by Fleur Beale
We turned off the main road and picked our way through the potholes to the track. ‘Wet enough for you?’ Dad asked.
‘I’ll be needing fins if it gets any worse.’ But I intended to get out there despite the weather. I’d been thinking about that race at Tokoroa and I was determined I wouldn’t ever get caught again by lack of technique on a wet track.
Dad helped me get the kart on to the grid, then he scuttled back to find some shelter. Couldn’t blame him.
I got very, very wet. I had to do more laps than usual to warm up the engine. Then it was time to go hard out. I drove twenty laps all up. Went off eleven times. Did a couple of 360s. Felt like I was losing it on every corner. It was cold. My hands went numb, feet not far behind. But I drove the final six laps smoothly. I kept the kart on the black stuff and more or less held the line through the corners.
I was relieved when Dad waved me in. Hypothermia felt like it was waiting to pounce. He had to help me out of the kart I was shivering so much.
‘Worth it, was it?’ he asked.
‘Shit, yeah.’ I stood in the trailer to dry off and change my clothes. Still cold.
‘You know how aggressive you can be in the wet now?’
I had to laugh. ‘Sure as heck know how aggressive I can’t be.’
FELIX CAME HOME and made a bee-line for the garage while I was doing the routine checks on the kart. I let him help with cleaning some tools, and taught him how to spin the wheel bearings. ‘If they sound noisy, we replace them.’
‘Did you do good today?’ he asked.
So I gave him the story of each lap, of how I’d tried various ways of driving with the lack of traction until I was more confident. He looked as if I was feeding him burgers and fries.
At dinner, we didn’t mention the practice. All was happy families again until Dad said, ‘Thanks for helping with the kart, Felix. You did a great job out there.’
Felix seemed to light up from the inside. Erica had her usual struggle with her face. But what did she expect? That we wouldn’t mention driving anywhere her little boy could hear? Get real, lady.
Life went on. The holidays ended.
Craig tried a spot of psychological warfare. First it was a text. Looking forward 2 yr last race on free tyres?
I thought about that for an hour or two, trying to dream up a smart comeback. I couldn’t so I ignored it. I was busy — and he ought to be as well. School was manic. Grass kept growing.
Craig texted every few days. I didn’t reply and I didn’t waste any energy on thinking about his dumb messages or about him. I did manage to skype Kyla every few days. Sometimes we just did our schoolwork together. The good side of that was we got it done. The downside was that I could look but I couldn’t touch. Still, my Skype sessions with her were islands of calm — until she told me about the prize money on offer in Hamilton.
‘A thousand bucks for first place? You’re kidding me!’ But I was busy bringing up the website as I spoke. ‘Hey, you’re not kidding!’ I started laughing. ‘What’s the betting Craig goes mental over this?’
He was keeping it to himself if he was. His text that evening was: Control calling Archie. Come in pls. U worried, mate?
Bugger him. Yep. Worried. Frantic. Yah de yah. Thnx 4 caring.
Interesting that he didn’t mention the prize money. He’d know about it, though — he always knew stuff like that.
He sent another dumb text in the morning. Yes, this was a definite campaign. But it was having the opposite effect to what he was aiming for. It made me more focused than ever. Every spare moment I could get, I read karting info on the net or in magazines. I also viewed as many videos as I could to analyse driving techniques. If Felix happened to park his butt alongside me and listen as I explained what a driver was doing, then that was his affair.
Erica, though, was no fool. She knew what was happening and she took her own sneaky steps to put a stop to it. At dinner, would you believe, she started in on telling us about her day in Casualty. ‘So sad,’ she said, ‘this young boy. Only fifteen and he’s wrecked for life.’ She knew bloody well that I was fifteen.
Dad shot me a look, but said nothing. No way was I going to ask what happened. Felix didn’t lift his eyes from his plate.
But Erica didn’t need encouragement. She launched into a detailed description of blood, shattered bone and escaping brain tissue. She told us what part of the boy’s brain it was from and the effect that would have on his life.
You bitch. Play fair, or get off the track. I put down my knife and fork, then I eyeballed her. ‘If you pull this stunt again then I’m going to do everything I can to encourage the kid to race. I’ll find him a—’
‘That’s enough,’ Dad said. He gave me a look I interpreted as Keep it cool, mate, and he gave his girlfriend a look that I couldn’t interpret.
Silence. Erica’s face went red but her mouth was clamped shut. I finished my meal. Felix left half of his. Jeez, that poor kid. Control freak for a mother.
‘Finish that up, mate,’ I said. ‘You’re helping me with the dishes.’
You’d think I’d given him a present. He even flicked me one of his nano-second smiles. But old Erica, she let out a moan and dropped her head in her hands. Felix’s face crumpled. I put my hand on his shoulder so he’d look at me, then I rolled my eyes.
We shut the door between the kitchen and dining room. Those two needed to have a serious talk and I didn’t want to hear a word of it. She might tell Dad she was packing up and leaving. I hoped she would. No, I didn’t. Dad still behaved like she was better than a hot meal on a cold day. I’d even miss Felix. Shit. What a mess.
My phone went. It was another text from Craig. I read it out to Felix: ‘Getting 2 Ham midday Thurs. U? He’s trying to make me worried.’
‘Because you can’t get there till the night?’
‘You’re dead right, my man. Want to give me a hand with the inventory?’
Stupid question. His eyes lit up and he was out the door a good half second before I got myself off the grid.
I ended up putting the rat to bed that night. There was no sign of his mother or my father. I guessed they were holed up in the bedroom. She’d be ranting at Dad, or crying. He’d be calm but his voice would get that edge to it. It was never nice to be on the receiving end of a bollocking when Dad’s voice got edgy.
Or she could be packing and he could be crying.
Oh, the joys of life in the fast lane.
I didn’t read Felix a bedtime story. Instead, using a diagram of the Hamilton track, I talked him through my race tactics.
Dad hadn’t shown up by the time I went to bed. Neither had Erica. I wouldn’t let myself think about what might be happening in that bedroom. It could be good, or it could be bad. Either way, I made damn sure I didn’t hear a squeak of it.
The morning came and rolled out the same as always. Erica was brisk and trying to hurry Felix up. He ate at his usual slow pace. I used my mouth only to eat. Dad didn’t look upset, so what the hell it all meant, I had no clue. Off the three of them went in a happy family bunch together. I got on my bike and rode to school.
I got a text from Dad just before classes started. He must have sent it as soon as he got to work: Progress.
They’d probably had make-up sex. Niiiiice.
Then I got another text. Craig again, but I was glad to be distracted from thoughts of Dad and Erica.
At lunchtime, Craig texted again: Track in Hammy in top condition. C u 2morrow.
‘What’s wrong?’ Ginnie asked.
‘Nothing.’ I read out the text. ‘It’s from Craig. What he’s really saying is Ha ha I’m here already, nice and rested, but you’ve got a long drive in front of you. You’ll be tired and I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.’ I told them about his psychological campaign and about the thousand dollars of prize money. ‘There’s the tyres too. If I don’t win at Hammy, he gets those as well.’
‘We’ll hex him for you again,’ Nina said.
; ‘We’ll have to do it by remote control,’ Silas said. ‘Hamilton’s a bit far away.’
‘My hexes work best at a distance,’ Nina said.
Colin’s hand landed on my back. ‘Go hard, mate. We’ll be back here cheering for you.’
He wouldn’t be. He’d be up to his ears in mud on a rugby field.
‘How’s the kid?’ James asked. ‘You turned him into a speed freak yet?’
‘No chance of that happening any time soon. Erica’s got a thing against racing. Says she’ll move out rather than let her baby race.’
The five of them stared at me. ‘Does she mean it?’ James asked.
‘Yeah. She means it.’ I gave them a run-down on the dinner discussion about the escaping brain tissue and how she and Dad had done the vanishing act till breakfast this morning.
‘She didn’t say anything during breakfast?’ Nina asked. ‘No threats? Nothing?’
‘Nope. Business as usual.’
‘Ha!’ said Ginnie. ‘Betcha they had make-up sex.’
‘D’you mind! I’m trying not to think about it. I don’t know what happened.’
Colin thumped my back. ‘Get real, Archie. She didn’t walk out. She didn’t give you the evils the second she sighted you today. It’s a done deal. They did the rumpy pumpy.’
I was glad when the bell went. I’d rather drive ninety laps on slicks on a wet track than discuss my father’s sex life.
The day was punctuated by three more texts from Craig. I didn’t read them. I got away as quickly as I could after school. Dad would have the van and the trailer ready. All I’d have to do was park my bike and jump on board.
But it didn’t happen quite like that. The first thing I saw was Erica, then Felix — but hang on a minute … that kid was bouncing off the walls. I caught sight of Dad, who just winked at me. Felix barrelled right at me and flung his arms around my middle.
‘I’m coming too! I’m going to watch you race.’
I patted his back. ‘We’d better get going then.’ I looked at Erica, a huge fat question in my face.
She looked right back. ‘You’ll look after him, Archie. I know you will. And thank you for putting him to bed last night.’
Women! No chance of guessing how they were going to react.
‘Time we were on the road,’ Dad said.
Off we drove, leaving Erica waving till we turned the corner.
‘Okay then?’ I asked.
‘Yep,’ said my father, looking very pleased with himself. ‘All good. And we’ve got ourselves a helper.’
Felix might hate the whole weekend. It was noisy and the days were long. We wouldn’t be able to take much notice of him — me especially. I had races to win, tyres to secure and prize money to chase. But every time I turned to see how he was getting on, I got the hugest beaming grin. He was enjoying himself so far anyway.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I WAS BUSTING to ask Dad what had happened. I wanted to find out exactly how he’d made Erica change her mind. Surely Felix would fall asleep sooner or later so that I could extract the info from Dad? But the kid was amped and on high revs. It was like somebody’d taken the lid off and let him loose. There was just about a running commentary coming from the back seat. ‘Craig’s kart is 19 and he’s our biggest rival.’
Our.
‘That’s right,’ Dad said. ‘What d’you reckon our chances are, Felix?’
I waited for a quick, and positive, answer — but he thought about it for so long that I turned around to check he was still there. He was looking worried.
‘Spit it out, Felix. What’s bugging you?’
‘What if it rains? Craig might have practised in the wet too. He might win again.’
I let Dad field that one. ‘That’s racing, Felix. Sometimes you get it right, and sometimes you don’t. You’ve just got to get back on board next time and drive like hell.’
And so the kilometres ticked away. We stopped for dinner at Taihape and the kid finally nodded off just before Taupo.
‘He’s out to it,’ I said, ‘so tell me. How come?’
My father doesn’t do smug all that frequently, but when he does, he makes a good job of it. He drove for about a kilometre, just keeping quiet and looking damn pleased with himself. Then he got serious. ‘She was going to leave, Archie. She really was. She’s so dead against all motor sport.’
‘Come on, Dad! She must patch up injuries from rugby, snowboarding …’
‘She’s a woman, son. All she wants is for her boy to be safe.’
I snorted. ‘Wrapping him up in cotton wool won’t do it.’
‘That’s what I told her. Teach him to drive now, then stand back, keep your fingers crossed and hope like hell nothing goes wrong.’
‘Is that what you do?’ I’d never imagined he worried when I was racing.
‘Yes and no,’ he said. ‘You’re a good driver, Archie. And you’ve got a good head on your shoulders. We prepare one hundred per cent.’ We drove round a couple of corners in silence, then he said, ‘But your grandad and I — we’ve both been out there in the thick of it. We know the risks. We know what can happen.’
‘You still want to be racing, don’t you? The pair of you.’
He laughed. ‘Dead right. But the reflexes aren’t there any more. And I have to say, we get such a buzz out of seeing you drive a good race. I’m proud of you. So’s Grandad, although he’d rather die than tell you that.’
Nice, but I still didn’t get why Erica had done a complete u-turn. ‘But why did …’
‘Erica change her mind? We just talked about what sort of people she wanted in her son’s life. What sort of man she wanted him to grow up to be. I asked her how Felix would feel if she walked out.’
Possibly he’d learnt that last question from me, since neither he nor Mum had asked me what I thought about her leaving. ‘Did she say he’d think it was his fault? And did she say he’d hate her?’
‘She got there in the end.’
Time to stop where this conversation could be headed and to ask him something else I was curious about. ‘Where’s his father? Dead or disappeared?’
‘Neither,’ said Dad. ‘Felix is a test-tube baby.’
‘You’re kidding me! For real?’
‘Yep. When Erica turned thirty-eight and the relationship hadn’t happened, she decided to have a baby and bring him up by herself.’
I thought about that for a good couple of ks. ‘He’ll never know who his father is, then?’
‘Yes, he knows. She’s given Felix a photo of him and he’s met him a couple of times. He lives in the UK — worked with Erica when she was over there. They keep in touch at Christmas and he always sends Felix something for his birthday.’
Sheesh! This took some getting my head around. ‘What about grandparents?’
‘Erica’s folks moved across the ditch to the Gold Coast a couple of years ago. She says they don’t really approve of what she did. It makes her all the more protective of him. The decider for her about staying or going — she can see he’s doing okay with us.’
Yes, and if I spelled it out it would go something like: Your kid now manages to look people in the eye; your kid now actually speaks; your kid has found something that spins his wheels. Thinking about it, I probably wouldn’t use the spinning wheels bit — best not to rub her nose in it.
Felix didn’t wake up when we got to the motel. Dad carried him in and we dumped him into bed fully clothed but without his shoes. It was late. We went to bed and set the alarm for six.
WE GOT TO the track as soon as it opened at 7.30 the next morning. We set up our base, with Felix shadowing us the whole way. Dad gave him jobs to do — it reminded me of when I was little. You get the crap jobs but it makes you feel important. Felix buzzed around putting air in the tyres, lubing the chain, and Dad got him to hold the fuel funnel for him. He didn’t exactly have a grin on his face, but man — he looked happy.
I went out for my first practice run, came back in, and we adjus
ted the camber on the front stub axles to give more turn in. Then it was back on the track to check.
‘They’re not quite right,’ I said when I came in.
‘Could be the tyre pressure,’ Dad said. ‘Wish we knew what Craig’s running his at.’
Craig, bugger him, was looking good, and he’d rather lose his front teeth than tell me his tyre pressures.
Dad tweaked the camber some more, but we left the tyre pressures for the moment. ‘Only ever change one thing at a time, Felix,’ he said. ‘Otherwise you don’t know what’s made the difference.’
Felix nodded, eyes shining.
I went out for another run. The kart still wasn’t running right.
We were back in the tent before either of us noticed that Felix was missing. Dad didn’t seem bothered. ‘He won’t go far,’ he said. ‘He knows where he can and can’t go.’
So, it hadn’t taken him long to get bored after all. Erica would be delighted. ‘We’ll change the tyre pressures next, I reckon,’ Dad said.
And right then Felix came running into the tent. ‘13.5 and 14.5.’
I didn’t take any notice — I was still a bit pissed at him, to tell the truth. Dad though, smiled. ‘That’s not a bad guess, Felix.’
‘It’s true! It’s real! And his best lap time is 38.84.’
He had my attention now. Every molecule of it. ‘You’re talking about Craig? Felix, old mate, he’s pulling your leg. Drivers never tell the truth.’
He was just about hopping with frustration. ‘It is true. He didn’t tell me. I listened. He told Gary Set-up’s good. I’ll leave the pressure at 13.5 and 14.5. And Gary said Lap time. And Craig said 38.84 and he laughed and then he said I’ll be on pole.’
It was our turn to laugh. I held up a hand. ‘Put it there, Felix my man.’
His mother wouldn’t recognise him — sparkling eyes, bouncing stride. Chatting. Spying. I laughed some more.
The tyre pressures turned out to suit my set-up too. I came back in, giving the thumbs-up to Dad and the junior mechanic a.k.a. spy.
‘You’d better help me push the kart on to pole,’ I said to Felix when we got close enough to Craig for him to hear.
