Kyle Rasco's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

The cabin gave Kyle walls, and walls gave him no more excuses. The championship was months away. He had a home now, and a woman who stayed, and a skill he still faked. He set his board by the door each morning and drove to the domed arena to train. Inside the glass dome, gravity turned on him without warning. One second down held. The next it swung sideways, and Kyle slammed the floor. He climbed up. He tried again. Alysse watched from the rail, arms crossed. "You're looking with your eyes," she said. "Stop." "I can't feel it fast enough." "Then you'll lose." She didn't soften it. She stepped onto the floor, rolled a slow arc, and let the shift carry her instead of fighting it. "Feel where your weight wants to fall. Go there first." Kyle pushed off. He closed his eyes. The gravity tilted, and this time he felt the pull in his gut before it reached his feet. He leaned into it. His board held the line. He crossed the whole floor without falling. When he opened his eyes, Alysse was smiling and hiding it. Weeks passed like that. Kyle trained until his legs shook. He got faster. He stopped guessing and started reading. One morning Alysse didn't come to the rail. He found her sitting on the ramp, pale. "You sick?" "No." She looked at him a long moment. "Pregnant." Kyle sat down hard beside her. His whole life he'd told himself family came next season. Now it was here, uninvited, real. "A baby," he said. "A boy. They said." She watched his face. "You wanted this." "I do." He took her hand. "I do." That night he lay awake beside her in the carved bed. A son. The word changed everything. Winning the championship was no longer a dream to chase someday. His family needed the permanent home on the rings. He couldn't come home a runner-up. He got up before dawn and drove back to the dome. He trained harder than ever. He rode the gravity shifts blind now, trusting his body. His times dropped. Word spread that he'd improved. A championship official came to watch, clipboard in hand, and set him a test run through the shifting dome. Kyle stood at the top of the ramp, sleek board under his boots. The gravity flipped three times as he descended. He read each one before it landed. He carved the full course clean and stopped at the official's feet. The man made a note. "You're in," he said. "You qualify." Kyle drove home and told Alysse. She pressed his hand to her belly. "You're on the roster," she said. "Now you have to win." He looked at the cradle he'd started building in the corner. The stakes had doubled. A qualified spot meant nothing next to a favorite like Dax Merrow, who read the rings better than any of them. Kyle had a family coming and one shot to earn their home.