by Chris Fabry
The front desk workers smiled, which only made it worse.
Now, sitting in the simulator, the Pocono track laid out in front of her, she couldn’t help smiling too. She missed her family. She missed home, though she didn’t miss the last days of school. She had finished all those tests and assignments like she’d promised, and her senior year was staring her in the face, but that seemed like a million years away with the summer just beginning.
She chose the test-drive function of the simulator and drove out of the pits, shifting through the gears and getting up to speed. She took it easy the first time around, then hit the accelerator as she turned onto the front stretch and passed the start line. You could really get the speed up on this mile-long stretch, but if you didn’t slow down for turn one, you were toast.
Jamie drove two laps before checking her best lap times against the other drivers in the school. She was fourth at the moment, but her competitive juices made her start again, and she didn’t stop until her initials were at the top of the list.
When she went into race mode, racing against the familiar cars of current drivers, things were a lot different. She had to maneuver to the directions of an electronic spotter who told her when she was clear. Every now and then, something would happen with the simulator that surprised her. A deer would jump onto the track or a spectator with her name painted on his chest would climb to the top of the flag stand and wave. The simulator tried to make drivers concentrate on everything but the race, and she had driven long enough to know that she had to narrow her focus to a pinpoint and keep it there the whole race.
But the simulator didn’t just gauge how fast you could go or how many cars you could pass. It also studied reflexes of a crash ahead, how fast you noticed a rising temperature needle or a needed wedge adjustment, whether you could drive the correct speed in the pit areas, and more. Bud and the other teachers received printouts of each session, so there was no playing around. If they caught you burning the tires or driving through the infield, you were gone. That had happened early on to a couple of the guys who thought the RS 43 was a toy. In fact, most students had already been cut.
“This is how it goes in a race,” Bud had said. “Just like life. You look around after a few laps, and some cars are back at the garage. It’ll be the same here.”
Of all the NASCAR tracks on the simulator, the one Jamie returned to each session was Denver. They called it the Mile-High Double Mile because the track was just over two miles, and Denver was at 5,280 feet above sea level. The track wasn’t very old, but it had already been the sight of some great races. She loved the mountains in the distance, the extreme banking that was even steeper than Daytona or Talladega, and the thin air. She dreamed about racing there one day.
In her qualifying heats, she had come close to the real track record of just over 201 mph. That made her feel like she could hang in with the best drivers.
When her session was over, she checked her times against the other class members and saw she was slightly ahead of someone with the initials C.D. She went through the list of people and couldn’t remember anyone with those initials, then climbed out of the simulator to let the next person in.
Kurt Shibley, a cute guy without the swagger and the attitude of some others, was waiting. “How’d you do today?”
“Blistering at Bristol,” she said. “Still need some work on the turns at Darlington.”
“Sonoma has me bamboozled,” Kurt said.
“Oh, Watkins Glen—don’t even talk about it.” Jamie laughed. “Hey, do you know anybody with the initials C.D.?”
Kurt shook his head.
“You two gonna gab all day or are you going to race?” Bud said. “Get to the gym, Maxwell. Trainer’s waiting. And you step inside the cockpit, Shibley.”
Kurt nodded to Jamie. “I’ll check on those initials. Want to talk over dinner?”
“Deal.”
Chapter 4
Brokenhearted
ON THE DAY SCHOOL ENDED Tim was cleaning out his locker when Cassie Strower, Jamie’s best friend, caught up to him in the hallway. Cassie was pretty but not in a drop-dead gorgeous, cheerleader, and makeup kind of way. She had a great smile and a clean, fresh look that made Tim feel like he needed to take a bath every time he saw her. She had shoulder-length hair that she kept pulling behind one ear.
“Missed you at youth group last week,” Cassie said, dipping her head and smiling. She had white teeth too. Looked like she’d never had a cavity in her life.
“Yeah, I kind of got hung up last Wednesday.”
“What happened?”
Tim crumpled some papers in the bottom of the locker—tests with lots of red ink on them. “Nothing. Just trying to clear the decks of some junky stuff from my past.”
“Really? Like what? I’m interested.”
He tossed the crumpled mass toward a trash can, and it bounced off the rim. So much for trying to impress a girl. “There’s something of my dad’s at this bank, and when I tried to see what it was, they told me I couldn’t.”
“That’s awful,” Cassie said. “Can’t the Maxwells help you?”
“They tried, but basically Mr. Maxwell said I need to talk with the guy down in Florida I used to live with, and I’m not going for that. Mr. Maxwell talked with the bank and some lawyer guy, I guess.”
“What do you think is in the box?”
“I don’t have any idea,” Tim said. “Maybe I’ll never know.”
“Well, it’s something we can pray about.”
Tim found a textbook wedged in the back of the locker. “I don’t think God cares much about a kid who steals stuff. Know what I mean?”
Cassie bit her lower lip, and her eyes seemed to bore right through him. “There’s a verse in the Psalms that’s one of my favorites. It says, ‘The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.’ Not that I think you’re crushed or anything, but I can tell losing your dad really hurt. I’ve been praying for you.”
Tim just stared at her like a deer on a Ferris wheel, wondering what to do or say. She had no idea what had happened to him at churches—the good and the bad. She had no idea how much he hurt every night thinking about his dad. Living at the Maxwells’ house made it easier in some ways but harder in others. Harder because as much as they were good to him, he knew he didn’t really belong.
He slammed his locker. “Thanks.” It was all he could think of to say.
“Have you heard anything from Jamie lately?” Cassie said.
Another sore subject. Tim felt like a fifth wheel near girls in general, and with Jamie he was wheels five and six. “She’s still at that driving school and doing okay. Her mom said if everything goes well she’ll be there until the middle of July when they have the last race.” He paused. “Look—I need to get this book back to my English teacher.”
“Sure. See you tonight?”
Tim shrugged and walked away.
Chapter 5
C.D.
AFTER ANOTHER WORKOUT with the trainer, who was more like a drill sergeant, Jamie felt good but exhausted. She showered and dressed, then had a light lunch and headed to the afternoon meeting in the video room. Each day was different, with some people going to the track and some to the simulators. Her individual media training was coming up, and Jamie dreaded it. The camera scared her more than a line of cars trying to pass her on the backstretch at Brickyard. Some had already gone through the training, and one had been sent home afterward.
On the way to dinner Jamie phoned her mother and told her all she’d been through that day. Funny how she never felt like talking with her mom when she was in the house, but when she was away, she enjoyed it, even looked forward to it.
“How’s Tim?” Jamie said.
Her mother sighed. “We’re kind of at a loss for what to do. He won’t talk about what he did, and your dad insists we not take care of it for him. He wants Tim to work it out himself.”
“But he’s only a high schooler,”
Jamie said.
“True, but your dad thinks it’s best and I agree.”
“Sounds like a tough situation for everybody.”
“Tim’s really good with Kellen, and your dad says he shows a lot of promise in the garage. Now that school is out . . . well, we’ll see what happens.”
Jamie reached the dining room of the restaurant, and Kurt waved at her. “Gotta go. I’m having dinner with a friend.”
“Is he cute?”
Jamie laughed. “Bye, Mom.”
Kurt was sitting with Rosa Romero, another student who had welcomed Jamie and seemed nice.
Jamie went through the buffet line and picked out her food, then sat with the two.
“Hear about the new guy?” Rosa said.
“New guy?” Jamie said. “How could there be a new guy?”
Rosa shook her head. “Somebody with money must have pulled a few strings, because he’s here. He was in the simulators last night, trying stuff out. He should be in class tomorrow.”
“But they’ve already sent home a bunch of kids,” Jamie said. “That’s not fair.”
“All’s fair in love and racing,” Kurt said in his best Bud Watkins impersonation. “You know that, little missy.”
Jamie couldn’t help but laugh. “I almost got sent home because they thought I wasn’t tough enough. How can they let somebody come in after we’ve been here so long?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Rosa said. “We have to keep our heads and work to get through this.”
“That’s why we wanted to talk to you,” Kurt said.
“You mean this isn’t just friendly dinner conversation?” Jamie felt a little hurt but smiled to hide it.
Kurt wolfed some hamburger and leaned closer. “Everybody here is racing for themselves, trying to get those coveted licenses. But you know that’s not the way they do it in the big show. They have teammates. The team works together on the track.”
“What are you saying?” Jamie said.
Kurt wiped his mouth with a napkin. “The sooner we make an alliance with like-minded people, the better off we’ll be. We don’t have to announce it to anybody, but before we get to the track, it’ll be good to know there are other people out there blocking for us, giving us a chance to lead a few laps, that kind of thing.”
“Makes sense,” Jamie said. “But the others could figure it out. And what if Bud—?”
“There’s nothing illegal about what we’re doing,” Rosa said. “In fact, it’ll probably impress the instructors that we’re working together.”
Jamie nodded. “But there’s no guarantee we’ll be on the track together. They could catch on and put us in different heats.”
“Then we bring on others we can trust.” Kurt looked around. “You’ve seen the hotshots here. The ones with the swagger that think they’ll win the cup next year if they can just get a license and get signed on by one of the big racing teams.”
Jamie stuck out a hand. Kurt shook it; then Rosa did.
“It’s a deal, then,” Jamie said. “We’ll watch each other’s backs as much as possible.”
Someone approached the table behind Jamie, and Kurt and Rosa looked up.
“Well, this looks like a mighty friendly table,” a familiar voice said.
Jamie turned. The guy had on a black jacket and flashed a million-dollar smile at her. Every hair was in place as he glided toward the table and held out a bottle.
“Brought you some Yoo-hoo,” Chad Devalon said.
Chapter 6
Not Even the Sky
TIM SAT CROSS-LEGGED and hunched over lawn mower parts strewn about the driveway in front of the Maxwells’ garage. Everyone in the family had chores, and Kellen had dibs on mowing the front lawn. The back lawn was more like a field, and Dale did that with a tractor and a brush hog. Tim took out the trash, cleaned up after the dog, Petty, and did other odds and ends Mrs. Maxwell assigned him. He wasn’t thrilled about all the work, but it kept him busy. He was here because Kellen couldn’t get the mower started, and one thing led to another and Tim had the whole thing apart.
A shadow crossed the driveway, and Tim could tell by the size of it who it was.
“It’s dinnertime. Why don’t you come on in?” Dale said.
“I’m kind of in the middle of this. If it’s all right, I’d like to finish.”
“I know what it feels like to start something and want to get it back together.” Dale knelt and looked at the parts. “What do you think’s the problem?”
“Well, I know it’s not the gas because the tank is full. I checked that first in case you thought I was numb in the head.”
Dale chuckled. “I’ve done that before.”
“Then I pulled off the fuel filter and gave it a good cleaning, and I checked the line, but it’s clear. Air filter was a little dirty, but I cleaned that too.”
“You check the plug?”
“That’s what I looked at next. Found a new one in the garage and put it in. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Was the old one scuzzy looking?”
“Yeah, it probably still had a little fire to it, but I figured a new one would light it up, but no go. So my next move was—”
“Carburetor,” Dale said.
Tim nodded. “You drain the gas tank last winter?”
“No, but it’s been running all spring.”
“I’ve seen them run and then get gummed up.”
“How do you know so much about engines?” Dale said.
“My dad taught me a thing or two. Plus, I hung around with some of the guys in the garage. Kind of comes naturally.”
Dale retrieved a can of cleaner from the garage, and Tim put the mower back together.
Mrs. Maxwell called to them, but Dale told her they’d be a few more minutes. “Want to see if he gets this thing cranking.”
Tim adjusted the screws for the air and gas mixture and stood. “Why don’t you give it a pull?”
“No way,” Dale said. “You do it.”
Tim yanked the rope and the engine coughed. He adjusted the choke a little as Kellen walked out. One more pull and the thing fired and started.
Dale whooped and clapped, and Kellen high-fived Tim.
“You can mow after dinner,” Dale said to Kellen. “Go on in and tell your mom we’re gonna clean up.”
Kellen went into the house, and Dale handed Tim some Goop to clean his hands. He leaned against a workbench in their home garage and got the grime off, then wiped his hands on a towel.
“We need to talk about a couple of things, and the first is the safe-deposit box,” Dale said. “That letter you took was addressed to somebody else. You can’t do that. It would be like you opening our mail.”
“I’d never do that.”
“I know you wouldn’t. But you understand that was wrong.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t hang your head like a whipped puppy. I’m not coming down on you. I can understand why you’d do it, and I can’t say that I blame you.”
“I guess there was probably a better way to do it,” Tim said.
Dale nodded. “Like it or not, Tyson has control of that box. You want to see it, he has to give permission.”
“I can’t talk to him again,” Tim said. “I’d rather swim across that big lake out there with milk jugs tied to my ankles.”
Dale looked like he was trying not to smile. “I understand. Again, I don’t blame you. But I have to ask something. You want to know what’s in that box?”
Tim nodded.
Dale put up both hands. “There you go.” He came over to Tim and stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “Sometimes we let people get big. They get this choke hold on us, and we let them get bigger and bigger because we don’t stand up to them.”
“You talking about Tyson or that Devalon guy?” Tim said. “He sure seems to have a choke hold on your driving.”
Dale rubbed his face and glanced sideways at Tim. “Let’s keep this about you for now.”
“Fair enough.”
“I’ve talked with my lawyer, and he says you could go to court and try to get access. He doesn’t think that’s a good idea. It would cost a lot of money, and you’d probably lose. For whatever reason, your dad appointed Tyson as the executor of his estate. My lawyer says the best thing is to talk to Tyson. Convince him you want to see what’s in there.”
“Sounds easy for a lawyer to say. He didn’t have to live with the guy and his wife.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy. But I think this is the best approach. Sometimes you have to face the things that scare you the most.”
Tim stared at the floor. There was sawdust down there from some woodworking project Kellen had begun. He put the toe of his shoe in it and pushed it around, making a face in the dust.
Dale leaned back against the wall. “This is the last piece of the puzzle with your father. Closes the loop. What do you think?”
“I guess if it’s the only way, I can talk to him. Maybe I’ll stay here tonight and call him while you guys go to church.”
Dale hesitated. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.”
“What’s the other thing you want to talk about?” Tim said.
Dale turned and stretched. He had strong forearms, and Tim could tell he worked out a lot. Maybe not at a gym like some of the drivers but around the farm. Lifting stuff. Running in the backyard with Kellen.
“I want you to think about something. I believe God gives every one of us some kind of gift to use for his glory. A desire he plants deep down inside. Something you long for, that’s on your mind when you wake up in the morning and when you go to sleep at night. Sometimes it feels like you can taste it. You know what I’m talking about?”
Tim shrugged. “I’ve always dreamed of being a driver.”
“That’s what I went after when I was your age. You drive much?”
“Little go-karts but I wasn’t very good. Do you think a kid who can’t drive a go-kart could race a big car?”
