Free Speed Freak by Fleur Beale

twenty.’
    We kept jogging with him dragging on my shirt.
    ‘Nineteen.’
    I scooped him up under one arm, took a huge stride, then tumbled him on to the ground. ‘Twenty-one!’ I took off, and this time he cut across the park so that he was running behind me with the idea of making me doanother full lap before I caught him. I pivoted, grabbed and tipped him upside down, running with his head just clear of my knees. ‘Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one!’
    We stayed in the park for ages, clowning around, getting crazier and crazier until we ended up rolling on the grass, laughing our sides sore.
    There was a real person inside that kid. Who knew?
    As we strolled home, I said, ‘You’re a bit grubby, mate.’
    ‘Yes,’ he said, and smiled a proper, full stretch of the lips.
    Erica didn’t make a fuss. She was surprised, though, no doubt about it.
    I looked around the lounge. ‘Wow. This looks … different.’
    ‘Good different or bad different?’ She sounded worried.
    I shook my head. ‘Just … different. It’ll take a bit of getting used to. I don’t hate it.’
    ‘That’s a good start.’
    I wondered what she’d done with our old thin cushions. And had she bought that rug especially to cover up the baked-bean stain on the carpet?
    ‘Nice painting.’ I walked over to get a closer look. Hills, sky, autumn colours, bold strokes. The artist’s signature was in the corner.
Erica
. ‘You painted it?’
    ‘It’s my hobby — I’m nothing special, but I’m pleased you like it.’
    I liked the meal she’d brought with her too. Life, it seemed, would chug along.

    EASTER, AND THE National Champs in Christchurch, got closer. I worked on my kart every spare moment I had, cleaning it, checking for cracks, making sure no bolts were missing and there were no worn parts on any of the nuts or bolts. I greased and lubed the bearings.
    Dad put in the hours whenever Erica was on duty. It had taken me a few days to get around to asking what sort of doctoring she did. I expected her to say she did kids’ stuff, from what Dad had said earlier about getting upset when they got hurt, but no, she worked in Casualty. ‘And I don’t want to see you being brought in on a stretcher, Archie.’ That was the nearest she got to saying outright what she thought about my racing. My private hope that we would be able to get Felix into a kart curled up and died.
    Thursday a week before Easter, Dad and Erica planned a night out — dinner and a show. Wednesday night, Felix’s carer rang to say she couldn’t look after him the following night after all. Erica went into a 360. It was all
Oh my god, what’ll I do?
    Dad gave me a look. Felix, saying nothing as always, studied the floor.
    I shrugged. ‘He can stay here,’ I said. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’
    Erica shook her head. ‘Definitely not. I promised Bill I wouldn’t take advantage of either of you. I’ll sort it out. Don’t worry.’
    I rolled my eyes at Dad, and said to Felix, ‘Come on, mate. We’ll leave them to argue it out.’ I went through to the garage, Felix hard on my heels.
    Dad won. Felix stayed with me and helped me cook us a feed. I’d planned on spending the evening watching karting DVDs, then doing a bit of skyping. So that’swhat I did, and if Felix was dead keen to watch with me — well, I couldn’t help that.
    ‘We’ve seen that one two times,’ he said.
    ‘Yeah. Sorry about that, but that’s what I do. You don’t have to watch, though. Grab a book. Or a puzzle.’
    He stayed glued to the sofa. ‘Why?’
    ‘Why do I watch it over and over?’
    A nod.
    ‘That guy — in number 90 — he’s one of the best. I’m trying to learn from him. See how he got past that other kart? That’s pure skill. His kart’s not faster, or better. But he gets past because he’s a better driver than anyone else on the track.’
    I talked Felix through it. ‘They’re both coming up to the corner now. Number 90 brakes just fractionally later. Then he