Speed Freak

by Fleur Beale

  Craig shook his head. ‘You wish.’ I don’t think he noticed Felix.

  We had more work to do on our set-up before I’d be able to beat his lap time, though. It was better but not perfect. ‘It’s stepping out on the turns. Just a touch, but enough to make a difference.’

  We worked hard all morning. Dad adjusted the jetting, then the brakes. We experimented with my seat position but ended up with it in the original setting.

  Midday we stopped for lunch. Felix vacuumed up a plateful of macaroni cheese. Dad got him to eat the salad too. ‘Vegetables and protein, Felix. Got to have both to build a strong body.’ He ate it without even screwing up his face. His mother would have a hard time believing it.

  She phoned just as we were finishing. Dad had a chat that I did my best not to hear, then he handed over to Felix. ‘She wants to talk to you, mate.’

  ‘Mum! It’s awesome!’ He listened, nodded and gave Dad back the phone.

  I’d have to explain to the kid one of these days that you can’t actually hear a nod.

  We got back to work. By the end of the day, I was happy with my set-up. I went all out on the final run and knocked a tenth of a second off Craig’s best time.

  That evening, Felix went to bed early. All the excitement had knocked him out. Dad stayed to do the babysitting duty and I went in search of company. Found it in the motel suite occupied by Sel and Ollie and their fathers. Jack and Tama were there, then Craig turned up, with Lewis and Josh not far behind.

  It wasn’t long before Craig started up about Silver again. ‘They need to ban her, they really do. She’s dangerous. You must’ve seen her.’ He frowned at me. ‘She blocked you twice that I saw.’

  ‘No, she didn’t. No worse than anyone else does. You included.’

  ‘He’s right, Craig,’ Lewis said. ‘She drove okay today. Not brilliantly, though. She’s untidy so she’s not quick. What’s your problem?’

  ‘She’s a loose cannon. I still say she should be banned. I still say she’s dangerous. You guys are going to be sorry you didn’t support me.’

  ‘Give it a rest, mate.’ I changed the subject. ‘Your old man coming down?’

  ‘Yep. He’s going to give the new car a run.’

  I refused to play the game and ask what sort of car. So did the others, except for Josh who was too young to know better. ‘What make?’

  ‘Audi R8.’

  ‘Well,’ said Jack, ‘my old man’s coming too in his pride and joy. It’s a Skoda.’

  We laughed. But an Audi R8. That was some car. It was hard to get one up on Craig. It made me keener than ever to win.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  IT WAS HOSING down when we left to return to our units. ‘Let’s hope it clears up by the morning,’ Tama said.

  ‘Either that, or it rains all day,’ I said. ‘None of this half-arsed, can’t make up its mind stuff.’

  In the morning it seemed I’d got my wish. The sky was grey but no rain was dripping out of it. Felix stared out the window, his whole body tense with worry.

  ‘Archie, if it rains will you have to drive on slicks again?’

  ‘We just have to wait till each race,’ I said. ‘We’ll be on wets if it’s hosing down.’

  Dad put breakfast on the table. ‘Get this inside you, Felix. We’re going to need your help today.’

  He didn’t argue, although it was easy to see he was busting to get out to the track.

  We got there in plenty of time, half an hour before the grandparents arrived. Grandad shook hands with Felix. Gran hugged him.

  ‘How’s the young bugger going?’ Grandad asked Dad.

  ‘It’s okay, Felix,’ I said. ‘He means me. On the track.’

  I left the four of them in the tent and went outside. I chose a spot by myself where I could see the track. I wasn’t the only one standing alone, drawing my mind into a point of focus where all there was in the world was the track, the kart and the skill needed to drive to the max. I was confident we had the set-up as near-perfect as possible.

  The loudspeaker clattered out a call for our tuning run. As usual, I chose a space halfway down the field. I wanted to use the run to get in some passing practice on this track. Silver was up the front, with Josh beside her. Craig wouldn’t be happy about that.

  I took the first three laps slowly, warming up the tyres and scuffing them in. Then I set to work picking off the karts ahead of me. Jack was no problem — but it’s easy to get past a kart that’s off on the grass.

  I came up behind Craig and Silver after another lap but didn’t close up on them immediately. Something weird was going on and I didn’t want to get pulled in when it blew.

  Round we went through the hairpin. Craig could have got past easily. What the hell was he playing at? He kept on following her into the corners even though she braked too early and accelerated too soon. Her kart just about leapt off the track, and still he stayed tucked in behind her.

  He didn’t pass her on the straight to the sweeper either. There had to be something wrong with his engine.

  I decided to pass the pair of them on the long straight. I closed in as we came to the right-hander, then went wider than I normally would, just to be on the safe side. Sweet.

  I left them behind and settled in to take the five still ahead of me. One after the other, I snuck past — had a tussle with Lewis before I made it, and Ollie wasn’t too easy either. But I was one hungry mongrel. I wanted pole for the heats, and I wanted to keep it for the prefinal and the final. My time in the qualifying run would be the decider for the heats.

  Dad, Grandad and Felix met me at the pits when I came in.

  ‘All right?’ Dad asked.

  ‘Yep. All good.’

  I got out. Dad and Grandad went to lift the kart on to the trolley, and Grandad said, ‘Can you give me a hand here, Felix? I’m not as strong as I used to be.’

  I grabbed Dad’s camera and snapped a photo, just in case he wanted to show Erica her son’s proud face.

  ‘What was wrong with Craig’s kart, d’you know?’ I asked as we walked back to base.

  Dad shrugged. ‘All I know is he went storming off to the stewards.’

  Just then, a guy in a steward’s jacket tapped me on the shoulder. ‘Archie Barrington? Can you come with me, please?’

  I followed him to the tech shed. Craig was there, looking thunderous. His father was there, looking rich and powerful. Silver leaned against a wall, looking bored. Her father looked worn and worried.

  The chief steward cut right to the chase. ‘Archie, you were behind Craig and Silver for most of a lap. What was your impression of the way Silver was driving?’

  I told it like it was. ‘She braked early, then accelerated too quickly.’ I glanced at Craig. ‘What was wrong with your kart? I kept waiting for you to pass her.’

  ‘She blocked me! She bloody blocked me all the way. She shouldn’t be on the track. I keep saying it and nobody …’

  The steward cut him off. ‘Thank you, Craig. You’ve had your say. Archie’s statement matches our observations. Your protest is declined.’

  Craig flung around and stormed off. His father shook hands with the stewards and followed. I stood with my mouth hanging open before I worked out I could go too.

  ‘Sorry I dissed your driving,’ I said as Silver, her dad and I left together.

  She did her usual trick of not answering, but her dad said, ‘Thanks, Archie. I don’t know why Craig’s got it in for her.’

  I didn’t know either, so I sent our spy to hang about to see if he could pick up any clues.

  ‘Archie! That’s not fair!’ Gran said. ‘They’ll march him back here by his ear.’

  Dad said, ‘Calm down, Mum. They won’t take a blind bit of notice of him.’

  She worried until Felix ran back in, his face all concentration. ‘The father said Don’t worry I’ll find you another mechanic and Craig said Can’t you make Gary stay and the father said You don’t want a mechanic who doesn’t want to be here.’
>
  Light bulbs came on all over the tent. ‘Felix, you’ve done it again.’ We did the high five and the handshakes, plus the hug from Gran.

  He looked stoked, but said, ‘I don’t get it.’

  ‘It’s a bad thing to lose your mechanic. Especially in the middle of a series,’ I said. ‘He’s getting mad at Silver because he can’t yell at Gary.’

  ‘I didn’t think Gary’d last the distance,’ Dad said. ‘Young Craig needs a lesson or two about treating people right. It’s my guess Gary got tired of being treated like the hired help.’

  I wondered if Craig’s father had come in his new car. I wouldn’t ask. Craig would probably calm down if he could skite about something — and I was happy for him not to calm down, especially not before qualifying. But I was picking he would make sure he got a spot well away from Silver.

  I was right. She put her kart up the front again, so Craig chose a spot well back. I put myself in the middle. They let us go and, as always in a qualifier, we spread ourselves out along the track. Clear space ahead, and go for broke — get the fastest time and don’t worry about any other bugger.

  I kept an eye on the data logger as the laps ticked by. Towards the end of the run I pulled out everything and just went for it. I’d done the absolute best I could. I’d be gutted if some other mongrel took pole off me after this.

  When the grid positions went up for the heats, Lewis and Ollie beat me to the board. Lewis said, ‘Archie, you fecker, you’re on pole.’

  He was on two, Sel was on three, Ollie on four and Craig was back on five.

  ‘You can just about see the storm clouds over his head,’ Sel said as we watched him stomp back to his tent.

  ‘Poor lad,’ Gran said when we got back to our base. ‘You can’t help feeling sorry for him.’

  ‘Spoilt young pup. Needs to learn some manners,’ said Grandad.

  My heat was called. The four of us went down to the grid. Gran stayed behind the way she always did. She took her chair outside to sit with other spectators.

  Dad and Grandad lifted the kart off the trolley. ‘Our turn, Felix,’ I said. ‘Let’s get number 24 on pole.’

  Dad snapped another photo.

  I pulled on my helmet and gloves, breathed out a sigh of satisfaction and slipped into my seat. There was the usual wait before we rolled off the dummy grid, and I knew every single driver would be doing the same thing. We’d all be closing out the world. We’d all be bringing our focus back to the race ahead of us. For those few minutes, that’s all that would exist. Just each of us, our karts, the track and the other competitors. Awesome.

  We got the signal and were off, round the track, keeping our positions until the lights went out.

  It was a dream heat — one of those times when the driving isn’t conscious. It just happened without me having to think about it. I was in front and I stayed in front. A couple of times Lewis appeared in my peripheral vision, but I held him off.

  I drove the final lap aiming for consistency rather than going all out. I was ahead. I didn’t need to take risks. There was no need to push the boundaries. There was no sign of Lewis as I crossed the finish line.

  My support team was stoked. Felix helped Grandad lift the kart on to the trolley without being asked this time, and when we were safely back in our tent, he said, ‘Craig drove a shit race, Archie.’

  Dad let out a groan. ‘Felix, your mum won’t like you using language like that.’

  The kid gave him a look of hundred per cent scorn. ‘I won’t say it round her.’

  We cracked up, then Grandad said, ‘The young fella’s right, Archie. Craig did drive a shit race. Didn’t get past anybody. Came in tenth.’

  ‘Jack’s going round like he’s cock of the dung heap,’ Dad said.

  I stared. ‘Jack passed Craig? For real?’

  ‘Stayed on the track for the whole race,’ Dad said. ‘Got past Craig on the final lap.’

  That would put a dent in Craig’s ego.

  The rain came down just before the start of the final race of the day. There was a mad scramble while everyone swapped their slicks for wets. Glad it wasn’t me out there. Gran and Grandad didn’t hang about to watch, but Dad, Felix and I did. There was enough carnage out there to give Felix major jitters.

  WHEN I WOKE in the morning, it looked like the weather gods had got over their grump. The sky was grey and the rain had stopped.

  It held off all morning. I nailed the second heat. Craig got his mind back on the job and beat Lewis and Ollie to take second, and that put him on six for the pre-final.

  During lunch, I got a text from Colin. Nina says is hex working?

  I texted back. Yep. Need strong 1 this arvo tho.

  Done.

  I laughed. The worrying thing was that if I did win today, then Nina would be convinced it was all down to her hexes. I turned the phone off. Didn’t need the distraction.

  We went back to our base under a dirty sky. ‘Might rain,’ Grandad said.

  ‘No!’ Felix shook his fist at the clouds. ‘Don’t rain!’

  Nina’s hex might have missed Craig and hit the weather instead. I was mighty thankful I’d done those laps in the rain at home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  THE TRACK WAS still dry when we lined up for the pre-final.

  I slid into my seat, helmet on, world shut out. All I had to do was stay in front.

  The starter let us go. Round we went. The lights went out — and we were racing.

  I got a good start, holding Lewis off so that he couldn’t duck across to take the inside. He was there, hunting me down each corner, each straight, with Ollie doing the same to him.

  Spits of rain blurred on my visor.

  Lap six and no sign of Lewis. Instead, it was Ollie nagging away at me. I held him off. Lap nine coming into the hairpin, Craig popped up beside me, crowding to force me to put the inside wheels off the track.

  No you don’t, you prick. I flicked the steering and fed him a wheel. It pushed him wide, leaving me room to hold my line.

  He fought me every turn of the track. Each straight, he was up there where I could see him. We’d hit the corner and he was behind me again, bumping the back of my kart. No way was I going to let him through. He wouldn’t expect me to. No, he’d be aiming to unsettle me, to force me into making a mistake.

  This was what it’d be like in Europe. Thanks, Craig. Good of you to give me the practice.

  He moved out beside me when we turned the corner to the finishing straight. I could see him, swaying backwards and forwards, trying to push more speed out of his kart.

  We crossed the line. I was pretty sure I’d beaten him. I hoped like hell I had. He didn’t deserve to win.

  The faces of my support crew confirmed I’d won.

  ‘Played rough, did he?’ Dad said as we pushed the trolley back to base.

  ‘Tried to force me off the track. Then bumped me the rest of the race.’

  Grandad said, ‘You could protest.’

  ‘No. I beat him. I’m not wasting fifty bucks on him.’ As well as the cost of protesting, there was the time. Craig would appeal and the whole thing would drag on.

  Dad nodded. ‘Good decision.’

  ‘But he cheated!’ Felix said, outraged. ‘That’s not fair!’

  ‘You’re right,’ Grandad said. ‘But sometimes it’s best to roll with the punches. Archie stayed focused. That probably made Craig angry. Angry drivers make mistakes.’

  Felix wasn’t happy.

  I wasn’t happy about the weather. The sky was getting darker and the wind had gone from pesky to blustery. While we checked the kart before the final, Felix kept ducking out to look at the conditions. ‘It’s raining!’ he shouted. ‘It’s bloody raining!’

  I stuck my head out of the tent. ‘It’s only drizzling, mate. Not enough to wet the track.’ I watched the race for a moment. ‘See? It’s not bothering anyone.’

  ‘This could get interesting,’ Dad said as my final was called and we headed dow
n to the grid.

  ‘You should change,’ Felix said. ‘Look! It’s raining!’

  I shook my head. ‘Still not enough to wet the track. It would cut up the wets on a track this dry.’

  I shut the Tokoroa final out of my mind and instead went over the knowledge I’d gained from the drenching practice session back home. My idea was to hang on to the lead. I wouldn’t put any money on the rain holding off, and I wanted to be out of the spray zone if and when it did come.

  The starter gave us an evil grin as he let us go. Round we went in formation, then we were away.

  Spits of drizzle blurred my visor on the fourteenth lap. Cleared again half a lap on. The track stayed dry. I was leading, but Craig, Lewis and Ollie were all there, hunting me down.

  The drizzle started up properly as I came up to the final lap sign. I crossed the start/finish line for the last lap, and the sky took that as a signal to let loose.

  I am not going to lose this race.

  I had the advantage of being out front. I took the turn at the top of the straight as if I had full grip. Took in a bit of grass. No problems, though. I didn’t worry about hitting my braking points and I drove much wider lines through the corners than usual. But I got round and hadn’t lost enough speed for those behind to catch me. But each corner was a dice with fate. Stay on the track, or slide off forever. Twice I went wide enough to hit the grass, but I kept two wheels on the black stuff. I used what I’d learned in the practice at home. The driving wasn’t pretty, but it wasn’t untidy enough to get me into trouble.

  The final turn up to the finish. I put my foot down, wrestling with the wheel to drive a vaguely straight line. The rain was belting down so bloody hard now my peripheral vision was useless. I just drove hard out and hoped like hell.

  I’ve never been so pleased to see the chequered flag. I crossed the line, eased back on the power, turned to look behind me to see where the others were — and went off the end of the straight. Idiot. But I didn’t care. I’d won. In the rain. On slicks.