Amy carried on heading directly towards them, hoping that at least one of the parents would break. Sanjay in particular didn’t look too happy – his eyes were flashing towards Prisha in a very “Are you sure about this?” kind of way. Amy could see her mum as well, who though she appeared brave and steadfast, was also, from the look in her eyes, pleading. Pleading for Amy to just stop the car and give up.
But she wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet. And, behind her, she could see the supercars getting very close now. Then she noticed something. Colin and Norma had stopped holding hands. Because Colin, it turned out, had another enormous packet of baked-bean-flavour crisps, and had chosen this moment to stuff a few into his mouth.
Both Amy’s hands were gripped tight on the steering wheel. In a flash, she lifted her right hand off, and reached over to press the button she needed.
From the parents’ point of view, the vehicle that was coming straight for them suddenly got much thinner and more like a rocket. All the wheels went into a single line, and the motorbike version of the TurboChaser swerved at the last minute away from the van and, with a whoosh!, snaked through the small gap between Colin and Norma created by Colin’s need to eat crisps.
“What happened there?” said Colin, looking up, munching.
On the other side of the starting line, the two supercars, unable to get past, had stopped. Suzi walked over to speak to Peter. He took off his helmet.
“Hmm,” said Peter. “This isn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”
“No,” said Suzi. “Things often aren’t as easy as you think they’ll be.”
Peter stared at her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
She stared back at him. “Well, Peter. I think you probably thought after the accident that the easiest way of dealing with your guilt about it was to leave your family and go and live miles away.”
“I—” he began.
“I think you thought it was easier because that way you wouldn’t have to be confronted every day with your disabled daughter.”
Peter went very red, and opened his mouth to speak. He looked extremely angry.
“Or with me,” said a voice, “and the fact that I was also pretty shaken up by the accident.”
They turned. It was Jack who had spoken. He looked nervous. But suddenly older, not so much like a stretched-out toddler – as if he’d suddenly become a little bit more of a man.
Peter Taylor shook his head. Jack’s interruption had cut off his anger. Perhaps because it was the first time Jack had said anything to him for some time. Now he looked more confused. “I can’t believe that’s what you think!” he said.
“It is what we think, Dad. It’s what we all think. Well, except Amy. Who probably does think it too, but wouldn’t say it.”
“Yes, Peter,” said Suzi. “Because she loves you too much.”
He opened his mouth again. But then he shut it and, for a second, just looked very, very sad.
Suzi sighed and put a hand on his shoulder. “Having said that, blaming each other is not helping. As it never does. It’s not getting our daughter out of that vehicle and into a safe place.”
Peter nodded. He turned back to the track. “Well,” he said, “I suppose we could just sit here and wait for her to come round again.”
Suzi looked out at the TurboChaser going round the first bend of the track once more. It had gone back to its usual shape.
“No,” she said. “Look.”
He looked. The TurboChaser was slowing down. It stopped, about halfway round the track.
“I thought she might do that,” said Suzi. “She’ll just sit there now, until we chase her again.”
“Why?”
Suzi took a deep breath. “Because I know my daughter. And she’s trying to show you something. She’s trying to show you she can drive. She’s not going to stop until she absolutely has to.”
Peter shook his head. “So – if you know her so much better than I do, Suzi – what do you suggest?”
Suzi blinked. She looked round. “Isn’t it obvious?”
“Not to me.”
“I’m going to take the van and the other parents off the track. I suggest you tell your other driver to get off too.”
Peter frowned. “Leaving just me and her?”
“Yes. That’s what she wants. To race you.”
Peter thought about it. He almost, for a second, seemed to smile. Then he said, “OK.”
Amy watched from the other side of the track. She saw her dad open the fence by the starting line. She saw the van and the other supercar drive off the track.
Then her dad closed the fence and went back to his car. Before he put his helmet on, he shouted, “Amy! Drive round here to the starting line. One lap. Just me and you! OK?”
Amy frowned. She didn’t know what to do. Was it a trap? Then again, she knew that, soon, the TurboChaser was going to run out of cow-poo-based biofuel, so what did she have to lose? And she could see her dad putting his helmet on and getting into his car. So, not quite sure why she was doing it, she did a thumbs-up at him, and moved the TurboChaser slowly round the track.
As she got near the starting line, she could hear the sound of the exhaust from her dad’s car as he revved up. The sound was loud and powerful. Amy gulped.
I can’t beat the GT 500 for pure speed, she thought. And also, he’s a brilliant driver.
But before she even had a chance to worry about that, she was there, level with him.
He looked over at her. She saw his eyes, through the plastic visor of his helmet. They looked at her curiously – a new look she’d never seen from her dad before, but she couldn’t say exactly what it was, and didn’t have time to think about it.
What she was thinking about, very, very quickly, was a chance. She had no idea if it was going to work, but she went for it. As she passed him at the starting line, before he had a chance to set off, she pressed the tent button and the motorbike button together. The folds of coloured material started pouring out of the chimney, but the TurboChaser narrowed sharply at the same time – cutting off the tent material!
The tent flew like a spinning top all the way out of the chimney. It hovered for a second above Peter Taylor’s car – he looked up from the driver’s seat, confused – then flopped down on it, covering it like a big blanket.
“Bye, Dad!” shouted Amy, and drove towards the first bend. “See you at the finish line!”
I only gained her a few seconds. Her dad pressed hard on his accelerator, and his GT 500 roared out from underneath its multicoloured blanket, so fast that the cloth flew back in the air as if a giant was throwing it over his shoulder.
Amy was already turning on the first bank, but she was well used to that turn by now, and cut in hard to the corner, maximising her speed but also minimising (sorry about the big words – making it big, making it little) the distance she had to go round as she did so.
Amy still knew it was no good trying to beat her father’s supercar on speed alone. It was going to be all about skill. She was aware of him right behind her as she came out of the corner and into the straight. She swerved, blocking his way. He tried to take her on the right, but she moved right; then he threw his car round sharply to the left, but she had anticipated that, and jammed the back of the TurboChaser in front of the nose of his car again.
“Wow!” said Norma, watching (all the parents and the police and the other children had gone to sit in a little spectator stand behind the fence near the starting line). “Your daughter is a really good driver!”
Despite herself – and despite all the trouble Amy’s driving ability had caused – Suzi found herself smiling inside at that.
“Olé!” shouted Colin, as the TurboChaser continued to block the GT 500’s attempts at overtaking. Every time the supercar shifted even a millimetre to get past, the TurboChaser seemed to know which way it was going, and get there first.
“Why are you shouting ‘Olé!’?” said Janet. “Are you abou
t to sing that Spanish song we all like?”
“No,” said Colin. “When I go and see my football team play, sometimes when they pass the ball really well, and the other team can’t get a touch, that’s what the crowd shouts. ‘Olé!’ they shout, every time one of our team gets the ball. So I’m doing it now, every time she blocks his way.” He looked up. “Olé!”
Amy blocked her dad again, going into the second bend.
“Olé!” shouted Colin, and so did Jack, not as a sarcastic repeat, but because he was joining in.
Amy blocked Peter again!
“Olé!” shouted Sanjay and Janet, and Rahul did as well.
And again she blocked him, coming out into the straight!
Prisha, frowning, as if not sure she should, went, “Olé!” She paused. “Sorry. Do you mind that I’m supporting Amy?” she added, turning to Suzi. “I mean, obviously, this is dangerous and everything, and I don’t condone that, but—”
“I don’t mind at all,” said Suzi, before shouting, along with all of them – as Amy swung the TurboChaser round again to hold up the GT 500 – “OLÉ!”
Despite the cheers of her supporters, things were not easy for Amy. It was getting hot in the TurboChaser, and hot, with this particular fuel, also meant very, very smelly. But she was still in front of Peter and the GT 500, as the hairpin bend, the last corner before the finishing line, came into view.
“I can’t do this any more,” she said out loud to herself. “I can’t block him on that bend. The corner’s too tight!” Amy felt suddenly dizzy. She didn’t know why – she’d never before suffered from motion sickness. But maybe the G-force (that’s a force that presses on you in cars and rockets when you go really fast) and the fumes and speed together were getting too much for her.
Perhaps she should just … stop, she thought. She was tired – exhausted – and she’d come a very long way. Maybe this was far enough. Maybe she’d done all she could. Maybe it was time to lie down and go to sleep. But then …
“You can do it!” said a voice, a female voice.
Amy frowned. “Who said that?”
“You can reach the finishing line! I know you can, Amy!”
She looked down.
“The sat nav?” she said.
“Yes!”
“You’re speaking to me?”
“I’m the voice of the car! I’m the Taylor TurboChaser!”
“What?” said Amy.
“You can do it, Amy! You’re a brilliant driver!”
OK, Amy thought. It is the G-force and the fumes and the speed. I’m going mad. But still, she replied, “I’m not. I’m just … just a girl in a wheelchair.”
“No!” said the sat nav. “You’re not. You’re a brilliant driver!”
Amy shook her head. Which made her feel even dizzier. As it shook, she saw, out of the corner of her eye, her mum, standing by the side of the track now, with her hands clenched in front of her.
“You just have to believe it, Amy!” said the sat nav. “Only those who dare to fail greatly, achieve greatly! Trust your instincts, they’ll never betray you!” And then it said, louder even than before, “I get knocked down, but I get up again!”
Amy’s head stopped shaking. Something very weird was going on. The voice from the sat nav … it was her voice, and her mum’s voice, and her thoughts, and her mum’s thoughts, all mixed up … But also, on some level, she felt it was indeed the voice of the car, of the Taylor TurboChaser.
And it helped. It really, really helped. It focused her mind and made her believe in herself. It gave her an idea. As she went into the bend, she could see that her dad was edging round to her right. The front bonnet of the GT 500 was just getting ahead, by a few centimetres.
Oh no.
There were millimetres in it. But he was going to win.
“You get knocked down …” said the sat nav. “But you, Amy Taylor, you – you get back up again!”
And that was it. Amy gritted her teeth.
She pressed the motorbike button. The TurboChaser narrowed and extended; and, just by doing that, she was ahead again! Which meant that her dad couldn’t pass her, as he hoped, at the point in the bend! Amy kept the motorbike shape going through the bend, just ahead, and then, as she came through into the home straight, pushed the button again to return the car to its normal shape. She pushed on the lever, heading for home.
Only the TurboChaser didn’t head for home. It flipped suddenly back to motorbike shape. Then normal shape. Then motorbike shape. Every second, it narrowed, then widened.
“WHAT’S HAPPENING?” said Amy.
“URRRGHHH! I DON’T KNOW!” said the sat nav. “I DON’T FEEL VERY WELL!”
“Neither do I,” said Amy because, suddenly, the car was starting to spin. As it did so, the two red hazard flags popped out, waving madly. The TurboChaser kept flipping shape, between thin and wide, so fast now that it was jolting Amy each time.
“Um …” said Jack, “is it meant to be doing that?”
“Oh yeah,” said Colin. “Clearly it’s another bit of amazing skill!”
It wasn’t. But it was keeping Peter Taylor from overtaking. The spinning, the flagging, the changing shape – it was all making it impossible for him to judge how to get round the car. And Amy was only ten metres from the line. Through her own nausea, she gripped the steering wheel.
“COME ON, TURBOCHASER! YOU CAN DO IT! JUST HOLD IT TOGETHER!”
“URRRRGH! I’M TRYING!”
“COME ON, AMY!” shouted Suzi.
“YES! OLÉ! AMY! AMY! AMY! AMY!” shouted the others.
The TurboChaser spun and spun and spun and spun and spun … and then the sat nav said quietly, in a voice that sounded all cracked and tinny and like it was gasping for breath, “I’m so sorry, Amy … I really am.”
At which point, a metre from the finishing line, the Taylor TurboChaser fell completely to pieces.
“OH NO! AMY!” screamed Suzi, rushing from the stand.
From Suzi’s point of view, it had suddenly become clear that the spin/flag/shape-shifting thing was not a clever driving tactic after all, but a sign of the TurboChaser malfunctioning in a very bad way, before finally giving up the ghost.
Most of it had fallen away, leaving only Amy spinning by the finishing line, in just her original new electronic wheelchair.
The Mobilcon XR-207. With no add-ons at all.
That was all that was left of it. Around her lay many fish tanks and trays and mattresses and chimneys and power torches. Meanwhile, Peter Taylor’s GT 500 stopped next to her.
“She pushed it too far!” shouted Rahul, running after Suzi.
“We all pushed it too far!” shouted Jack, running after Rahul.
“I’ve run out of crisps!” shouted Colin.
The parents and the children all ran over towards Amy, still in her chair, motionless, with her helmet on.
Then a loud, metallic voice said, “EXCUSE ME, EVERYONE! STEP AWAY FROM THE INJURED PARTY!”
“Oh, you got the megaphone working again, sir!” said PC Middleton.
“Yes, Middleton,” said DCI Bryant, holding it up. “Just needed some new batteries and a little bit of technical know-how, and—”
“ZIP IT, DCI BRYANT!” shouted Prisha. “WE NEED TO CONCENTRATE ON AMY!”
“Oh.”
Peter was the first to get to her. “Amy? Are you …”
But Amy waved him away. She waved all of them away. “Give me a minute,” she said.
They stood there, staring at her.
“Give me a minute,” she said.
She looked at the finish line, just a metre in front of her. Then down at the debris around her. Then she pressed the lever forward. Nothing happened.
I get knocked down. But I get up again.
Slowly, she put a hand on each wheel. It wasn’t designed, this chair – not like her old chair – to be pushed like that. It was supposed to be electric. She felt the heavy resistance of the wheels.
I get knocked d
own. But I get up again.
“Amy …” said her mum, concerned.
“Wait …” said Amy, breathing heavily.
Slowly – very slowly – the chair began to move forward, crunching over glass and plastic.
Rahul ran over to push – but Amy shook her head.
She rolled herself painstakingly, painfully, past the watching crowd of parents and police and friends – past the broken scattered pieces of the TurboChaser –
– and over the line.
Everyone cheered.
Even Peter.
And Amy lowered her hands, exhausted, her chin flopping on her chest. With an effort, she lifted her helmet off her head. She was very conscious that she was sitting there in just a wheelchair, bits of metal and glass and wiring behind her.
Her dad rushed up. “Amy! Are you OK? That was—”
“Yes, Dad, I’m fine.”
“Oh. Good. Nothing broken?”
Amy looked up at him. She was tired and breathless, but her voice rang out clear. “No. The thing is … I’m fine, Dad. Not just now, but generally. I think you think I might be a bit broken. But I’m really not. I’m kind of … always fine.”
Peter looked back at her. His eyes filled with tears.
Finally, after a long moment, he nodded.
“Oh, thank God, Amy,” said Suzi, barging Peter out of the way, and falling on to her daughter and kissing her and hugging her. “I’m so glad you’re OK! Because, if you weren’t,” she added, “I’d have killed you.”
Suzi was smiling, though, and Amy laughed. Then they were both laughing. Until Amy’s dad put his hand on her arm.
“Amy …” said Peter. “We still need to talk about … this.” He indicated the broken bits of TurboChaser.
The Taylor TurboChaser Page 13
