Free Scrambled by Huw Davies

thousands of people. There was a desk to sign up at. Nathaniel Grimes, the strange man from Assembly, was there.
    ‘Here for the race, yeah?’
    ‘Aye,’ said Davidde.
    ‘Sign this, yeah?’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘Health and safety, yeah? It just means if you get hurt or killed I don’t have to do anything, yeah? Or failing that, not much, yeah? You gotta fill in a form for everything nowadays, yeah?’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Yeah. See you on the start line in ten minutes, yeah?’
    ‘Yeah.’
    Davidde found it hard speaking to someone who asked him a question even when they were telling him something. He tried to focus before the big race. He looked to see if Dwayne was working on Lyndon’s bike. He’d been so crafty the last time. Davidde felt bad thinking Dwayne was a bit too dull for that kind of behaviour, but he’d done well. Hopefully he would have worked out a similar scam for tonight, Davidde thought. He was surprised at how calm he felt, too. He made his way to the line, and surveyed the course with his visor open.
    He was confident, but not over confident; he was controlled, but not too controlled; he was cool, but not too cool.
    It was then he tasted the mud and felt earth stinging his eyes. Lyndon had thrown a clod of turf in his face.
    ‘Get used to it, butt, you’ll be tasting a load more of that when you come off!’
    As he cleared the muck from his face, Davidde tried desperately to think of something he couldsay to Lyndon to get back at him, but nothing would come. He decided it would be better to embarrass Lyndon by beating him in the race, rather than bragging now and looking stupid later if he didn’t win. He would do his talking with his bike (and with whatever Dwayne had done to Lyndon’s bike).
    There was a two-minute warning. The bikers gathered on the line, the spectators gathered around the course. Everyone knew that, till very recently, this would have been a walk in the park for Lyndon. He had bossed the course for years, but now there was a new kid on the block, a new kid with a funny name who people weren’t scared of. Almost everyone was willing him on. They munched on their cheap burgers and hot dogs from the vans that had arrived in force, taking advantage of the hundreds who had come to spectate.
    Davidde felt part of something big. Almost nothing happened in the village on a Friday night, at least not when it was light and most people were sober. Davidde thought about how far he’d come – not long ago he’d have been in the house on a night like this, reading books aboutstars, or even doing homework! What had he been thinking? This was great, but he didn’t want to stop here. He had to beat Lyndon, and he had to get into the competition. He just had to.
    He saw his father in the crowd, and he saw the Black Rider looking down from a knoll above the crowds.
    This was it. Engines running.
    The Big Race.
     
    ‘You all ready, yeah?’
    Grimes was speaking through a megaphone, standing in front of the starting line with a chequered flag in his left hand.
    ‘I know you’re all ready to go, but there’s a few things we need to go over, yeah?’ He pointed at one of the riders. ‘You, son, you’re not in Ben Hur, you’re not allowed to have spikes coming out of the sides of your bike – hop it, yeah?’
    ‘Boring,’ grumbled the anonymous rider.
    ‘No bumping, no tickling, no gouging, no fish-hooking, no biting, no petting, yeah? Apart from that you’re fine, yeah?’
    The nine riders left nodded in agreement.
    ‘On your marks, get set, go, yeah?’
    Nobody moved. They weren’t sure whether he’d started the race or not.
    ‘Like now, yeah?’
    And they were off.
     
    Davidde wasn’t used to riding in such a pack, so he thought it best to stay out of trouble for the first bend. He was right, the first three to the corner all went for the tightest racing line and took each other out. Then there were only six left in the race, and he was aware that two of those left were