Hover Car Racer Read Online Free Page B

for the faint-hearted or the weakkneed. You will experience the elation of victory…and the deflation of loss. You will all partake in the School Championship, while those of you who actually win a race will have the extra privilege of participating in the mid-season Sponsors’ Race.
    ‘Some of you will emerge from this crucible forged and strengthened, and hence worthy of the title ‘racer’…and from that, worthy of a contract with a professional team. Others among you will not - you will be broken. But take heart, it is no disgrace to withdraw from Race School. Just being invited to come here in the first place means that you are something special.
    ‘Speaking of something special,’ LeClerq grinned, ‘I am pleased to announce that we have a bit of a surprise for you all today. To give this year’s Commencement Lecture, we have a very special guest, an alumnus of this school and, let’s be frank, a rather famous individual. Ladies and gentlemen, to give the Commencement Address, I present to you the best student I ever taught…Alessandro Romba, the current World Champion!’
    The auditorium came alive.
    Heads turned in delighted shock. Murmurs raced across the room. Jason almost fell out of his seat.
    At the lectern, Jean-Pierre LeClerq gave a satisfied smirk - he had sprung his surprise perfectly.
    Alessandro Romba was quite simply the most famous man in the world.
    La Bomba Romba.
    The reigning world champion on the Pro Circuit, he was the lead driver for the Lockheed-Martin Factory Team. He was also Italian, drop-dead handsome, and perhaps the most daring man to ever helm a hover car: his nickname ‘La Bomba’ - the Bomb - was very well-earned.
    He endorsed aftershave lotions, Lockheed-Martin hover cars, and Adidas sportswear. Not a week went by when his face did not appear on the cover of some major magazine or newspaper.
    When Alessandro Romba strode out onto the stage from the wings, the entire audience fell into a respectful hush. Not a few women in the crowd primped their hair.
    He embraced LeClerq like a son hugging his father, and then he stood behind the lectern and smiled that million-dollar grin.
    The media cameras clicked like machine guns.
    Thirty minutes later, La Bomba Romba concluded his speech to roars of approval and a standing ovation. Jean-Pierre LeClerq retook the lectern.
    ‘Thank you, Alessandro, thank you. It will come as no surprise to any of you that in his year at Race School, Alessandro romped away with the School Championship by a record twenty points. I understand that he will be staying for lunch and is happy to sign autographs too.
    ‘But to some administrative matters: I will now call out each candidate’s name and assign them to their mentors. Your mentor will be your teacher here at Race School - as well as your guidance counsellor, your confidante and your surrogate parent. Each mentor will be responsible for three driving teams.
    ‘So. Starting alphabetically. Team Becker, driver Barnaby, you will be under the tutelage of Master Zoroastro. Team Caseman, driver Timothy, Master Raul. Team Chaser, driver Jason, you will be assigned to Master Syracuse: Mech Chief to be assigned. Freeman, driver Wesley…’
    Jason turned to the Bug. ‘Well, little brother. It’s time to start Race School.’

CHAPTER THREE

    THE INTERNATIONAL RACE SCHOOL PIT LANE
    Pit Lane pulsed with the noises and smells of racing.
    The whirring hum of magneto drives. The whine of hover cars screaming down the straight. The acrid smell of spent drives and the sweet mint-like odour of green coolant liquid.
    After the formalities of the Opening Ceremony were over, it was straight to the racetrack for the new candidates. Their bags were all taken to their dorms, where they would meet them later. Their cars had been unloaded from the liner during the ceremony, and were waiting for them in the pits.
    Naturally, Jason and the Bug got lost on the way to Pit Lane.
    Race School was a pretty big place, with no