The next day at break, Rahul and Janet couldn’t find Amy anywhere at school. This was odd, as she had definitely been in class for the register.

“Has she gone home, maybe?” said Janet to Rahul. They were walking together down one of the school corridors, looking around.

“I don’t think so. Her mum would’ve had to come and get her, and she works quite a long way away, I think.”

Then suddenly they heard a noise, small but unmistakable – a sob. They looked round, and saw that they were passing the school’s one disabled toilet.

Rahul and Janet exchanged glances.

“Amy …?” said Rahul nervously. “Are you in there?”

“Yes …” came a quiet voice back.

“What’s it like?” said Janet.

There was a pause. Rahul looked at her and frowned.

“Pardon?” said Amy.

“Well,” said Janet, “you know that the standard toilets in this place are terrible. I just wondered if yours was maybe a bit nicer? I know it’s definitely bigger than any of ours.”

“OMG, Janet …” said Rahul. “Can’t you hear she’s crying?”

“Yes, Janet,” said Amy, “it’s like Buckingham Palace in here. I’ve got my own TV and personal butler.”

“Really?” said Janet.

“No,” said Amy, opening the door. “But thanks. I was crying, and now you’ve made me laugh.”

They went into the playground, where some boys – Barry Bennett and Malcolm Bailey and Alfie Moore and Sam Green and Ryan Ward – were playing football. They were making a lot of noise, which meant that Amy and Janet and Rahul could talk about why Amy had been crying without anyone noticing.

“What happened, Amy?” said Rahul. “Is it something to do with yesterday?”

“Yes,” said Amy.

“And the Taylor TurboChaser …?”

She nodded, but said, “I’m not allowed to call it that any more.”

Janet frowned. “Why?”

“Because after we got home, my dad FaceTimed. He had seen the photo on Jack’s Snapchat.”

“Oh,” said Rahul. “Was he cross?”

Amy went quiet. “He doesn’t really shout or anything, my dad. He just goes very … cold.”

“Do his lips go blue?” said Janet.

“No, Janet. I don’t mean his temperature goes down. I mean he starts speaking very quietly and definitely and slowly …” Her lip trembled as she said this. She took a deep breath. “Anyway, he was speaking like that, and he said he was very … disappointed in me. And that the new wheelchair cost a lot of money and that we had to take off all the things that you put on it, Rahul … and turn it back into an ordinary chair.”

“Did you tell him how amazing it is? I thought he loved cars too.”

“I tried, but he wouldn’t listen. He didn’t want to hear about how fast it can go, or how well it can corner, or anything. He just said that what we had done to it was silly and idiotic and dangerous and probably illegal. He said he wanted to see a picture of the wheelchair with all of the extras taken off. By Sunday.”

“Sunday?” cried Rahul. “That’s in three days!”

“Yes. He’s going away then. To Japan, for the start of the Formula One season. He wants it done before that. Or else he’s going to send Mobilcon to pick it up.”

Rahul went very quiet. Even Janet seemed to understand that this was bad.

“But what wheelchair will you use, then?” said Rahul, looking down.

“My old one, I suppose.”

“But one wheel doesn’t work!”

“Well. I suppose he thinks it won’t come to that. That we’ll just convert the TurboChaser back to being a wheelchair. Which …” she shrugged her shoulders, “I suppose we will. He’s probably right, anyway. It probably is illegal and dangerous and—”

“Your dad’s quite a pill, isn’t he?” interrupted Janet.

“Pardon?”

“It’s something my mum says. It doesn’t mean that he’s a small thing like medicine that you have to swallow.”

“Yes, I guessed that.”

“It means he’s hard work. Like pills can be!”

“Yes, well,” said Amy. “He didn’t use to be. He was really nice. Once. But then after my accident … I don’t know … that’s when he got more … cold.”

“Is that when he left?” said Janet, who tended to put things bluntly.

“Um,” said Amy. “Yes.”

Rahul looked up. “I’m so sorry, Amy. It’s all my fault. I should never have pimped it.”

“I’m not allowed to use that phrase either.”

“Oh.”

“But it isn’t your fault. I wanted you to do that. I don’t want something that crawls along; I want something that flies!”

“What, in the air?” said Janet.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” said Rahul.

“No! I mean along the road. I dreamt of it being … well, like it is.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “The Taylor TurboChaser.”

Rahul nodded and sighed. “I suppose there’s nothing we can do. I’ll start taking it apart tonight.”

“Yes,” said Amy. The bell rang for the end of break. Amy started turning her wheelchair round. And then round again. And then again.

Suddenly a stern but kind voice rang out over the playground. “Amy Taylor! Are you intending to join us for the rest of the day?”

Amy turned to see Mr Carter, the head teacher, standing by the door, holding it open.

“Rahul,” she said, “can you … um … push me back to class, please?”

Rahul started pushing.

“Any time today!” called Mr Carter.

Janet grabbed the other handle of the wheelchair and, together, she and Rahul started running. Someone had left a football on the ground – Amy steered round it!

Then swerved left, past an abandoned jumper!

Then slalomed round a rucksack, a new kid looking lost and a cone that had been left out from a PE lesson!

Which was all quite difficult with a dodgy wheel, but – powered by Rahul and Janet, at least – she managed it.

They screeched through the door and into the corridor.

“Well done!” said Mr Carter, as they slowed down and he shut the door. “You’ll be a racing driver one day, Amy.”

Amy looked at him. “No,” she said sadly. “Not now, I won’t.”