by Fleur Beale
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I WAS TENSE as I lined up for the next day’s tuning run. Nobody’d had a brainwave overnight about what might be wrong. But I absolutely wanted a faster qualifying time than Craig — and everybody else.
‘Relax, Archie,’ Grandad said. ‘You’ll cock up big time if you don’t.’
And get a big-time bollocking from him as well. I slid into my seat, pulled on my helmet, and shut him and the world out. Focused. Relaxed. Alert. Patient.
I drove with my mind on automatic. The kart felt okay. Not a hundred per cent but good enough. When I came back in, Dad and Grandad suggested making a slight change in my seat position. ‘It might just make the difference,’ Dad said. ‘Distribute your weight differently. Okay?’
‘Might as well try.’
As soon as I got up to speed in the first qualifier, I could tell they’d sorted the problem. Good. I got myself into a clear space on the track, then set about knocking the fractions of seconds off my lap times.
When we came into the pits after the second qualifier, Craig asked as usual, ‘What’s your best time, Archie?’
‘Half a second faster than yours.’
‘You wish.’
I watched him walk away with Gus. Interesting. Craig actually had a hand on the trolley — could have even been helping push it.
We’d arrived back at our own tent when Felix came tearing in. ‘The man’s putting up the times, Archie.’
The two of us hurried over to the notice board. Josh and Craig were already there. Lewis, Sel, Jack and Ollie joined us on the way.
‘Oops,’ Jack said, ‘looks like His Majesty isn’t pleased.’
We watched as Craig thumped his fist on the board. When he saw us, he hauled out a grin. ‘A hundredth of a second. Nothing in it.’
From that, I figured I was on pole. Craig was on two, Lewis on three, Ollie on four, Josh on five, Tama on six, Sel on twelve and Jack was back on eighteen.
‘Silver’s on thirteen,’ Sel said. ‘Not bad.’
‘She won’t get in our way,’ Josh said.
‘Speak for yourself,’ Jack said. ‘She’ll be a problem for me. No mistake.’
‘Only if you get past five people,’ Sel said.
‘And stay on the track,’ Lewis said.
Jack just laughed. All he wanted to do was drive flat out. If he stayed on the track, that was a bonus. If he managed to pass somebody, it was like he’d won the entire series. He was lucky that his old man was rich enough and crazy enough to indulge him.
Felix helped me push my kart on to pole for the heat. I slid into my seat and into my own world. Focus. Drive your heart out.
Craig jumped the start. Not enough to make the stewards black flag him, but enough to damn near grab the inside. Feckin’ cheat! I fed him a wheel, hitting his rear inside wheel with my front outside one. He dived off the track just enough for me to get through. Two can play rough, old mate.
I held the lead the entire race. Craig might have been right behind me but I shut him out of my mind and just drove. I crossed the line .25 of a second ahead of Lewis. Craig came in fifth.
He didn’t come near me for the rest of the afternoon. My friends and I watched the other heats. Craig watched with his new best buddy, Gus the mechanic.
That night I told Dad and Grandad about Craig’s jumped start.
Felix yelped, ‘He cheated?’
‘You could protest,’ Dad said.
‘I’d rather beat him,’ I said.
‘Fine, if you can do it without damaging your kart,’ Grandad said. ‘If you can’t, then we protest.’
But I didn’t want to beat Craig by protesting. I wanted to beat him on the track.
WE WOKE THE next morning to a sunny Bay of Plenty day. ‘You can see why we love Tauranga,’ Gran said as we settled ourselves on the deck to eat breakfast.
I didn’t chat. My head was busy going over the track. I was concentrating, too, on how to make sure Craig didn’t get ahead of me if — or more likely when — he jumped the start. I wanted to win that second heat to make sure I got pole for the pre-final.
At the track, we went through the normal routines of ensuring everything was tight, fuelling the engine and running it to warm it up. Before we set out for the grid, Grandad put his hand on my shoulder. ‘Drive your own race, Archie.’
Felix was more direct — and, actually, I liked his advice better. ‘Beat that cheating scumbag, Archie.’
‘I’ll do my best, mate.’
It was a relief, though, to put on my helmet and shut out the world.
The starter counted us down for the rolling lap. We went round twice, warming our engines and tyres. As we approached the start line for the third time, every nerve was firing on alert.
Craig accelerated before the red lights went out. He dived across from the outside, intending to force me into second place so that I’d have to follow him round the bend. But I held my line. The nose of my kart clipped the back of his, but I was expecting it and he wasn’t. The force threw him off the track, and I didn’t hang about to ask about the state of his health.
But my kart hadn’t come out of the encounter unscathed. As the heat went on, it became slower and less responsive coming out of the corners. Lewis passed me, then Craig got through. Don’t let anyone else through. I pushed the boundaries as much as the kart would let me, but Josh snuck through on the final turn. I came in fourth.
Dad, Grandad and Felix whipped the kart on to the trolley the moment I came off the scales after the weigh-in. The three of them ran with it back to our base, with Dad and Grandad firing questions at me.
‘What’s it doing?’
‘You want to swap the axle again?’
‘Could be the axle stubs. Quite a bump you gave young Craig.’
‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘He jumped the start. Again.’
‘Quite the sportsman,’ Grandad said.
‘He’s a dirty cheat!’ said Felix.
‘We don’t worry about him,’ Dad said. ‘We drive our own race, and we don’t cheat.’
‘I could put glue in his fuel tank,’ Felix said.
‘Got any glue handy?’ Dad asked.
Felix shook his head.
‘We’d better get busy then,’ Grandad said.
I ate the lunch Gran gave me without noticing too much what it was. She didn’t mind — she was used to karters. Dad and Grandad tightened things, checked every part and discovered the sprocket wheel had a ding in it. ‘Bloody lucky you didn’t throw the chain, Archie,’ Dad said.
‘Would a ding slow me down on the corners, though?’
Grandad shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t help. But I think there’s something else going on. Buggered if I know what.’
Great.
LEWIS WAS ON pole for the pre-final. Craig was beside him on two, I was on three and Josh on four.
As we walked back from the notice board, I said to Lewis, ‘Watch out for our old mate. He’s taken to jumping the start.’
‘For real? Thanks for the warning,’ Lewis said.
It was time to get into our karts, time to settle down and focus on the race ahead.
I used the rolling laps to test the feel of the set-up. It seemed better. I hoped it was.
The lights went out. I put my foot down, hot on the tails of Craig and Lewis. Craig dived across to cut Lewis off — before the lights went out. Lewis bashed into the back of his kart, and they both spun off on to the grass. I nipped through to take the lead.
My kart felt better. Perfect, in fact. My mechanics must’ve fixed the problem when they went over it at lunch break. I kept my mind on the job, driving smoothly, driving consistently and keeping out of trouble.
I crossed the finish line with Lewis and Ollie battling for second behind me. Where was Craig? Truthfully, I didn’t much care. I’d beaten him and that was what mattered.
We cruised into the pits, put the karts over the scales without any problems — not that there would be. We weren’t cheats. Speaking o
f which, Craig got himself out of his seat, tugged off his helmet, then yelled at Silver, ‘I’m reporting you! Deliberate blocking. They’ll ban you. I’ll make sure they do.’
He might as well have been yelling at a wall, for all the reaction she gave him.
But I’d had enough of him. ‘Jumping the start isn’t in the rules, either.’
He swung around, his fist bunched. ‘That’s a bloody lie, Archie Barrington. I don’t cheat.’
‘You jumped the pre-final,’ Lewis said.
‘You jumped both the heats,’ I said.
‘Put in a protest if you’re so sure,’ Craig said.
Lewis looked at me, and I nodded. ‘Do it again, and we will. Both of us.’
Craig stormed off, leaving Gus to get his kart on to the trolley and back to their base.
Sel said, ‘He’s changed. So different from how he was last year.’
‘Yeah,’ Ollie said, ‘he’s always been up himself. But never this bad.’
‘Silver did good,’ Jack said. ‘I was behind her the whole race. She was a bit loose, but nothing dangerous.’
‘Where did Craig come?’ I asked. But nobody knew. We had to wait for the results to be posted.
‘Twentieth!’ Josh said. ‘No wonder he was pissed.’
‘And look at his grid for the final! Ten.’
But we weren’t looking at that. Our eyes were glued to the number beside him — 47. Silver Adams. Fate had a weird sense of humour. Or it could be sense of justice.
Back in our tent, I asked, ‘What happened to Craig?’
‘Got his knickers in a twist is my guess,’ Grandad said. ‘Can’t handle the pressure. Fine when he’s winning. Sulks when it doesn’t go his way.’
‘Completely lost his focus,’ Dad said.
‘He’s a bloody shitty driver,’ said Felix.
Dad rolled his eyes, handed him a spanner and set him to work.
The final was a good scrap between Lewis and me. He got past me once when I went too wide and left the door open. It took me two entire laps before I snuck through on the inside.
‘You bloody handed him that corner on a plate, Archie!’ Grandad growled when I returned to my crew. ‘Bloody careless.’
‘I know. But did you notice — I got past him again.’
Grandad just snorted. Dad winked at me, but Felix leapt to my defence. ‘He won! He drove good and he won. You’re mean!’
Which meant that while we packed up, Dad and I had to explain to Felix that Grandad was a big softie. ‘His bark is worse than his bite,’ Dad said.
Felix looked bewildered, so I said, ‘He yells when he cares about you. It’s a good sign. You’ll see, he’ll yell at you too.’
‘I can bloody hear you,’ Grandad said. ‘I’m not deaf and I’m not dead.’
‘Time for prize-giving,’ Gran said.
Again, Craig didn’t bother turning up. I made a speech, accepted the trophy and was very, very happy. But I knew this would be the result that Craig would drop, which meant that if I dropped my Tokoroa result then we still had exactly the same ranking — with him one miserable point ahead of me.
We were down to the final two races of the series now. The next one was in Auckland, Craig’s home turf. The last one would be in Rotorua. Craig would know both of those tracks better than I did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
THERE WAS A month between the Bay of Plenty event and the Auckland one. Teachers have no hearts. They handed out assignments and got manic about deadlines.
‘Get the work done, Archie. And do it well,’ was Mr Taylor’s advice as he dished out yet another load of work. ‘If you do get to Portugal, you’ll miss your NCEA exams. You’ll need good results from the rest of the year because they’ll be used to assess what your mark is.’
That aspect of things hadn’t been high on my radar. I’d kept the work up, but I couldn’t say I’d gone hard out. Not to worry. As long as I got enough credits to get through Level 1. I did the assignments, did the homework and spent all my free moments working on the kart. I even said no to a party my mates were planning on going to one Friday night — time was precious and I had too much to do.
Club day at my home track at Kaitoke was the week before Auckland. We decided to use the back-up engine that day to give it a run. Dad, Felix and I spent all of Saturday preparing my kart. Erica was working but she didn’t suggest sending Felix to his carer’s for the day. And she must have been expecting the question he asked at dinner that night. ‘Mum, I can go tomorrow, can’t I?’
I figured she’d have to have a heart of steel to ignore that pleading puppy dog look. True, she didn’t look happy, but she said, ‘Yes, dear. You can go.’ Then, while he was still bouncing round in his seat, she looked at Dad and me. ‘I’m trusting you both to keep him safe.’
Get real, Erica — shit happens. Don’t you know that yet?
But Dad held her hand and said, ‘Of course we will, darling. You know that.’
Darling. Yerk. I rolled my eyes at Felix. He giggled.
Erica had left for work by the time we got on the road. Up at the track, Felix raced around, happy, focused and actually quite helpful. He disappeared when the cadet class was called, but we didn’t stress about it. He knew where he wasn’t allowed to go, and he knew Dad meant it when he said he’d leave him behind next time if he got up to mischief.
We had the kart on the trolley, warming up the engine, when he came back. ‘Bill, am I old enough to race in the cadet class?’
Dad shut the engine down. ‘Yes, you are. But your mum would have to agree, or it’s no go.’
The kid didn’t say anything more, but by the look on his face there could be storms ahead.
My race was called. I intended to work on smoothness, cornering and passing, rather than getting hung up on winning. Huh! Who was I kidding — winning was what it was all about.
The pre-determined randomised grid starts gave me plenty of opportunities to practise passing. The final race of the day, I was at the back but worked my way up to take the lead and win. A good day. I hoped it was a good omen for Auckland.
BACK HOME, WE got the kart taken apart before Erica arrived from work. Then Felix and I did the cleaning while she and Dad cooked dinner.
‘You’re turning out to be quite useful, mate,’ I said.
‘D’you reckon Mum’ll let me drive?’
I shrugged. ‘She’s not keen, Felix.’
He put some elbow grease into cleaning the back axle. ‘I’m going to ask her anyway.’
He did. At dinner. She downed her knife and fork, took a huge breath and said clearly and slowly, ‘No, Felix. Not now. Not ever. Please don’t ask again.’
‘You’re a mean, stinky mummy. So there!’ He twisted out of his chair, knocked it flat and ran out of the room.
Erica dropped her head into her hands and groaned. ‘I knew this would happen. I knew it.’
I finished my dinner. It was good and I wasn’t going to leave it. Nobody said anything for the rest of the meal, though. I cleared the table and shut myself in the kitchen. Then I went in search of the mobile temper tantrum. He was crying on his bed.
‘Shut it, Felix. We’ve got work to do. The kitchen. Now.’ I went out. He’d either come or he wouldn’t. I set the remains of his dinner to one side and started cleaning up.
He drooped in after about five minutes. ‘She’s mean.’
‘So you said. Listen, mate. You’ve got to learn to handle disappointment. Throwing a tantrum — shit, that’s what Craig does.’ I pointed at his plate. ‘There’s the rest of your dinner.’
‘It’s cold.’
‘Poor little Felix. Doesn’t know how to warm up his dinner.’ I kept on with stacking the dishwasher and didn’t look his way.
I heard a big sniff, then he shoved the plate in the microwave and hit a button. I grinned at him and got a wobbly smile back. He scoffed the rest of his dinner while I finished clearing up.
‘But Archie, I really do want to race.�
�� He did the puppy dog look real well.
‘I know you do, mate. Looks like you might have to wait till you’re eighteen though.’
‘That’s old!’
I laughed at him, then told him a few of the cold, hard facts, starting with showing him the bruising along my ribs and on the inside of my knees. ‘Racing throws you around. You wear the rib protectors but it doesn’t stop all the bruising. And you’re always bruising your knees where they knock against the fuel tank. After a day’s racing, you’ll be stiff and sore — aching in every muscle. G-forces aren’t kind to bodies.’
He was suspicious. ‘But you’re not sore now.’
‘Sure I am. No point in going on about it. That’s what happens when you race.’
He thought about that for a moment. ‘I don’t care. I still want to race.’
‘Well, I wouldn’t mention it again right now, if I were you.’
I had homework to do and Kyla to catch up with. I shut myself in my room, raced through some science revision, then settled into chatting with Kyla, who updated me on the Facebook gossip that I’d been too busy to look at. ‘Have a look, Archie. Craig’s come out with a big fat apology to Silver.’
I logged in and there it was: Hey, Silver — really sorry I yelled at you. Just got a bit carried away.
She, of course, hadn’t replied.
‘What d’you think?’ Kyla asked.
‘He’s doing it to look good. A public apology — it’s for the rest of us, not for Silver.’
‘Just what I thought,’ Kyla said.
She also told me that a couple of the South Island competitors had dropped out. They knew they couldn’t win, and it was too expensive to travel twice more to the North Island when they had no chance of taking the prize.
We only chatted for half an hour before the tiredness from the day hit me. Kyla laughed. ‘Bed time for Archie.’
I reckon I was asleep before I got my head on the pillow. Only a week to Auckland — Craig’s home track.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
AT SCHOOL THAT week my mind was on the racing ahead — and my mates dropped in the odd comment about how they were expecting a postcard every day once I got to Portugal. And Nina said, ‘Do I still need to keep my hex active?’
