Kevita was not originally from the Charlotte area, her family lived somewhere in the vicinity of Concord, but she had visited Charlotte before. As a child, she went on a school field trip to see the nutcracker in uptown at the Belk Theater, and she had been somewhat obsessed with ballet since that time. Her family couldn’t afford lessons for her, but that never stopped her from obsessively watching Great Performances on PBS and trying to mimic the moves of ballerinas when the performance happened to be a ballet.
All of that is to say that even though Kevita was not from the area, she was extremely excited when she saw the group on Facebook for the race. And even though she had never been to Rock Hill, she figured that if she studied the videos that were uploaded and maps of the area, she could figure out a good route. She could use her brother’s car, a brown 83 Mitsubishi Starion. He was always working on it, it was used when he bought it, and he would dedicate any money that he did not save to improving it. Kevita knew how fast it would go too, her brother would push the car to its limits on the dusty country roads around their house. She just had to convince him to let her use it.
“You always said what’s yours is mine, you take that back now?” Kevita asked while the two sat next to the still lake that was a considerable walk from their house.
“Not at all,” her brother said, “I just don’t want you to get hurt. And I don’t want my car ruined.”
“So you think if I try it I’m just gonna get hurt?”
“That’s not what I mean. Vita, you don’t drive often and now you wanna be in a race, that’s not like you.”
He was right. Kevita got her license after her brother got his and he taught her to drive despite her trepidation. She was extra cautious when she saw other cars anywhere near her, and any time she came to a stoplight, regardless of the color of the light, she would slow down. It took her a full year of driving with her brother even after she got her license before she really felt comfortable driving on her own.
“There’s a cash prize,” she admitted. “And it’ll be enough for me to afford those ballet classes.” She was embarrassed to admit it. She was sixteen years old and she knew that ballerinas started their training much earlier in life, but she had never given up on her dream even though her family couldn’t really afford it, and she didn’t really have the time as she got older and accepted new responsibilities as a high schooler. But she had promised herself that if she were ever able to afford it, she would take a ballet class just to experience it. While her brother enjoyed his free time to float on the lake, she would find a flat plane of grass among the grassy hilltops surrounding their home, and she would balance on her toes and flex the muscles in her legs. It wasn’t formal training, but she was better than someone who was completely unpracticed, and she had a natural athleticism that she inherited from her parents that made difficult maneuvers possible for her.
“How do you think I’d feel if something were to happen to you?” her brother asked. “I’ll just keep flashing back to this moment right here, wishing I had told you no…”
“So that’s a yes then,” Kevita said and she stood, dusted the back of her pants with a grin from ear to ear. She looked mean when she smiled, it was strange. Everyone who knew her and her brother, commented on the very different nature if their smiles. When her brother smiled, he could light up a room, but Kevita had a way of raising the corners of her lips that made her look untrustworthy. It didn’t help that she would scrunch her brow when she smiled, like it was an effort to do. It wasn’t particularly difficult for her, just unfortunate muscle memory. It should be noted that Kevita had a pleasant face and often smiled a nice smile unconsciously.
“If something happens to my car…” her brother started.
“I knew that was all you cared about.” Kevita held out a hand that her brother eyed suspiciously. Eventually he pulled his car keys from his pocket and dropped them in her hand.
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