Speed Freak (14 page)

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?’

‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘Big-time hexing needed.’

Ginnie slapped my arm. ‘Don’t encourage her. She’s starting to believe in it.’

Colin said, ‘You bloody shouldn’t, Nina. Look what happened Saturday.’

‘It’s not my fault you lost! You played rotten — the whole team. Not even a titanium hex could fix that.’

‘Hung over,’ James said. ‘Good party, though.’

Lucky I hadn’t gone. Dad might have had something to say if I’d got pissed.

WE LEFT MIDDAY
Thursday — more time off school for Felix and me. I reckon he really would have stowed away if Erica had said he couldn’t go. But she seemed
to have got used to him tagging along with us.

When he dozed off in the heat of the van, I said to Dad, ‘Will she ever let him race?’

‘Hard to tell. She’s hoping he’ll be happy with just watching.’

I snorted. That kid was busting to race.

‘One step at a time, Archie. She’s come a long way already.’

‘So has her kid.’

Dad nodded. ‘He sure has. That’s the only reason she can get her head around letting him come and watch.’

It was a long drive to Auckland. I passed time by texting Kyla and listening to music with my headphones on. Felix was bound to start asking
Are we there yet?
and I figured Dad could handle that. When we pulled up at the motel, several of my mates were already there — Ollie, Josh and Lewis. No sign of Sel or Jack, but they could be at a different motel.

At the track next morning, the kart felt good and we didn’t need to do any tweaking, so I was able to concentrate on learning the track. I’d raced on it before, but not as often as Craig had. The way he was strolling around, you’d think he owned the whole outfit. He kept well clear of Silver, though.

I had an interesting encounter with her during practice just before lunch. I came up behind her, didn’t tap the back of her kart — asking for trouble to do that — but she knew there was someone chasing her. We came up to the top corner, I outbraked her, but she jabbed at the steering, locked up the brakes and took the corner sideways. I avoided the crash by going wide on to the grass.
Kamikaze Silver strikes again
. I made sure I kept a distance of half the track between us after that.

Craig was in my ear as soon as we came off the track. ‘See? She needs to be banned. I saw what she did. I’ll back you up. We’ll go to the stewards right now.’

‘You please yourself,’ I said, ‘but I’m going where the food is.’

His face went red. ‘You’ll be sorry. Don’t come whining to me, that’s all.’

‘I’ll try not to. Come on. The canteen’s calling.’ I’d taken a couple of steps before he caught me up. I changed the subject to get his mind off Silver. ‘How’s the new mechanic working out?’

Good choice of topic. He gushed about the wonders of Gus the Mechanic as we walked, as we bought our food, and he was still at it when we sat down.

After the lunch break, I used the practice time to push the limits, to find out where they were — went off a few times. Worth it.

The next morning I did the tuning run, then before the qualifiers we took off the practice tyres and bolted on the wheels fitted with my sponsor’s new ones. I was glad of that sponsorship. Craig didn’t need it, and it was saving Dad and me a heap of money over the series.

Gran texted to say they’d arrived and where were we? ‘I’ll go and find them,’ Felix said, and raced off.

‘Useful kid,’ Dad said.

The three of them came back, Felix carrying Gran’s folding chair. We got the hugging and kissing out of the way, then Dad, Felix and Grandad came down to the grid with me for the qualifier. ‘Good luck, son,’ said Dad.

‘Beat the other bastards,’ said Grandad.

‘Stay on the track, Archie,’ said Felix.

Good advice.

I was pleased with my time for the qualifier. Craig might have been faster, but there’d be nothing much in it if he was. Bummer if he got pole by a miserable fraction of a second, though.

‘Happy with that?’ Dad asked.

‘Yeah. All good.’

Craig came over as we were lifting the kart on to the trolley. ‘Going out for the second run, Archie? You’ll need to if you want to beat my time.’

‘That so? What’d you do?’

He did his usual trick of exaggerating.

I laughed. The time was a second faster than mine. No way.

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ He ambled off.

I frowned, staring at his back. That was something new. A whole second? Nah. That couldn’t be right — Craig and his games. Who needed them?

He was down at the notice board, ready and waiting, when the steward posted the times and the grid positions for the heats. So was Josh. He stared at the list, said something to Craig, then raced over to meet the rest of us.

‘Craig’s on pole. He’s a whole second faster than you, Archie.’

That stopped us dead. ‘Sure you read that right?’ Ollie asked.

‘Yeah. I did. Unfortunately.’

‘This I have to see with my own two eyes,’ said Lewis.

So did I — but there it was: Craig Bateman on pole, with me beside him, a whole second slower.

‘Shit. The bloody day’s going to be a walk-over,’ Sel said.

Not if I could help it.

But by the end of the first heat I was worried. I pushed the limits, driving to the absolute max of the kart and my skill. Craig crossed the finish line a length ahead of me. What the hell was happening?

I shook my head at him as we slid out of our seats. ‘Mate — you’ve got wings. Well done, you bastard.’

He laughed. ‘Never mind, Archie. A good second place — nothing to be ashamed of.’

‘How about you give us lessons?’ Ollie asked, only half joking.

Craig strutted across to Gus, slung an arm round his shoulders and said, ‘It’s my brilliant mechanic. Ask him for lessons.’ He actually smirked at Dad.

Dad didn’t react — just got on with the job of lifting my kart on to the trolley, helped by Grandad and Felix.

Back at our tent, Grandad patted my shoulder. ‘It’s his home track, Archie. Can make all the difference.’ But I could tell he was just as puzzled as I was.

Felix popped out from behind the trolley. ‘Did he cheat again, Archie? Did he jump the start again?’

I shook my head. ‘No. If anything, he was a bit slow.’

Grandad said thoughtfully, ‘There’s other ways of cheating. He’s tried one way. Doesn’t mean he won’t try others.’ He scuffed Felix’s hair. ‘The young fella could be on to something here.’

‘He’d be an idiot to rig the kart,’ I said. ‘He’d get caught at the tech check and disqualified.’ You couldn’t drop a DQ result — Craig knew that as well as I did. If he did get disqualified, I’d be leading the Challenge. ‘He wouldn’t do it.’

‘He might if they put everything back to how it should be before the final,’ Dad said.

‘Like what, though? What could give him that sort of
advantage?’ I wasn’t convinced. There was too much at stake to do something that dumb and risk getting caught.

Dad and Grandad went into their thinking pose. Felix copied them. I took myself outside for some
head-clearing
time.

ON SUNDAY, WHILE
I
was sitting on the grid waiting for our second heat to start, I went over my tactics for the race. If Craig was slow off the start again, I might be able to get past and grab the inside. He’d get past me, the way he was flying round the track, but there was no point in handing him the win on a gold plate. He could bloody work for it.

The steward flagged us off. We drove the rolling laps. The second the lights went out, I accelerated. Craig was slow off the mark again, and I got through. What the hell was he playing at? Something was seriously strange. But I had a race to drive — to win if I possibly could.

I drove hard out. No messing around at eighty per cent. I gave it a hundred per cent. He passed me on the straight. On the
straight,
for hell’s sake. I couldn’t catch him. He was always half a kart length in front. Sometimes a whole length.

We cruised into the pits. Ollie took off his helmet. ‘Okay. That’s it. I’m enrolling for mechanic lessons from Gus.’

‘He’s gold, all right,’ Lewis said. ‘Any more where he came from?’

Craig smiled and strutted — very graciously. He always drove better when he was winning. He sure was
driving like a pro today. I felt like a beginner.

Gran’s hot soup and scones warmed me but didn’t make me feel any more cheerful. ‘Never mind, Archie,’ she said. ‘You’ve done your best.’

But I did mind. I minded that, realistically, I’d lost any chance of winning the Challenge. No trip to Portugal for Archie Barrington. What I minded even more was not driving as well as Craig. I’d always thought there wasn’t much between us, except that I did better than he did when the going got rough.

Dad and Grandad busied themselves with checking the kart, their faces grim. Felix was sniffing back tears. I couldn’t stand it — I got myself out of there.

I DROVE THAT
pre-final with everything I had — pushing the limits, driving on automatic with every sense tuned to the job in hand.

Craig won by a full half second.

I took a few deep breaths and drove the slow-down lap, trying to get my head around the fact that he’d be the one winning the Challenge. After today he’d be three points ahead of me, and if he drove like this at Rotorua — goodbye Portugal.

Craig put his kart across the scales, followed by me, Ollie, then Lewis. We got out of our seats, took off the helmets, stretched out the muscles and went to meet our pit crews as normal. Except that the chief steward stepped in. ‘First four karts to stay in the tech shed for a compliance check.’

‘What!’ Craig yelped. ‘This is the pre-final, not the fecking final!’ Ollie, Lewis and I stared at the steward, and then at Craig who was just about hopping with fury. ‘This is ridiculous! We’ve never had to do this before. It’s not in the rules.’

Lewis said, ‘What’s the problem, Craig? You’ve got nothing to hide. Just shut up and get it over with.’

Ollie kept his mouth shut. So did I. We’d both noticed Gus’s face — red and frowning. And Craig was a touch agitated.
Cheating?
Had Dad said something to the stewards? My head was a mess. I kind of hoped Craig was cheating, but another part of me didn’t want to believe it.

The steward began with my kart. He did the usual scraping of the tyres to get the samples to send away for doping analysis, but not even Craig would be dumb enough to use something on his tyres to soften them. Next, the steward ran his tape measure over my back axle. No problem. Same for Ollie, same for Lewis. Craig stamped a foot and kicked a rear wheel.

‘Step back from the kart,’ the steward ordered.

Craig took a step back and nearly thumped into a couple of drivers who’d just come off the scales. They took off their helmets — Jack and Silver. Craig roared at her, ‘Who d’you think you’re looking at? Bitch!’

She didn’t drop her eyes and she stayed where she was. I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of Silver Adams.

The steward ignored the ranting as he ran the tape over Craig’s back axle. ‘Thirteen millimetres too wide.’ His voice was totally expressionless. ‘Disqualified.’

Lewis gaped at the steward, then at Craig. ‘You’ve been
cheating?
Jumping the start wasn’t enough?’

The steward looked interested in that but didn’t comment. Craig stormed out of the tech shed, followed by Gus. I should have been feeling good, but all I felt was sick.

Dad, Grandad and Felix pushed my kart back to our base. All around us, the word was spreading out in visible ripples.
Cheating? Craig?
Shock, disbelief, disgust.
But the entire place must’ve heard him yelling at Gus, ‘It was your idea, you moron!’

‘Liar! You suggested it in the first place!’

Then Mr Bateman got into the middle of it. ‘Both of you. Back to the caravan. Now.’

Gus followed him, swearing and cursing. Nina’s hex was small fish in comparison. Mr Bateman stopped dead, spun around and fixed his eyes on Gus. He didn’t say a word, but Gus shut up. Not another squeak out of him.

Dad squeezed my shoulder. ‘Nail that final, Archie. Forget about Craig. This could well be the lesson he’s been needing for a good while now.’

I went off by myself for some quiet time to get my head back where it needed to be. Getting disqualified was serious. You weren’t allowed to drop a DQ race from the final total. Craig wouldn’t have a hope of winning the Challenge now. It was dumb to cheat, especially when he might have beaten me fair and square.

Bugger it. I didn’t need to be thinking about him, or about the series. My job was to get in the head space for the next race. With Craig relegated to the back of the grid, I’d be on pole, with Ollie beside me on two

Footsteps sounded behind me. It was Ollie. ‘You reckon he’ll stay for the final?’

I shrugged. ‘Dunno. It’d take guts to do that. He never likes being at the back of the grid either.’

We stood in silence for a bit, then Ollie said, ‘Hard to stop thinking about it, eh?’

‘You know what I can’t understand? That extra width on the back — it shouldn’t make such a difference. So why the hell was he that much faster than the rest of us?’

Ollie swore, then kicked at the ground. ‘They
should’ve given his bloody kart the full compliance check.’

But if they’d done that, Craig wouldn’t have been able to compete in the final. I wondered if that was why Mr Bateman had hustled him and Gus into the caravan. Had he been in on the scam as well? Or was he just used to springing into action when the shit hit the fan?

Not my worry. I had a final to win. Time to get back to the others and go down to the grid.

But it was impossible to stop thinking about Craig, mainly because there was no sign of him. Was he going to tough it out and race, or was he going to wimp out and run? His father might have something to say about which way the cookie would crumble. We stood around waiting for the call to start our engines, but nobody came right out and said anything. Instead, we kept glancing to where their caravan was parked, looking to see if he was going to show.

He left it till the last possible second before he came down to the grid. Didn’t spare a nod for any of us. Gus wasn’t with him — it was his father who helped him lift the kart off the trolley. First time for everything, I guess. Like it was the first time for Craig to be at the back of the grid in a final.

Okay, Craig. That’s it. Get out of my head.

I got in my kart and did the prelim work. Focused my mind on the race, reviewed the track, worked out tactics. The starter let us go. Round we went in strict formation for the rolling laps. No problems.

I took the lead as soon as the lights gave us the signal. My plan was to stay in front, to stay on the track and not do anything stupid. This was my race to win. Ollie chased me. Lewis was close behind, hunting me down.
Josh and Sel wouldn’t be far away either.

But this wasn’t a race to drive at a hundred per cent. This was a take-no-risks race. A stay-on-the-track-andwin race.

The laps counted down. I held the lead, drove smoothly, drove with determination. Three laps before the end, I was aware of karts going off behind me — caught a glimpse of the tangle as I came out of the hairpin. Nothing to worry me. They were off on the grass. There was only one kart still there when I came round in the next lap: 47. Silver’s kart.

Don’t think about it.

Final lap.

Chequered flag. Ollie swinging out to try to overtake me. I crossed the line ahead of him.

I’d won.

Weird, I felt let down — as if Craig had taken something away. I’d wanted to beat him fair and square.

Then I thought about the heats and the pre-final. I’d driven beyond my normal limits in all three of those races. He’d made me push myself further than I knew I could go.

By the time I rolled into the pits, put the kart across the scales and climbed out, the reality of the win had kicked in. I was leading the Challenge — and I deserved to be leading.

Felix leapt at me, knocking his head against my rib protectors. ‘Archie! You won!
Awesome!’

Dad and Grandad had identical pleased expressions on their faces.

‘You earned that win, Archie,’ Dad said.

I grinned back at him. ‘How did Craig go?’

‘Achieved his aim, I think,’ Dad said dryly. ‘He
knocked Silver off the track. Probably lost him a few places too. He came in sixteenth.’

‘She might put in a protest,’ I said. Craig would, if she’d done it to him. It was hard to know what Silver would do.

Gran had the afternoon tea ready and waiting when we got back to the tent. I was scoffing my second slice of bacon and egg pie when Dad said, ‘Pick up your cup, Archie. We need to drink a toast to Felix.’

‘Huh? Why?’

Felix was puzzled too. ‘Archie won the race. We should say congratulations to Archie.’

Grandad said, ‘We’ll do that later. But cheers to you first, Felix. You asked if Craig was cheating. Got us thinking.’

‘You talked to the stewards?’ The surprises were sure coming thick and fast today.

‘Just dropped a word in the right place,’ Dad said. ‘I suggested they have a look at his previous lap times and compare them with today’s. With yours too. You drove bloody well, by the way. Best you’ve ever done.’

We lifted our cups. ‘Cheers, Felix.’

‘Thanks, bro,’ I said.

Ever seen a grin split a kid’s face in half ?

Jack erupted into the tent. ‘Old man Bateman’s sacked Gus! He’s gone storming off, so the old man has to get the caravan home himself.’

‘Tell him you’ll drive the Audi back for him,’ I said.

It took Jack a couple of seconds to remember he didn’t have the right sort of licence to drive on the road.

Nobody was surprised that, for the second time, Craig and his father hadn’t waited around for prize-giving. I gave the obligatory speech, thanking my sponsors for
the tyres, Gran for the food, Dad, Grandad and my bro Felix for the technical expertise. He won a spot prize. It was a helmet. He was over the moon and up among the planets. Dad muttered, ‘The fat will be in the fire now.’

Yes. Erica wouldn’t be quite as ecstatic as her son was. Dad cunningly let him ring her to tell her. Then he took the phone back and had a few minutes’ conversation where he took himself off to where we couldn’t hear. The rest of us got on with packing up.

We said our goodbyes to Gran and Grandad, then hit the road. As we were coming down the Bombay hills, Dad asked, ‘You sore?’

‘Just the usual. No worries.’ But I did hurt more than usual. Poor old body, it always took a battering during a race day. No suspension. G-forces. Bruising. I didn’t regret a single ache and I would do it all over again next month in Rotorua.