Madison began to veer towards the left of the path, anticipating the turn that was nearly upon them. Much like a skilled Nascar winner, Ashley timed her speed with Madison’s movements, her chest heaving with what seemed to be fury, as both Spencer and Madison were now the enemy, a bishop and a pawn, both protecting the queen, but knowing full well their defenses were limited to moving forwards and diagonally.

Ashley’s jaw clenched, her teeth absentmindedly grinding together, as if the pain erupting from her jaw line was some sort of fuel, forcing legs to pump faster, her hand eye coordination that of a skilled sensei. She heard Spencer’s anxious cries as Ashley cut dangerously close to Spencer, barely missing the girl’s front tire, causing Spencer to slam on the brakes. Ashley ignored her, eyes on the prize, her bike heading towards the outside of the trail, every neuron in her body, prepared to respond to Ashley’s immediate request.

Her right foot shot to the ground, as her body weight shifted to the right, the bottom of her shoe dragging along the ground, the friction between rubber and gravel increasing in temperature. The tree was upon her, but Ashley had no fear, jerking her handlebars to the right, and cutting the edge of the turn expertly, careful not to frighten Madison, but knowing full well she had.

She was now in the lead, barreling down the path into the clearing below. Her calves were on fire, with her lungs following suit. The sweet smell of victory was better than garlic mashed potatoes or apple fucking pie. She glanced back at the girls, taking their time around the turn, Madison not wanting to fuck up her hair, and Spencer always cautious. Always.

The loud squawk startled Ashley, her head snapping forwards as the bike began to wobble dangerously, speed now an obvious enemy. She managed to gain control, and applied the breaks carefully, so as not to catapult herself over the handlebars. Adrenalin shot through her frame, as her body began to recover from the initial shock.

She stopped completely, torn between making it to the clearing and heading back to the scene of the incident. Stopping now meant she had lost. And she would dwell on this fact for days, letting it eat her up as she stared at her bedroom ceiling; the sound of The Price is Right coming from her aunt’s bedroom.