Checkered Flag Cheater by Will Weaver

Author:Will Weaver
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780374350628
Publisher: Farrar, Straus and Giroux (BYR)

The Billings Motorsports Park speedway lay several miles north of the city, toward Roundup. “It’s fast and it’s dirt!” was the BMP motto, and, as speedways went, it was better than many. To the north were buttes and open plains, but close in, early-bird fans had already spread out their blankets and stadium seats here and there on the sturdy aluminum bleachers. To the side, the pits were alive with race teams setting up. Harlan joined the lineup of haulers at the pit gate, and slowly crept ahead with the Team Blu rig. He kept looking in his side mirror.

“What?” Jimmy asked.

“Take a look behind,” Harlan said.

Only a few haulers back was the open trailer with the orange No. 77x of Jason Nelson.

“He’s everywhere,” Trace muttered.

“I thought that kid was from Nebraska,” Harlan said.

“He is,” Trace said.

“What’s he doing way up here?”

“Points?” Jimmy said, craning his neck to look.

“Billings is a long haul from Nebraska,” Harlan said.

Trace was silent. When they finally reached the pit shack, the team got out and stepped up to the counter for the computer draw. Trace touched the mouse: number 97.

“Could be worse,” said the cheerful girl at the pit shack computer.

“Yeah—like 100,” said another girl. The two of them laughed.

“Thanks a lot,” Harlan muttered as he paid for four pit passes.

“Four?” the first girl asked, looking behind as she laid out wristbands.

“That guy in the little motor home—he’s with us, too,” Harlan said.

“Two vehicles will cost extra,” the girl said.

“No problem,” Harlan said.

“Couldn’t do without your motor guy, eh?” said someone behind in line. It was Jason Nelson’s father.

Harlan gave him a long stare, but said nothing.

Beside his father, Jason lifted his chin at Trace. “Hey, man.”

Trace nodded back.

“Swap motors tonight?” Jason’s father asked Team Blu. “Just for the hell of it?”

Harlan spit to the side. “Ignore those farmers,” he muttered.

“Here you boys go,” the pit shack girls said.

Trace, Jimmy, and Harlan held out their arms; the girls looped their wrists with colored bands and sealed them.

“What about his?” the younger girl said, glancing toward Smoky’s motor home. She held the fourth wristband.

“He’s kind of . . . handicapped,” Harlan said. “He’ll drive up and put his arm out the window. Could you do his wristband?”

“Sure,” the girl said.

Harlan pulled the Freightliner up far enough to let Smoky stop his mini–motor home by the shack. Then he, Jimmy, and Trace hung out Harlan’s window to watch. As the shack girl came forward with Smoky’s wristband, Smoky held out his arm. The pit shack girl flinched—nearly tripped—at the sight of his claw-fingered hand.

“Yes!” Jimmy said, and pumped his fist.

“We are sick, sick puppies,” Harlan said as he geared the hauler forward.

Smoky followed close behind, like a little dog following a big dog, and parked alongside the big hauler. Soon the rear door came up, and Jimmy and Harlan rolled out the Super Stock. The early appearance of the Blu car surprised Trace.

“Are we ready to race?” he asked Smoky.

“We’re always ready to race,” Smoky rasped.

Trace glanced up toward the roof of Smoky’s motor home.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.