by Fleur Beale
There was a list of names printed underneath, mine included. Sel, Jack, Ollie, Tama and Kyla had all signed beside their names.
I dropped the paper on the table. ‘I’m not signing that.’
The boys shuffled their feet, but Kyla’s face relaxed as if she was relieved. Craig wasn’t pleased. ‘Archie the nice guy.’ He thumped his fist down. ‘Get off the fence, you wimp. Man up, for once in your life. Sometimes you have to make a stand.’
I picked up the letter. ‘Watch me. I’m making a stand.’ I ripped the paper in half, then in half again. ‘It’s a shit letter and a shit idea.’ I stalked out, so furious I was shaking.
Kyla followed me with Dad’s lunch. ‘Here. You forgot this.’
I took it from her. ‘You signed.’
‘Yeah. As soon as I’d done it, I wished I hadn’t. He’s so persuasive, you know?’
‘Bloody Jack put his name to it too. And look at how many crashes he causes.’ There was a handy can on the ground — I booted it.
‘He doesn’t do it on purpose. But Silver does.’
I sighed, and took hold of Kyla’s hand. ‘Yeah. I’ve got the kart to prove it.’
‘YOU TOOK YOUR time,’ Dad said.
Kyla gave him a run-down of the drama.
‘It’s a taste of what happens when you get up into the big leagues, Archie. Get used to it. Now buzz off and let me concentrate here.’
We went outside. I didn’t have much hope that Dad would be able to get my kart competitive before the next race. Disappointment bit deep.
‘What are you going to do?’ Kyla asked.
‘If it can move forwards, I’ll drive it.’
She smiled and gave my hand a squeeze. ‘Archie — why didn’t you sign? You were pretty wound up.’
‘He’s bloody lucky I didn’t rip him in half.’
She let a moment of silence go by before she said, ‘So? Why didn’t you sign? Craig was certain you would. He said, Archie’ll be furious. He’ll sign. I think that’s what convinced the others.’
I didn’t say anything for ages, but she didn’t say anything either. In the end, I just came out with it. ‘She lost her mother. I know what that’s like.’
There wasn’t much else to say after that. We headed back to the clubrooms. Craig wasn’t there and things had calmed down. None of the guys said I was right to have torn up the letter, but they were just that extra touch friendly, making sure they came with me to look at the grid positions for the pre-final.
‘Fourteen. Could be worse.’ And, fate being the joker it was, Silver was beside me on thirteen.
As we took the kart to the grid, Dad said, ‘It’s driveable, Archie. More than that I can’t promise.’
‘It’s sweet, Dad. I’ll go hard out. I’ll try and make the top ten.’
‘That’s the spirit. Grandad sends his love.’ He showed me the love-sending text: Drive it like you stole it. Beat every other bastard out there.
‘That’s a long one. I bet he got Gran to type it.’
I pushed my kart into position. Silver turned her head to look at me for a full two seconds before she pulled on her helmet. I put my own helmet on. What the heck was up with her? That look was pure poison.
I settled into my prep. The first thing to work out was how to get past her at the start.
‘Start your engines.’
The starter counted us down and out of the dummy grid. I used the rolling lap to test the kart. It felt a million times better than before, but it wasn’t right. Round we went, with me testing the steering and the handling as much as I could on each corner. It felt like the two shortest rolling laps ever.
The second we got the signal to race, I swerved across in front of Silver to take the inside. A basher can’t compete with experience, my friend.
The first corner showed me how far out of true the kart was now. I did my best to compensate, but every corner I was losing time. The kart went in too deep, and by the end of the sixth lap there were nine drivers still in front of me. Silver wasn’t one of them.
I passed number 35 coming out of the bend before the front straight. Didn’t know who it was. Somebody up ahead went off on to the grass. I got through before he sorted himself out. I was eighth. I drove with fierce concentration, determined to hang on to that position. Consistent. Be consistent. I didn’t worry about planning how to pass those in front of me. They’d all get past me again even if I did manage to sneak through.
I was aware of karts chasing me. I held on, corner after corner, straight after straight.
Then — drama at the pointy end of the race. A kart spun out. It was Tama. Josh was behind him and followed him into the spin. Both of them ended up on the grass and I drove into sixth place.
Two more laps. Keep it consistent. Don’t try to be clever.
The final lap board. Keep it together. Forget about the pain in your shoulders, the cramp in your hands. Drive.
The final straight and the start/finish line, with the official waving the chequered flag. The race was over. Sixth. Not bad. I’d got lucky, I knew that. Sometimes it happened. It helped balance out the bad stuff.
Dad met me with a grin on his face. ‘Good driving, Archie. Bloody good driving. How’s the kart?’
‘Pig awful.’ I flexed a few muscles and began stretching out my hands. ‘Thanks, Dad. You’re a bloody marvel.’
‘We’ll see if we can tweak it again. What’s it doing?’
‘Understeering into the corners. There’s not much grip at the front on the exits either.’
‘Right. That gives me something to work with.’
He wouldn’t be able to get it perfect, but I’d do what I could with it in the final. ‘Did Craig win?’
‘Yep. Sel second, Ollie third, Lewis fourth. That Auckland guy, Hugh, he was fifth.’
Kyla was eighth and stoked. Silver came in at twenty-one.
That meant Craig would be on pole for the final. I hoped Dad had got my kart good enough to give him a fright, even if I couldn’t beat him.
SEL PUSHED HIS kart on to two, looking mighty stoked. I caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up. It was his best result ever.
I positioned my kart, then worked on shutting out the world. Focus, concentration, determination. This race and the present moment — that’s all there was in the world.
The starter counted us down, out on to the track. Again, I used the rolling lap to test the kart as much as I could. It was better, but unless you get very lucky, you can’t beat good drivers when the kart isn’t set up one hundred per cent. All I could do was give it a bloody good try.
The lights went out, the power kicked in as we accelerated. The handling was better. Still unsteady at the back, but the understeer wasn’t as bad.
Craig was leading, but Sel, Ollie and Lewis were hard on his tail, with the Auckland guy closing in on them. I concentrated on my own race.
I planned to pass Auckland guy half a straight ahead on the left-hander. All good. I slipped through, only to have him pass me again as we came out of the corner. The kart was just a fraction unstable on the exit, just enough to let him through.
If sixth was the best I could do, then I’d make sure he worked for his fifth place. Each corner we took, I hustled him, letting him know I was there, that I wasn’t giving up. I passed him every opportunity I got, and each time he got through again on the exit. I didn’t give in and I didn’t give up.
Lap nine, he made the classic mistake. He looked behind. In that moment, I dived through and he didn’t have enough time to get his focus back and catch me.
Fifth, and half a kart length between me and Lewis. I caught him, but lacked the power to get through. I followed him round the final bend, slipstreaming along the straight to the chequered flag.
Fifth. Not what I’d aimed for, but I was proud of it. Craig, of course, had won with Ollie second, Sel third, Lewis fourth, and then me.
Dad was happy. ‘Good work, Archie. Bloody good work.’
The text from Gr
andad was: Yr bloody marvels. The pair of you.
We laughed. Gran was definitely doing the typing.
We left our karts in the impound area for checking. Craig, all smiles and good humour now, said, ‘Good job, Archie. Considering.’
Beside me, Kyla gave a snort of laughter. I laughed too — you had to, with Craig doing his great man act. It was either laugh at him, thump him, or spew.
We had to listen to his winner’s speech too. I didn’t mind applauding him, though. I’d done okay. We’d get the kart fixed. Craig wouldn’t be so pleased with himself at the end of the next Challenge meeting.
Silver didn’t go to the prize-giving dinner. She’d disappeared right after the final race. That was probably the best decision she’d made all day.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
BACK HOME, ERICA greeted Dad like he’d been stuck in Antarctica for a year. I left them to it and got to work washing my gear.
I was shoving my racing suit into the washing machine when Felix appeared beside me.
‘Hiya, Buster. Did you get plenty of Easter eggs?’
He ignored that. ‘Tell me about the races.’
Tricky. I had a think while I set the machine going. ‘Your mum won’t like it, mate.’
‘I’ll help. I’ll clean it.’ He gestured in the direction of the garage.
He sure was a determined little rat. ‘Let’s do it then. It’ll give them time to get the kissing done with.’
He shuddered. ‘Yuck.’
Off we went to sort out the trailer, and clean and check the kart. I described each race, figuring that he’d soon get bored of it. But no. His eyes got bigger and shinier, and I reckoned we’d be having a few interesting discussions with Erica quite soon.
The discussion with her came sooner than I expected. The second event in the Challenge series was at Tokoroa the next weekend, so there was a fair amount of kart talk between me and Dad. Felix was away at his carer’s during the day because of school holidays, but we did the kart talk in the evenings anyway when Dad got back from work. Felix kept his mouth shut and kept his head down as always. Erica didn’t join in either, except that her face said a hell of a lot.
Tuesday we got the kart fixed. Wednesday we took it out to the track for a practice. I drove a few laps, came in so we could adjust one thing, then out for another few laps, and back in to tweak the next thing. It was dark by the time we drove home.
‘Okay?’ Dad asked.
‘Yep. We’re ready. The kart feels good again.’
Erica had dinner waiting for us. Man, her food was good. Plenty of it too. I tucked in. This was worth getting hungry for.
We’d just finished having seconds when old Felix announced, ‘I want to go, too.’
‘Go where, darling?’ Big smiles that her little boy had actually said something.
‘Tomorrow. I want to go.’
Erica’s smiles vanished in a puff of exhaust smoke. ‘Oh Felix, darling, I’m going to have to say no. It’s just not safe. We’ll do something nice tomorrow instead. I promise.’
He didn’t say anything else, but I was getting to know that stubborn look on his face and it told me he hadn’t given up.
The next afternoon as we were packing up to leave, I said to Dad, ‘We’d better check for stowaways.’
‘He wouldn’t,’ Dad said.
‘He bloody would.’ We checked, but unless he’d tucked himself under the wheel arches, he hadn’t climbed on board.
As things turned out, I was pleased not to have him around. The day went brilliantly, for most of it. Grandad and Gran were there, with the promised feast for lunch. I drove some of the best races of my life, and I was the driver pushing his kart on to pole for the pre-final and the final. Craig was right there on second both times, and majorly pissed off.
It was the weather that stuffed things up. With four laps to go in the final, the rain came down. I pushed as hard as I could, going all out despite the lack of grip. Lost it on the second to last lap, when I spun going through the double left. I went off on to the grass. Got back on with no damage done, but I’d lost the lead with three karts ahead of me now. I couldn’t see who they were for the spray kicking up off the track and the rain belting down.
There wasn’t enough time to get past any of them. Fourth.
I thought about what that meant as I drove the cool-down lap. It meant that I’d have to win the next in the series to get the rest of the promised tyres. It also meant that Craig would be leading the Challenge with a second and a first. It wasn’t a complete disaster, though. Only five of the six rounds counted. Today could be the one I dropped.
Craig greeted me with a fat smile. ‘Those tyres will be mine. The sponsors like winners.’
Tama watched him stroll away. ‘That’s what I like about old Craig — he’s such a humble winner.’
Grandad stomped around, cussing. ‘Bloody weather. Get in some wet-weather practice before next time.’
‘On slicks?’
‘No, Archie. On snowshoes,’ Dad said. ‘Put it behind you. Grandad’s right. Some practice in the wet could be a good idea.’
Yeah. It was humiliating that Craig had driven so well. I didn’t want to hand him another first by wandering off on to the grass.
WE GOT HOME late Sunday night, took the kart out of the trailer, then collapsed into bed. The morning arrived far too quickly — the night must have been turbo-charged. Then I remembered. Holidays. I shut my eyes and went back to sleep.
But not for long. Dad stuck his head around the door, a weird look on his face. ‘Archie, can you get your butt out here for a tick?’
‘It’s holidays, Dad.’
‘Please, son.’
Shit. I rolled out of bed.
‘Boxers could be a good idea,’ Dad said.
Well, it served him right if he didn’t like the view — he was the one who’d dragged me out of bed when I was still asleep. I took my own sweet time about putting on trackies and a hoodie before I hit the kitchen.
I got the story after one look. Felix was sitting on a chair and holding tight to the kitchen table. Erica stood in the doorway, and it was too close to call as to who looked the most stubborn.
Dad cleared his throat — more to stop himself from laughing, I guessed. ‘This is the situation, Archie. Felix is refusing to go to day care.’
‘I want to help.’
‘No, Felix. That’s out of the question. Now will you get off that chair? You’re making me late.’ Erica wasn’t doing too bad a job of keeping her temper, I’d give her that.
I gave a huge yawn. ‘I’m not going anywhere today. Okay with me if he stays here.’
I thought about going back to bed, but I loved a good battle, and this looked like being a beauty. My money was on Felix. Just to even the odds a bit, I said to him, ‘It won’t be very exciting for you, buddy. I’ve got to write the report for my sponsors.’
‘I’ll be good.’
Shit. It was enough to make you cry. I didn’t know what to say, so I took a look at Erica. She was at the pissed-off stage now, and impatient. She gave in.
‘All right. But just this once, Felix. We are not going to have this performance ever again. Do you hear me?’
He kept his head down and his mouth shut. Quite an effective technique.
Erica and Dad left together, him with his arm around her. He said something to her and she rested her head on his shoulder for a second, then looked up at him and smiled.
My dad, the hero.
Meanwhile, I was the babysitter. ‘You had breakfast?’
‘Toast with jam.’
‘I need eggs and bacon. You ever scrambled an egg?’
He hadn’t. I gave him eggs to crack. He was pretty good at fishing the shell out of the bowl.
‘Want some?’ I asked when it was cooked. I put a spoonful on a plate for him without waiting for a reply. With Felix, you could be waiting all day for an answer. I put bacon on the plate too. If he didn’t eat it, I would.
&n
bsp; He ate the lot. What a guts.
We spent the morning working. He helped clean the kart, then when I started checking it I gave him the job of handing me the tools as I explained what I was doing. Finally, we tidied the trailer and washed my gear. As we worked, I gave him a corner-by-corner commentary on each of the races, and his eyes shone like polished axles. When I got to the final and told him the sad story of the rain and the grass, he looked ready to bawl.
‘Listen, buddy. You’ve got to harden up. You can’t let disappointment get hold of you. What you have to do is drive the next race and forget about the bad one.’
I’d heard those words of wisdom myself.
In the afternoon I set him up with his mum’s iPad and showed him how to find karting videos on YouTube while I wrote my report. Then I skyped Kyla for an hour.
Late afternoon I was feeling a bit guilty about leaving him alone for so long, but he was fine, still watching karts race and spin and flip out. I hoped Erica wouldn’t check the history.
‘Come and help me cook,’ I said.
We were still in the kitchen when the parents came home.
‘How was your day?’ Erica asked me.
‘Fine. No problems.’ I didn’t give her time to say Thanks but I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again. I turned to Dad. ‘About that practice in the wet. We’ll need some rain between now and Hamilton.’
‘Won’t be a problem, Archie. It’s April. It’s school holidays. Of course it’ll rain. Every blasted day probably.’ He looked at Erica and changed the subject so that for the rest of the meal we chatted about all of us going to a movie together. One big, happy family.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
THE THREE WEEKS between Tokoroa and the next in the series at Hamilton sped by. The last Thursday of the holidays it rained hard enough to float a boat. Dad figured we couldn’t get a better practice day.
On the way out to the track, I said, ‘It’s a shame Felix couldn’t come.’
By way of a reply, Dad said, ‘Erica had to stitch a car accident victim back together just yesterday.’
