It’s pretty majestic, as crashes go. They’re down to the final four laps, and Lightning’s leading by tenths of seconds. Brick’s drafting him, and Bobby’s side-drafting him, and meanwhile Cal’s right behind, wildly trying to figure out how he’s gonna get around them all. Taking the high groove might not be a bad call–Lightning can’t push him out without letting Brick and Bobby free, so it’d probably be–
Bobby makes his run on the inside.
But he’s too close, too close, and he clips Lightning’s back bumper, and Lightning spins like God himself gave him a yank on the spoiler. Zero downforce, anti-gravity. Brick craters into Lightning’s side and Cal, attempting to swerve, ends up on two wheels, his front sliding over Lightning’s hood. Cal divebombs the pavement and for a fraction of a second he’s very, very angry at Bobby for all this. Then he’s upside down and careening into Bobby’s back–Bobby, who’d ended his run with his front crunched into the apron and his mouth full of dirt.
Which looks pathetic enough that it’s hard to be mad at Bobby for anything at all.
“Chip Gearings won? Seriously?”
“RIGHT?” exclaims Bobby.
“That’s what I said!” Brick huffs. “I feel like I lap that guy three times a week–and he’s still mean about my plants.”
“What do you guys have against Chip?” asks Lightning.
“Oh, don’t pretend you’re some kind of angel,” says Bobby. “At least we know who Chip is. You don’t even pay attention to the back of the field.”
“Yes I do! I, uh– I know– Chip, he–”
Lightning does not know.
“I’d feel bad talking about him, but he’s actually not very nice,” says Cal.
For some reason, this sets Brick off cackling.
“Well, with one win under his belt, maybe we’ll all be talking about him soon,” Bobby intones tenebrously. “THIS IS THE START OF THE CHIP ERA.”
Lightning tries not to laugh, and fails. He tries not to wince, and fails that too.
They’re parked in the hospital garage together, along with what Cal assumes is the half of the field their crash collected. But truth be told, Cal doesn’t remember a whole lot about how he got here, or what’s ensued.
“Are you okay?” Cal asks, suddenly acutely aware that he basically drove over his friend’s face not too long ago.
Lightning laughs again, winces again. “I’m fine. But that’s what we’re all waiting around to ask you, Cal! How’s your head?”
“Bro, you musta been on some major painkillers–or are your dreams always that kooky?” adds Bobby.
“What?” Cal asks. “My–”
“Oh, you talk in your sleep. Just by the way,” says Bobby.
“No, he orates,” Brick corrects.
Cal looks to Lightning. But when Lightning doesn’t leap to his defense, Cal says, “Waaaait. Guys! We talked about this–three on one’s not fair, remember?!”
Lightning slides his tires out from under him, feigning helplessness. “I wasn’t here for any of this! I was getting Brick’s face imprint taken out of my side. I’m a neutral party!”
Cal turns back to Bobby and Brick. “But you told him, didn’t you. You told him everything I said in my sleep.”
“We totally did,” says Bobby.
“Sorry,” says Brick.
“Not sorry,” says Bobby. “Wow, you really were concussed,” he adds.
“No, I was faking a concussion! Because I thought if I played possum maybe you’d finally be nice to me…” Cal pouts.
“I guess you don’t remember, but we already told you who won that race. You already knew it was Chip,” Lightning says, attempting to clarify the outright hysterics Bobby and Brick have fallen into.
“CHIP ERA!” Brick shouts, blinking back tears. “CAL. YOU CAME UP WITH THAT.”
Oh no. Ohhh no. Cal sighs. What’s he gone and said now?
“Cal, man, you just went OFF on that dude. You’re parked in here, snoring away, and then suddenly you’re just shouting about the CHIPOCALYPSE. And you were savage, holy cow. Remind me not to ever make you mad.”
“I wasn’t mad! I don’t hate Chip! Oh. Oh dear…”
“You’re secret’s safe with me, pal,” Lightning winks. “On the other hand…”
“Yeah, I’m Tweeting this,” says Bobby. “I’ll let y’all know when it posts.”
