Chasing the Taillights

By Kate Larkindale

~Editor's Pick~

Lucy and Tony share nothing except genes. Tony’s the champion diver destined for greatness. Lucy’s biggest concern is getting Cute Guy from the burger joint to ask her out.

After an accident kills their parents, the siblings are forced to rely on one another—and decide whether to reveal their secrets.

Lucy can’t tell Tony what she knows about the accident for fear of destroying the tentative bond between them. If she doesn’t confess, she might lose her mind. If she does, she might lose the only person she has left who loves her.

Tony has problems too. Between diving practice, classes and concealing the crush he has on his best friend Jake, Tony needs to find room in his life for his sister, but his own stability dwindles with every passing day.

As the siblings struggle to overcome a lifetime of past conflicts and jealousies, they discover they might have more in common than a love of rock music.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Teen
• Release date: Feb 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9780369502933

Kate Larkindale

Having spent a lifetime travelling the globe, Kate Larkindale is currently residing in Wellington, New Zealand. A cinema manager, film reviewer and mother, she’s surprised she finds any time to write, but doesn’t sleep much. As a result, she can usually be found near the espresso machine with a long black in hand. Her short stories have appeared in Halfway Down The Stairs, A Fly in Amber, Daily Flash Anthology, The Barrier Islands Review, Everyday Fiction, Death Rattle, Drastic Measures, Cutlass & Musket and Residential Aliens, among others. She has written eight contemporary YA novels, four of which other people are allowed to see. She has also written one very bad historical romance. She is currently working on a new YA novel that is still looking for a title other than its Twitter hashtag, #juvvielesbian.

Book preview

Chapter One

Tony

The muscles in my calves burn as I rise onto my toes. I bounce a couple of times, relishing grit beneath the balls of my feet and air against my heels.

I breathe.

In and out. In and out.

The noise of the pool below fades until all I hear is the rush of air flowing between myself and the atmosphere. In this moment of peace, I visualize the dive.

As soon as I flex my knees to leave the platform, the world rushes back, brighter and louder than before. I know what I have to do now, and nothing can stop my body from following the path my brain has mapped out. I leap upward, as high as I can spring, putting as much space between myself and the board as I can manage. My legs straighten at the same time as I bend at the waist to tuck myself into a tight pike position for the single turn I’m allowed before unfolding into the freestyle twist that precedes my entry into the pool.

Even before I glimpse water, I know I’ve mistimed something. I don’t slice cleanly through the surface as if a hole has opened up for me. I tear through it, sending an arc of spray into the air behind me.

Fuck.

Water rushes past my ears as I plunge to the bottom of the pool. I’ve aced this dive twice this practice. Why’d I have to screw it up now? My legs ache from the number of times I’ve climbed to the platform this afternoon. Now I’ll have to go up again. Coach won’t let me leave until I’ve nailed it more times than I haven’t. I’m not there yet.

I take my time swimming to the side, pausing before pulling myself out to watch the next guy plummet toward me. Jake. I recognize the way he does four calf-flexes before settling into position on the edge of the platform. Even as he leaves the ledge, I can tell he’s not going to make it. He doesn’t get enough height before moving into the pike. I could be wrong, but I think his foot slipped as he jumped.

Sure enough, Jake enters the pool with a messy splash. I haul myself onto the side and wait for him to swim over before dragging myself to my feet.

Well, that was shit. Jake grins as he clambers out of the water and joins me on the pool’s edge.

I wasn’t going to mention it, but…

You’re hardly one to talk, Tony.

I nod, gritting my teeth. I stunk. I know it, he knows it. Coach knows it. The rest of the team know it, too. We have a meet next weekend, and if I dive like that, we’re not going to bring home any medals. I won’t get noticed by the coaches for the National squad either. At least, not the way I want to be noticed.

We walk back to the base of the platform and grab our towels. I take my time running the square of fabric across myself, wanting as long as possible to collect myself before having to head back up. Next to me, Jake does the same. I glance over at him, enjoying the way muscles ripple across his back and shoulders as he moves. He must have been hitting the gym hard the past few weeks. I’ve never noticed such definition in his triceps or lats before.

The sun sits low in the sky beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows lining one wall of the Aquatic Center and the intense amber light catches the water-droplets on Jake’s skin. They look fat and heavy, like beads of honey or caramel clinging to the line of his collarbone.

Waits! Coach McGinley barks my name. I tear my gaze away from Jake, heading toward the base of the platform even before he starts speaking. That was okay, but you over-rotated the pike. Try it again. And Weigard, how many times do I have to tell you about elevating off the platform?

You can say it as many times as you like, Jake mutters as he starts up the ladder behind me. I don’t have springs in my legs.

An hour later, McGinley dismisses us and I follow Jake into the locker room. My legs tremble as I drop onto a bench with a groan.

I agree. Jake throws himself down across from me and digs through his bag. Tony. Catch. He tosses a bottle of Gatorade in my direction.

Thanks. I lean back against the wall and unscrew the cap, chugging the entire bottle in a single swig. I belch loudly when I’m done, the sound echoing around the cavernous space.

Gross, dude. Jake sniggers. Want to hit the party at Monteith tonight? I overheard some of the girls saying they were heading there later.

I drag myself to my feet and gather my towel and shampoo. It’s Friday night, and we don’t have a meet this weekend. That means no practice until late tomorrow afternoon. I wish I wasn’t so tired.

When I say nothing, Jake leans toward me. Belinda’s gonna be there.

So?

So, you’ve been moping around since you two broke up. And Mel said she’s been just as morose. Maybe you guys could get back together.

I laugh and head toward the showers. Maybe pigs will fly.

I stay in the shower a long time, hot water pounding into my aching muscles until they loosen and I sag against the wall. Steam swirls in lazy circles around me, and I let my mind drift with it. I picture Belinda with her long, muscular legs and lithe diver’s body. There’s no denying she’s gorgeous. Not to mention a phenomenal athlete. Shame she can’t talk or think as well as she dives.

With a sigh, I push my exhausted body off the wall and turn the water off.

Jake? I call as I climb out of the shower and wrap a towel around me. You still here?

There is no answer. A faint murmur of voices drifts from behind the bank of lockers separating the shower stalls from the rest of the space. Jake maybe. Or some of the other guys on the team.

I round the lockers expecting to see three or four divers, but Jake is alone and dressed, his hair damp and tousled from where he’s rubbed at it with a towel. He waves as I step up to my locker and pull out my overstuffed gym bag. A phone is pressed against his ear, and he laughs at whatever the person on the other end says.

…yeah, he’s here now. I’ll pass you over. Jake gets up from the bench and hands the phone to me. My phone. I throw him a puzzled look.

Your mom, Jake mouths.

I take the phone Mom?

Nothing changes, does it? You’re still draining the tank when you take a shower. Don’t you get enough water in the pool?

Sorry. I didn’t hear the phone ring. I pull a crumpled ball of clothes out of my bag, but make no move to put them on. I sit down instead, letting the air cool my shower-warmed skin.

It’s okay. Gave me a chance to catch up with Jake. Mom chuckles. Sounds like you guys are working too hard, as usual.

Pretty hard, I agree. McGinley won’t let us do it any other way.

Guess that’s the only way to get good, right? Mom laughs. She’s into the wine already. It is Friday night after all.

Jake taps my shoulder and gestures he’s leaving. I nod, keeping the phone tucked between my ear and shoulder as I do.

Catch you later? Jake raises an eyebrow as he ducks out the locker room door.

I nod. Why not? I can sleep late tomorrow.

I watch him go before turning my attention back to Mom. So, what’s up?

We’re going to Adam DeMarco’s wedding tomorrow. I thought you might have something you want us to say to him. Unless you’ve changed your mind and want to come?

Mom, I can’t. I told you. It’s a five hour drive each way, and I can’t miss practice.

Not even for your best friend’s wedding?

This could be a long call. He’s hardly my best friend. I haven’t seen him in three years.

Mom sighs. Has it really been that long? It seems like yesterday the pair of you were inseparable.

The DeMarcos moved when I was eleven, Mom. That’s how long it’s been since Adam was my best friend.

Do you have anything you want us to say to him?

"Congratulations, I guess? Or commiserations? I mean, does he want to get married?" Adam’s only six months older than me. I can’t imagine he’s any more ready for marriage than I am. Poor dude must be terrified.

Well, of course he does. Mom sounds indignant. He wouldn’t be doing it if he didn’t want to, now would he?

The DeMarcos are Catholic, remember…

Oh, Tony. Don’t!

I grin, wishing for the first time I was going to the wedding. I’d put money on her being knocked up.

Give Adam my regards, I say, getting up and dropping the towel from around my waist. I have to go, Mom. Jake’s waiting for me.

There’s a small commotion of some sort behind her, a scuffling and muttering. A hand goes over the mouthpiece of the phone and I hear muffled talking.

Mom? I say, loudly this time, my voice echoing through the deserted locker room.

No, stupid. It’s me, Lucy.

My sister. Great.

I close my eyes for a second, tiredness crashing over me again. Hey, Lucy.

Hey, yourself. You could at least try to sound excited to talk to me.

I’m not. I cringe though, wishing I’d managed to keep the lack of enthusiasm out of my voice. I’m always thrilled to talk to you, Luce. What’s up?

It’s impossible to hear a shrug, but I swear Lucy’s shrug is audible across the miles from home. Nothing much. We’re going to Adam’s wedding tomorrow. I’m supposed to be working, but they’re making me go.

Good. Check out the bride’s belly for me. Bet you she’s pregnant.

Tony! Lucy giggles. Bet you’re right, though.

I’m always right.

So not true. Who was it who had to do the written part of his driving test three times?

My face heats up and I’m glad everyone else is gone from the locker room. You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?

Uh uh. Especially since I passed the first time. I can follow instructions. Like, you are the blue car.

She never lets up. Just because I answered all the questions for the red car.

Twice.

I mean, who wants to be the blue car if red is a choice? The test is flawed. I gotta go, Lucy. Give Mom a hug for me.

I’ll text you tomorrow about Adam’s maybe baby mama.

You do that. I hang up the phone and toss it into my bag. She probably won’t. And I won’t care. I haven’t spoken to Lucy since we were at the beach house over the summer, and even then it was superficial stuff. She was too busy flirting with Jake to even notice I was there most of the time. Not that he paid attention to her. Which I’m grateful for. Lucy’s gorgeous with her mass of blonde hair and those startlingly dark eyes. But gorgeous or not, she’s only sixteen. I’m not sure Jake and I would still be friends if he’d flirted back.

Chapter Two

Lucy

My cell makes its crazy cartoon springing sound. I grab it off the bookcase before the vibration dumps it to the floor. I flip it open and find a text from Kim. No surprise there. If I cut out the number of calls and texts that pass between us, my phone’s activity would be limited to the odd check in from Mom or Dad if I’m late home. This time though, I was kind of hoping it would be Cute Boy … Seth. I have to remember that. Imagine if I called him Cute Boy to his face? I’d literally die. Yet, in my head he’ll always be Cute Boy.

Kim: did he call? don’t worry. he will

I smile. Kim knows me so well. Not that his calling would do me much good now. Mom and Dad are already in the driveway, arguing over the best way to get to The Manor, the country estate Adam DeMarco booked for his wedding. We’re leaving in about five minutes—if they ever agree on the directions.

Me: not yet. about 2 leave. :( maybe when i get back.

I throw myself down on the bed. I can’t believe I have to spend a whole Saturday with my parents. For weeks I’ve waited for this guy to look at me, and now I have to go to this stupid wedding. I barely even know Adam DeMarco. What a drag.

Kim: don’t worry. i’ll keep an eye on him - make sure he doesn’t get in trble ;)

That doesn’t set my mind at ease.

Me: cool. thx. will call l8tr.

Lucy? Mom’s voice trumpets through the open window above my bed. We’re leaving in two minutes. You’d better get down here.

Yeah, yeah… I mutter to myself. Coming, Mom. I slam the window shut and make sure the catch is tightly fastened.

There she is, Dad says when I slide out the door. I’ve only worn these high heeled shoes once before and I stumble on the loose gravel of the driveway. They’re pretty, but not my style. Neither is the dress, a swirling concoction in various shades of pink.

You look beautiful. Dad holds open my door like a chauffeur.

Can I drive? The answer’s going to be no, but there’s no harm in trying.

No, Lucy. Mum shakes her head. It’s a long way, on unfamiliar roads. And your father of course, refuses to go the most direct route.

Okay, okay! Dad cuts her off. We’ve had this discussion already. I know the way, so drop it. I’ll drive. Now, let’s get going or it’ll be midnight before we get there.

Then we’d miss the wedding, I say, more than a little hopeful. Maybe I can stall them long enough we won’t have to go and I can hang out with Kim at work and observe Cute Boy across the concourse.

We’re leaving. Now. Dad gestures for me to get in. I know when I’m beaten. With a sigh, I hurl myself into the backseat.

Kicking off the torturous shoes, I pull my i-Pod out of my purse and jam earphones into my ears. I press play and let My Chemical Romance drown out my parents’ bickering voices. I slump down so all I see is the tops of buildings flashing by against blue sky. It makes my head spin. I let my eyes close and enjoy the flickering red and black of my eyelids as we slide between sunshine and shadow.

Vibration from my purse makes my eyes snap open. I tug my cell out of the too-small purse and flip it open to find ‘Seth’ on the screen. My lips leap upward in a smile. I try to conceal it. I don’t want my parents to see. With trembling fingers I press ‘read’.

cool talking 2 u last nite. want to catch a movie 2nite?

He’s asked me out! I can’t hide my grin now.

out of town with ‘rents 2day. mayb nxt week?

I hesitate before thumbing ‘send’. I don’t want to sound desperate, but I don’t want to miss my chance with him either. Re-reading the message, I decide it sounds casual, not clingy. I press ‘send’. Then I text Kim.

Dad slows the car once we reach the ornate cast iron gates. Huge trees tower above us. Muted sunlight filters through the leaves in individual streams.

Impressive, Mum murmurs as we drive through to find ourselves on a long, sweeping driveway curving toward an imposing building.

It’s like a castle, or something, I say, dropping my i-Pod and cellphone into my purse. A lush, green lawn slopes toward the driveway and tents are erected along the side of it. People in formal dress wander across it.

Where are we supposed to park? Dad frowns as we near the massive white building.

Over there. Mum gestures to the left of the house where I glimpse the tails of several cars. That looks like parking.

Good spotting, Monica.

The gravel scuffs under our shoes as we cross toward the lawn. A gentle breeze swirls my skirt around my knees. I walk behind my parents and admire the ease with which Mum manages grass and loose stones in her heels. They’re at least half an inch higher than mine, and I’m wobbling. She has nice legs for someone a couple of years shy of fifty. The blue dress suits her. Dad takes her hand while we make our way to a pavilion where rows of folding chairs are set up. Some people are already sitting, while others mill about chatting.

Monica! David! Someone hurries up to my parents and I recognize Mr. DeMarco. He’s put on weight since I last saw him and he wasn’t slim then.

Angelo. Dad shakes his hand, face breaking into a wide grin. You’ve done well. What a beautiful place.

And the weather has been kind to us, too. Mr. De Marco gestures to the patches of blue sky peeking between the trees. Adam wanted an outdoor wedding and October can be so unpredictable. We have God on our side today.

You certainly do. Mom’s smile is forced. Mentioning God or religion does that to her. We’re not religious, and people who are make her uncomfortable. Where’s Christine?

She’s around. So many little details to take care of. If I see her, I’ll tell her you’re here. She’ll be so pleased to see you. It’s been too long.

Dad agrees with a nod. We must have dinner again soon.

Definitely. And this is Lucy? Mr. De Marco catches sight of me and bustles over. He’s a short man, only about three or four inches taller than my 5’3". The extra weight he’s carrying makes him look like a barrel. He’s happy though. Joy beams through his crinkly gray eyes.

What a beautiful daughter you have. His smile grows broader as he gushes to Dad. He turns to me and winks. You certainly grew up, Lucy. You must have a hard time fighting off the boys.

She is gorgeous, isn’t she? Dad tosses me an indulgent look.

I roll my eyes and slouch. I wish the lawn would swallow me up, burning cheeks and all. I want to be anywhere but here.

And she blushes, too! Mr. DeMarco grins and brushes the side of my face with a meaty hand. It takes all my will not to flinch away. And Tony? Where’s your boy?

He’s at college, Angelo. He wanted to come today, but it’s a long drive. And he’s in training. Missing practice is, apparently, only permitted in case of death. His own death, specifically.

Tough coach. Mr. DeMarco gives an approving nod. Good. You don’t get winners being soft. Oh! There’s Christine and she wants me. Excuse me. I’ll catch up soon, okay?

Mr. DeMarco waddles off and I look around the pavilion. It’s open on two sides, letting in the dappled sunlight. Chairs are filling up and Mom takes my arm. She leads me to a row with three empty seats near the aisle. They’re crappy folding chairs, probably from some hire company. Someone has wound garlands of tiny flowers around them. They match the larger flowers hanging like streamers from the ceiling and walls of the tent. Everything is in shades of blue and purple and white. Mom matches. I giggle at the thought and stifle my laughter in my hand as the music starts. It’s the wedding march, performed by a string quartet in the corner.

Like everyone else in the tent, I crane my neck to watch the bride coming. She’s led down the aisle by a distinguished looking man in an obviously expensive suit. She wears a flowing white dress and a mass of black hair hangs loose down her back. The same tiny flowers are woven through that, too. I take a careful look at her middle when she passes, checking, like I promised Tony I would, if she might be pregnant. I don’t think she is. Her dress hangs from a body that isn’t model slender. She’s short, possibly even shorter than me. Where I’m all bones and angles, she’s soft and curvy. The scooped neck of her dress shows off cleavage I can only dream of. She smiles and I understand why Adam fell in love with her. It’s a brilliant smile. One that makes her light up like a Chinese lantern at night. I don’t know this girl. I’ve never seen her before in my life. But I like her.

I turn to the front and see Adam standing there. He hasn’t changed at all. He looks like a little boy playing dress-up in his daddy’s suit. He doesn’t appear frightened though. His smile’s so wide I’m surprised his face hasn’t cracked.

The service is quick. No more than fifteen minutes after I sat down in the folding chair, I’m on my feet again. Following the throng of people out of