by Chris Fabry
The sound clicked off. “What?” Rosa said.
“Housekeeping,” Jamie said. It was their inside joke. Anytime somebody said something in a class or butted into a conversation they’d look at each other and mouth “housekeeping,” for the staff at the hotel that always seemed to come to make the bed at the worst time.
Rosa didn’t laugh. “Go away.”
“Rosa, come on. I need to talk.”
“You need to go away.” Her voice was choked, and it reminded Jamie of her own voice after she’d had a fight with her parents.
Finally Rosa opened the door enough for Jamie to see her red eyes.
“Look. I’m really sorry about the race. I—”
“You have no idea what this means,” Rosa interrupted. “Do you know what it took to get me to this place? I had to get into the finals for there to be any chance of me ever making it in racing.”
“That’s not true,” Jamie said. “You can bounce back from this. Just chalk it up to experience and—”
“There’s stuff you don’t know,” Rosa sobbed. “My mom works at a hotel like this. In housekeeping. I’ve worn hand-me-down clothes all my life, and I’ve driven cars other people didn’t want, and I’ve tried so hard.”
“I’m really sorry. I tried to help you out there, and I would have pushed you across the finish line if I could have. . . .”
The elevator door opened, and another driver got off.
Also on the elevator was Bud Watkins. He held the door. “You two coming down?”
When Rosa heard Bud’s voice, she closed the door, disengaged the lock, and stormed out, still in her fire suit. “This was unfair and you know it,” she said, tears starting, her jaw set. “You said there’d be a level playing field, but it’s not anywhere near level.”
“There’s probably a better place to talk about this,” Bud said, taking his hand off the elevator door.
Rosa put her hand there. “No. This is good. Letting that Chad guy in on our racing school, especially after other people had been let go, is not fair.”
“You should have said something earlier.”
“I couldn’t say anything because you’d have pinned my ears back. If that Chad guy hadn’t been here, I would have made it into the finals.”
“Maybe,” Bud said. “But that’s the way things go in racing. It’s a good lesson to learn. There’s a lot of things that aren’t fair. Like what’s happened to . . .” Bud looked at Jamie.
“What?” Jamie said.
“Nothing. I’ll announce it at our—”
“No, Mr. Watkins. What are you talking about?”
Bud sighed and looked at the elevator floor, then the buttons, then the ceiling. Everywhere but at Jamie and Rosa. Finally he cleared his throat. “There’s a problem with one of the cars. No way we can fix it by tomorrow.”
“What kind of problem?” Jamie said.
“That’s not important. The point is, we’re down to 10 cars. You had the lowest qualifying time of any of those in the finals. That means you’re out.”
Chapter 24
Tim’s Idea
IT LOOKED LIKE SOMEONE had hit Jamie in the center of the gut with a telephone pole and then whacked her again as she walked back to their table. Her mom and dad asked what was wrong, and she told them. Tim thought it took a lot of guts not to cry about it—girl or guy, that kind of news was devastating. To work as hard as she had obviously worked and not get into the finals had to hurt.
“What’s wrong with the car?” Tim said.
“Yeah,” Kellen said. “Tim can fix it.”
Jamie shook her head. “On the last lap, one of the cars blew a piston right out the side of the engine block. Bud said it looks like somebody took a shotgun to the thing. It’s that bad.”
Dale nodded. “That’ll take some time.”
“What about the car Devalon said you could use?” Kellen said. “You know, the orange one.”
A spark came into Jamie’s eyes. “We could get it over here tomorrow morning, couldn’t we, Dad?”
“If they’ll let you,” Dale said. “We can bring it over tonight.”
Jamie ran off to the front of the room to talk with the main guy, who looked like he enjoyed telling her no. She came back, shoulders slumped, and it was clear what had happened.
“Why can’t you use it?” Kellen said.
“It’s not an approved car here. He said it wouldn’t be fair.” She put quotation marks around the “wouldn’t be fair” part with her fingers.
“I’ll tell you what’s not fair—letting Chad in at the 11th hour,” Mrs. Maxwell said.
Tim watched Dale. The man’s mind was going, trying to figure a way around the situation. Tim had seen this happen before with drivers and crew chiefs. They were given a problem and then had to figure out an answer. But Tim could also tell the guy was holding back a lot of input. Maybe he wanted this to be Jamie’s fight and was struggling with not getting too involved. Tim respected that because any other parent would have been jumping down the organizer’s throat.
The main guy, who had a name badge on that said Bud Watkins, walked over to the table and shook hands with Dale. “I’m really sorry about all this, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do.”
“We appreciate you considering all the options,” Dale said. “She’s worked really hard to get into the finals.”
Jamie just gritted her teeth. Kellen nibbled at some cold chicken fingers. Mrs. Maxwell had a napkin in her hand balled up tighter than a baseball.
“Can’t we postpone the race?” Jamie said.
Bud shook his head. “We’re opening up the stands for the finals. Plus, one of the racing channels said they’re sending a crew to do limited coverage. They’ll be here tonight to set up.”
“Maybe it’ll rain,” Kellen said.
Tim wiped his mouth with a napkin as Bud turned to leave. “Excuse me, sir?” Tim said. He couldn’t believe that was actually his voice coming out of his mouth.
Bud turned and squinted at him.
“This is Tim Carhardt,” Dale said. “He’s staying with our family now.”
“Carhardt?” Bud said. “Are you Martin’s boy?”
“Yes, sir,” Tim said.
“I’m real sorry about what happened,” Bud said. “What can I do for you?”
“Uh, I was looking around in the garage and saw another car under a tarp. Another #4 car.”
Bud looked at Dale and snickered. “Snoopy little buzzard, isn’t he? What about it?”
“Well, it looks like the same size engine. The body’s dinged up and the paint’s peeling, but if it’ll run, why couldn’t Jamie race that one?”
“The body damage isn’t the problem,” Bud said. “The truck arm bar snapped. That goes from the axle—”
“I know where it goes,” Tim interrupted. “We can fix that, and I’d bet Jamie doesn’t care what the thing looks like.” He stole a glance at Jamie, and there was fire in her eyes.
Bud rubbed his stubbly beard and looked around the dining room.
“I’m willing to work on it all night if we have to,” Tim added.
“Me too,” Kellen said.
“Where would you get the parts?” Bud said.
“We’ve got parts in our garage,” Dale said.
Bud took in some air through his clenched teeth and glanced at Dale. Tim noticed a smile come over Dale’s face as he lifted his eyebrows as if to say, Why not?
“Stay here. I’ll be right back,” Bud said.
“I’ve never seen that other car down there,” Jamie said when Bud was gone.
Tim shrugged.
“If I get in that race tomorrow, it’ll be because of your idea.”
Though he tried not to, Tim blushed. He walked over to the ice cream machine to make a sundae and stayed there, lingering over the sprinkles and the nuts and the caramel sauce, then the chocolate.
Bud returned a few minutes later after talking with someone at the front of the dining room and t
hen calling someone on a cell phone. When he walked over to the Maxwell table, Tim watched. At first, he couldn’t read anything from their faces. Then Jamie let out a squeal and jumped in the air and actually hugged the old Watkins guy.
Tim just laughed.
Chapter 25
Thin Pages
JAMIE AWOKE THE NEXT morning and at first couldn’t figure out where she was. It wasn’t until she saw the poster of Dale Earnhardt over her desk that she realized she was in her own room. She hopped out of bed and looked at the garage. Her dad’s truck was gone.
She grabbed her robe and hurried downstairs and found her mother at the kitchen table with her Bible open and a cup of coffee in her hand. She was using her favorite mug—the one Jamie had made in art class with her mom’s name on the front and a cross. “Did Dad leave for the track? Or church?”
Her mom smiled. “He hasn’t gotten home yet. Tim and Kellen are with him.”
“They’ve been working all night?”
“They thought they had it all ready, but Tim found something wrong with the air filter, which led them to the carburetor. They had to put in a new one.”
“Wow” was all Jamie could say.
“I talked with him a half hour ago. He said not to expect too much with the color, and there may be some power issues, but at least you’ll have a ride.”
Jamie shook her head. “I feel bad for staying here and sleeping.”
“Don’t. They wanted you to be fresh.”
Jamie made some toast to settle her stomach. It was doing flips and turns, and she thought some of her mom’s freshly canned blackberry jam would do the trick. It didn’t, of course, but it tasted so good she didn’t care.
“I feel bad about church,” Jamie said. “This is one of the few chances Dad has to go to a regular service during the season.”
“Honey, he wouldn’t miss this for the world,” she said. “Reminds me of all those go-kart races we used to go to. He couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when you got out there on the track.”
Jamie sat with her mom, listening to her turn the onionskin pages and looking out at the pond just down from the garage. A few ducks and geese walked around the edges, then flew to the middle. It was a lot prettier here than at the hotel. Somehow she felt like something had changed between her and her parents. She’d begun the process of leaving—she knew that—but it felt weird, like she was a stranger in her own house. And Tim . . .
“What’s going through that head of yours?”
A mist came over Jamie’s eyes, and she didn’t look at her mom. (That was the last thing she wanted to do.) “I don’t know. I was just thinking about Tim and how he must miss his dad and what it would be like to lose somebody so important.”
“I heard him crying in his room the other night and wanted so badly to go in and talk, but I didn’t.”
“Do you know anything about his mother?”
Her mom pursed her lips. “Just that she hasn’t been in his life for a long time. I don’t think anybody knows where she is.”
Jamie was quiet for a minute. “I know I gave you a lot of grief over having him come here. But, for the record, I think it was a pretty cool decision.”
Her mom smiled. “Thanks for saying that. I hoped you’d feel that way.”
“Kellen probably wants him to be permanent. Sure likes him better than he does me.”
“Kellen couldn’t be prouder of his big sister. He’s your number one fan.”
Jamie nodded and the mist got thicker. “What do you think about college? I mean, after I get out of high school. If I have a chance to race, should I go for that or do the college thing?”
“You have plenty of time to make that decision. But I don’t see why you couldn’t do both.”
Jamie stood as the truck pulled into the driveway. She went out to meet her dad.
Kellen couldn’t stop talking about all they’d done to the engine to make it ready. “You should have seen Tim. He found stuff even Dad’s full-time mechanic didn’t see.”
“Your mechanic was there?” Jamie said.
“He left around four this morning,” her dad said, giving her a hug, then taking her by the shoulders and keeping her about an arm’s length away. “Now, we don’t promise you the best-looking car on the track or even the fastest. But it will be safe and you should be able to finish. Where you finish is up to you.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’m going to do my best to make your work worth it.”
They all went inside, and Tim and Kellen headed for their bedrooms.
Her dad kissed her mom on the forehead and said, “You want to try and make the nine o’clock service?”
Her mom closed her Bible and smiled. “I’ll get ready.”
Chapter 26
Showtime
TIM WAS STILL YAWNING just before race time, but that meant he was relaxed. At least, that’s what he told himself. The stands were about three-quarters full, which was pretty amazing. He’d seen one of the tickets that said Tomorrow’s Stars Racing Today, and he’d wondered if any of these drivers would actually make it. They all had a chance, of course, but he’d seen so many younger drivers come up and then go down.
Before the national anthem, a pastor prayed for the safety of the racers and everyone involved. Tim thought of his dad and how that prayer hadn’t been answered at Talladega. He tried to put that out of his mind and focus. Both Rosa and Kurt, Jamie’s friends from the school, helped in their pit box. While the other racers walked past him without noticing, these two at least said hello.
Kellen was a ball of energy, and it was all his mother could do to keep him from jumping in the car himself. Tim just laughed at the kid. He was going to make a great driver or baseball player or something someday.
Chad Devalon walked past with his sunglasses shining and eyed the car. He ran a hand along the painted 1 they had put in front of the 4 that had been there.
“Nice touch,” Chad said to Tim. “Like father, like daughter.”
“Maybe like Chicago,” Tim said. “I think Dale finished first there, didn’t he?”
Chad sneered at him, as if talking to him were a capital offense. “Wouldn’t have if people hadn’t raced dirty.”
“I thought your dad blew a tire,” Tim said. “Maybe the tires are racing dirty.”
Jamie walked up, her helmet and HANS device already on. “Better head up there to your car, Chad. But don’t get used to being ahead of me.”
Chad gave her a wispy smile, like one of those guys in the movies just before he gives the girl a big kiss. “Just make sure you wave when I lap you the first time. And the second. And the third.” He gave the car a pat and shook his head. “This thing will be lucky to stay on the lead lap.” He walked to his car and climbed in.
Tim had the headset on, so he heard Dale say to Jamie, “Whatever Devalon said, put it out of your mind. Show him what you can do on the track.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Jamie said as she got in the car and strapped in.
Tim handed her the wheel, and she slammed it on like she was really ticked off. She gave him a thumbs-up. He leaned down to say something. He’d been practicing all night as he worked on the engine and found the problem with the airflow that would have slowed her down. Dale had patted him on the back for that and said, “Good catch.”
“You’re better than all these guys,” Tim said. “Show ’em what you can do.”
Jamie flipped up her visor. “What?”
He patted the top of the car twice. “Go get ’em.”
He unhooked the generator from the oil tank just as someone’s voice came over the loudspeakers. “Gentlemen and lady, start your engines!”
Nine cars fired to life. Jamie’s car didn’t even sputter. Jamie tried it again but nothing happened.
“Switch over to the backup box,” Dale said over the headset.
Jamie flipped the switch and tried again, and the car fired to life. It was the best sound Tim had heard in his life.
J
amie followed the rest of the pack down pit road and onto the track behind the pace car. The only thing that made the #14 car stand out was its lack of a slick paint job. All the other cars looked like the best NASCAR had to offer. Hers looked like some spotted pony in the Kentucky Derby.
The camera crews were out, recording the race for playback later—probably at midnight on some Wednesday if Tim was right. Still, they were here, and with the fans cheering, it had the feel of a real race.
Mrs. Maxwell came up and put an arm on Tim’s shoulder as Jamie crossed the start/finish line, zigzagging to clean her tires. Tim worried the engine wouldn’t hold up for the whole race, but so far it looked and sounded good. Jamie gave a thumbs-up out the window net and pulled closer to the car in front of her. It would be a single-file start.
Never thought I’d be rooting for a girl to make it into NASCAR, Tim thought.
Chapter 27
Laps
GREEN FLAG. Go! Go! Go!” Jamie’s dad said to her.
She punched the throttle and flew high and past the #9 car at the line. No problem with the engine here at the start. It had plenty of zest. Clearly #9 was surprised at being passed, because he tried to push her high in turn one, but she blew past him.
“Got a long way to go,” her dad said. “Take it easy and get your legs in this new car.”
“Feels good, Dad. You and Tim did a great job.”
“Let’s wait to see what happens when this is over.”
Jamie settled in and rode in the middle of the second pack—a dangerous place to be if there was a crash. In the past two days the biggest wreck had been on pit road, where two cars had gotten into each other. A few had grazed the wall, but that was it.
Jamie caught sight of the leaders a quarter of a lap away. Chad was ahead and seemed to be pulling away.
Don’t worry about catching him, Jamie told herself. Just get past this pack.