Scarlet Thunder Read Online Free

cameras going. Funny thing is, after a day or two, no one notices them. Sure, the first day, people watch what they say and how they look because they’re really aware of the cameras. But if the cameras are always around, it doesn’t take long for them to become part of the background. And if we had them here, this footage would be great. Just like bad news gets higher ratings, arguments are more interesting to watch than interviews.
    Sandy pointed at the car behind her. “I’ll bet whatever you want that the spoiler is not set at sixty-seven degrees. You may think it is, but it’s not driving that way. I can feel it on the corners.”
    Lance spit on the ground. “I set it myself. I know I’m right. I—”
    He stopped. Another pit crew member was shaking his head and pointing at the spoiler.
    â€œLooks like someone bent this corner,” the man said. “It’s a bit flat.”
    Sandy smiled at Lance. She pushed her helmet hard into his stomach. It pushed a woof of breath out of his lungs.
    â€œFix it, please,” she told Lance. “And find out who had a chance to mess with the spoiler and why. We don’t have much more practice time before my qualifying run.”
    She left him holding her helmet and walked toward Uncle Mike.
    â€œHello,” she said, smiling and extending her hand in greeting. “I’m Sandy Peterson. And you must be the famous Mike Hiser, here to give us our hour of television fame.”
    â€œIt’s an honor to meet you,” Uncle Mike said, shaking her hand.
    â€œSo,” she said, “I’ve got about fifteen minutes before I go back on the track. Let’s sit down so you can tell me what you want to do and how you’re going to do it.”

chapter six
    The infield of the racing track was filled with dozens and dozens of motor homes and trailers. Many racing people find it easier and cheaper to travel in a trailer as they follow the circuit from track to track.
    The three of us found lawn chairs in the shade of a motor home, away from the pit crew. The shade helped but didn’t give much relief from the hot wind.
    Sandy looked at me as if noticing me for the first time.
    â€œWho are you?” she asked me. “And what are you doing here?”
    â€œThis is—” Uncle Mike began.
    â€œI didn’t ask you,” she said to him. “Let him answer for himself.”
    Uncle Mike snapped his mouth shut. I’d never heard anyone talk to him this way before.
    â€œI’m Trenton Hiser,” I said. “I do all kinds of odd jobs to help things run smoothly. But my real job is to learn as much as I can about directing.”
    We had to speak louder than normal to be heard above the engines revving loudly in various places along the pit road.
    â€œHiser,” she said with a question in her voice. She jerked her thumb at Uncle Mike. “He your dad?”
    I shook my head. “My uncle. My parents and sister are in Los Angeles.”
    I hardly thought of them when I was away. If being away from home was the price I had to pay to reach my dreams, I had decided it was worth it.
    â€œYou look too young to be out of school, let alone to think about becoming a director.”
    â€œIt’s summer and school is out,” I said. Her amused grin showed me she was teasing. So I gave her a small grin myself. “And you look too young to drive a stock car at this level. Besides, only men should be race-car drivers.”
    â€œTrent—” Uncle Mike began.
    Sandy laughed. “I deserved that. Besides, I wanted to see if he could stand up for himself. Sometimes people who get hired because they’re family don’t have brains or a backbone. This one does.” She flashed me another grin. “We’ll get along just fine.”
    â€œI’m starting to see that I can believe some of those press clippings I collected,” Uncle Mike said, smiling. “What was