by Leigh Hutton
Kerry came up behind them and swiped her father’s hand away. ‘Don’t forget this one’s competition, Dad!’ She smiled and winked at Clover. ‘None of the Treasure family secrets to her.’ She slung an arm around Clover’s shoulders and led her out into the night.
‘Well, Clover Canada,’ Kerry said, grinning her beautiful grin. She lifted her hand, made the shape of a gun and pointed it at Clover. ‘I’ll see you on the start line.’
TWENTY-ONE
Clover’s mind was a jumble of disjointed thoughts and despite her best efforts, none were very positive. Her hands were shaking so badly, she could hardly get her new gear on. Her pants and jersey clung to her skin in the humidity and her feet had swollen in her boots. She couldn’t find her gloves, then forgot her goggles back at the truck, and only just made it to the start line as the other two girls on her minute were about to take off.
Thousands of people, revving bikes, golf buggies, scampering children, loud music, camera flashes, blurred around Clover as she roared away from under the start-line archway to start day one on the bike, feeling totally out of her depth as her small four-stroke swapped around under her in the shifting sand. She did her best to steer between two palm trees and follow the arrows of the course into the thick bush. One thing’s for sure, Clover found herself thinking, this is going to be one very long day.
★
Clover and Kerry idled into the service area and parked their bikes under the shade. Clover hit her kill switch, reached for her goggles, grabbed the strap, and swung them off her helmet. She hung her sweat-soaked goggles over the end of her handlebars and wiped her brow.
She glanced down at the watch Ernie had given her 2.01pm they still had six minutes until they were due at the time control to leave for the final trail section, and final timed special test of Day 1.
Sweat ran down her forehead and every muscle in her body screamed. Her palms were raw inside her gloves. She knew she had open blisters at first the pain had been excruciating, but now she was numb to it. She left her gloves on, knowing from experience that if she took them off, her skin might well peel off with the fabric.
Clover couldn’t remember having ever experienced a tougher first day to a race. She knew she’d never been more exhausted. The sand had zapped everything out of her; the trail was whooped out, tiring and monotonous. Nasty tree roots hid in the sand, lurched your bones and shook you senseless. Riders everywhere. Rushing parents, TV cameras, and the famous pro guys, too, who had finished for the day, hanging around the special tests. A few of them had even cheered her on.
It had taken a few sections to get the feel for riding in the sand, but now she was on a roll and feeling confident on the bike. Despite the pain and fatigue, Clover was having the time of her life.
She smiled at the thought, then felt concern as she watched Kerry swaying dangerously from side to side, unable to touch the ground on her bike. Clover would have grabbed Kerry’s handlebar to help her get off, but no outside assistance is allowed in Enduro. Kerry managed to dismount on her own, then leant her bike on its stand, just opposite Clover’s machine.
Ernie rushed up to the girls, a blue Gatorade in each hand. Over dinner, Ernie had organised with the Treasures to team-up for the race. Kerry’s parents would look after the girls at the remote control, about a forty minutes’ drive from the resort on dirt road, and Ernie at the home control. The parents had food, fuel, drinks and spare parts and tools for the girls at their six scheduled stops on each day of the event.
‘Thanks, Ernie.’ Kerry accepted a drink, took a swig and slumped down on one of the chairs.
‘Seen any times yet, Dad?’ Clover asked, resting her helmet in her lap as she sat down.
Ernie threw her the other Gatorade. She was surprised to catch it her arms were so weak and heavy it was as if they’d been pumped full of lead.
‘Yep. They’ve posted the first four tests. Kerry is in third, ahead of you by three seconds.’
‘What?’ Clover said, falling forward in her chair. ‘You sure I’m that close?’ They’d ridden together in the trail sections, but Clover had let Kerry start the special tests first.
‘See for yourself.’ Ernie handed her a white sheet of paper. ‘Swiped it from a nice timing lady … Your first time was a bit slower,’ he said, his finger running down the page. ‘But you made up for it in the next few.’
‘Good on ya, girl,’ Kerry said, chucking the cap of her drink at Clover. Clover shook her head with disbelief. She’d felt fast, but it was so hard to tell she’d mostly been focusing on keeping the rubber side down, following the arrows and not hitting any palm trees. But to be within seconds of Kerry it meant she had a real chance of finishing on the podium. Of winning the right to go to the World’s.
A jolt of competitiveness rocked her body.
‘How far ahead are Lasha and Lucy?’ Kerry asked.
‘Here.’ Clover handed her the time sheet. ‘Looks like Lasha’s pulled a bit of a lead.’
‘Both of their times have been better than a lot of guys, actually,’ Ernie said. ‘Lasha was about fifteen-seconds a test faster than you guys, Lucy around the same.’
‘They must have been training in the off-season,’ Kerry said.
‘They are certainly on fire today.’
‘Well, I guess it’s down to you and me, then, Clover Canada.’ Kerry punched her in the shoulder.
‘Okay, girls, better get your helmets on. You’re due out of the control in two minutes, down that way.’ Ernie pointed down the long row of quick shades, which had been set up parallel to the spectator’s bleachers. ‘Right next to the start archway.’
Clover hauled her aching body from her chair, brushed a few strands of sweat-drenched hair back from her face and pulled her helmet on. Before going to her bike, she held out a hand to Kerry, and they gave each other a high five.
Ernie was looking at Clover with concern as she mounted her bike. ‘Just take it easy, all right? You can’t afford to crash, just keep doing what you’ve been doing and I’ll see you in about an hour.’
‘How many tests are in this section, again?’
‘Just one more.’ Ernie had to yell in the front of her helmet to be heard over the sound of her bike, which she’d fired to life. ‘Then you’ll be back here for your final work period. Your tyres look okay, so luckily you won’t have to change them for tomorrow. We’ll just do oil and an air filter.’ Then he had to jump back to avoid catching a handlebar to the ribs as Clover took off, snaking through the sand, past the quick shades and to the time control.
There was only a short line of riders waiting to start the special test. Clover took off just after Kerry.
She flew through the bushes on the narrow, sandy trail, blinking fast, trying to focus past the grit in her eyes. The pain from her muscles and blistered hands was no longer a worry massive amounts of adrenaline had lifted her high, masking all feelings and thoughts bar one finishing this final special test as quickly as possible. Beating Kerry, coming third, and going to the World’s.
She was in the zone standing on the pegs, elbows up, throttle on. At one with the high-revving machine. A phenomenal feeling, like smashing the baseball with the sweet part of the bat, or catching the perfect wave.
She had pre-walked this special test twice. From memory, she was about halfway through. It was an easy one to remember only about seven minutes long, starting and finishing at the far end of the main control, among all the action. There were tons of people around the test. Clover was aware of cheers and people whizzing by, but did her best to only focus on the track. Ra - ra - ra went her bike as she hit each bump of the straightaway.
At the end of the straight, she soared through the sweeping right-hander, accelerated, hit the brakes, dropped into a deep rut and took a tight turn to the left. Another rut to the right. Wheelied over a root, another short straight, then out into the open.
Clover shifted her weight forward and turned her handlebars slightly as she hit the next tight corner
, then twisted the throttle hard. Her bike jumped out of the deep sand smoothly, as if she’d just ridden from a cloud. But this feeling only lasted a second the roost from her rear wheel hit her back, most of it sliding down inside her jersey and filling her pants. She ignored the grains of sand grinding between her ass cheeks and accelerated out of the next corner, leaning forward, the bike singing up the short hill.
Cresting the hill, Clover’s eyes fixed on the descent, on the gap between the two palm trees. Only just enough room to get her handlebars through, absolutely no margin for error. She and Ernie had talked when they were pre-walking the test about how she should slow down, weave the handlebars through the trees.
But now, there was no time. Tick, tock, tick went the clock in her mind.
Kerry’s bike revved in front of her. Clover was catching up, gaining time. She felt good, invincible. Pumped and fast and above making a mistake. She was going to win. Dropping down the hill, the bike picked up speed Clover threw her weight back and squeezed on the front brake, felt the lever for the rear brake under the sole of her boot.
The trees sped towards her. The gap between them looked too small. She’d have to slow down. She slammed on both brakes and held her breath, keeping her elbows in, as if that would help her sneak through the tight space. In the corner of her eye, she saw the thick, brown trunks.
She was through. Safe.
Back on the gas, hard, to get back up to speed and shoot out into the straight away. To the finish line.
As soon as she felt the twitch, Clover knew she was in trouble. Her stomach sank. A rush of fear gripped her chest. Then she shot through the air so fast she didn’t have time to react and roll. Her toes caught sand as she flung forward, her entire weight crunching over her boots.
Splitting pain.
On the ground, and the tears came instantly. Sobs. She was hollow with shock and despair and was shaking as if she were freezing. She tried to think about what to do next, but all she could see beyond her was the image of her body flinging through the air, like a rag doll. It played over and over in her mind. She couldn’t recall seeing anything on the track. Obviously, something had snagged her rear wheel. But she couldn’t see the point in thinking about it now. Her race was finished. Over. It was as if a towering tsunami had rolled over her. A killer wave in a black ocean, an ocean drowning her dreams of racing the World Championships.
The girl behind Clover stopped to see if she was okay. She only just managed to choke out, ‘medics.’ Then wave the girl on. Her limbs were weak and shaky, but she was able to crawl off the track and out of the way of oncoming bikes. Her own bike was already off the trail, on its side, down at the base of the hill.
The paramedic team arrived minutes later. They made sure she was well away from the track then laid her down, immobilised her ankle and got her comfortable, moving the spectators away from the ‘casualty’ as they called her. Bikes were still coming past. Loud. Annoying to her in a way she never thought the sound of a dirt bike could be. All those girls, she thought with despair. Finishing ahead of me! The medics asked her questions like: ‘Can you tell us what happened?’, ‘How did it happen?’, ‘Did your bike land on you?’ … ‘Would you like some pain relief ?’
She told them that she was flicked off, no, the bike didn’t hit her, and she was certain she had broken her ankle. Not even the best boots on the market made up for such force, such a mistake. Her first ever broken bone.
‘Did you hear a snap?’ one asked.
‘More like a crunch.’
‘Uh-huh,’ he said. ‘And you sure there’s no pain in your neck, or back?’
‘Just the ankle.’ And my hands and my heart.
The medic nodded knowingly and whipped out a two-way radio. ‘Rider down after marker six in test seven, stable, but suspected fracture to right ankle. Will secure and bring her out with the Rhino. Have ambulance ready for transport. Over and out.’
To Clover, the pain felt good. She deserved to be punished for her eagerness and stupidity. She was being punished, she was sure of it now, for leaving Silvertown, going against her best friend, not listening to the rare advice given by her mother, for trying to live two lives being here in Florida, when she should be supporting her boyfriend. Punished, for trying to find happiness.
She should have known better than to chase her dreams. All she ever found was failure. Clover let out a sob and allowed her head to fall back against the ground, smacked the sand with both hands, and cried.
Later, when the paramedics had managed to get her boot off, Clover forced herself to look at her foot and as she did, her stomach flipped and her head went dizzy. Her ankle, or what used to be her ankle, anyway, resembled a puffed up, discoloured blowfish, a blowfish that had eaten all her toes her pink toenails stuck out from its lips, her toes like round little sausages.
A short, green whistle appeared in front of her face. ‘Just suck on this,’ the medic said.
She was about to grab the stick and chuck it into the scrub when she heard the soothing sound of a familiar voice.
‘Dad?’
‘Sorry, honey. I’m here.’
She looked over and saw, through the tears and grains of sand, the shape of her father hunched beside her. He laid a hand on her stomach.
‘Dad! I’m so sorry, I was so stupid.’
‘Don’t say that. I’m very proud of you.’ He lifted his sunglasses off his face. His eyes welled with tears.
‘Proud?’ she said. ‘Of what?’
‘Of you trying so hard. It’s my fault. It was too much to ask of you. It’s too early in the year to come down here. It’s my fault you weren’t ready.’
‘I’m the fool who couldn’t ride properly and who hit the stupid root.’
‘You haven’t ridden on dirt for months. I promised to stop pushing you, and now I’ve gone and gotten you hurt. I’m sorry.’ He put a hand on her shoulder, stroking her hair with the other. ‘Now, you tell these paramedics exactly where you hurt.’
‘It’s just my ankle.’
Ernie looked at them. ‘No internal injuries?’
They shook their heads.
‘That is brilliant.’ Ernie seemed to relax, but only a fraction. ‘Do you need a hand getting her onto the stretcher?’
‘That’d be great.’
‘Just relax, honey, you’re going to be fine.’ Ernie leant down so his head was next to hers. ‘I’m sorry, Clover.’ He stroked her face.
‘It was my fault, Dad. Maybe next time, I’ll finally be able to get through a race without crashing. I’ll know for next time not to … ’ But she had to replay what her father had just said.
I’m sorry.
He was apologising. Does this mean I can still go to the World’s? At that moment, her mind was free, void of the black ocean which had consumed her like the sea had morphed back to blue and was parting down the middle, clearing a path for her dreams to sail back into possibility. Now she’d had a taste of the big time, she absolutely had to have more.
‘Hey, Dad?’
‘Yes, honey.’
‘There is one thing you could say that would make me feel better.’
Ernie studied her face. ‘What’s that?’
‘That I can still go to the World’s.’
‘You still want to go?’
‘You wouldn’t give up, if you were me.’
He shook his head. ‘I was afraid you’d lost that drive.’
‘I think I’ve finally learned this lesson. Now I’ll be stronger for it. It must only take, what, like a few months for a broken ankle to heal? I’ll still have plenty of time to ride and prepare. I’ll be ready.’
Ernie’s face hardened. ‘I’m not comfortable talking about this right now. Let’s just get that ankle in a cast, and then … ’
‘I won’t take no for an answer.’
Ernie raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Let’s just worry about getting you fixed for now, okay?’ He sighed deeply. ‘You’re always in such a hurry, when you ge
t an idea in your head. Just like your mother.’
Clover gritted her teeth now was not the time to get Ernie off side. ‘Life’s too fast to sit idle, Dad.’
But before she finished, a husky voice ripped through the scrub, making all of them jump.
‘Clover Canada! What have you done to yourself ?’
Clover raised her head to see Kerry bounding down the track, with her father, Earl, in tow. She couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her first racing friend.
‘Well,’ Clover said. ‘I liked the look of the medics, here figured this was the best way to say hello.’
Kerry, Earl and the medics all laughed.
‘Ankle, huh?’ Kerry said.
Clover nodded.
‘That sucks, girl. Nasty little spot, that.’ Kerry gave the two trees a dirty look, before kneeling in the sand beside Ernie. ‘Sucks you hurt yourself. We were havin’ a good race.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, Kerry,’ Clover said, looking her in the eye. A zealous grin crept across her face. ‘We’ll race again, soon. But not in this sand crap, in some sloppy, Czecho mud.’
Ernie opened his mouth to protest, but Clover was too quick, ‘Dad was just saying how good it’s gonna be when we can race each other again, at the World’s.’
‘Like hell I was!’ Ernie said.
‘Oh, yeah,’ Kerry said. ‘You’ll be all better, well before then.’
‘Okay, guys,’ the medic said as they rested the stretcher on the ground next to Clover. ‘Let’s get this show on the road the ambulance is ready and waiting to take you to hospital. You’ll see a doctor and get the x-ray and if it is broken, a nice fibreglass cast.’ He smiled at Clover. ‘You can even get a pink one, if you’d like.’
‘Pink sounds great, thanks.’ Clover was already feeling much better. ‘To match my other boot!’
TWENTY-TWO
Clover moved as swiftly as her aluminium crutches would allow along the school hallway, past the rows of lockers, towards Sydney. After spending spring break in her bedroom with her leg up on a pillow, even she was excited to be back at school.