can.â
âWhat does that mean?â said Mr. G.
Good question, thought Kyle. I wish I knew. âKris should be back in the car next week. Iâll be back in my chair.â
âI heard should be, not will be,â said Mr. G. âWhat if he isnât?â
âIs this Law and Order: Band Room ?â said Jesse. When nobody laughed, he pointed a finger at his temple and shot himself. Nobody laughed at that either.
Kyle thought, I donât know. He said, âHire another driver.â
âWhy not you?â said Mr. G.
Kyle felt as if the thumbscrew on his music standwere tightening around his head. âI had a one-race waiver for age. I donât know if they would give me another one.â
âWhat if they do?â
He felt anger bubble up. âThen Iâll keep Krisâs seat warm as long as it takes, and Iâll miss Friday rehearsals so I can make the practices and qualifying before the races.â
âWhy canât we rehearse around that?â said Del. âA couple of weeks of extra practices during the week, maybe Sunday night, too.â
âWorks for me,â said Jesse.
Nicole glared at Todd until he said, âSure, count me in.â
Mr. G was expressionless. After a while he nodded and said, âOkay. Kyle? Can we count you in?â When Kyle nodded, he said, âWeâll do the names next time. Letâs perpetrate some sound.â
Mr. G looked relieved. Maybe he just needed to show who was in charge, thought Kyle.
Â
He waited until they were out of the building. âThanks.â
âBreaking in a new trumpet player is like training a puppy,â she said. âToo much trouble.â
âWhatever.â But he touched her arm. âNo kidding.Thanks.â He thought, Iâve thanked more girls the past couple of days than in my whole life.
He thought the fierce little eyes softened. Hard to read her. âYou going to be able to handle it all?â
That got to him. She understood what he was going through, or at least she was trying to. He wished it were night and she were inviting him back to her house. The words âI donât knowâ were forming in his head, but before he could decide whether or not to say them, Todd swaggered up. âAm I interrupting something?â
âYep,â she said. Todd shrugged and swaggered off, but the moment was gone. âYou busy now?â
âGot to go over the race shop,â said Kyle. âLook at the replay, see what happened.â
TWENTY-TWO
They watched the race on the big screen in Sir Walterâs office, ten of them sprawled on the couches and chairs. Uncle Kale with his bad fat back was stretched out on the carpeted floor. Jackman was holding the DVD playerâs remote control. Sir Walter was at his desk, autographing eight-by-ten glossy hero cards of himself while he watched. When the tape got to the wreck, everybody perked up. It looked bad from up high. In the car he had seen mostly thick smoke. Then Jimmieâs voice cut through the screaming metal. âGo to the wall.â
âWhat took you so long?â said Uncle Kale.
âCouldnât see,â said Jimmie.
âYour job.â The fat head rose a few inches off the carpet. âHereâs where you blew a chance to get himpast the nine car. Pause it.â
The image stopped, flickered. Through the smoke Kyle could see number 12âs nose inches from number 9. He didnât remember that.
âHeâs blocked,â said Jimmie.
âLook at the angle,â said Uncle Kale. âKiss that rear fender, suckerâs gone.â
Kyle looked around. Jimmieâs face was flushed. Dad, Sir Walter, Billy, Jackman, nobody had anything to say. The post-race analysis was Uncle Kaleâs show.
âTrying to get through the wreck,â said Kyle, ânot add to it.â
âYou do what you need to do,â said Uncle Kale. âYou donât have
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