Saturday couldn't come fast enough.
Evan spent the entire week counting down the days, then the hours, then the minutes until he'd be back at Silver Ridge Kart Track. Every night, he fell asleep imagining the perfect lap—turning in early, braking late, hitting the apex just right. And every morning, he woke up feeling the same buzzing excitement flickering inside him.
By the time his dad's truck rolled into the kart track parking lot that weekend, Evan practically leaped out before the engine stopped.
"Someone's eager," his dad said with a laugh.
"Dad, I've been waiting forever."
Technically, it had been six days. But it felt more like six years.
When they reached the rental tent, the older man with the sunburned nose from last time saw them coming and grinned.
"Back again, Kart Twelve?"
Evan stood a little taller. "Yeah. And I want to go faster today."
The man chuckled. "That's what every rookie says. The trick is learning how."
Evan nodded. "I'm ready."
The man raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."
He handed Evan a helmet—sleek, black, and slightly scuffed from countless drivers before him. But to Evan, it looked like a promise.
A promise of speed.
Once he was strapped into Kart Twelve again, Evan wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel. He remembered everything—how stiff the wheel felt, how the seat pressed into his back, how the engine's vibrations traveled up his arms.
But this time, something was different.
He was different.
The marshal waved him onto the track.
Evan punched the throttle.
The kart shot forward, and Evan felt the same rush as before—but now he knew the track. He knew the corners. He wasn't guessing anymore; he was thinking ahead. Anticipating. Planning.
On the second lap, he passed a kid in a blue kart.On the third lap, he caught up to a pair of older teens battling for position.And on the fourth lap, he found a rhythm—smooth, sharp, confident.
He wasn't just driving.
He was racing.
When the session ended, Evan climbed out of the kart, breathing hard, hair sticking to his forehead. The sunburned-nose man whistled as he approached.
"Well I'll be…" The man nodded at the track. "You shaved nearly a full second off your lap time."
Evan's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," the man said. "You've got instincts, kid. Real ones."
Evan felt a warm shock of pride run through him.
Then the man added, "If you want to get faster, you might think about joining the junior kart league here."
Evan blinked. "The… league?"
His dad's eyebrows went up too. "There's a league?"
"Oh yeah," the man said. "Kids your age race every month. Some of 'em go on to real racing careers. We've had a few big names start right here at Silver Ridge."
Evan's heart thudded so hard he was sure everyone could hear it.
A league.
Real racing.Real competition.Real possibility.
The man leaned closer. "You keep improving like this, Kart Twelve, and you might belong out there."
Evan didn't know what to say. His chest felt too full—of excitement, of hope, of something he couldn't quite name.
His dad put a hand on his shoulder. "What do you think, bud?"
Evan looked from his dad to the track, where another group of kids was climbing into their karts. Engines revved, tires squealed, and the smell of burning rubber drifted through the air.
He didn't hesitate.
"I want to join."
His dad smiled. "Then let's make it happen."
And just like that, the spark inside Evan ignited into something bigger—brighter—more fierce.
A dream.
A real one.
The race wasn't just a hobby anymore.
It was the beginning of everything.