by Chris Fabry
“Birthplace of the NASCAR stars,” Cassie said. “Who knows? Next year you might be moving up—don’t you think?”
“One step at a time; that’s what Dad says. But I’ve got a good start, and with what happened in Denver, we’ve gotten a couple of calls from possible sponsors.”
“That’s excellent!” Cassie said.
“And that guy from the newspaper wants to do an in-depth.”
“Calvin Shoverton? You’re kidding! His column is syndicated all around the country. You’re going to be famous before you know it.”
“Don’t make me more nervous than I already am. He wants to follow our family around for a few days, and I’m trying to bribe Kellen.”
“Bribe him for what?”
“So he won’t be a little doofus and say something embarrassing.”
“Good luck.”
Chapter 7
Calvin
TIM STAYED OUT of the way of the writer guy. He couldn’t believe anybody made a living sitting at some desk typing words on a screen. He couldn’t think of anything more boring to do all day, except for maybe picking up trash, but at least doing that you got exercise.
Calvin Shoverton came to the Maxwells’ house and watched them eat breakfast and get ready for school and did everything but follow them to the bathroom. (And he probably would have gone in there if they had left the door unlocked.) Tim overheard Kellen telling the writer that Jamie wasn’t that bad of a big sister except when they traded licks, punching each other on the shoulder.
“I used to be able to hang in there for five or six rounds, but now it hurts too much,” Kellen said. “She’s gotten a lot stronger.”
“She ever get full of herself?” Calvin said. “You know, pushy about how talented she is?”
Kellen laughed. “Jamie knows she’s good, and she can handle herself on the track, but you’d never know by talking to her.”
The writer guy nodded and wrote something down. Then he asked if he could ride with Jamie to school and talk. Jamie agreed, and Tim climbed into the backseat of her car. They spent most of the time talking about the old Mustang and how she’d rebuilt the engine from scratch. Tim thought the talk about the engine was the most interesting.
Calvin got out at school and took some pictures of Jamie near her car. He turned to Tim. “How about lunch?”
“It’s a little early for that, isn’t it?” Tim said.
Calvin chuckled. “No, I mean, why don’t we have lunch together? My treat. We can grab a sub sandwich if you want. Mrs. Maxwell said that was your favorite. She gave her blessing.”
“Okay.” Tim shrugged.
Tim drifted through his morning classes, his stomach growling because he’d skipped breakfast. By lunch he was ravenous and would have eaten a horse-and-goat sub without any ketchup.
Calvin drove back to the school to pick up Tim.
“How’d you get your car?” Tim said.
“I had Dale pick me up after I interviewed a couple of teachers this morning.”
“Teachers?” Tim said.
“Yeah, I wanted to hear what kind of student Jamie is. See if all the hype is worth it.”
“What did you find out?”
“She seems like the real deal. Even went over to the church and talked with the youth pastor there. He said Jamie’s gotten religious lately. Have you noticed that?”
“Yeah. She seems serious about it. But it’s not like she wears burlap and eats locusts or anything. She’s pretty normal.”
“What about you?” Calvin said.
“What do you mean?”
“You believe the same way as the Maxwells? That God is good and we ought to follow him with our lives?”
Tim looked out the window. “This article’s about Jamie, right? You don’t want to know about me.”
They stopped at the sub shop, and Tim ordered a foot-long with everything. They spread their sandwiches out at a picnic table near the strip mall.
Tim nearly choked on some lettuce and a hot pepper when Calvin said, “Must be quite a change living with the Maxwells instead of sleeping in Charlie Hale’s hauler.”
“How do you know about that?” was all Tim could think to say.
“This is my job. I ferret out information, write about it, and let people know what goes on inside the NASCAR world. I wrote a small piece about your dad, but there wasn’t that much information about him and I didn’t want to bother you so soon after his death. The team didn’t even know where you’d been shipped off to.”
“Did you find out?”
“Nice little trailer park in Florida. With Vera and Tyson, as I recall.”
Tim’s mouth dropped open. Then he closed it because he hadn’t chewed.
“I felt like when the time was right, we could do a memorial article for him. Nothing fancy.”
“I guess Dad wouldn’t have wanted a big fuss, but something at the anniversary of the accident would be nice.”
“Why’d the Maxwells take you in?”
Tim shrugged. “I think Dale felt bad about my dad. I don’t think there’s anything in it for them. My dad didn’t have much money, so it wasn’t about an inheritance.”
Calvin smiled and munched on his sandwich. “Maxwell has a squeaky-clean image. Everybody knows where he stands on moral stuff. You ever see anything that’s at odds with that?”
“You mean is he a hypocrite?”
Calvin nodded.
“He drives a big truck that guzzles gas.” Tim leaned forward and whispered, “And I don’t know if I should say this, but sometimes he eats leftover pizza for breakfast.”
Calvin raised his eyebrows. “That’s shocking.”
“I know. I hope that doesn’t get out ’cause it could ruin him.”
Calvin shook his head and laughed. It seemed to Tim like he wasn’t trying to write a story anymore. He was just enjoying his sandwich. That made Tim relax.
“So you’re saying the stuff we see on the track and in front of the camera is basically what you see at home?”
Tim nodded. “They get into arguments and stuff like that. I mean, they’re not perfect. Dale sometimes drives too fast, and Mrs. Maxwell tells him to slow down.” He took a swig of soda. “So you just sit in front of a computer all day and type away on those little keys until you’re done, huh?”
“A lot of my day is spent on the phone or traveling. I go to all the races. I listen to radio shows, watch TV. I get ideas from people who e-mail or call me. By the time I sit down at the computer, I’ve pretty much got the story written in my head.”
Tim couldn’t imagine all those words staying in a guy’s head. Then he got an idea. “You say you’re good at tracking people down. How good?”
“Depends on who the person is. Who are you looking for?”
Tim squinted at Calvin, wondering if he could trust him, and pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his shirt pocket. “This is . . . what do you call it? You know, when you don’t want somebody to write about something?”
“Off the record?”
“Yeah, that’s it. Can this be off the record?”
Calvin held out a hand. “Let me see what you’ve got.”
Chapter 8
Hickory
JAMIE TOOK THE BORROWED Late Model Stock car to Hickory for her next race. It had been a few weeks since she’d hit the track in Denver, and she was itching to get behind the wheel, even if it was a step down from where she wanted to be. Scotty’s brother, Kyle, came along to act as crew chief. Tim would be her spotter.
Hickory, North Carolina, was a short jaunt up I-77 and then west on I-40. They hooked up the hauler to the Suburban in the dark and made it to the track just after sunrise. Tim helped, and Jamie’s mom took care of the paperwork and kept Kellen settled, which was a full-time job.
Jamie recognized a few of the other racers, many of them twice her age, and said hello. When the drivers saw her, a few asked for an autograph.
One burly guy cinched up his pants and leaned agains
t their hauler. “Look at this, Sonny,” he said to a skinny guy with long sideburns. “You get to race against the great Jamie Maxwell. Future NASCAR queen.”
After the inspection, it was time for a short practice session. The car was running rough, and when Jamie brought it back, Kyle discovered that the angle of the left front tire was wearing badly.
“Looks like we’ll have to change the upper A-arm,” Kyle said. “We don’t and you won’t make it through half the race.”
Kyle crawled under the car, and with help from Tim, they felt ready for qualifying. Jamie turned in two good laps, though she said the car was loose in the turns. She qualified fourth for the race.
“I can’t believe how many people know about you now,” Kellen said to her as they waited for the start. “And you know they’re going to be gunning for you.”
“Why’s that?”
“To say they beat a future cup winner,” Kellen said. Then he imitated a guy spitting tobacco juice. “I ’member back when I raced that gal to the finish line. She was good but not as good as me.”
Jamie chuckled. “I’m just glad I don’t have to contend with Chad up here. . . .” Her voice trailed off as she looked down the line of competitors. A lanky guy walked past the line of cars, and she recognized the long arms before she even saw his face. “Thor?”
“Is that old Thunderfoot?” Kellen whispered.
Jamie nodded. “What are you doing here?” she said to Thor.
“You think you’re the only one who wants to race?” Thor said with a smirk. He looked at the car. “Heard about what happened in Denver. This your #62?”
“No, it’s a friend of mine’s.”
The radio clicked. “They’re calling for the drivers to get ready,” Kyle said.
“Guess I’ll see you out there on the track,” Jamie said.
Thor nodded. “You sure will.”
Kyle clicked the microphone when Jamie was buckled in. “You looking for some trouble from that guy in the #7 car?”
“He’s one of the top drivers from the school but likes to throw his weight around.”
“Watch him out there, you hear?” Kyle said.
Chapter 9
Spotter Surprise
TIM CLIMBED TO THE TOP of the grandstand and fiddled with the radio, trying to get it in a comfortable position on his head. He finally had to take off his hat, the one his dad had given him, and put it on a table in the back.
Not being a very talkative person, he felt a little nervous about guiding Jamie around the track. He’d been listening to spotters and crew chiefs ever since he was a little kid, though, and he knew the lingo as well as anyone. Plus, he wanted to see Jamie stay safe and win.
While he adjusted the volume control, someone walked up to him, blocking the sun and sending him into shadows.
“You’re with the Maxwell team, aren’t you?” a guy said. It was Kenny, one of the drivers at the experimental school. The one who had confronted Tim after Jamie made it into the final race.
Tim backed away, but he could only go so far from the spotter’s station. The back of the building was a straight drop-off.
“Having some trouble with your volume control?” Kenny said. “Let me take a look at it.”
Tim knew what was going to happen. Kenny was going to sabotage his radio—take the batteries or mix up the channels. Tim didn’t want to give it up, but Kenny took it from him before he could react.
“You have the squelch turned all the way up,” Kenny said, holding the radio out. “I cut it back for you. Should be good to go.”
Tim stared at the radio like it was a dead fish, not believing that Kenny would actually help him. He took it and said, “Thanks.”
“I’m spotting for Thunder, the #7 car. If you need anything, just yell, okay?”
Tim nodded and mustered a question. “Why are you being so nice? You hate me.”
“I was really ticked off the last time I saw you. I was a jerk, all right? Heat of the battle and all that. You okay with that?”
Tim stared at Kenny, trying to analyze the situation. He felt about a foot tall next to the guy, not because Kenny was tall, but because he wore nice clothes, had sunglasses that probably cost more than some cars in the parking lot, and had an air about him that said, I’m important.
“Yeah, I’ve had those kinds of days myself,” Tim finally said.
Kenny flashed a million-dollar smile—the kind you’re not born with but pay for—patted Tim on the shoulder, and shook hands. “Good to hear, man. Your place is right over there. Good luck.”
Tim took his spot and tested out the radio. Both Kyle and Jamie could hear him loud and clear.
“Don’t be timid up there,” Jamie said. “Speak up and we’ll get each other through this.”
“You’ll never guess who I just talked with up here. Your old pal from the school. Kenny.”
“What?” Jamie said.
It was at that point that he knew he needed to find quick access to the volume control because her voice nearly pierced his eardrums. Even the guys around him turned to look. Most of them had beer bellies and ancient hats with sweat stains that looked older than he was.
“All right, we’re coming to the green flag,” Tim said when the pace car peeled away. “You know what to do.”
It was a single-file start, and as soon as the cars crossed the start/finish line, Tim could tell why the racing here was so popular. The people jumped to their feet, cheering as the engines screamed in a perfect blend of men (and girl) and machine. Tim took a quick look at the surrounding area—the trees and the rolling green around the track—and thought this would be a great place to live. He loved the sound of cars going fast.
Tim wasn’t sure how much Jamie wanted him to talk, but things were so bunched up at the beginning of the race that there was nothing to tell her. When he saw she was clear on the outside or inside, he told her, but he didn’t try to maneuver her around the track. She had been doing this a long time, and he didn’t want to step on her toes.
“We’ve got a problem,” Jamie said. “Engine’s not firing right—like it lost a plug.”
“Just one or more?” Kyle said.
“Feels like we’ve still got seven cylinders,” Jamie said.
“We can go with seven on this track,” Kyle said. “Keep the pedal down. You’re looking good.”
Tim kept his eye on Jamie’s car, then remembered something Scotty had said about a spotter watching the whole track. On lap 40, just before the break in the race, a car in the middle of the pack got loose and crashed into the wall in turn three.
“Yellow flag,” Tim said. “Got a few cars behind you in a problem.”
“Ten-four,” Jamie said.
The pace car came out. Then the red flag dropped. Tim alerted Jamie, and the entire field stopped in turn one.
“What’s up?” Jamie said.
“The guy who hit the wall needs some medical attention,” Tim said. “Hang tight.”
Kenny came over to Tim and handed him a Coca-Cola. The top was off and Kenny was smiling. “Want a cold drink?”
Tim looked at it and something flashed in his brain—a memory he wanted to forget about Daytona and some “friends” who had turned out to be anything but. “No thanks,” he said.
Chapter 10
Trouble
WHEN THE RACE RESUMED, Jamie could tell there was something seriously wrong with the car. She was fighting just to stay off the wall in the corners and losing spots with every lap.
“Keep at it,” Kyle said. “Just two more laps and everybody comes in.”
She strained with all her might to keep her speed up and stay in control, but the car was slowing. “I don’t think it’s the engine this time.”
“Hang in there,” Kyle said. “It could be vapor lock from being stopped out there.”
“Doesn’t sound like vapor lock if she’s having trouble handling the car,” Tim said.
“Yeah, it feels like a strut or something. I can’
t control the thing at speed.”
“Hang on to it as best you can this last lap,” Kyle said. “We’ll be ready for you when you get here.”
Jamie limped into the pits. She helped Kellen with the fuel while Kyle jacked the car up and climbed under. She popped the hood and immediately saw a fried spark plug wire. They’d have to make it to the end down one cylinder.
From underneath came Kyle’s muffled voice. “You were right. It’s the rear axle. Spindle’s out on the driver’s side.”
Jamie knew enough about that part of the car to realize she was done if they didn’t get the spindle back in place. But if something was wrong inside, she’d have very little control. “Can you get it back in?”
“I can try, but if it comes loose again it’s probably going to be worse. Like driving a bear chasing honeybees.”
Tim ran into the pit area, breathing hard and white as a sheet. It looked like he’d run all the way from the grandstand. He glanced at Jamie, then got on his knees and looked under the car as Kyle explained the problem.
“Let me take a shot at it,” Tim said. “If you slide it in and the sprockets find their place, there’s a chance it’ll be okay.”
Jamie just shook her head at Tim. He went into mechanic mode as soon as he saw Kyle’s tools. The track manager gave a signal for five minutes more on the pit stop. Then she saw Thor walking toward her. He was in first place and enjoying it.
“Having a rough time out there?” he said.
“Problem with the rear axle,” Jamie said.
“Oh, that’s not good. Too bad you won’t be in the second half.”
Tim scooted out from under the car. “She’ll be there.” He scooted back under again.
Thor smiled and cocked his head. “Well, guess I’d better mosey back to my ride and see if I can’t get another win.”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “Just don’t get too comfortable up there.”
Kyle stood and wiped the grease from his hands. “Where’d you get this Tim kid? He’s an animal under there—like he was born with an air wrench in his hand.”
