by Chris Fabry
“And all 12 Chase contenders are right in there hoping they can get more points,” a commentator said.
“Here comes Butch Devalon pushing ahead on the inside now to retake the lead.”
“He’s not giving up.”
“No, he’s not, and neither is the #16 and the #14 right beside him.”
“You can bet Dale Maxwell is trying his best to push them forward so he can move over ahead of Devalon and get a push from him.”
“With all that’s been going on between those two, he’s likely to get more than a push.”
Jamie laughed and looked at Tim, who was into the race. He was leaning against the wall near the Maxwell team, watching intently. Her mom was on the war wagon, standing by the railing with Kellen right next to her, his hands balled into fists.
“Whoa,” the announcer said.
“Trouble!” another said.
“There’s smoke coming from the #33 engine on the outside, and the caution flag comes out here on lap 186. What a bad break for that team here at the end of the 500 miles.”
“Looks like we’ll get a green-white-checkered.”
Jamie paced near the team. Her dad didn’t need more fuel. His tires were iffy. A few cars hit pit road, but the leaders stayed out, including her dad. When the green flag waved on lap 191, there were two laps to go. Her dad was on the outside, second car in line. Devalon led on the inside.
The white flag flew, and as far as Jamie could tell, her dad was in third place—until the middle lane opened up and two team members came from the high side, followed by four other cars. On the back straightaway they were three wide.
Every person in the stands and on the infield was on their feet, yelling. Jamie ran to the wall to see the finish for herself. As she passed the war wagon there was a screech of metal and smoke. She glanced at the monitor where Chloe Snowe stood.
“Field’s frozen,” she said.
“Where’s Dad?” Jamie said as cars passed the start line.
“I think he was fifth when it was frozen—”
“No, I mean where is he now?” Jamie interrupted.
Chloe looked back at the track, then at the screen. “He’s at the bottom of the track. He’s getting out of his car.”
The replay showed that the #21 car had hit the wall hard and flipped over, scraping its top and coming down the track. On its way, two cars had crashed into it, making the flames worse.
When the TV coverage cut live to the track, her dad was at the #21 car’s window, pulling the net down, waving at the emergency crew. He jumped back as a flame burst out the window. Then dived back in. Seconds later he pulled the driver out of the window and dragged him away from the car.
/////
Tim stood outside the infield care center with the rest of the Maxwell family and a gaggle of reporters and cameras. Dale finally came out with a bandage over one eye. His eyebrows had been singed, and there was also a bandage on one arm. Before he answered any questions, he hugged and kissed Mrs. Maxwell. Jamie and Kellen hugged him too.
“Dale, describe what happened out there,” a reporter said.
“Well, I haven’t seen the replay, but I saw Jimmy hit hard into the wall above me, and the #18 got into me from below and I drifted down. When everybody got past, I saw the fire and that Jimmy wasn’t moving, so I ran over there.”
“Do you have any injuries?”
“Just burned my eyebrows a little. It wasn’t anything big.”
“And what about Jimmy?”
“He was knocked out for a few minutes. I heard him talking when they got him to the care center, though. First time I was ever glad to hear Jimmy talking.”
Everybody laughed nervously.
“You knew the field had been frozen when you climbed out of your car, right?” the reporter said.
Dale snickered. “At that point you don’t care who froze what or whether you come in third or 43rd. You just want to get your friend out of harm’s way.”
“You finished seventh. How do you feel about your chances for the rest of the Chase?”
“I feel pretty good. We seem to be getting stronger as the season goes on, which is the way you want it. If I can run like we did today the rest of the season, we’ll be in good shape.”
“Butch Devalon won the race today. Your feud with him has heated up over the last few weeks. Any comment?”
Dale smiled. “I don’t have anything against Butch. I hope he does well. Of course I’d rather see him in my rearview than ahead of me, but I’ve got nothing against him. He knows that.”
Dale put a hand on Tim’s shoulder as they walked away. “You have a good day out here?”
“Yeah, it was good,” Tim said. “Thanks for helping get me back here.”
“Where’d you learn that trick with the hose and the funnel?”
“Just something I thought up on the spot.”
“That pretty much saved my hide,” Dale said. “I’d have come out of there like a piece of burnt toast if you hadn’t fixed that thing up.”
Tim nodded.
They walked to the hauler, and the whole #21 team came out to meet Dale, clapping and patting him on the back. Dale gave them an update on Jimmy’s condition, then went inside to change out of his fire suit.
Tim waited with Kellen as the teams packed up—something he’d done a thousand times before. It was kind of nice not to have to do anything, not to get his hands dirty, but part of him wished he was still doing that because it would mean his dad would still be alive.
He wandered past the haulers and watched people at a fence overlooking the trucks. A woman with short hair looked straight at him. He did a double take. Could it be?
“Tim,” Dale called, “you ready?”
Tim watched the woman turn and disappear. He wondered if the woman could really have been her.
Chapter 27
Big Day
TIM WOKE UP early on Thursday. There was no school because of some teacher study day, so he figured he’d sleep in. But the smells wafting down the stairs from the kitchen overwhelmed him and made his eyes open. He looked at the clock and rolled over, then stuffed a pillow over his head. The morning sun was bright through the slats of the window blinds.
When he couldn’t stand it any longer, he got out of the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, looking at himself in the mirror. He needed a haircut. He needed some of that medicine Jamie used for her acne—though she had none compared to him. He needed to work out more. He looked skinny, even to himself.
He dressed and shoved a #14 hat over his bed hair. If he didn’t take a shower, his hair stood up in the back and made him look like a walking chicken.
He was surprised to hear more voices than just Dale’s and Mrs. Maxwell’s in the kitchen. Jamie was saying something to Kellen when Tim turned the corner into the kitchen and almost took his head off on a streamer stretched across the doorway. Everybody stopped talking and looked at him like he was some kind of alien. Eggs were on a hot plate, sausage and bacon were sizzling in the pan, and there were pancakes and fresh syrup from one of the little stands alongside the road. Of course, Mrs. Maxwell also had a big bowl of fresh fruit on the table—bananas and strawberries and grapes and pineapple and even kiwis. That’s what Jamie was munching on.
Tim looked around at the kitchen like it was some foreign country. Usually they didn’t eat breakfast together because of their different schedules. Then he saw it. Above the light hanging over the middle of the table was a sign saying, Happy Birthday.
Dale started the song, and the others laughed at how off-key he was. When they got to “Happy birthday, dear Tim . . . ,” Tim started laughing and shaking his head.
“What’s the matter?” Dale said. “Think we’d forget?”
“It’s not that I thought you’d forget,” Tim said. “I didn’t even remember.”
“You forgot your own birthday?” Kellen said.
“We didn’t make much of it when I was with my dad,” Tim said. “We’d have
dinner out, maybe, and he’d usually buy me something. . . .”
Tim’s voice trailed off as he thought of his birthday a year ago. He’d gone to his father’s funeral. Charlie Hale had delivered the rest of Tim’s belongings from the hauler. Tyson and Vera picked him up afterward, apologizing for not making it to the service. Something about car problems and taking a wrong turn, but both of them were dressed for an all-day picnic, not a funeral. Then the long drive to the Slades’ place.
“I made all your favorites,” Mrs. Maxwell said, putting a plate at the end of the table. She poured him a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice and uncovered a dish of hash browns that were dark and crunchy the way Tim liked them. They were lightly salted and peppered and ready to douse with ketchup.
“Wow,” Tim said. “I’ve never even seen a breakfast like this at a restaurant. I can’t wait until dinner.”
Kellen ran into the living room and came back with a package. “Can he open it now?”
“Let’s let him eat first,” Dale said. “We’ll open presents later.”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” Kellen pleaded. “Just one? Please?” He begged like a puppy that needed to go outside really bad.
“Go ahead, Dad,” Jamie said. “It’s just one present.”
“You want to open one?” Dale said.
Tim shrugged. “There’s more than one?”
Dale nodded to Kellen and he handed it to Tim. Tim opened it gingerly, but Kellen obviously couldn’t stand that because he edged in, ripping the paper and throwing it around the room.
“Whoa,” Tim said, pulling out a shiny jacket. On the back it said, Velocity High School.
“You’ve been here long enough to show some school spirit,” Kellen said.
“Put it on,” Jamie said.
“I don’t want to get ketchup on it.”
“Silly, you can take it off again before you eat.”
“Okay.” Tim put it on and everybody clapped. He bowed, trying to remember when he’d ever had this much attention.
Tim ate until he felt like his stomach would pop. Then Dale drove them to the local go-kart track. He paid for an all-day pass and even got in and raced Tim, Kellen, and Jamie. At lunchtime, Mrs. Maxwell brought subs, and Dale had to head over to Lowe’s Motor Speedway with the crew.
“I’ll see you tonight,” Dale said.
Tim shook hands with him. “I really appreciate this. It’s . . . well, a lot more than I expected.”
Dale smiled. “You deserve a celebration. I’m glad you’re having a good time.”
Chapter 28
Gifts
JAMIE FELT comfortable around Tim, not as a boyfriend or romantic interest but as a younger brother who knew a lot about racing. After all, he was a year and a half younger than her—an eternity to people her age—and he wasn’t as annoying as Kellen. She loved her younger brother and would defend him like a mother lion, but she also got tired of him at times.
Jamie wanted to give Tim something for his birthday but couldn’t think of anything good. Her mom suggested she take him to the opening of a new action movie. It was a true guy flick with a few car chases and lots of explosions, but Jamie didn’t mind those. She invited Cassie along too.
“Jamie’s got a date!” Kellen said when he found out at dinner.
Jamie could have twisted the little runt’s arm off right there, but she held her tongue. “Not a date, just a present. Cassie’s springing for ice cream afterward.”
Tim looked a little uneasy.
“You want to go, don’t you?” she said.
“Yeah, sure. I’ve been wanting to see it.”
He said it in a convincing way, but somehow Jamie picked up that he was a little nervous.
They ate dinner with the family, and Tim opened his other presents. One was a collectable die-cast car he’d mentioned to her dad, and another was an updated cell phone with the coolest design she’d ever seen. It was thinner than Tim’s black comb he kept in his back pocket, and it looked like a car dashboard when it was opened.
Her mom handed Tim a heavy, book-shaped box. “This is from all of us.”
Tim opened it and pulled out a devotional book for NASCAR fans with a bright cover. He flipped through it and thanked her, then picked up a new Bible, the same kind that Jamie used. Tim opened the front flap and read what her mom had inscribed there. “‘To Tim, from the Maxwells, with all our love.’
“Thank you,” Tim said. “I’ve never had a Bible of my own, except the old ratty one of my dad’s. This is real nice.” There was an uncomfortable silence, and Tim looked at each of them and fumbled with the Bible and the devotional, trying to get them back in the box. When he did, he shifted from one foot to the other in an awkward dance. Then he kind of smiled, though he tried hard not to show his front teeth for some reason.
“I don’t think I’ve ever had a day like this one. I had a lot of fun with you guys. And I don’t know why you all are so nice to me. I probably don’t say thank you enough. But I appreciate it.”
There were tears in her mom’s eyes. She smoothed the tablecloth out, dabbed at an eye, and went over to Tim and hugged him. When she pulled back, her eyes were red. “Happy birthday, Timmy.”
Kellen sighed. “I thought this was supposed to be a party, not a boo-hoo fest.”
That made Tim laugh, and Dale came over and put an arm around him. “We’re proud of you, Tim. Now you two better get going and pick up Cassie.”
Jamie grabbed her keys and tried to wipe her eyes so no one would see her. “We’ll be back a little late.”
“Oh, Tim, I almost forgot,” her mom said. “Some mail came for you today. I’ll just put it on your bed, and you can see it when you get back.”
Chapter 29
The Movie
TIM SAT UP front until they got to Cassie’s house. It was a nice place with white shutters, a picket fence, and flowers growing out of every pot on the front porch. It looked like there were flowers growing everywhere.
“Cassie’s parents will want to say hello,” Jamie said. “Why don’t you go in with me?”
“We gonna make the movie on time? I like to see the trailers.”
“We’re fine,” Jamie said.
“Okay.” Tim went to the porch, and the smell was like walking into one of those candle stores at the mall. It smelled so good that he wanted to bottle the aroma and sell it to little old ladies who loved flowers.
The Strowers were nice people with nice clothes and nice smiles. They even had a nice dog who didn’t bark, and Tim wondered if it was a Christian dog. It just sat there looking at him with floppy ears and didn’t move—except for his tail. Big eyes studying Tim like it knew he wasn’t one of “them” and that he’d probably never crack open that Bible the Maxwells gave him except maybe to make people think he was reading it.
They chatted for a few minutes. Then Cassie said they should be going.
Tim opened the car door for her and Cassie said she’d sit in the back, but Tim beat her to the seat. When she got in, Cassie turned and handed him a card. He tried not to roll his eyes or anything, but he could guess what kind of card it would be. Probably a picture of Jesus on the front with his arms open, begging Tim to become a Christian. Or maybe a picture of an eagle that said, “Soar for the Lord!” Or a card that said a donation had been made in his name for some missionary in Tora Bora. Something like that.
He opened it and found a simple card that said “Happy Birthday” on a cake. Inside was a gift card to an online NASCAR store. Cassie had written a note on the blank space.
Tim,
I hope you have a great birthday. Enjoy your gift card. Thanks for being a friend. I love it when you talk in church.
Your friend, Cassie
Tim felt goose bumps down his back. No special verse for him. No prayer for his soul. Just a heartfelt message. Cassie was one of those sold-out Christians who Tim thought at first was only interested in getting him to come to church and be like them, but the more he hung around w
ith her, the more it seemed like she really liked him. He could count on one hand the number of people who fell into that category, outside the Maxwells.
“Thanks,” Tim said, slipping the gift card into his wallet. “This is great.”
“Splurge on yourself,” Cassie said. “Get those #14 woolly socks.”
They were inside the #1 theater when Tim asked if either wanted popcorn or something to drink. He said he’d be right back.
I can’t believe I’m sitting with two gorgeous girls, Tim thought. Some birthday.
He checked the board above the concessions stand and couldn’t believe the prices. He and his dad hadn’t gone to many movies, but when they did, his dad would never buy popcorn or candy because he said it was so expensive. Tim always thought his dad was just being cheap, but now he knew why the man carried Raisinets in his pocket into the theater. He couldn’t go back empty-handed, though, or Jamie and Cassie would think he was cheap.
“Can I help you?” the girl behind the counter said.
Tim looked at the prices again. The difference between a small and a huge popcorn was only a couple of dollars, so he went ahead and bought a bucket and hoped Cassie and Jamie would share some. He got a few pushes of butter too, handed over his money, and jammed the change in his pocket.
As he turned to head back to the theater, he bumped into a black-jacketed guy with sunglasses and spilled most of his popcorn. Butter dripped on the guy’s boots, which Tim guessed cost more than all the popcorn in the place.
“So you’re clumsy and a cheater,” Chad Devalon said. He hadn’t seen how many butter spots were on his boots or his jeans that looked so tight Tim didn’t know how the guy could breathe.
“Sorry. I didn’t see you there,” Tim said.
Chad finally noticed the butter on his pants and his boots and jumped back, cursing. He grabbed a few napkins from a dispenser and bent over, trying to wipe the spots away, but it didn’t do any good.
“You are such a loser,” Chad muttered, gritting his teeth. He stood up and slapped the popcorn tub out of Tim’s hands, scattering the rest on the floor.
