by J A Mawter
‘Yes, Mrs Burridge.’
‘We can’t have students acting irresponsibly like that.’
‘No, Mrs Burridge.’
‘You’ve been warned. Now get to class.’
‘Yes, Ma’am.’
The day hadn’t exactly got off to a great start, but then he bumped into Darcy and the others and it went from bad to worse. After the preliminary hello’s and hi’s, Darcy threw him by asking, ‘Seeing as you’re not in the trials with us, can Tong borrow your bike?’
Tong’s eyes lit with hope.
Bryce felt terrible. He knew what he was about to say would be a blow. Under normal circumstances he would’ve been happy to lend Tong his bike, but this wasn’t normal circumstances. He needed the bike himself. Bryce wanted to tell everyone of his plan to get Tong’s bike back, to ride in the trials and to win the prize money, but he didn’t dare. He knew they wouldn’t believe him.
‘For the Freewheelers,’ urged Clem. ‘Please.’
Bryce felt gutted, like a carcass clean-picked. ‘I need it,’ he murmured. ‘Sorry.’
‘No, you’re not,’ Darcy growled at him. ‘You’re so selfish, Bryce. All you think about is yourself.’
Bryce slunk away and buried himself in the library. It was the longest day. The only thought that sustained him was the knowledge that soon he’d put things right.
Bryce arrived at The Peak at 8am sharp. The comp didn’t start till ten but he wanted to be sure he got a good look at every bike that went through the gate. Charlie had told him what to look for. The kid that took it had sprayed it orange.
The air was electric as crew after crew arrived to register. Some kids chatted whilst others kept a stony silence, their minds on the task ahead. Bikes came in an assortment of styles and colours, some with flashy rims and spokes and psychedelic reflectors, others the most basic of models.
Already one poor kid was repairing a flat.
Bryce stayed at his post, his eyes roving the crowd, looking for a distinctive orange bike.
‘What’re you doing here?’
The question unnerved him but he answered, ‘I came to wish you luck, Clem.’
Without saying hello to Bryce, Darcy brushed past and joined the line. Mio and Tong faltered, but followed.
‘It’s not too late to lend Tong your bike.’
‘It is. You see, I need it.’
Clem recoiled. ‘You’re not planning on riding in the bike trials, are you?’
‘Yes.’ Bryce avoided Clem’s eyes. ‘In the singles.’
When he finally looked up, all he could see was Clem’s departing back. ‘Good luck!’ he called as she joined the others. With a sinking feeling he knew this distraction had cost him. First, it reinforced how alienated he was from his friends, and second, he might have missed the orange bike.
Clem caught up with the others and told them Bryce was competing as a single.
‘But, why?’ said Mio. ‘I don’t get it.’
Darcy shrugged. ‘We don’t care.’
‘Bryce wished us luck,’ said Clem.
‘Bad luck if you ask me,’ said Darcy, then he shuffled forward.
After registration, the starting times went up: teams first, singles second. Seven teams had entered. The Freewheelers were last.
‘Last, last, lucky last,’ said Clem, trying to bolster their spirits.
‘At least we’ll know the standard we have to beat,’ agreed Mio.
As the first rider took off, Darcy explained the rules to Tong. ‘The objective is to ride the whole obstacle course without putting your foot down. You score points for infringements. Lowest score wins. You start with zero points. Setting your foot down, a dab, is one point. Pretty much every mistake is one point.’
‘Except scrubbing your foot against a section, which is two points,’ said Clem.
‘The serious mistakes are five—going in and out of the course, putting both feet off the bike, riding out of bounds, that sort of thing.’
They watched the lead rider attack the first of three sections. First, he had to hop four steps. Next, he had to jump a gap onto a spool propped against some pallets.
‘Missed,’ cried Clem. ‘That’s five.’
The rider kept going. There were murmurings from the crowd and a few appreciative claps. As Tong watched, he could see it wasn’t really a team sport at all. Each rider was on their own out there. He hoped he wouldn’t let his friends down. Tyres were next, huge truck tyres, one propped, one on its tread and a third on the ground. The Tyres of Death. The propped tyre proved tricky but the others were fine. To finish, there was a plank ride between two pallets. When the rider got to the end, Tong realised he’d been holding his breath.
They watched rider after rider attack the course, giving a running commentary of their own.
‘Dabbed twice.’
‘Fived the third.’
‘No-one cleaned that section.’
Clem whispered to Tong. ‘Cleaned means you get through with zero points.’
Finally, it was their turn.
A familiar voice from the crowd yelled, ‘Go Freewheelers!’ It was Mr Lark. Fwoof! And he’d brought Bella.
Clem, Mio and Tong turned and waved but Darcy focused on setting up, allowing nothing to disturb him.
At the end of Section 1 the team scores ranged from 8 points to 48 points. The Freewheelers were sitting sixth, on 27 points. Team Wildfire was coming last. In first position was one of their arch rivals, the ones looking like superflies with their fancy gear, Team Alpha.
‘Team DEHD,’ said their head rider. ‘That’s exactly what you ride like. The Dead.’ He snickered then added, ‘I’ll wave to you from the winner’s podium.’
Although watching intently, Bryce kept his distance, not wanting to disturb his friends. He’d checked bike after bike, but so far none was Tong’s.
Section 2 proved tougher again, with hops and leaps and jumps, from spools to planks to pallets. There was even a sawhorse to contend with. As Clem watched she could see that Section 2 was eating everyone for breakfast. The oohs and ahs from the crowd spoke volumes. ‘There’s no way I can do that,’ she said to Darcy.
‘Sure you can,’ he replied.
‘I know it’s timed, but the secret is not to rush.’ Mio pulled out a stopwatch. ‘Scores are highest with the faster rides.’
‘Take your time,’ agreed Darcy. ‘And we’ll be fine.’
The spools were the trickiest. They had to hop from the well of one spool to the other; the second one was lower and rotated 45 degrees. As hard as they tried, they all dabbed. Clem even fell out-of-bounds.
‘Atta girl,’ yelled Mr Lark as he watched her set off again.
By the end of this section the Freewheelers had clawed their way up to third place. Tears welled in Clem’s eyes. ‘We’re not going to win,’ she said.
Mio’s eyes flashed like flint on tinder. ‘What’s the first thing you taught me when I joined the Freewheelers? It’s not over till it’s over…’
Clem finished for her, ‘…and it’s not over yet.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
On their way to the third section Clem’s bike got a flat. ‘You guys go ahead while I change it.’
‘You sure?’ asked Darcy, impatient to be off.
‘Sure, I’m sure. Now go.’ Clem pulled her tool kit from the under-saddle bag and using the tyre lever prised the tyre off the rim.
‘Want a hand?’ asked Mr Lark. He held Bella’s lead firmly but she pulled so hard to join Clem she almost wrenched his arm out of its socket and he had to let go. Arriving at her destination she proceeded to smother Clem with kisses.
‘Bella, down,’ ordered Clem. But Bella was too excited to lie down and leapt all over her. ‘Thanks for the offer, Mr Lark, but you’ll have to take her away.’
All contestants to Section 3.
‘Better hurry,’ said Clem. Starting opposite the valve she pulled part of the tube out of the tyre then gently inflated it with the pump. Next she
worked her way round the tyre with her ear close to it listening for the tell-tale hiss. At last she found it. She scraped the area with a buffer to ready it for the patch, then added a generous dollop of rubber cement.
All contestants to Section 3.
Clem knew that the cement needed at least five minutes to harden. She prayed that the start was delayed.
Final call for Section 3.
Singles to Section 1.
Five minutes later all riders were assembled. Clem’s phone rang.
‘Who the heck is ringing at this time?’ snapped Darcy. ‘Ignore it.’
‘I can’t.’ Clem pulled the phone from her saddle bag and checked the screen. ‘It’s Mum! Darcy, you lead. Give your bike to Tong while Mio’s having her turn. I’ll go last.’ She pushed the button and put the phone to her ear, saying, ‘Hi, Mum.’
From the distance Bryce could see what was going on, but he was too far away to see Clem go deathly white. Turning, he headed to Section 1. As he lined up he thought of Charlie and the street kids and how much they could use the first prize money. He thought of the Freewheelers, and how much he wanted to rejoin them. He was still deep in thought when a rider zoomed out of nowhere and stopped with a skid at his feet.
‘What the…?’ began Bryce.
It was Clem, thrusting her phone in his face. ‘It’s Cara. The baby’s coming.’
Bryce checked the time. ‘But I’m on soon!’
Clem rammed the phone into his hand. ‘Talk to her.’
Bryce planted the phone on his ear and listened, every now and again asking a question. Finally he hung up and returned the phone to Clem. ‘She can’t find Dad. The contractions are still thirty minutes apart. I’ve got plenty of time.’
Clem stamped her foot. ‘You go home right now, Bryce Tarrant. Like it or not, you’re having a baby.’
‘But Clem…’
‘No buts. Go!’
Bryce flicked his head in agitation then out of the corner of his eye he saw something. An orange bike!
Thirty minutes between contractions, thought Bryce. Plenty of time.
‘Bryce!’ screamed Clem, but Bryce didn’t hear.
‘Hey!’ he called, riding up to the contestant on the orange bike. ‘Where’d you get that bike?’
The rider looked at him aghast, then took off. Bryce gave chase. Spectators scattered as the two riders plunged through the crowd. Clem was torn between following Bryce or going back to the others. Section 3 beckoned. She arrived there in the nick of time. She’d given Bryce the message. There was nothing more she could do.
Bryce followed the rider like an athlete in a pursuit. The rider on Tong’s bike dodged around pallets and tyres, rode across planks and sailed over spools like a sprite. Bryce gritted his teeth. His eyes narrowed to slits. He might have thrown the bike trial and first prize, but there was no way he was going to lose Tong’s bike as well.
With so many people milling around at the lower grades there wasn’t anywhere else for the riders to go but up. Bryce’s thighs and calves burned, but he didn’t fall behind. If anything, he became more determined. There wasn’t anywhere to hide at the top of The Peak. In the distance Bryce could see the tower looming larger and larger. He noticed how thick with people the grounds were—spectators out for some fun in the sun. Bryce decided to stay put and stand guard. When the rider swung round to come back down he’d be ready for him. But at the tower the rider didn’t turn round: he jumped off.
What’s he doing? wondered Bryce, then…He can’t be!
He was. With the bike slung over his shoulder, the rider was climbing the tower. He was already five rungs up and moving steadily. He was climbing one-handed, looping his leg around a pole to grip each time he let go a rung. He’s going to ride the flying-fox down over the top of the spectators, Bryce realised. He’s going to get away.
Bryce leapt off his own bike. He looked up. Up, up, up. Bryce thrust his bike into the surprised arms of a spectator, saying, ‘Give this to Team DEHD.’ He prayed that it would reach its destination. His plan was simple. One. Get the bike. Two. Help Cara.
Over in Section 3, the Freewheelers were oblivious to the scene unfolding. They had their own battle on their hands. Team Fun Hog had to withdraw when one contestant took a super-bad fall. This meant the Freewheelers were coming second.
Section 3 was chewing up riders and spitting them out. The Freewheelers watched, their throats in their mouths as rider after rider clocked up a big score. The killer was the spool propped at an obscene angle and balancing on an unstable pallet. After the first five had taken a tumble there, some contestants pulled out.
Darcy was determined not to let it beat him. Now the scores of the top two teams were almost equal. If Team DEHD survived the spool and the jump they could still take it. Somehow, he managed to leap onto the face of the spool, ride along a plank, leap over a crate and ride out.
The first clean run of the day. The crowd erupted.
Darcy punched the air.
Mio, Tong (on Darcy’s Bullet), and Clem all rode to their absolute best. They could give nothing more.
‘What’s the score?’ asked Clem as she came in, the last rider in the team competition to finish.
‘Not sure,’ said Darcy. ‘But it’s going to be close.’
The crew from Team Alpha rode over. ‘You were good, but not that good,’ said the lead rider. ‘Enjoy your funeral, DEHD.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ warned Clem.
They waited for the announcement, jiggling with anticipation.
‘And the winner is…’
Chapter Twenty-Five
Bryce hated the fear that weighed him down and he hated the wooziness that swamped his head, making him feel as if he might lose his grip at any second. He wished he’d never started. But somehow the thought of climbing down was just as bad as the thought of climbing up. He decided to go for it. Jaw clenched, he pushed himself higher. Every step led to infinity.
But Bryce refused to stop. He glanced up, and saw the orange bike being hauled onto the platform. Bryce quickened his pace, and as the rider unlooped the flying-fox rope, Bryce propelled himself onto the platform, screaming, ‘Stop!’ He crab-crawled across the wooden floor, an outstretched arm reaching for the orange bike. The rider positioned themselves in the gap in the railing and swung his legs out. By now the people below were peering up, wondering what was going on.
‘Must be some stunt,’ called a voice.
But this was no stunt. The rider was adjusting his grip, taking the flying-fox one-handed, the other clamped to the top tube bar slung over his shoulder.
Bryce couldn’t believe the sheer guts of him. ‘No!’ he bellowed. As the rider hurled himself into the air Bryce latched onto the bike. There was a tug-of-war. The rider hung suspended, half on the platform, half dangling.
Shrieks rose from the crowd.
Bryce was faced with a decision. Let him go? Or try to pull him up? It was no contest. Tucking his legs around the railing, and still with a grip on the bike, he reached for the flying-fox rope, intending to drag the rider back up, but his hand waved in midair, several centimetres short. The rider started to jerk and kick, trying to make Bryce let go of the bike. He could feel his fingers loosen. The future flashed before him. He would lose everything! Again, Bryce snatched for the rope—this time he got it.
More cries rose from below.
Bryce heaved on the rope. The rider came close, tantalisingly close…but not close enough. He swung his legs wildly, trying to twist out of Bryce’s grasp. But like a football bounces the wrong way, the two rebounded closer. Bryce seized the moment, one hand fastened onto the rider’s jacket, the other on the bike. Bryce’s thighs, locked in position, felt like they’d explode. Suddenly the rider let go. Now Bryce had the bike in one hand and the rider in the other. He hurled the bike with a clatter onto the platform, and with a superhuman effort hauled up the protesting rider. Quick as a whip he wound the rope around his fist to stop the rider from trying again.
Shouts of relief went up from the crowd, followed by clapping.
Still clutching the rope Bryce leant over and slipped the helmet off the rider’s face.
It was the girl in the tyre hideout! The one with stringy brown hair.
Bryce reeled, but quickly recovered. There was something he had to do. Scooping the bike up with one hand he flung himself towards the flying-fox handle and launched into space.
Rider with bike suspended in air.
Thwack!
His palm slapped the handle and monkey-gripped on. His foot slipped into the loop.
Whoosh!
He was going down.
Over the heads of spectators he flew like a human pegasus.
The air thundered in his ears, surprising Bryce with its loudness. I’m flying! he thought as he whizzed down. ‘Clear the way!!!!’ he yelled as the ground loomed up all too quickly. The crowd scattered. Just before his feet touched down Bryce let go of the bike. He somersaulted as he landed, a painful tangle of arms and legs and head. But there was no time to inspect the damage.
Racing to the bike, Bryce hurled a leg over, wincing as he fell heavily on the top tube bar. That’s done it, he thought. Now, I’ll never have babies.
Babies?
Cara!
Bryce descended The Peak in record time, skidding and sliding past spectators who were as unpredictable as a herd of sheep. At the bottom, he shrieked, ‘I did it!’ and sped for home.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When the spectator delivered Bryce’s bike at the end of the trials, babbling about orange bicycles and flying-foxes, Clem and Darcy knew something serious had happened. They took the bike home and late that night Clem phoned Bryce. Darcy listened on the extension, saying nothing.
‘Have I got some news for you!’ crowed Bryce.
‘And we’ve got some for you, too,’ said Clem. ‘Let’s get together.’
‘Awesome!’ Bryce was too excited to hear Darcy plonk down his receiver.
