by Chris Fabry
“Enough of the niceties,” her dad said in her headset. “Just get in the car and let’s boogity.”
“Boogie-woogie boogity.” Jamie flashed a thumb to her dad high above the stands and did a quick swivel of the hips. Then she climbed in and pulled the harness tight, snapping on the steering wheel that Tim handed her. To anyone watching she probably looked loose and relaxed, but her stomach churned like she’d had a double half-pounder with cheese at the Pit Stop—what they referred to as their Heart Attack Special. She was already sweating in the 85 degree heat, and that didn’t help her nerves.
The first heat had been a good race, though Jamie was surprised to see how timid most drivers ran the track. It was almost as if they were trying not to lose rather than trying to win. In the end, Kurt had finished fifth, just missing Sunday’s race.
“Let’s not let that happen to us,” Rosa had said.
Jamie fired the engine to life and followed the other cars onto the track. It was a single-file start behind a red Corvette pace car. Jamie liked the look of the car, but it wasn’t anything compared to Maxie, her 1965 Mustang. Just thinking about it made her want to get behind the wheel and go for a drive. Maybe if she got a big, fat contract with some racing team she could buy a second car and fix it up.
She swiveled the wheel, sending the #7 car back and forth along the hot track, cleaning any debris from the new tires and warming them. The sun was high in the sky, and there were only a few lazy clouds rolling past.
“All right, put all the stuff you’re thinking out of your head,” her dad said as if he could read her mind. “Nobody out there cares how many races you’ve won, and nobody knows how good you are but you, so let’s just show them how fast a clean driver can go.”
“Are you going to do the motivational junk the whole race?” Jamie said, almost cracking up at the end.
“Looks like we’re gonna do one more lap before the flag drops,” he said, ignoring her.
The car felt good—not as good as the one Butch Devalon had let her drive but still fast. She let off the accelerator a little and put some distance between her and the car in front of her. She sped up into the first turn to gauge if the car was loose, and she couldn’t tell. She got a surprised and mean look from the #8 driver, and she moved back into place.
The red Corvette peeled off from the line, and the cars accelerated. Jamie caught sight of a few fans in the stands. The people stood and cheered as the group came to the line. There was a rumor that a crew from a racing channel was going to be there the next day, but Jamie shut that thought out.
“Green flag. Green flag,” her dad said. “Let’s see that boogie-woogie boogity of yours.”
Jamie smiled and shifted into fourth gear. She passed the start line behind #6 and went high in the first turn. It was there that she knew something was wrong with her wedge.
“Whoa, I’m tighter than a drum in that turn, Dad,” she said. “Somebody’s got the wedge way off.”
She accelerated into the straightaway but had to slow before she came to the third turn. By then #8 was past her on the inside.
“We won’t have a pit until halfway through unless somebody cracks up.”
“Well, that somebody’s gonna be me if I try to keep up with the others and the car’s this tight.” She cursed. “I can’t believe this.”
Her dad didn’t say anything, which meant he was upset and she was on her own. If she pitted before the halfway point, she would be at least a lap down. Making up that kind of distance would be nearly impossible during such a short race. But if she didn’t pit, she’d fall farther behind the leader, who was already half a lap ahead.
She floored the accelerator in the straightaway and tried to make up ground, but by the fifth lap it was clear she had to come in. “Gotta pit, Dad. Get Tim ready to turn the wedge.”
“He’s on it,” her dad said. “I’ve notified Bud. He says come in on your next lap.”
/////
Tim grabbed the track bar wrench and stood on the wall. He knew how important it was to make the adjustment as quickly as possible so Jamie wouldn’t go more than a lap down. If he did it perfectly, she could make it out before the lead car went by again. If not, she’d be in an almost impossible situation.
“Give it two full turns out,” Dale said.
Tim lifted his thumb in the air as Jamie roared down pit road and slid to a perfect stop in the pit box. Tim was over the wall before she stopped, but he missed the fitting and fumbled with it—almost dropping the tool. Jamie revved her engine, and Tim felt the race leaders heading for turn three.
He hadn’t worked any signals out with Jamie, but he’d seen enough races to know that when he was finished he needed to be on the inside of the car. A school official watched him like a hawk, and some of the other parents and friends crowded around the pit area to see what was happening.
Two quick turns and he threw his hands in the air. Before he even took a step to the inside, Dale yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”
Jamie shot out of the box and made it onto the track just ahead of the leader. “Oh, baby, this feels a lot better,” she said as she flew out of turn four. “Tim did a good job. Got a little nervous there for a minute.”
Tim put the track bar wrench away and couldn’t help but smile.
Chapter 21
Makeup Time
JAMIE KNEW SHE’D DODGED a bullet, but making up an entire lap with the #4 car on her back bumper was a tall order. If she could put some distance between her and the rest of the field, she had a chance, but it would take the best ride of her life.
With no one in front of her, she focused on the fastest line on the track and put her foot down.
In turn one, her dad’s voice came on the headset. “He’s coming on the outside. At your bumper. At your door.”
When her dad paused, she clicked the mic. “But not for long.”
She shot out of turn two and hit the straightaway perfectly, pulling away so that #4 had to back down and follow. Out of turn four she had a two-car-length lead and the engine was humming. “Feels really good, Dad.”
“All right, let’s go with it. Pretend this is the start and you’re in the lead. Everybody’s chasing you. See if you can pull away.”
And pull away she did. With the window net flapping, she hardly slowed in the turns. Six laps later, she’d made it a good :06 ahead of the nearest car.
“Caution’s out!” her dad said as a plume of white smoke rose behind her.
Jamie slowed and looked across the infield to see #5 rolling toward the apron. “What happened?”
“Looks like #5 got into the wall out of turn two. A little damage on the right side, but I don’t think it’s serious.”
“That’s Rosa’s car.”
“Hang on. Bud’s calling,” her dad said.
The cars drove single file and bunched together behind the pace car.
Finally her dad came back on the radio. “Okay, pull low and let everybody pass. You’re going to the back.”
Jamie smiled. “Still on the lead lap, right?”
“You got it. The boogie-woogie boogity’s rolling along.”
She let everybody pass, and when Rosa went by she gave a thumbs-up. I wonder if she did that on purpose to help me, Jamie thought.
When the restart came, they were only four laps from the competition time-out. Jamie pulled ahead of two cars to put her in the seventh position at the halfway point.
/////
Tim let Kellen take the squeeze bottle of Gatorade to Jamie while he and Kurt went to work with the jack and the air wrenches. Jamie’s mom rolled the new tires to the wall, and Tim put them on while she rolled the old ones away.
It wasn’t the pressure of a NASCAR pit stop, but Tim wanted to make sure he did a good job and everything was fine. He moved to the left-side tires while Kellen peeled the windshield tear off and wiped the front grille. When Tim finished, he let the car down and moved to the window net. “You doing okay?”
Jamie nodd
ed and handed him the bottle. “Good job on the wedge.”
“We make a good team,” he said. “Your dad’s not half bad either.”
“He hasn’t had much to do yet.”
Tim looked at the line of cars and people working. “You’ve got the best car out there. Show them.”
Jamie smiled, and Tim thought it looked like something he wished he could take a picture of and show to his dad. Pure joy, he thought. Sure is great watching somebody do what they’re meant to do.
“You forget something?” Jamie motioned to the gas tank.
“Oh, sorry. Yeah, I’ll get that filled up.”
/////
“Get back on track,” Jamie’s dad said to her. “You’re in the seventh position, so we need to move up three spots before the end. Single-file restart.”
The pace car pulled out when everyone was in place, and Jamie felt a lot better. She saw a number of teams working on their own wedge issues, and she hoped the adjustment they had made would be exactly what she needed to finish in the top four. Chad Devalon was behind the wall, arms folded, watching as she left the pits.
“Green flag,” her dad said. “Let’s see what kind of second half you’ve got.”
She pulled even on the outside with the car in front of her in the first turn. Inches from the wall, she surged ahead and moved into sixth place when she got to the straightaway.
“Dangerous move to the top, but you survived,” her dad said. “Settle down. There’s plenty of time. And you don’t have to win this thing. You just need to get near the front.”
“I know,” Jamie said. “Just showing you what I have in me. Plus, why race if you’re not in it to win, right?”
He clicked his mic and laughed.
There were moments in Jamie’s life when things became clearer than others. Once in a classroom spelling bee, she had been given a word she had never heard before. From the way her stomach felt and how red her face became, it was obvious that she would never become a spelling champion. She didn’t even care about being one.
Then there was the time Bobby Sizemore kissed her. A defining moment in her life because Bobby had done it on a dare from his friends, other third-grade boys, and he ran past the swing sets and into the field as soon as he’d done it. At that moment she promised herself that she was never going to let a boy kiss her again unless he really meant it.
But the big moment in her life came at Brickyard, otherwise known as the Indianapolis Motor Speedway. Any kid who had ever been exposed to racing dreamed of winning at Indy. The place hosted the biggest sporting event in the world, and even though it wasn’t a NASCAR race, it captured Jamie’s imagination.
Jamie’s dad had taken her to the Brickyard 400 one year on a special trip—just the two of them—and he walked her to the starting line and showed her the actual bricks that were still there from the original track built in 1909. He took her to the museum to see the old cars and cases filled with trophies, along with the pictures of all those drivers kissing the bricks. At the top of the Pagoda, they looked out on a vast area her dad said could hold Vatican City, Yankee Stadium, the racetrack at Churchill Downs, the Roman Coliseum, the Rose Bowl Stadium, and the Wimbledon tennis complex at the same time.
“It’s incredible,” Jamie had said, trying to take in how big it was.
“Wait till all those people get here,” her dad said. “More than 250,000 in the seats. Another 150,000 in the infield. The biggest football stadium holds about 100,000.”
Now Jamie moved up another spot behind #2, who was in fifth place. Rosa was running fourth, and the two had made a pact to help each other, but what if they were running neck and neck for the fourth spot? Jamie hoped that wouldn’t happen.
“Ten laps to go,” her dad said. “It’s time to make your move.”
On the straightaway, Jamie passed the #2 car. She went low in turn two and shot into fifth place.
But the #2 car wasn’t giving up easy. He accelerated in the straightaway and pulled beside her.
“Come on, Rosa. Move to the right,” she said, wishing she had access to Rosa’s headset.
Rosa remained inside and Jamie stayed behind her, actually bumping her just before they went into turn three.
“Watch outside,” her dad said. “Number 2 is at your door.” There was disgust in his voice. “Better move past #5. She’s slowing you down.”
Jamie roared down the frontstretch as the #10 car moved up behind her.
“Clear right,” her dad said.
She moved right and pulled up to Rosa. Going this fast meant she couldn’t take a long look, but she did catch sight of her friend for a split second. Rosa’s face was tight, and she was up on the steering wheel.
Jamie kept the accelerator to the floor and only let up slightly in the turn, shooting past Rosa on the back straightaway and getting behind the #2 car.
“Fifth place,” her dad said. “Two laps to go.”
“Who’s behind me?”
“Nobody that can overtake you if you keep your speed. You’re clear high and low.”
She had a choice of going low or high on #2 in turn one. She chose high, and it was almost a disaster because #2 moved high with her for the block and nearly clipped her left front.
“You’re good. You’re okay. Just back off and take another run at him,” her dad said.
Jamie gritted her teeth and followed #2 through the third and fourth turns. The top three cars had a good lead on them, but Jamie concentrated on #2. She saw the white flag and pulled closer, right on the #2 bumper, making them both faster.
“Take him,” her dad said. “Clear high and low.”
She backed off a smidge and moved slightly higher. When #2 took the bait and tried to block her, she swerved low, passing him in a blur. Number 2 tried valiantly to catch up, but Jamie crossed the finish line just ahead of him in fourth place.
“Thatagirl,” her dad said. “You’re going to the big dance tomorrow.”
Chapter 22
Grease Monkey
TIM FELT OUT OF PLACE in the hotel restaurant where everyone went that evening. When he and his dad ate out, it had usually been at places where you could get a burger or a taco in a few seconds. This place was a lot nicer, and with all the dirt Tim had on him, he went to the bathroom and scrubbed his hands.
While he was in there, the #2 driver came in, banging the door against the wall and stalking like Godzilla. Behind him were Chad Devalon and the guy Jamie called Lead Foot. The bathroom had two sections, and the three went on the other side of the wall to talk.
“It was a dirty move and you know it,” the #2 driver said.
“Yeah, Kenny, it was dirty, but you weren’t racing her. You were blocking her,” Chad said.
“You should have just kept that line at the bottom,” Lead Foot said. “I don’t think she could have caught you.”
“Too late now,” Kenny said. “I’m out. And you guys are in.”
“We’ll get her back for you,” Chad said.
The urinal flushed and Tim didn’t hear what they said next. He tossed his paper towel in the trash and headed for the door.
Chad noticed him. “Well, if it isn’t the Maxwell grease monkey. You get all the grime out from under those fingernails? Wouldn’t want the girls in there to get grossed out by your bad hygiene.”
Tim pushed past them.
But Kenny put his hand on the door and blocked him. “Tell that girl of yours she’d better watch her back tomorrow. We don’t like dirty drivers.”
Tim was going to walk away, but something sparked inside him and he turned. “She beat you fair and square. You know she’s a better driver than you. Better than all three of you.”
Lead Foot laughed. “Looks like Grease Monkey has a girlfriend.”
Chad shook his head and scrunched his face. “You do like her, don’t you? Must be hard living that close to somebody and knowing she’ll never see you as anything but an oil jockey.”
Kenny scoffed. “He’s lucky t
hat family took him in. I can see it from Maxwell’s point of view. He gets somebody to change his oil and mow his yard for just three meals a day and a place to sleep.”
Chad took off his sunglasses. It was the first time Tim had actually seen the guy’s eyes. “You know Jamie goes for guys like me.”
“She hates your guts,” Tim said.
Lead Foot laughed. “Yeah, that’s why she eats dinner with him just about every day.”
“Jamie has a thing for me. That’s no secret. And she wishes she could drive as well as I can.”
“She’s going down tomorrow,” Kenny said. “Better have a box of Kleenex over there in the pits for after the race. She’s gonna need them.”
Tim grabbed the door handle and stared at them.
The guys stepped away, and Chad put his sunglasses back on. “Enjoy your meal.”
Chapter 23
Bad News
JAMIE DIDN’T HAVE a chance to talk with Rosa at the track, and she looked forward to seeing her at dinner. A few of the drivers shook her dad’s hand and said hello. They all said, “Good job out there” to Jamie and she smiled, but until she got on the track and proved herself in the final race, the words felt empty.
Tim came to the table but didn’t look at Jamie. Everybody was acting squirrelly at a time when they should have been celebrating.
Kurt sat a few booths away, and Jamie went over and asked if he’d seen Rosa. He shook his head. “Saw her go to the elevator, but she didn’t look in the mood to talk.”
“Sorry you didn’t make it into the finals,” Jamie said.
“Maybe if we’d have been in the same race we’d have both made it,” he said. “Congrats. You’re gonna have your hands full tomorrow.”
Jamie picked at her food as Kellen talked about a movie he’d seen, quoting the funny stuff the characters had said and laughing so hard he snorted. Jamie only half listened. She was thinking about her strategy from the back of the pack. That and Rosa. She excused herself from the table and hurried to Rosa’s room and knocked on the door. The TV was up loud—a music channel.
