I earned the money and got my new chair all by myself.

It’s glorious. Knobby-tire, beastly framed, Kevlar-cushion perfection.

I’ve spent so much time all week cruising and flipping and wiping out in my new foam pit in the shop, testing to see what this chair can really do, Dad jokes he never would’ve built it in the first place if he’d known he was going to lose his assistant mechanic over it.

He was only messing. We both know I’m going to be helping him out more than ever here soon, because he’s headed back to night classes next week. We’ll get it done somehow. Dad says maybe he’ll be able to focus on studying now he’s not burning half his headspace stressing about my crashing off that raggedy old ramp out in the field.

“You really did it.” Zeke crouches down and looks appreciatively at the chair’s undercarriage. “This thing is sway. Wish I had me a bike that solid.”

“Bet you could earn one if you put your mind to it,” Ale says. She looks proud, too, and I think about the fun we had last week, when she reached her goal and I helped her put in her order for that fancy beehive. It’ll get here in two weeks. Good thing I’m making headway on that bee fear of mine, because Lord knows I’ll be helping her get it all set up come spring.

“Nice ride!” someone calls behind me. I turn just in time to see Demarion zip past at max speed. I laugh as he disappears into the school with a group of his artsy friends.

“So, are you both done with the e-shop now, girls?” Tina asks. “Now that y’all have smashed all those lofty goals you set way back last summer?”

Ale and I trade glances. “Nah…” she says slowly. “What fun’s smashing a goal if you don’t have another one in the works?”

I know she’s already thinking ahead to the next level of beekeeper certification—journeyman—and I grin back. Me, I’m thinking about the label on the brand-new coffee can sitting on the corner of my desk.

Sports Camp!!!

No, it’s not the Tate Britain in London. Not for now. What it is, is an adaptive sports camp out in California, which feels almost as far away in some ways. But it’s an adaptive sports camp that offers all sorts of unbelievable chair sports. Hockey. Canoeing. Basketball.

And WCMX.

No secret which one I’m shooting for. I can’t wait.

We’re almost at the front door now, and Devontae has fallen into step beside me. When his fingers maybe-probably-almost-accidentally brush against mine, I maybe-probably-almost-accidentally catch hold of his pinky and lace my own back through his.

Only for a second. Just long enough to let him know I mean it.

“Hold up.” I reach out and stop him when we get close to the door. “Let me do the honors.”