Speed Freak (6 page)

SUNDAY WAS ANOTHER
scorcher. It was a day for wearing swimming togs rather than kitting up in race gear. Would I have swapped? Not on your life.

Our heat was called. I used the waiting time on the grid to still my mind, to clear it of everything except the track, the race and my tactics. I visualised the start. Craig would try to cut across me to grab the inside.

Breathe. Relax. Focus.

I was ready. The starter let us go. Round we went in formation. The lights went out.

Craig jumped the start. Not by much, and not enough for the stewards to get excited, but he accelerated early enough to cut me off and take the lead.

I’d think about it later. Right now, I had a job to do and that was to get past him, stay on the track and stay legal.

I chased him, right on his tail, for an entire lap — just letting him know I was there. The next lap, I snuck past him at Two Tree. Yay for last week’s practising. The race was now mine. All I had to do was be consistent, be fast and stay on the track. Every corner, he was there, tapping the rear of my kart. Every straight, he popped out from my slipstream. But I had the inside and he had to fall back in the corners.

The final lap. He was there beside me again, moving
his body backwards and forwards, urging more speed from his engine. I held myself still and just drove.

We hurtled the final few metres side by side. Had I won? I didn’t know. We circled back round the track, slowing to leave at the pit exit.

‘Not bad,’ Dad said.

‘Who won?’

‘You. By three-hundredths. How come he beat you off the start?’

I shrugged, but once we were back in our tent, I said, ‘The prick jumped the start.’

Dad looked thoughtful. ‘He’s out to win then. He won’t be happy you got past him. Put him out of your mind, Archie. We drive our own race.’

We ate lunch, then started going over the kart, tightening and checking everything. Our heads were down in the engine when my mates arrived.

‘Archie! We made it. You wouldn’t believe the drama we had finding the bloody place.’ They crowded round us, laughing and chattering.

Dad glanced up and caught my eye. I said, ‘Great to see you, guys. How about I give you the grand tour?’

‘Put your suit on properly,’ Ginnie said. ‘You’re making the place untidy.’

‘You’re not the only one.’ Silas looked around. Everybody in a racing suit had it unzipped and pulled down to waist level.

‘It’s hot,’ I said. ‘Come on, I’ll show you round.’

I did my best with the guide duties but my mind was on the track.

‘You won’t be on pole for the pre-final then?’ Ginnie asked after I told them about the heats. She sounded disappointed.

I pointed at the notice board. ‘That guy’s putting the positions up now. Let’s go have a look-see.’

Silver wandered along ahead of us, head down as always. Anna, the only other girl in the race, was beside her. They didn’t talk to each other.

‘Four,’ I said. ‘Could have been worse.’

Craig, as expected, had pole. A win and a second in the heats — he was always going to be on pole for the pre-final. Ollie was on two and Sel was beside me on three. Josh was behind us on five. Thanks to a picnic on the grass, Lewis was back on seven.

When we’d moved away from the notice board, I filled my mates in about who to watch for. ‘Craig’s the main opposition.’

‘Archie’s got an arch-rival,’ said Colin.

‘Sorry, old man,’ I said, ‘but that’s not the first time that joke’s been given an outing.’

‘We’ll boo him for you,’ Nina said. ‘Put a hex on his wheels.’

‘Keep an eye on Silver for me, will you? Kart 47. She’s the rogue in the pack.’ I gave them a brief explanation.

‘Sounds like she’s taking her anger out on the track,’ Nina said.

‘Yeah, but I don’t want to be her punching bag,’ I said. I showed them a good position to watch from, and left them to it.

‘Everything okay?’ I asked when I got back to base.

‘Spot on,’ Dad said. ‘And Grandad says text him after the final. Quote:
I’ll be in the bloody church watching a bloody wedding. Need something to stop me puking.
So don’t make him yell instead.’

‘I’ll do my best,’ I said.

THE PRE-FINAL STARTED
with no drama. No changes in position for the first lap and a half, then I got past Sel as we came out of the bend on to the back straight. Only Ollie and Craig to pick off now. I followed them through the tight section of the track, planning on sneaking past Ollie on the hairpin, but he had Craig in his sights. He braked early and lost time at the exit. I slipped under and through, and was off after Craig, hunting him down.

He’d be expecting somebody to have a go at him. He’d be alert and watchful.

I was right there on his tail as we drove the tight part of the track. I’d have been faster round Two Trees if he hadn’t been in my way. The hairpin was up ahead. Yes! I outbraked him and snuck through but, when I eased the power back on, the full kick wasn’t there and he took the lead again.

Bugger it, what was wrong? It wasn’t much — just enough to slow me down a fraction getting back up to full revs. Ollie passed me on the next bend, with Lewis right behind him. I managed to hold off Josh and the guy in Kart 42 but only by a whisker.

Fourth again. Could have been worse, and at least this one wasn’t my fault.

‘What’s wrong?’ Dad asked.

‘Not enough power coming out of the corners.’

We took the kart back to our base. I’d forgotten about my friends, but they arrived in a chattering, excited bunch, firing questions at full throttle.

‘Archie. Scram,’ said Dad.

I didn’t want to go, but knew he’d do better without me anyway.

‘So — that Silver,’ Ginnie said. ‘This kart was right behind her. She swung out to let him pass her, but then she changed her mind and went back.’

‘Bumped him right off the track,’ Silas said. ‘Awesome crash.’

‘The guy behind got the next kart up his rear end and the two of them spun out as well.’ James rubbed his face as if he couldn’t quite believe it. ‘Man, the racing’s fast. I hadn’t realised.’ He looked at me with a mix of respect and surprise.

I let their talk swirl around me. Keep well away from Silver — that would be the good idea of the year.

They went back to the grandstand to watch the seniors. I left them to it.

Dad had my kart outside with the engine running, his head tilted, listening. He reached in and switched it off. ‘Sounds okay now. I adjusted the jetting. Let’s hope that’s all it was.’

I HAD MY
work cut out if I wanted to win the final. Number four on the grid, with three good drivers to get past. I pulled on my helmet, got into my seat and settled myself into my prep.

My start was good. I cut across Lewis to pull ahead of him up the straight. Just Ollie and Craig to pick off.

Ollie helped me out by going wide on Clubhouse Corner. I got through, closing in on Craig, letting him know I was there, that I was after him, aiming to unsettle him.

But he was good.

We went smoothly into the right-hand bend. He drove a perfect line. He had that corner nailed, leaving the braking till the last second. I knew he would. I braked early, changing my line through the corner to duck in under him. I was past! The revs built up to full throttle, giving me full power.

I was leading with seven laps still to go.
Consistent, Archie. Go for smoothness and consistency.

Time after time I roared over the start/finish line, counting down the laps. Craig appeared on the straights, popping up on the edges of my vision. I drove my own race, not hard out but going at around eighty per cent capacity until the final two laps. Ninety per cent, that’s what I wanted — just pushing that little bit harder, hitting my braking points closer to the outside limits.

I forgot about Craig. I was in the zone, actions on automatic, in a world apart.

Final lap. Right-hander at the end of the straight, another straight, another right-hander. I held the kart steady. No need to get smart, no need to prove anything. Just keep driving.

The chequered flag, Craig edging up beside me too late. I was over the line, fractions of a second ahead of him. I slowed down, cruising back to the pits, a grin on my face and satisfaction oozing through every pore of my body. I’d done it.

I stayed with the kart while it was checked for compliance. Dad was waiting for me when I came back.

‘Kart okay, then?’

‘Perfect. Thanks, Dad.’

He held out his phone. Grandad’s text read:
V g

‘Short and to the point,’ said Dad. ‘He’ll be right stoked.’

My friends arrived in a noisy whirl. ‘That was
amazing
!’

‘You’re the man, Archie!’

‘We hexed him good!’

‘That number 19, he’s going to be so gutted.’ Craig was 19. He wouldn’t be gutted, though. He’d be furious, and probably taking it out on poor old Gary.

‘What happens now?’ James asked.

‘We hang about for a bit. Then it’s prize-giving.’

‘That’s worth staying for,’ said my helpful father. ‘Always enlightening listening to what Archie has to say.’

Which naturally had the effect of making them determined to hang around just to listen to my fabulous oratory.

I did my best not to disappoint them, or Craig. ‘First of all,’ I said, ‘I want to thank my fantastic sponsors.’ And I did a bit of a rave about the tyres. ‘Thanks as always to Dad, and to my grandad who was our remote mechanic. Lastly, thanks as ever to Craig Bateman for being such a worthy competitor.’

That was probably mean. Couldn’t resist it, though. I’d just have to make bloody sure I didn’t let him beat me for the rest of the year.

As we were packing up, Craig — who never did any packing except to help lift his kart into the trailer — strolled up. ‘Enjoy the win while you can, mate. It’s the only one you’re going to get this year.’

I grinned at him. ‘Been reading the fortune cookies again, have you?’

He laughed and took himself off. It was a long wait till the next big event when we’d race each other again. That would be in Christchurch at the Nationals over Easter.

On the way home, I got a text from my sponsors.
Congrats Archie. Well done. Write us an article for the website pls.

I read it out to Dad. ‘Shit. They didn’t say anything about that!’

‘Good experience,’ said my father. ‘You might end up as a sports journalist.’

Yeah, right. I wasn’t that fond of writing, but most of all, I’d hate to just be watching when I could be out there in the middle of the action.

‘DON’T FORGET ERICA’S
moving in next weekend,’ Dad said as we neared home.

It turned out there was small chance of being allowed to forget that, what with all the extra cleaning we apparently needed to do, and no handy thunderbolt hurtling down from the sky bawling at Dad that this was a bad idea. He wouldn’t have heard anyway, the way he bounced around with a goofy grin on his face all that week. And he kept singing. My feeling is that if you want to sing, but basically you can’t, then you should only do it where you can’t be heard.

I wrote the piece for the sponsor’s blog, and recycled it for English. Colin suggested that it’d be a good idea to write his assignment as well.

‘A good idea for who?’

‘Not you,’ Nina said, shoving him. ‘Miss would know straight up that you didn’t write it.’

‘We could all do ours about going and watching though,’ Ginnie said.

When we got them back, I’d got a merit, Silas an excellence and the others managed an achieved. Colin was stoked.

February morphed into March

The great moving day arrived, Erica all bustle and
energy, with Felix shuffling along behind looking miserable. Poor kid, a good blat in a kart would be so brilliant for him. I couldn’t stand it.

‘I’m off to the park to do some training. Felix, you wanna come and help?’

He didn’t say a word, just scuttled over to the door and slid out in front of me. I shut it while Erica was doing a witter about being careful.

We walked and Felix was his usual chatty self, so to fill in the silence I gave him Dad’s
keep fit/keep strong
lecture. He might have been interested, but equally he could have been bored out of his skull. Had to be better than being fussed over by his mother, though.

We got to the park. No play equipment. Bugger, I hadn’t thought about that. I couldn’t leave the poor kid standing on the side watching me run.

‘Hey, Felix — I’m going to do some laps. You start running, just jogging so that I go faster. Then when I catch you up, I’ve got to carry you for twenty steps. Weight training. Okay?’

He gave a tiny nod and I reckon there was almost a grin. So I ran, and so did he, the little rat — I really had to chase him. ‘Got you!’ I swung him over my shoulder, ran for twenty, then set him down.

But he grabbed hold of my shirt. ‘Nineteen. You only did nineteen.’

‘Twenty. That was a big fat twenty.’

We kept jogging with him dragging on my shirt.

‘Nineteen.’

I scooped him up under one arm, took a huge stride, then tumbled him on to the ground. ‘Twenty-one!’ I took off, and this time he cut across the park so that he was running behind me with the idea of making me do
another full lap before I caught him. I pivoted, grabbed and tipped him upside down, running with his head just clear of my knees. ‘Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one!’

We stayed in the park for ages, clowning around, getting crazier and crazier until we ended up rolling on the grass, laughing our sides sore.

There was a real person inside that kid. Who knew?

As we strolled home, I said, ‘You’re a bit grubby, mate.’

‘Yes,’ he said, and smiled a proper, full stretch of the lips.

Erica didn’t make a fuss. She was surprised, though, no doubt about it.

I looked around the lounge. ‘Wow. This looks … different.’

‘Good different or bad different?’ She sounded worried.

I shook my head. ‘Just … different. It’ll take a bit of getting used to. I don’t hate it.’

‘That’s a good start.’

I wondered what she’d done with our old thin cushions. And had she bought that rug especially to cover up the baked-bean stain on the carpet?

‘Nice painting.’ I walked over to get a closer look. Hills, sky, autumn colours, bold strokes. The artist’s signature was in the corner.
Erica
. ‘You painted it?’

‘It’s my hobby — I’m nothing special, but I’m pleased you like it.’

I liked the meal she’d brought with her too. Life, it seemed, would chug along.

EASTER, AND THE
National Champs in Christchurch, got closer. I worked on my kart every spare moment I had, cleaning it, checking for cracks, making sure no bolts were missing and there were no worn parts on any of the nuts or bolts. I greased and lubed the bearings.

Dad put in the hours whenever Erica was on duty. It had taken me a few days to get around to asking what sort of doctoring she did. I expected her to say she did kids’ stuff, from what Dad had said earlier about getting upset when they got hurt, but no, she worked in Casualty. ‘And I don’t want to see you being brought in on a stretcher, Archie.’ That was the nearest she got to saying outright what she thought about my racing. My private hope that we would be able to get Felix into a kart curled up and died.

Thursday a week before Easter, Dad and Erica planned a night out — dinner and a show. Wednesday night, Felix’s carer rang to say she couldn’t look after him the following night after all. Erica went into a 360. It was all
Oh my god, what’ll I do?

Dad gave me a look. Felix, saying nothing as always, studied the floor.

I shrugged. ‘He can stay here,’ I said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

Erica shook her head. ‘Definitely not. I promised Bill I wouldn’t take advantage of either of you. I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry.’

I rolled my eyes at Dad, and said to Felix, ‘Come on, mate. We’ll leave them to argue it out.’ I went through to the garage, Felix hard on my heels.

Dad won. Felix stayed with me and helped me cook us a feed. I’d planned on spending the evening watching karting DVDs, then doing a bit of skyping. So that’s
what I did, and if Felix was dead keen to watch with me — well, I couldn’t help that.

‘We’ve seen that one two times,’ he said.

‘Yeah. Sorry about that, but that’s what I do. You don’t have to watch, though. Grab a book. Or a puzzle.’

He stayed glued to the sofa. ‘Why?’

‘Why do I watch it over and over?’

A nod.

‘That guy — in number 90 — he’s one of the best. I’m trying to learn from him. See how he got past that other kart? That’s pure skill. His kart’s not faster, or better. But he gets past because he’s a better driver than anyone else on the track.’

I talked Felix through it. ‘They’re both coming up to the corner now. Number 90 brakes just fractionally later. Then he ducks under and through. That way you don’t waste time. It’s all about timing, mate. All about trying to be faster than the other guy.’

It wasn’t a bad evening. I even read him a chapter of the story he and Erica were partway through. ‘You’re going to have to do without the goodnight kiss,’ I told him. ‘I’m saving those for my girlfriend.’

I heard him giggling as I left the room. I’d be seeing Kyla in a week. Dinner out. Just the two of us. Dad owed me — and he’d better not try any smart comments either. Not after all the lovey dovey grief he and Erica treated me and the kid to.