Latitude Zero Read Online Free Page B

crazy.”
    “Is it?” He raised an eyebrow. “I know you’ve talked before, behind my back. Remember Harvard Square last month? Maybe you talk all the time.”
    That hurt. The Harvard Square meeting last month was actually about Jake. I was trying to get to the bottom of the doping allegations, to help him out. I thought Juan Carlos might have some clue who framed Jake for drugs. But no matter how much I’d insisted, Jake did not believe me. He’d almost punched Juan Carlos in the face after he ran into us there—I’d had to restrain his arm—and then he’d threatened to get Juan Carlos sent back to Ecuador if he moved in on me again. We’d broken up for two weeks about this stupid misunderstanding.
    “Jake. I—”
    Jake held up a hand. “You know what? Save your breath. You’ll need it for the ride. Stay on the wheel out there.” He turned and followed the path around a bend.
    My feet remained rooted. Tears stung my eyes. As soon as I was sure Jake couldn’t see me, I sank to the ground, holding my breath, trying not to cry. When Jake turned cold like that, it felt like getting slammed against ice.
    I took a few deep breaths, trying to pull myself together.
Think, Tessa, think
. The best thing to do? Bail. I could walk back to the official starting line and sign on as a volunteer. In an hour, I could be at the first checkpoint, serving sandwiches and water to hungry riders. That would undo the lie I’d told to my parents. And when Jake cruised by the food table at the first water stop? I’d throw a sandwich right in his face and call him a—
    No. What I should do was call Kristen, my
KidVision
producer. I could pitch a show idea about young riders and volunteers. I’d always wanted to do my own story, to say words that weren’t scripted for me.
    My mind raced with new ideas. If I called Kristen with a pitch, that would undo the lie I’d told Juan Carlos. I’d legitimately be here working for
KidVision
today. Then I could easily meet up with him after the race, hear what he wanted to tell me—
my God,
what could it be?
I could give him back his necklace.
    I stood up again and turned to peer through the thick trees behind me. I could still make out dots of red-and-white cycling jerseys at the starting line. In five minutes, if I pushed my bike and ran, I could be right back there. And maybe I could go back even further, back to my pre-Jake life. Was that my real starting line?
    I dared myself to imagine a permanent breakup. I’d get my best friends back, full-time. Jake had thought Sarita and Kylie were loud, unambitious, and boring. They’d said he was moody and took up all my time.
    And they had a point. If I wasn’t out riding with Jake, I was hanging out at his races, even toughing it out at cyclocross meets in the fall and winter, standing in the rain. I’d paid for that time with my social life and my grades. My parents were freaking out.
    But. If I ditched Jake, I’d lose the good stuff, too. The guy who had patiently coaxed me off my clunky hybrid and reliable old bike paths, and shown me the excitement of the open road. He had nudged me out of my comfort zone in so many ways. My past relationships had taken a long time to get off the ground. Maybe because everyone knows everyone’s business when you go to a small school like mine, and people are leery of labels. But with Jake—I guess because we went to different schools—things had been intense from the start. He’d asked me out, to a bike gear expo, within minutes after that
KidVision
interview. He called and texted all the time. He’d called me his girlfriend after our third date.
    Things with Jake had moved fast physically, too. Sometimes in our first weeks together, Jake and I would veer off-road on a country bike ride—here in Cabot or in neighboring towns—and find a patch of grass in a meadow. We’d mess around for a while, kissing while our hands explored, and traffic, oblivious to our bliss, rushed past on distant