Free Checkered Flag by Chris Fabry Page A

and there were rumors of an engagement. She had silky blonde hair and a beauty pageant figure (because she’d been Miss Mississippi), but all the guys on the team knew there was more to her than a pretty face. She had made changes to the way they communicated with the media and had gotten several stories advanced about Jamie’s dad, putting him in the spotlight and helping calm the sponsors’ nerves.
    “What’s he doing in there?” Chloe said, squinting at the screen. “Looks like he’s talking to somebody, but I don’t hear anything on the radio.”
    “He is talking to somebody,” Jamie said. “God.”
    Chloe raised her eyebrows. “I know he takes his faith seriously, but what’s he praying about?”
    “He told me there are times when he doesn’t know what to do during a race, and he’ll just ask God for wisdom.”
    Chloe looked like she’d tasted a lemon. “Does he ever hear anything?”
    “I think he does most of the talking,” Jamie said, smiling. “He said he’s never heard a voice, but sometimes something will come to mind, you know, triggering another race, another similar situation, and he’ll go with it.”
    Chloe stared at the screen. “Well, I hope he gets a strong feeling about this one.”

Chapter 21
Last Laps
    TIM PACED in front of the TV in the living room while Kellen sat on the couch eating Crunch ’n Munch. Mrs. Maxwell had gone to the church to watch the race with friends. There simply wasn’t enough room in their house to hold all the people interested, but Tim could tell that she didn’t really want to go. She probably wanted to stay home with them but felt like she should at least show up.
    “I’ll be back here to watch the finish,” she had said.
    Tim couldn’t remember being this caught up in the racing season. He had rooted for the driver his dad worked for, but it always seemed like a business back then. Get to the track, get qualified, try not to get a DNF, and move on to the next race. Now it felt fresh and new and like there was a point to all theweekly madness. And he was surprised how much he wanted Dale to win.
    “I can’t believe he’s really got a shot at the championship,” Kellen said, a big piece of popcorn sticking to one cheek. Kellen’s mouth was full, so it came out sounding like, “I mmf bemmf hmff remmfffy gaat a shmmt at the chammffionffff.”
    A car pulled up outside as one of the commentators, a former racer himself, said, “Here come the leaders into the pits for their final stop. The finish of the race may depend on this stop and how fast—”
    “Whoa!” the announcer interrupted. “Dale Maxwell looked like he was about to pit, but he pulled off the apron and back onto the track while every other leader gets fuel and new tires.”
    “He’s pulling a Phoenix,” Kellen said, dropping the box to the floor. The door opened and Mrs. Maxwell ran in. “Dad’s doing a Phoenix. He just faked them out and stayed off pit road.”
    Mrs. Maxwell’s mouth dropped open, and she sat in the big cushy chair near the TV.
    “What’s a Phoenix?” Tim said.
    “In a cup race in his first season he was second about 30 laps from finishing. He acted like he was going to pit, then jumped back on the track and everybody else had to pit.”
    “What happened?” Tim said.
    “He led for about 10 laps,” Mrs. Maxwell said, her eyes still glued to the TV. “Then he lost a left front tire on the back straightaway. Finished 15th.”
    “Were you there?” Tim said.
    “I went to all of the races before we had kids,” she said. “We were full-time on the road.”
    “Which do you like better?” Tim said.
    She smiled. “I don’t have to sit in the pits to be with him.”
    The screen showed Dale on the in-camera, talking with his crew chief. Then came a split screen of Dale and T.J. Kelly talking, and it was clear there was a difference of opinion.
    “Dale, there’s no way you’re going to finish on those tires,” T.J. said. “And you’re maybe a