Chapter 23

 

Harry’s dad arranged for Carol to live with his sister Isobel. Carol shed no tears as they watched her board the train for Ottawa. Harry wished for a second he could go with her, but the girl who’d annoyed him with her sisterly mothering had died with Mom. This Carol was no more nurturing than their father.

Before dawn the next morning, father and son set off for a new life, towing all their worldly goods in a rented trailer. Harry slept the first part of the way. They had cleared the U.S. border before Dad casually asked how he felt about correspondence school.

“Why?”

“So you can stay with me when we’re on the road.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. “Are you going everywhere with the old man? Like a nanny for his car?”

A muffled bark erupted from his father’s lips. Harry’s eyes widened even more. Dad hadn’t laughed since... well, since their disastrous summer vacation.

“Mr. Delaney runs a stock car team. I’ll be working on those engines, which means I go with them when they race.”

He made it sound like he’d been offered the chance of a lifetime. Harry scowled out the window. He couldn’t care less about engines or machines. Going to the different races with his dad might be okay, but those were what, a week or two apart? That left an awful lot of practice and engine tuning. Boring.

Would there be anyone his own age? A hollow feeling settled in his stomach.

Almost fifteen hours after they started, they pulled into the Team Delaney complex in Mooresville, North Carolina. From the road signs, Mooresville was home to a number of stock car racing teams.

Dad shot Harry a grin. “They call this place Race City, USA.”

And that was a good thing? Harry slid a little farther down in his seat.

They stopped at a white security booth, then followed the uniformed guard’s directions to the employee parking lot. Only a few cars remained this late in the day, and Dad chose a spot near a blue building big enough to be an airplane hangar.

Harry might not want to be here, but it was good to feel the gravel crunch under his feet, to stand and stretch. They walked around the side of the building. A chubby man in a racing jacket, insulating headphones resting around his neck, came through the door as they reached it. He stopped long enough to hear Dad’s question and jerked his head back the way he’d come. “Office is through there. The receptionist’s gone for the day, but just sing out and the boss will hear you.”

Aaron Delaney looked older than ever. The racing boss grasped Harry’s hand in a firm shake and searched him with a stare. Harry squirmed on the inside, but kept his hand still. And he didn’t look away.

“It’s good to meet you, young Harry. I’ll tell you straight out, I’m an old-fashioned sort, but I try to be fair. Here’s the deal. Keep your grades up, clean up the way you look, and I’ll be proud to have you around.

“You can go anywhere on the complex, do anything, as long as you abide by the safety rules. One violation and you’ll be barred from the premises. I value each member of my team, and I won’t stand for any unnecessary risks.”

Rules and more rules. Harry mumbled, “Yes sir” and tuned out the old man’s conversation with Dad. At least safety rules made sense in a professional racing environment.

It didn’t take long to get used to the routine. Monday team meetings were a good time for schoolwork. He tried to be around to watch the pit stop drills during the week, though. He couldn’t believe the rivalry for best speed between the two Team Delaney drivers’ crews, or how it crept into his blood. The two crews drilled hard, and no wonder, when he learned how many points could be won or lost in the pits.

Okay, so it wasn’t always boring around the track. And the homework wasn’t too bad. His father still owed him for dragging him to this engine-happy corner of the US. Still ignored him, too. Dad looked more like he used to, though. Like maybe he was coming back to life.

Dad couldn’t bring Harry’s mother back, though. Or comfort her grieving son.

Harry went to his first race under protest. Well, he’d protest anything his father suggested, but he honestly didn’t want to go. Why spend a rainy weekend living in a trailer behind a track somewhere, with all the noise and crowds?

His father refused to let him stay home alone. Harry hung out in their trailer until he couldn’t stand it anymore, then found his way to the Team Delaney pits. Might as well see how the crews did in a real racing practice.

It beat the tin can trailer, so he claimed a place beside the team spotter for the whole weekend. When the cars roared onto the track for the race, Harry lost himself in the speed and raw power. He’d seen them practice lots of times, driving endless oval laps, but without the jockeying for position, without the maximum give-it-all driving. He’d thought it was overrated.

This wasn’t overrated. He had to remind himself to breathe.

~~~

Harry had been right. There weren’t many kids his age around during the week. But on race weekends a whole community of motor homes and trailers moved into the track site, with kids of all ages. The older boys and girls were free to roam, and Harry often met them wandering the grounds or looking into the garages during breaks in the schedule.

He and an older boy named Rajit roamed the pit areas on the next race weekend, taking in the bustle and the ever-present oil smell. They couldn’t go everywhere, but their passes let them get closer than the paying fans. Rajit’s dad was a race engineer for another team, and Rajit had friends in most of the garages.

An hour before race time, Rajit cut him loose. “You want to stay with your own team during the race, so nobody thinks you’re spying on their strategy or their data. Maybe I’ll see you afterward.”

“Good luck, and thanks for the tour.” Harry headed back to Team Delaney and climbed the stairs to join the spotters. One of them offered him a clipboard. “Want to record fuel consumption?”

He’d done that a few times in practice. “Sure.”

As the Team Delaney cars roared into the pits, Harry’s pencil marked fuel intake and laps burned. He missed a bit of the race action this way, but it kept him more in tune with his own team’s performance.

His dad probably hadn’t known when he took the job—might not have cared—if their team was any good. They’d lucked out, though. Delaney’s drivers both ranked better than middle-of-the-pack, and team pride was infectious. Harry loved the positive energy of it all.

Between races, Harry and his dad lived in an apartment in Mooresville. After about a month of following the cars from race to race, Dad nudged Harry while they were washing the supper dishes. “What do you think about karting?”

“Huh?”

His father grinned. “Motorized go-karts. Smaller than the stock cars you drool over every day, but better than a bike. Mr. Delaney thinks you might like it.”

Harry put the two dinner plates in the cupboard. “No thanks.”

Dad’s face darkened. “Listen, son. The man’s a decent boss, and for some reason he’s taken an interest in you. If he’s offering you a treat, better take it.”

“Why me?”

“He’s picked up how keen you are on racing. Says this is a chance to find out if you’re any good at it.”

Racing. Harry couldn’t imagine a puny go-kart would have much speed, but it might be worth a try. The old man understood how he felt about race cars, maybe even felt the same. “Okay, tell him I’ll give it a shot.”

When they met Mr. Delaney at the go-kart track Saturday morning, Harry’s first look at the line of parked go-karts made him wish he’d stayed in bed. The old man’s offer was kind, but these things were ridiculous. Squat little karts with smooth mini tires sticking out from stubby bodies. They looked like something a rich preschooler would ride in his driveway.

Mr. Delaney shot him a piercing look as if he heard Harry’s thoughts. Harry fought to keep his face bland. Enthusiasm was more than he could muster. Delaney’s habitual stern face cracked into a tiny smile. “Reserve judgment until you’ve tried it.”

The old man helped Harry select gear and a helmet. Then he led father and son toward the go-karts. Outfitted, instructed in the basics, and strapped in, Harry gripped the steering wheel.

They wouldn’t be going through all this stuff if the little cars didn’t have a bit of kick. He nudged the gas pedal and blundered onto the track. There was another go-kart already out, but he had plenty of room.

Start slowly, they’d said. Harry eased around the oval. He picked up the rhythm instinctively, loving the feel of the acceleration, the vibration of the tires on the tarmac.

Before long he was at full throttle. He took the entrance to the next turn too fast. Next thing he knew Harry faced backward on the track, his dizzy brain trying to catch up. He swerved the little kart around and kept going.

The other kart waggled a slalom course on the opposite side of the oval track. Harry had spotted orange blurs on the pavement. They must be what the driver used as markers. Harry grinned. He had to try it.

Accelerating out of the oval’s curve, he angled his kart to the right of the first orange mark, held speed, and slithered left across the track before the next splotch of orange. He sawed the steering wheel back and forth, shoulders tight, running over more markers than he skirted, but picking up the pattern.

He climbed out of the open-framed kart an hour later and pulled off his rented helmet. Speed and vibration thrummed in his veins, and he couldn’t stand still. He’d never felt so alive. Dad flashed him a thumbs-up. Harry grinned, then looked at Mr. Delaney.

The older man’s eyes sparkled, but his face wore a strangely closed expression. He cleared his throat. “Silver, the boy’s got talent. He’s almost thirteen, and that’s late to be starting, but he’s good. He should learn to race.”

Harry whirled to his father, but Dad shook his head.

“You pay well, Mr. Delaney, but I don’t have that kind of money. And I’m still supporting a daughter at home in Canada.”

Delaney’s voice was crisp. “Forget the cost. Your son has real potential. I have money to spare. Will you allow me to sponsor him?”

He waved away the answering frown. “This is not charity. Part of it is the fun I’ll have watching him develop. I do like the boy, but it’s a business investment. I’d be grooming him for a place on my team, and he’d wear the team logo on his jacket.”

Dad crossed his arms over his chest. “Thank you, sir, but the answer is still no.”

Harry’s hands balled into fists in his jacket pockets. He didn’t dare look at either man. This sudden offer meant more to him than anything he’d ever wanted before. The pain of losing it must be naked on his face. Even his father couldn’t mistake the emotion. Tears pricked his eyelids. He turned away.

~~~

When Harry saw Mr. Delaney approaching the pit crew drills on Monday, he left his seat and went back to the little room he’d been given for his schoolwork. He ate lunch in there too, alone. The old man would probably say something about the weekend’s karting, and Harry couldn’t go there, not now.

His father broke the stony silence on the way home without taking his eyes from the road. “You were good in that kart on the weekend. And you really wanted more.”

You think? Harry kept his mouth shut.

“Mr. Delaney convinced me to let you try.” No emotion in his voice, no facial expression. No eye contact.

Was this an apology? “Last Saturday.” Harry’s voice came out as flat as his father’s.

“Going forward. If your grades drop or you get in trouble, you’re done. And if you don’t have what Mr. Delaney thinks you have, you’ll be done anyway. He’ll give you a year to find out.”

The car kept moving, but for Harry everything stopped. It couldn’t be true. His father was too proud to let someone else provide for his family. Too stern to value his son’s happiness.

But Matt Silver didn’t lie, and he wouldn’t raise false hope.

Harry drew a cautious breath. “Do you mean it?”

“Boss says you need the chance. He’s right.”

“Sweet! I mean—thank you. Very much. I won’t let you down.” His heart was racing, and he could have jumped from the car and run the rest of the way home for the joy of this gift. But he didn’t want to embarrass his father with a big display of emotion. Instead he held it in, warmed by the glow.

“Mr. Delaney will give you the details tomorrow.”

~~~

Sponsored to race. Every available chance, Harry practiced. Mr. Delaney provided a fast, agile go-kart and Harry qualified for the next local race.

If every dream came true, he would have won his first race, but he felt a winner’s triumph even with his tenth place finish. He’d taken a hammering from the other drivers and kept his kart on the track. He’d been up to sixth for three laps. Most important, he’d seen what the others could do, and the electricity in his veins whispered he could do it too—and better—if he gave it everything he had. Sweaty and triumphant, he flashed both his father and his sponsor a wide grin.

A few months later, Aaron Delaney paid for him to attend an exclusive racing school in California. Harry threw himself into learning—even classroom learning, which had always bored him. But it mattered now. Angles, vectors, physics, strategy became necessary tools to enhance performance. He loved the hands-on practice best. The more he learned to get from his vehicle, the faster he drove, the greater the thrill.

Back in Mooresville, he logged hours of practice time to catch up with his more experienced competitors. Karters were like any other group. A grab bag of talent, ego and personality. It didn’t take long to learn who to avoid.

Harry watched the leaders, the naturals. One of the girls, Kara, had this trick of getting right beside another kart, close enough to crowd, then executing a little zigzag in the other driver’s peripheral vision. When it worked, the other driver drifted off the racing line and she shot past.

It worked on Harry twice. The next time, he let it happen so he could learn the timing. First chance in a race, he used it on her.

When they’d parked the karts, she strode over to him, helmet under one arm. “Slick one, Harry. You got me this time. Don’t count on it happening again.”

He grinned. “Thanks for the lesson.” Good thing she wasn’t mad. It was a good trick, and he’d use it again. A few karts away, one of the other guys flashed a thumbs-up.

Apart from his karting friends, Harry spent most of his weekdays around the Team Delaney base, or at the practice track, surrounded by adults. Over the summer holidays, the children of the other team members often hung around the complex. Mr. Delaney’s grandchildren usually put in appearances as well. Harry grew used to visitors, but he didn’t waste any time on them.

To him, testing and practice were essential for sharpening and blending individual talents into a perfect team unit. These visiting kids just wanted to laugh and fool around. They intruded on the single-minded focus needed to craft a winning team. Even the tourists had more sense, although sometimes they went overboard the other way, as if they were on a religious pilgrimage or something.

Harry returned from a second stint at racing school to find two of the Delaney grandchildren staying for the whole summer. Their parents needed space to work out some cracks in their marriage, if the rumours were true. The reason didn’t matter to Harry. He dismissed the golden-haired girl as non-threatening and shy, and gritted his teeth every time he met the smouldering black eyes of her older brother.

Luke Brooks was seventeen, a year older than Harry and almost a head taller. He resented his grandfather sponsoring a pit mechanic’s son, and his antagonism grew each time Harry bested him in the go-karts.

Mr. Delaney didn’t seem to notice the undercurrents between the two boys. “I’ve arranged for you and Luke to drive together this summer. You’ll sharpen one another. I’ll pick you up tomorrow at ten.”

Harry swallowed an ocean of resignation. “I’ll be ready.” He could ignore Luke’s attitude long enough to get to the track, and then it wouldn’t matter as much. But it looked like a long summer.

When the silver Cadillac pulled up the next morning, Mr. Delaney’s granddaughter, Tracey, gave Harry a shy smile from the front passenger seat. He smiled back by reflex. Why’d she have to tag along? She’d never shown any interest in trying a kart herself, and it meant he’d have to sit with Luke all the way to practice.

He climbed into the back seat, the familiar heaviness settling in the pit of his stomach at the sight of Luke’s curled lip. “Thanks for driving me, Mr. Delaney.”

Luke cut him a sidelong glance. “Couldn’t get a summer job this year?”

Harry focused on the seat ahead of him. Wisps of Tracey’s long blond hair fluttered around the headrest in the air-conditioned breeze. “Team Delaney’s sponsorship of my karting makes this my job.”

“Or a handout.” Luke’s words came out too low to reach the front seat. Harry clamped his jaw and ignored the heat creeping up the back of his neck.

Both boys shot out of the car as soon as it stopped. Luke grabbed his gear from the trunk and strutted toward the practice arena. Harry rolled his eyes and shouldered his own bag.

He walked with Mr. Delaney and Tracey to the entrance, then they headed for the spectator seating. When he strapped into his kart, confidence filled his spirit. He was ready for anything. Even Luke Brooks.

Three karts growled past before Harry slotted his own onto the track. The second driver’s helmet looked like Kara’s. His lips twitched. She didn’t love Luke any better than he did. Probably because Luke assumed she should. Harry’d keep an eye out to see how she put Luke in his place this time.

The karts circled in free practice, slaloming, finding their apex lines, testing brakes. With room on the track, Harry pushed the kart past his limits to help him find precisely where those limits lay now.

He tromped the brake too deep into a corner. The tires chirped, the engine note dropped, and the kart’s rear shot sideways. He eased off on the brake to get control, but he ran out of room and tagged the wall.

Luke Brooks slowed for a fist pump as he passed Harry sitting sideways on the track. Harry shook it off and slewed the little kart back onto the racing line. He picked a spot marginally earlier into the corner next time around, came off maximum throttle, and braked hard. Chirp. Wiggle. Re-take control. Power through the turn. Better. Twice more, and he’d nailed it.

A kart pulled into his peripheral vision and started crowding sideways with Kara’s trademark zigzag. Harry held his position and started pushing back. They roared along the straight side by side, but he had the racing line into the corner. She dropped back.

If it had been Luke, one of them would have hit the wall on that corner. The guy didn’t know when to back off. Kara—and most of the others—had sense on top of their skill.

On the ride home, Mr. Delaney stopped to buy them each an ice cream cone. Harry was too hungry to refuse, hard as it was to stomach anything in Luke’s presence. He’d already downed a granola bar and a full bottle of sport drink. They’d worked hard today. Spectators didn’t realize how much competitive driving took out of a driver.

Luke’s dark eyes glittered at him. “I saw you lose it on the track a few times. You need to watch how I do it. A lot is natural talent, but some things anyone can learn.”

Harry bit a hunk of ice cream and cone. The cold made his front teeth ache, but it beat taking a piece out of his rival—and losing Delaney’s sponsorship.

Each practice, Luke found new ways to get in Harry’s space. The others took their fair share of grief from him too, but with Harry it was personal. Harry ignored what he could and never gave Luke an opening. If he had to back off, he did. Practice was for improvement and strategy, not for rivalry. Come race day, Luke Brooks would get what he had coming.

In their next race, Harry took an early lead while Luke got tangled in a pack of karts. By about half distance, Luke rode hot on his tail. Harry led into a tight turn, holding the racing line. Luke tried to push through on the inside.

Harry refused to give ground. The other kart pulled even with his. Harry muttered a curse inside his helmet. Here it comes. Luke’s kart jerked sideways, slamming its tires against his. Harry braced his hands on the steering wheel and rode out the impact. Somehow Harry stayed on the track. Luke spun off.

Harry won the race with a savage satisfaction that Hotshot Brooks had put his own kart out of action instead of forcing off the leader. The backslaps from his competitors suggested the pleasure wasn’t uniquely his.

He didn’t look forward to the locker room, though. Should he stall and hope Luke didn’t hang around? No, the jerk would wait. And he’d have more time to rant about Harry to the others. Some of the out-of-town racers even listened. Couldn’t they see Luke was all words?

At least with a group of his own karting friends—who saw Luke for what he was—Harry would have support. They might even put Luke in his place. One on one... Harry didn’t trust himself not to try that with his fists.

Luke wasn’t in the locker room. One of the locals looked around, “Hey, where’s old Hotshot?”

A few of the others snickered. A boy Harry didn’t know said, “He cleared out pretty fast. One ankle’s taped up.” The speaker looked at Harry. “I was behind you guys. He’s got a whole different story than what I saw.”

Harry shrugged. Luke was his sponsor’s grandson. No way would he risk words that might come back to hurt him. Sweaty and thirsty, he chugged a bottle of orange sport drink before changing back into his street clothes.

Luke might have spouted off here in the locker room, but he wouldn’t be getting too fancy with his take on the accident to his grandfather. The old man had watched it happen. Still, Harry didn’t want to keep them waiting. Better to get the miserable ride home over.

The car was waiting outside. Luke sat in front. He powered down his window and glared at Harry. “What took you so long? Gloating over your win, I suppose. My ankle’s killing me.”

Harry ducked into the back seat with a cautious glance at Luke’s sister. She didn’t look hostile, so either Luke hadn’t been too poisonous about him or she saw through it. Living with the guy, she probably knew not to take him seriously.

Mr. Delaney turned from the driver’s seat. “Congratulations, Harry. I’m sorry we can’t go out to celebrate, but the track medic advised Luke to keep his ankle elevated for a few days.”

“Thank you, sir.” And thanks for not putting him through any more time with Luke today.

It was a quiet ride home. Tracey didn’t say a word, and Luke fumed. Harry could almost see the waves radiating around the boy’s headrest.

When they reached the apartment, Mr. Delaney congratulated him again. “Luke will sit out a few practices and probably the next race. We’ll still drive you. Hands-on learning is best, but Luke can observe tactics and strategy from the stands.”

“Yessir.” Harry ducked out of the car, grabbed his bag, and headed for the apartment entrance. Too bad Dad hadn’t been there today to see him win, but one of the Team Delaney cars blew an engine yesterday. The whole crew pulled an all-nighter to rebuild it for tomorrow’s race.

The next race fell on his father’s day off. When they arrived, all three of the Delaney clan already sat in the stands. Luke’s glare could peel paint. Mr. Delaney left his seat and walked toward them. Over his shoulder, Tracey met Harry’s eyes with a quiet smile. Harry grinned a quick response and shifted his attention to his sponsor, trying to ignore the sudden tingle in his veins.

The old man clasped Harry’s hand. “Do us proud today, son.”

“I’ll give it my best.”

Harry’s kart came in second after a hard-fought race. He caught himself searching for a face—a smile—among the spectators as he pulled his helmet and balaclava off his sweat-soaked hair. Tracey’s grin was a little wider this time, and her eyes held his longer before he reluctantly broke the connection.

One hand raked his tousled bangs back from his face. Had she looked at him like that before? Why hadn’t he noticed how beautiful she was?

Harry marvelled at the sweet thrill stirring inside him. He was used to—maybe addicted to—the wild rush of adrenaline from competitive racing. This felt different. Quieter. As the days passed he realized it would endure.

Any excuse would move his feet in Tracey’s direction during the daily test sessions. She was easy to talk to, always rewarding him with one of her special smiles. Her warmth touched the hidden part of his heart that had frozen with his mother’s death.

Luke, on the other hand, continued to torment him. The boy was back in his go-kart for the next race, more aggressive than ever. He bulled his way through the cluster of karts between them and stuck as if magnetized behind Harry, in first place.

But aggression wasn’t enough to take the lead. Pushing his vehicle’s limits around the next corner, Harry opened some space between them.

How could two siblings have such opposite effects on him? Dark-lashed blue eyes sparkled, unbidden, in his mind. Even as he wrenched his focus back to driving, the steering wheel spun madly in his grip as one front tire licked the wall. He had no warning, no chance of recovery as the kart spun.

By the time he reached the stands in his street clothes, the blue and gold Team Delaney Racing jacket hanging limply from slumped shoulders, Luke Brooks was basking in the attention of his first win.

As Harry apologized to his sponsor, the blond boy strutted over. “Skill wins over tricks at last. And don’t give me any dirt about oil on the track. You couldn’t take the pressure.”

Harry ground his teeth together, heat rising in his cheeks. This jerk was Mr. Delaney’s grandson, and Tracey’s brother. He took a deep breath, then matched his accuser’s stare with his own.

“I lost concentration for a second. It’s my fault, and I paid the price. It won’t happen again.” He lifted his chin. “If you have a complaint about my driving, take it up with the race officials.”

Spinning away, Harry almost collided with Tracey, who’d lagged behind Mr. Delaney as if to give the two debriefing time. He stiffened at the troubled look in her clear blue eyes. She must have heard him. He’d blown his chances for sure, now.

She touched his arm. “Harry? Are you hurt?”

A tight smile cracked his face. “Only my pride. I’m not used to messing up.”

The relief on her face caught his breath. Time stretched as their eyes met in deepening understanding.

Luke’s voice broke the moment. “See, Trace, I told you I’d win. Did you see that pass?”

Harry arched his eyebrows at Tracey, his back to the winner. “Go congratulate the hero. I’ll see you later.” He winked at her and walked away.