room. I glance around and rub the heel of one hand in my eye, thrown for a moment by my location. I’m used to waking up in strange beds, but this one is my bed; only it’s not anymore. It’s a trippy sensation, an almost déjà vu like feeling that throws me for a minute.

I roll to sit on the edge of the mattress, my elbows on my knees, and yawn. My head feels fuzzy, and my eyes land on the bottle of cabernet. I can drink liquor like it’s going out of style, but red wine fucks with my head every damn time.

I push to