Flying Fergus 8

by Sir Chris Hoy

  But, worst of all, Daisy was in another horrible huff because she found out Fergus had been practising without her.

  “I left a message with your mum,” he insisted.

  “You might be lying,” Daisy replied.

  “I never lie!” Fergus said. “You know that.”

  Daisy paused. Then she sighed. “I know,” she said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay,” Fergus said. “This test has got everyone on tenterhooks. I’m terrified.”

  Daisy smiled. “Me too! Why don’t I come over for tea and we can go through manoeuvres?”

  “That’d be brilliotic!” Fergus began. But then he remembered something. “You don’t mind if Sorcha is there, do you? We’ve arranged to hang out.”

  Daisy’s jaw set and her face flushed red. “Oh, forget it,” she snapped. “You’re obviously busy with your new friend.”

  Fergus flinched. Sorcha loved sport almost as much as he did, so he did spend a lot of time with her. But that didn’t mean he’d replaced Daisy. “Sorcha’s away tomorrow, you could come over then instead,” he suggested, a touch of sorrow in his voice. “Or, better, we could all be friends together? I’m sure Sorcha would be happy to talk tactics with us.”

  But Daisy’s mind was made up. “I’ll see you in the morning for the Devil Takes the Hindmost,” she said crossly. “Or rather, you’ll see my dust.”

  “Daisy!” Grandpa said, surprised.

  Fergus opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out.

  “If the wind changes, you’ll stay like that,” Wesley said.

  “Oh, whatever,” Fergus snapped, finally finding his words.

  “Fergus!” Grandpa scolded. “If your mam heard you say that, she’d have a conniption.”

  Fergus sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  And he was, truly sorry. But as he cycled slowly home, Grandpa and Chimp following him, he couldn’t help feeling that choosing the team might mean the end of it as well.

  “I think you’re imagining things,” said Mum, as she plopped pizza onto Sorcha’s plate. Sorcha gave her a thumbs up in reply, and Mum smiled and signed, “You’re welcome,” back.

  “I’m not,” Fergus replied, slipping a sliver of pizza under the table to a waiting Chimp. “It’s all gone wrong.”

  Sorcha pulled the pen and paper she always carried out of her pocket and scribbled something down before pushing it over to Fergus.

  Fergus was learning to use sign language, but it was taking time, and the notebook was the only way for the two of them to talk properly right now. He grabbed the paper. “Focus on the race,” he read out loud. “That’s all you can do for now.”

  “Wise words,” Grandpa told Sorcha. “Fancy a job as assistant coach?”

  Sorcha nodded eagerly, then grabbed the pad and wrote another note. Grandpa laughed then read it out loud.

  “Too stubborn more like,” said Fergus, who found himself smiling, despite himself. Sorcha was right. He had to focus on what he could do: ride. The others would settle down once everything was decided. And, as for Daisy, she was a cert for the team, and she’d come round; she was his best friend after all. And with that thought a happy seed in his head, he let himself feel excitement for the first time. Tomorrow was race day, and he was going to ride for all he was worth.

  Devil Take the Hindmost

  As his team-mates wheeled up beside him on the starting line, Fergus gave Daisy a nod of encouragement. But all he got back was a steely glare. She’s just focusing, he told himself. Same as me. And he adjusted his helmet one last time for good measure.

  “Listen up, Hopefuls!” Grandpa called the team to attention. “This morning’s race is Devil Take the Hindmost. It will test your stamina, speed and tactics!”

  “My favourite,” whispered Wesley. “Sudden death for the slowcoaches.”

  “Mine too,” said Belinda. “Gets the track nice and clear for us frontrunners.”

  Fergus felt himself shiver. This was crazy. It was no more scary than any other race, despite the name, so why was his heart pounding so much? He glanced over at Daisy for some reassurance but she was already low over her handlebars, eyes on the track.

  “You know the rules,” continued Choppy. “Four laps, and the last one past the finishing line each lap has to drop out.”

  “That will give us a leaderboard as we head into the Keirin this afternoon,” said Grandpa. “The four who make it round every lap will give us a top four to beat.”

  “And four losers,” Wesley whispered again.

  “I heard that,” Grandpa said.

  Wesley shrugged. “Well, it’s true.”

  Grandpa looked at Choppy for back-up but Choppy was busy polishing his puncture repair kit, pretending not to notice.

  “Can we just get on with it?” asked Calamity. “I’ll topple off if I don’t get started soon.”

  Grandpa sighed. It was true the gangly champion was better at high speed than staying still. “Fine,” he replied. “On your marks … ”

  Fergus leaned forward, like Daisy next to him, poised with his right foot on the pedal, ready for a strong off.

  “Get set … ”

  Fergus took a deep breath, and reminded himself of Sorcha’s words. Focus, he said to himself. It’ll all come good.

  “And GO!” yelled Grandpa.

  And GO is exactly what they did, pushing off in unison and pulling away in one sleek, practised pack.

  Off to a flying start, Fergus spun over the smooth concrete, legs pumping, heart hammering. He was neck and neck with Daisy, pedalling in perfect unison right-left, right-left, as they took the first turn. It was as if they were one, as if they could hear each other’s thoughts and sense each other’s movements. Even if she’s not speaking to me, Fergus said to himself as he kept time for the second turn in a row.

  Next to her, Wesley was inching forward, with Minnie and Belinda level just millimetres behind. Dermot and Mikey were already trailing a little. But Calamity, who’d got a wobbly start, was really flagging at the back, and was the first to fall when the whistle blew for Lap One.

  “One down, three to go,” yelled Wesley as Calamity pulled on the brakes and off the track. But his words caught on the wind, and besides, his fellow racers had eyes and ears for one thing and one thing only: the finish. And so they spun on into a second lap, led by Wesley, Belinda and Minnie, Fergus and Daisy in fourth place, and Mikey and Dermot now fighting it out for fifth.

  The whistle blew again, and this time it was Dermot’s turn to pull off the track. The next lap, Mikey was gone too.

  Wesley was still leading the pack, Belinda and Minnie chasing. Fergus and Daisy were neck and neck just behind them.

  “Maybe Daisy and I can both be fourth,” Fergus said to himself. “Then Grandpa’ll have to let us both on the team!” And the thought was so good and so strong, he felt sure Daisy must have sensed it, and be feeling it too as they turned into the final straight.

  “Nice one, Dais,” he said, out loud this time.

  “Thanks,” she said, without a flicker of a smile, and promptly pulled forward, crossing the line level with Belinda and Minnie, leaving a befuddled Fergus in fifth place, and out of the race.

  Pulling off the track to join Calamity, Mikey and Dermot, Fergus watched from the sidelines, stunned, as the final four rode to the coaches and Choppy called the placings: “In first place, my Wesley, and rightly so.”

  Fergus rolled his eyes, like he and Daisy always did, and looked at her to see if she was doing the same too. But Daisy was concentrating on Choppy.

  “In joint second place, Belinda Bruce and Minnie McLeod,” he continued. “And in fourth place, Daisy Devlin.”

  Fergus could see Daisy’s heart swell with pride, and he wished she could see his was doing the same too. Even though he’d lost. Even though he had an inkling Daisy had deliberately knocked him out. Even though he’d really have to pull his socks up for the Keirin.

  But Daisy didn’t look at him
, and, as they headed back to the changing rooms for juice and sandwiches, Fergus couldn’t help feel he was in danger of losing not just a place on the team, but a friend as well.

  The Keirin

  Lunch in the locker room was usually a celebration, with Grandpa and Choppy going through team tactics while Fergus and his friends shared stories and jokes as well as their crisps. But today, not even cold sausage sandwiches could cheer Fergus up.

  Not only had he performed badly in the first race, but he’d never even ridden a Keirin before, and wished he could discuss tactics with Daisy but she was obviously ignoring him. “I don’t just need to pull my socks up,” he mumbled to Chimp. “I need to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

  Chimp yapped at the word “rabbit” and again at the sausage sandwich dangling from Fergus’s fingers.

  “Are you not eating that?” Calamity asked.

  Fergus shook his head. “Not that hungry,” he said. “D’you want it?” He held it out to Calamity.

  Calamity nodded and snaffled it quick before Chimp could get a chance.

  “You’ll wish you’d eaten that later,” said Daisy. “You need to keep your strength up.”

  Fergus looked over in surprise. “I – I know,” he said, stumbling over his words because he was so pleased Daisy was talking to him again. “Of course you’re right.”

  “Not that I care,” she added quickly. “Means I’ve got a better chance.” And she took a bite out of her banana.

  Fergus felt his happiness slip again, and a hand on his shoulder. “Och, she doesn’t mean it.” Grandpa had obviously overheard, but Fergus was glad to hear his reassuring soft voice.

  “Doesn’t she?” he asked. “It feels like she means every word.”

  Grandpa shook his head. “Pressure does funny things to people. Things will settle, and you two will be inseparable again. Like peas in a pod, you are.”

  Fergus smiled weakly. “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Best friends forever, she said.”

  “And she’ll say it again, mark my words. Here.” He handed Fergus another sandwich. “Marmalade. Your favourite. And I’m not taking no for an answer. Daisy was right, you need the energy. And besides, your mum would have my guts for garters if I let you ride on an empty stomach.”

  Fergus bit into the bittersweet sandwich and forced himself to chew and swallow. Then again. And again. Until he found he did have an appetite after all, and not just for food.

  “Ready?” Calamity asked, as he tossed his litter into the bin and missed, twice.

  Fergus swallowed his last mouthful and nodded, a rush of energy sending him springing to his feet and raring to go. “Ready!” he replied, then turned to Daisy. “How about you,” he tried. “Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” she said, looking him straight in the eye without blinking.

  Fergus held her gaze as long as he could before turning to Wesley. “Wes?”

  Wesley crumpled the wrapper from his flapjack and threw it towards the bin. “Bullseye!” he cried. “I’m on fire. And ready as anything.”

  Despite everything, Fergus found himself smiling. Competition might be taking its toll right now, but it was what he lived for – the feel of slick tarmac beneath his wheels as he chewed through miles; the cheering of the crowd as he passed them by in a blur; and, best of all, his team all around him, willing each other on.

  He was going to be part of that team, he was sure of it.

  “So, the classic Keirin,” Choppy began. “My specialty.”

  “How does it work again?” asked Dermot.

  Daisy rolled her eyes and sighed, and Fergus was glad he hadn’t been the one to ask after all. “We follow a pacesetter for four laps until they pull off, then we sprint for the finish for a final lap.”

  “Who?” demanded Wesley. “It had better be someone super speedy.”

  “Och, it is,” replied Grandpa. “It’s none other than our very own –”

  “Jambo!” Fergus exclaimed, as his stepdad-to-be stepped out of the locker room, in full team strip, pushing the second-hand bike Grandpa had done up for him before their trip to the Highlands.

  “Seriously?” asked Wesley. “But he’s … old.”

  “And a bit … well, slow,” added Minnie. “Sorry, Jambo, but you are!”

  “Not any more,” replied Jambo. “While you lot were all arguing over Charlie, I got on my bike and got practising. I may not be perfect, but I’m better.”

  “And that’s a lesson for us all,” added Grandpa.

  “Aye,” agreed Jambo. “Besides, the first four laps of a Kierin aren’t about top speed, they’re about going steady. As soon as you see me pull off, then you can really go for it. But not before, you hear?”

  Wesley nodded, annoyed.

  “First things first, though,” Grandpa interrupted before Wesley found something else to complain about. “Take your pick.” And he held out a cycle helmet with slips of paper inside.

  “What’s that for?” asked Calamity.

  Daisy sighed even louder. “We have to draw lots,” she said. “To decide lanes.”

  “Me first!” cried Wesley and grabbed one.

  The others dived in behind, each snatching a slip of paper, then unfolding it to find out their fate.

  “Lane one for me!” Belinda boasted.

  “I’m in five!” wailed Wesley. “I call foul!”

  “You can’t call foul,” said Grandpa. “You picked fair and square. And you went first.”

  Wesley stomped off to line up as Fergus unfurled the slip of paper in his hand. “3” it said in thick, black pen.

  “Lucky you,” said Daisy, throwing hers on the floor in disgust.

  Fergus picked it up quickly and slipped it in the bin, but not before he’d looked at the number. “8” it said. Daisy was looking a bit dejected.

  “I’ll swap!” Fergus offered. “You can have lane three.”

  “No,” said Daisy. “You heard Herc: I picked fair and square.” And she stamped off to the starting line, Fergus following frantically a few paces behind, feeling like he barely even knew Daisy anymore.

  “On your marks,” called Choppy. “Get set, GO!”

  This time, Fergus pushed himself off hard, but made sure not to waste his energy. For the first three laps, it was all about getting up a good pace, and preserving energy for when Jambo made his move to the side. Going into the penultimate lap, he was at the front of the pack, only Minnie and Belinda ahead of him, and Wesley, cycling for his life at his side. He felt safe enough to risk a peek behind, and could see to his joy that Daisy had already sailed past Dermot, who was struggling after his double chocolate fudge slice at lunch, and Calamity and Mikey who were head to head, and, worryingly, almost pedal to pedal. And, it seemed, getting closer.

  “Careful!” he heard Grandpa call out from the sidelines, but too late! Fergus heard a massive crash and looked back to see Calamity and Mikey in a tangle on the track. They must have taken out Dermot too, who had landed like a cherry on top of them. But Fergus didn’t falter – they were all kitted out, and safe from injury, so he needed to focus on his own race now. “Keep your eyes on the prize!” he heard Grandpa say in his head, and, as Jambo swerved off to the left, leaving the track open for the sprint, that’s exactly what Fergus did – he focused on the finish, seeing it in his head as he pumped on the pedals, legs like pistons, lungs fit to burst.

  “Come on, Fergie!” he heard Jambo call.

  “Sock it to them, Wesley!” Choppy retorted.

  “Nice going, Minnie. Give it your all, Belinda!” Grandpa added his voice to the shouts.

  And though Fergus hadn’t the air in his lungs to shout himself, he heard the words burst in his head: Come on, Daisy! You can do it!

  But as he sailed across the finish line in third place, Wesley and Minnie taking first and second, he turned to see not Daisy, but Belinda fly into fourth place, leaving his best friend fuming in fifth.

  “Dais!” he cried, as she fled from
the track. “Daisy, come back!”

  “Leave her,” Grandpa said, coming to congratulate him. “It’s fifth, not bottom – it was a fine result. Anyway, after this morning’s knock-out race it puts the pair of you nice and even for the road race tomorrow.”

  “I know but –”

  “Butts are for sitting on.” Grandpa grinned. “Isn’t that what Daisy would say?”

  “I suppose,” said Fergus.

  But he didn’t think she’d be thinking that right now.

  In fact, for the first time ever, he didn’t have a clue what Daisy might be thinking. And that made him sadder than ever.

  “Mum,” he began when he walked sorrowfully through the door of the flat. “You won’t believe –”

  “Not now, Fergus, love,” Mum warned, standing on a chair while Mrs MacCafferty pinned white taffeta into place. “I’m otherwise occupied.”

  “Is that …?”

  “Aye,” Mum replied. “So you’d best run and tell Jambo to stay out if he knows what’s good for him. It’s bad luck for him to see the dress.”

  Fergus nodded, “Course,” he said. Then, “You look beautiful, Mum” he added, as he was about to slip out.

  “Och, away with you!” Mum laughed, but Fergus could see from her smile that she’d liked it.

  He caught Jambo putting his bike away downstairs.

  “Och aye, serious business, this wedding dress,” Jambo said, winking. “I’ll be off down the shop for a pint of milk then. Coming?”

  Fergus opened his mouth to say yes when he had a thought: he needed advice and Grandpa was off with Choppy, sorting out the route for tomorrow’s road race, Mum was too busy with the wedding, Sorcha was away, and as for Daisy – well, she was the trouble he needed to talk about. Jambo was great, but there was only one person Fergus really wanted to talk to, and only one place he could go.