Speed Freak Read Online Free Page A

muttered something and a tear splashed down. Shit and double shit. I put an arm around him and turned him away from the ghastly stripe of yellow. ‘How about we look at some colours? You can say if you like them. Okay?’
    He gave the tiniest nod. I guided him out of the room. Dad took one look and changed his approach. ‘Ah, I see that Archie was right. Win some, lose some. Looks like I’m on kitchen duty tonight.’
    He came with us to the computer and the two of us had to clown around for about five minutes before we could get a peep out of Felix. Eventually, he whispered that he liked blue, and could he have orange doors.

    HE ENDED UP staying with us all day. Dad gave him a small paintbrush, and he sat on the floor painting the skirting boards orange. Later, when Erica came for dinner, Felix showed her the room while Dad served up the meal. ‘It’s wonderful. I love it,’ she said, but what she was really looking at was her kid’s proud smile.
    ‘Shy little lad,’ Dad said when they’d gone. ‘It’ll be good for him to be around men more.’
    ‘Well, he looks like being your soulmate,’ I said. ‘You’ve both got lousy colour taste.’
    I figured what he really meant was that karting could be the making of Felix — bring him out of his shell and all that. Well, Erica knew her own kid — maybe she knew he’d run a mile from the roar of an engine. Still, it was tempting to think that if we did try and get him into it, she’d move the two of them out. But no, I’d told the sponsorship guys I played fair. So I would.
    Felix was quiet and little. As my mates said, it could have been worse.

    THE NEXT WEEK was full on. Every teacher took it into their heads to dump assignments on us. I cooked, mowed a couple of lawns, did my chores and slogged my way through the homework. There was no time to skype, except for short chats to Kyla. Maybe the workload at home would decrease when Erica moved in. I went off into a dream where she did all the cooking, hired us a cleaner and refused to let us touch the garden. Nice.
    Dad put in quite a few Erica hours during the week. I didn’t say anything, but on Friday after school I dumpedmy gear, changed into work overalls and took myself into the garage to do some prep on my kart.
    I took the motor off, being careful not to ding anything. I set it down and picked up the spare. We’d take both engines tomorrow, as always. I bolted it on, connected the wires and hoses, then fired it up.
    Except that it wouldn’t fire. I began to go over it, checking everything I could think of, running through what could be causing it. Still nothing. The spark plug was almost new, so I left that alone. It shouldn’t be the fuel mix because I was always careful to get the ratio of petrol to oil right.
    I was standing back, frowning at it, when Dad came in. ‘Shit! Sorry, Dad. I lost track of the time.’ I waved a hand at the kart. ‘ That’s the spare. It won’t start. I can’t work out what the hell it is.’ I tried the starter again.
    Dad said, ‘You get the tea. I chucked corned beef in the slow cooker this morning. I’ll sort this out. Don’t worry, son.’
    I handed him the spanner I’d been using. ‘It’s just … I want to do well this weekend. Nail that track. I need all the advantage I can get over Craig. He won’t come down to Manawatu, but you can bet your arse he’ll put in the practice on all the other courses. It’ll give me a psychological edge if I can beat him next weekend.’
    Dad took hold of my shoulders. ‘Listen, Archie. The sponsorship’s important. I’m not denying it. Those extra tyres would be bloody useful. But I want you to forget about that. Just get out there and race your heart out. That’s all I ask. We’ll buy the goddamned slicks if we have to. Stop worrying.’
    It was enough to make a bloke choke up but Imanaged to mutter, ‘Thanks, Dad,’ as I took myself off to the kitchen.
    I was never going to win a cooking competition, but I