Page 69 of Breadwinner
Sarah blinked. “Like . . . with the cars?”
“Yes,” she said, taking a bite of her pancakes. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
“That sounds right up your alley. Are you sure it’s not a side excursion for yourself?” Sarah teased.
Nell smirked. “Okay, fine, guilty. But it’ll be fun. I promise.”
The sun was directly above them as they entered the VIP suite that overlooked the raceway. The roars of engines surged around them, vibrating through the floor and up through their bodies. Nell loved it. It was exhilarating.
Sarah leaned against the railing beside her, squinting against the sun. “Okay, I get it. This is kind of awesome.”
Nell handed her a pair of noise-canceling headphones and slipped them on before sliding on her own. She pointed to the starting grid below, where a series of impossibly sleek cars were lining up.
“Do you know anything about racing?” Nell asked through the headset. Sarah shook her head no. “In Formula 1, the best positions are spots one and two, for obvious reasons, but when you get into it, it’s actually pretty poetic.” Cars moved by them on their way to their starting positions. “The one and two spots—that’s where the air is cleanest. Least resistance. Everyone behind that? They’re fighting through dirty air, debris, exhaust, rubber, whatever the car in front is kicking up.”
Sarah nodded, her eyes tracking the blur of crew members clearing the area. “I’m sure there’s a metaphor in there somewhere.” She nudged Nell with an elbow, making her smile.
“There always is,” Nell said.
“Who’s your pick to win?”
Nell scanned the line, looking for the familiar hunter green and matte black car with the number forty-one splashed on it. “There,” she said, pointing as she spotted it. “My money’s on the Aston Martin,” she said confidently.
Engines rumbled and the road came to life around them, sending vibrations through the air as the race began in a blur of flashing colors. Car after car zoomed past. The laps melded into an endless loop as Nell and Sarah watched from their tucked-away perch.
When the race finally ended, the announcer’s voice boomed over the crowd: “Taking first place at this year’s Las Vegas Cup, Cooper Stanhope for Aston Martin.”
Sarah’s head whipped around so fast Nell could have sworn it had done a full rotation. “Wait, Stanhope? Your brother?”
Nell nodded, her eyes following the jumbotron as Cooper climbed from the cockpit of his car, helmet tucked under his arm.
“I like to keep tabs on what he’s up to,” she said. “After all, I did teach him how to drive.”
Below, people were gathering around the team’s pit area. Nell nodded slightly toward a man and woman standing near the car, surrounded by assistants and staff.
“And those would be my parents.”
Sarah looked toward the perfectly polished older couple she had pointed out. They stood, watching proudly, flanked by what could only be Cooper’s high-level sponsors and friends.
“It doesn’t look like Charlie or Carter made it today,” Nell added.
Sarah glanced over at Nell again. “How do you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Exist alongside people who...” She paused as though searching for the right words. “...who fucked you over like they did.”
Nell was quiet for a long moment, her eyes fixed on her parents as she watched her mom wrap Cooper in a hug, her dad clapping him on the back. They both looked so proud of him—a look they had never given her.
“I didn’t keep the Stanhope name to give myself a leg up,” she said quietly. “It was a strategy.”
Sarah turned toward her.
“After my parents cut me off, I knew I’d do anything to make it back into the same circles and the same rooms they occupied. Nate tried to convince me to change my name—said a fresh start would be good—but I kept the name because I wanted them to know that they could throw me out, denounce me publicly, say terrible things about me, but I would always be a part of the family, and people would always have to know what they did to me. I wanted them toseeme and know I got here without them.”
Sarah’s gaze didn’t move from hers. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“I may have a little bit of a vindictive streak,” Nell said, with a laugh, “but it also happens that, in seeking my vindication, I discovered that I’mreally fucking goodat making money.”