by Andy Briggs
It was too good to be true.
Eddie ticked off each point on his fingers: “We can’t afford to get there. We can’t afford to stay there, and we can’t afford to come home.” Then he looked slyly at Trix. “Unless…”
Trix didn’t even bother looking up. “Forget it, Edward. We spent the last of my birthday loot in the last race, and look what I have to show for that.”
“But your parents are loaded!”
Trix threw him an irritated look. “They’re not loaded, and they won’t give me money for this. I’ve already asked! So just shut up about it.”
Although her house was three times bigger than his own, Carson decided not to join in the argument. “What about you, Eddie?”
“You know how weird my parents are. They freak out when I go into town. They won’t let me go all the way to London. I tried explaining about the competition.”
“What did they say?”
“Perhaps when you’re eighteen,” he said, mimicking his mother’s voice as he took his glasses off to clean on the hem of his grubby shirt.
“Then we can’t go.” Carson kicked a stone but felt little satisfaction as it bounced across the floor and struck an old oil drum with a deep clang. “There’ll be other competitions to enter,” he said wistfully. “You never know, we might even win enough to pay Trix back for all the entry fees and drone parts she’s shelled out for in the past. What do you think, Vanta?”
Over the last few days they had started talking to her like a proper member of the team. Even Eddie seemed more at ease around her.
“I enjoyed the race, despite you holding me back.” Perched above on a beam, she silently spun her rotors. “It’s good to be back in the air after … the scrapyard.”
The three friends exchanged glances. Vanta had deliberately not answered any questions about her past and, just for a moment, it sounded as if she was about to reveal something. But after an awkward pause, it was clear the drone would say no more.
Carson looked at his watch. It was getting late in the afternoon, and they had agreed with Eddie’s uncle not to hang around the warehouse after the other surrounding businesses had closed for the day. “Want to go for a last spin?”
Vanta didn’t respond. It was as if she had frozen to the beam.
“Hey, Vanta! What’s wrong?” Trix tapped the controller in her hand, wondering if she had somehow paralyzed the little machine. “Vanta?”
Eddie picked up a stone, ready to chuck it at her. “Maybe her batteries are flat?”
“Throw that stone if you dare,” muttered Vanta without moving. “There’s somebody outside.”
There was something in her tone that made the hairs on Carson’s arm rise. He’d been on edge ever since the break-in. Without a word he crossed to a large window. Patches of dirty glass still clung to the wire mesh across it. Carson ducked behind the sill and peered out. A black van was moving slowly down the road, weaving between discarded blocks of concrete and the tufts of head-high wild weeds growing amongst the cracks. Eddie and Trix joined him.
“Tinted windows!” whispered Eddie. “Nice!”
“They could be just lost,” Trix said hopefully.
Eddie shook his head. “No. They’re definitely looking for something.”
“Us,” said Carson firmly. “Ever since the race.”
Trix edged away from the window. “There were a lot of other racers there who didn’t look too happy with us.”
“And you insulted that girl you fancied,” Eddie added, nudging Carson in the side.
Carson blushed. “Shut up, I don’t fancy her. And I don’t think she’d track us down just to try and intimidate us.”
“I think somebody wants to.” Trix moved back from the window as the van drew closer, moving no faster than walking pace. “I mean, Terry from AirBlitz hates us. They all know we’re supposed to be going to London. I wouldn’t put it past them to try and sabotage us.”
Carson recalled the people who had entered his house. Could that have been Terry and his mates? As unlikely as it seemed, he wouldn’t put it past the AirBlitz team to resort to dirty tricks to win. Especially now the prize money was so high.
Vanta buzzed over their heads to peer out. “We should leave via the back way so they don’t see us.”
Nobody argued with that. They quickly climbed through the broken shutters at the back of the warehouse and across a neighbouring field before they were finally on the road back into town. Only at that point did Carson open his pack for Vanta to swoop inside.
The friends agreed that, unless a miracle happened and they could suddenly afford to enter the UK finals, they should perhaps stop racing for the rest of the week.
Just to play it safe.
With his friends busy with family commitments that evening, Carson wasn’t feeling terribly happy about being stuck home with his father, on his one regular evening off. However, he felt even worse when he discovered his dad was quickly tying his bootlaces in the kitchen.
“I’m covering somebody who called in sick, so I’m going to be home late.” He nodded at Carson’s backpack containing the drone. “What’ve you been doing?”
Carson’s grip on his pack’s strap tightened. “Nothing. Just hanging with the others…”
His dad looked unconvinced, but he nodded. “I was thinking about this weekend. Maybe I could juggle my shifts around. We could eat out? Go bowling? You like bowling.”
“I hate bowling, remember? I’m rubbish at it.” Carson immediately regretted the words and quickly turned away – only to see a large bouquet of flowers on the table.
“They’re for Mum. You remember what day it is?”
Carson had completely forgotten, yet he still nodded. The thought of being home alone became a sickly hollow feeling in his chest. He felt tears well, but refused to let his dad see them. Out the corner of his eye, he could see his dad was about to put a hand on his shoulder … but stopped himself.
“I’ll be late. Remember to lock up.”
With a quick glance at his watch, he left. Carson wiped the tears away and ran his snotty nose across his sleeve. Only when he heard the front door close and the car start up did he hurry to lock up and check the windows were fastened firmly. His appetite had vanished so, clutching his cricket bat, he went to his room and sat on his bed with the lights low, peering into the street for strangers.
“This is not normal behaviour,” Vanta noted as she buzzed around the room. Since they had arrived back, the little drone kept flitting restlessly from table to floor to the top of the wardrobe.
“If anybody tries to break in again, I’ll be ready.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’m here. I’ll watch over you.” There was a long silence. “Are you crying?”
“No,” sniffed Carson, wiping a tear from his cheek.
Vanta hovered in front of him. “Yes, you are.”
Carson wiped his eyes and tried to turn away. Vanta zipped in front of him no matter which way he turned.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I’m not very good at this type of thing. In fact, I’ve never done it before.”
“What sort of thing?”
“Feelings sort of things. The people I used to talk to weren’t as … nice as you. I calculate this is about your mother, since she isn’t here, and from what your father was saying I can postulate that—”
Carson sniffed. “She died. She was ill and she died last year … last year today.”
“Oh.” After a quick flutter left and right, as if she didn’t know what to do with herself, Vanta added, “How did that happen?”
Carson shrugged. “She fell ill. Didn’t get better. What does it matter? There’s thousands of bad things that can happen … and they do. She died.”
He had, of course, cried a lot at the time, and not a day went by when he didn’t feel her absence. And every night he missed hearing her read a story to him. That had been a while ago, but still those nights were his fondest memory. And he had never felt t
he need the share it with anybody, especially his friends.
“I used to like it when she read to me, to help me sleep. The stories would make me dream of bigger and better things. Like travelling, or being able to fly!”
“I help you fly.”
Carson smiled. “Yes, you do.” Then he laughed. “My dad would go mental if he knew. When Mum fell ill he became so … mean. Tough. Kept telling me to grow up.” A sad smile crossed his face. “But my mum … she would have driven us to London.” He yawned and lay down on his bed, propping the bat on the side so it was just within reach. He closed his eyes. “Making it to that race, she would have been so proud.”
“What was your favourite story that she used to read to you? Mine is ‘The Gingerbread Man’.”
“How do you know that story?” The words barely escaped his mouth as he yawned again.
“I just read several thousand of them on the internet.”
“You’re a quick reader. Why that one?”
“I can relate to it. Listen: ‘Run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man…’” Vanta giggled. “That’s like me. Would you like me to read you a story?”
“I used to love my mum reading Around the World in Eighty Days.”
“Ah, Jules Verne,” Vanta said knowingly. “Mr Phileas Fogg lived, in 1872, at No. 7, Saville Row, Burlington Gardens…” she began softly.
If somebody was listening outside the door, they would have heard the slow, heavy breathing of a boy as he slid into the arms of deep sleep…
Chapter 14
A WELCOME GIFT
“I don’t believe it.” Carson reread the email for the dozenth time.
“It’s a confirmation for train tickets and a hotel booking for our team,” Eddie said. “Came through this morning with a note attached saying ‘good luck!’ I thought it was from you.” He glanced at Trix.
“Why would I do that?” Trix held up her hands, baffled. “You’ve both managed to spend all my money several times over.”
Carson snapped his fingers. “Marcus Nation! You remember he made a point in coming over to talk to us. He was impressed.”
Trix looked doubtful. “Why would he do that?”
“Because we’re so young – maybe that helps him get more attention?”
“Who cares! We’re going!” Eddie held up his hand to high-five her. Trix didn’t move, other than to shake her head.
“In that case, we only have a couple of days to solve this controller problem, if Carson’s going to push Vanta to the max.” She bent down to look at Vanta. “You up for that?”
“I’m in it to win it!” whooped Vanta, performing a little barrel roll.
While Trix tinkered with the controller, Carson worried about how they would manage to avoid their parents for a whole weekend. His dad would be easy enough to fool, but for the other two it was a problem.
“I could say I’m having a sleepover party at mine?” he suggested.
Eddie shook his head. “Two problems.” He counted on his fingers. “One, Trix’s parents will want to know who else is staying. Two, my parents never let me sleep over. They don’t let me go far. They don’t let me do anything. Three. My sister is a monster. She’ll find out, she always does somehow, and then she’ll rat on me and my summer will be over. And probably next summer too!”
That gave Carson an idea. “But Kay’s eighteen, isn’t she? That makes her an adult.”
“Technically…”
“Then we need her on our side.”
Eddie shook his head so ferociously that he felt dizzy and almost fell over. “Uh-uh. No way. Absolutely not. Impossible! We are not telling her anything.”
“Sure. Totes. Whatever.” Kay looked up briefly from her phone to check the three of them were still there.
Eddie was dumbfounded. “You’ll actually do this for us?”
“That’s what I said, Edwardo.”
Eddie flinched. He hated Edwardo more than his actual name, and especially the way she spoke it in a momentous drawl that she thought sounded cool.
“I said yes, didn’t I? Now let’s get our business straight. You win this little competition and you’ll give me half the prize money just for covering for you three little shrimps?”
Carson nodded solemnly. “That’s right. Three hundred pounds straight to you if we win.”
“And if you lose…?”
Edward laughed. He had meant it to sound casual, but it came out as a stressed squeak. “Even losing we get fifty quid. And you can have all of that.”
“That sounds kinda weird.”
Trix shrugged. “Well, that’s drone racing. It’s just a weird little sport.”
That seemed to satisfy Kay. She nodded and, with a flick of her fingers, motioned they could go. Eager not to be around her for any longer than necessary, Eddie grabbed his friends by the elbow and led them out.
“Boy, your sister is thick,” Trix whispered.
“Hey, Edwardo,” Kay called after them. “In case you think of, like, trying to rip me off…” She held up her phone and played back a video taken minutes earlier.
“I need you to lie to Mum and Dad,” said the recording of Eddie. Kay stopped the video. “Close the door as you go,” she said.
“Maybe not so thick,” said Carson quietly, once they were out in the hallway again.
“What if we lose?” Eddie was already stressing, barely able to talk in a whisper. “I can’t afford fifty quid!”
Trix patted him on the shoulder. “Then it looks like your summer will be over. You better just hope we win.”
Still wary of running into any potential saboteurs, they decided not to practise at the warehouse. Instead, Eddie had scouted a place in the woods, and they sent Vanta soaring through the trees at speed.
It proved to be a fresh challenge for Carson, as the gusting breeze and an unexpected light shower affected his control on Vanta. Throughout it all the little drone couldn’t help but giggle as she ducked under tree limbs and sailed over fallen logs; spun around mighty oak trunks and between the most crooked of branches. She seemed to be having the time of her life.
Beneath the VR goggles, Carson felt like an eagle as he swooped through the trees. His fingers lightly touched the controls, but the ground beneath his feet seemed to melt away as he became immersed. He imagined he could even feel the breeze on his face…
Soon, the day to travel to London was upon them. As promised, Kay assured her brother that she’d cover for them all. Carson left a note for his dad informing him that he was at Eddie’s. He gave Kay’s phone number but doubted his dad would bother calling to check.
However, the shock came when they arrived at the train station to find Kay standing with a backpack over one shoulder and her mobile phone in the other. She gave them a casual wave and turned her attention back to her phone.
“About time you showed up.”
Carson shook both fists in the air and silently mouthed what the heck? to Eddie, who looked utterly bewildered. He coughed and tried to sound as casual as possible.
“Oh, hi, sis. Going somewhere?”
Kay didn’t look up from her phone. “London, aren’t we?”
“That’s … unexpected.”
Kay gave them all a withering sidelong glance. “You don’t think I was going to let you twerps go on your own, right? I mean, why should you get all the fun?”
Eddie glanced between Trix and Carson’s worried expressions and shrugged: what could he do?
Kay started walking to the platform. “And don’t sweat it. I’m not coming to your crummy flyee-thing. I’ve got friends I’m gonna meet up with.”
“Maybe this won’t be so bad after all?” said Trix as they followed her to the platform.
With Vanta tucked in Carson’s backpack, the train journey proved to be uneventful. Carson’s worries about having Kay with them ebbed away and he settled down to enjoy the trip. The posh hotel was not far from the station, and checking in was simple. To their
surprise they had been given a multi-bedroom suite. Even Kay was impressed, and spent several minutes posting selfies on every social media site she could.
Breaking the Coke out from the minibar, they all raised their glasses to thank Marcus Nation for such a generous gift.
Bathed in the soft pulsing glow from Vanta as she recharged, Carson found himself more excited than he had been for a long time. He could just imagine the smile on his mum’s face, how pleased she would have been for him. Tomorrow, he’d try his best for her…
Chapter 15
THE UK FINALS
Kay left the hotel early to meet her friends, armed with promises from Eddie, Trix and Carson that they would meet her at Euston Station in good time to catch the train home. After checking out of the hotel, an electric MPV minivan was waiting outside for them. The rather sleepy-looking driver flashed a card with “Carsonators” written on it and beckoned them inside.
“We’ve finally made it to the big leagues!” grinned Carson as they headed to the racing venue.
Eddie gave a low whistle as they stepped through the arena entrance. “This was not how I imagined it at all!”
Trix grunted in agreement as she looked across the semi-final course. Carson cradled his backpack in both arms, allowing Vanta to peek out of the open zipper.
It was not a real stadium, but it had been cleverly put together around the docks using several permanent buildings, fences and a specially erected grandstand. The track was larger than the last one, built on the edge of the water. To one side, rows of tiered seating had been set up, complete with camera platforms to televise the event. Parts of the course were elevated high into the air with obstacles suspended from cranes, while others floated on the water and, as far as Carson could make out, they would have to fly into the hull of an old 1960s battleship and out the other side. The audience was shielded from the course by massive plastic screens that lined the perimeter.
A young woman in a Constructor League T-shirt greeted them at the entrance and checked their details on her tablet before escorting them to the racing paddock. It was already filled with teams from across the country preparing their drones. There was a wide assortment of machines, some as sleek as darts, others armed to the teeth.