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.”
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.
Jamie 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.
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.
“Best line is at the bottom of the track, Jamie,” her dad said. “That’ll be the easiest.”
“Looks like everybody else thinks you’re right,” Jamie said. “There’re three ahead of me low.”
On the 10th lap, Jamie saw smoke ahead of her.
“Go high. Go high. Go high,” her dad said.
Jamie swerved high and barely missed a tangle of cars.
“Good job avoiding that mess. Yellow flag.”
“What happened?”
“Number 6 got a little wobbly in turn three and got into the #7. Then #7 went down to the barrier and did a Darlington below the grass. Looks like he’s out.”
Ever since Jamie was a kid, she and her father had used code words from his former races. One year at Darlington he had been bumped by one of the most popular drivers when he was riding the inside line. In turn four, the two of them collided, pushing her dad to the infield, slamming into the barrier and sending him to the hospital. The other driver recovered and
went on to finish fifth. Anytime somebody got bumped and was sent down, they called it a Darlington.
Jamie pulled in behind the #5 car and followed the pace car as the debris was cleaned off the track. As she passed the #7 car, Roger, one of Chad’s friends, climbed out. He looked okay, but she could tell he was frustrated.
She tried not to glance into the stands during a race, but when they were driving under caution, she’d sneak a peek at the grandstands and look for signs. She picked out a crude one that said, “#14 is #1! Go Jamie!”
The next time she came around, she caught sight of Trace Flattery, a guy in her youth group and a school friend. She could see him because he was one of the largest people in the stands, and judging from his red face, he was yelling the loudest.
I swear, if I had a horn on this thing, I’d honk at you, Trace,
she thought.
“Going to green the next lap,” her dad said.
Jamie had a good restart, passing another car for fifth place. At the halfway point she was solid there when she went in for new tires and a full tank of gas.
“You’ve gone from #10 to #5 in the first half,” Kellen said, giving her some Gatorade in a squeeze bottle. “Next half you’ll get to first.”
“That’s what I’m gunning for,” Jamie said.
“How does it feel?” Rosa said when she had finished fueling the car.
“It’s handling like a dream,” Jamie said. “Just a little wobble in a couple of the turns, but it feels even better than the car yesterday.”
Rosa nodded. “You’re half a race from a license. Show them we can do it.”
Rosa slapped Jamie’s hand, and Jamie knew she meant that she needed to show the guys that the girls could actually race. “I’ll do my best.”
Chad Devalon led the first half with a two-car lead over the #4 car, driven by Dante Irving, the only African-American still racing. Thor was in third place in the #1 car. Jamie started the second half in fifth place and rolled out of pit road gritting her teeth.
“You ready for this?” her dad said.
“I can’t wait,” Jamie said.