Scrambled (6 page)

‘Why did he stop washing his teeth, Dad?’

‘We had a race down the Rec one day, and it was on a day when he’d forgotten to clean his teeth. We’d been making fun of him all day, then we had a race and he won. I beat him the next night, and he’d remembered to clean them that day. The next time he had a race, he didn’t clean his teeth, and guess what happened?’

‘He won?’

‘Correct, son. He became convinced that cleaning his teeth took away his scrambling skills. He was like that Samsung from the bible, only with furry orange teeth instead of hair. That’s when I had to stop sitting by him. I was starting to feel sick all the time in lessons.’

‘So were you best friends?’

‘Oh aye, we did everything together. Riding bikes, seeing girls, fighting with boys from up the Park. Everything, mun. But he was a little bit older, a littler bit bigger and usually a little bit quicker to do things than me.’

‘So what happened to him?’

‘The more he won, the more sure he was that he couldn’t lose. He began to think that he was invincible. He started doing dull things, stupid things…’

‘Like what, Dad?’

‘Stunts, long jumps, stuff like that. We’d get all these younger boys to lie in a line and he’d set up a ramp and fly over them.’ His voice became hoarse. ‘It was obvious someone was going to get hurt…’

‘Go on, Dad…’

‘We were going for a new record, but we couldn’t find enough boys. I mean, we had seven volunteers but we needed ten. We found another three but they didn’t want to do it and they were crying and weeing themselves and running off, so we had to try something else. One of the boys suggested that we light a fire and Stu could leap over that. Even Stu thought that sounded a bit too
dangerous. Then somebody found some plastic guttering, and we decided to fashion it into an archway. We set it at the top of the ramp so Stu could come through it. Then someone found some blue plastic sheeting. We could stretch it over the arch and Stu could come flying through it, like someone off TV. It was going to be perfect.

‘It was then I think I heard the sirens.’

He had a drink and thought for a moment.

‘Stu didn’t want to get stopped, so he went back and revved the bike. The sirens were getting louder, and there was someone running down the hill shouting at the top of his voice. Stu revved and revved, and then he was off. He was going really fast with his head down, to make himself as aerodynamic as possible. Then, I don’t know why, he sat back and made himself as tall as he could. He was showing off most probably. Anyway, he totally misjudged where the guttering was.’

He looked Davidde in the eyes.

‘I know plastic guttering doesn’t seem very solid, but when you drive into it at sixty miles an hour without your helmet on, I can assure you it is sturdy enough. It caught him right under the nose. His head stayed still for a second while his
teeth flew on ahead of him, like brown wonky marbles. It was a terrible thing.

‘He was on his back, there were sirens and there was shouting. I didn’t know what to do. Everyone else pegged it, and I wanted to as well, but I also wanted to see if Stu was OK. I feel ashamed to this day about it, but I rode off as well, and left Stu there.

‘When I was safe, I looked back, and I saw an amazing thing. Remember I told you about Stuart and his oral hygiene problems? Well, imagine that with blood and loose teeth and cut lips. And remember I told you about the angry shouting man? About how annoyed he was at us? Well, the old man gave Stu the kiss of life. It’s the most selfless thing I’ve ever seen. Definitely the most courageous.’

‘Who was the shouting man, Dad?’

‘Have a guess?’

Davidde thought for a moment, while Ralph flicked his eyes towards next door.

‘Mr Leighton?’

‘Explains a lot, don’t it?’

And then it was Friday.

The school was abuzz. There were a few youngsters who were going to take part, but everybody knew that really it was going to be Lyndon versus Davidde. Dwayne wasn’t in school that day, but Davidde was used to not seeing him on the day of a race. Dwayne was undercover with Lyndon’s gang, and hopefully he’d get to sort Lyndon’s bike like he did last time. Davidde had confidence in how Dwayne was operating, though it did make him feel uneasy. After all, technically, it was cheating.

The day passed quickly enough, and Davidde actually got some decent work done in Art while Dwayne wasn’t there to distract him. Miss was still concerned about Davidde, but he did enough to keep her at bay. Kaitlinn was experimenting with clay and her work was showing a lot of promise.

Back in the house, his father was back before him.

‘Davidde, I got something for you, for tonight.’

This was unusual. His father wasn’t usually one for giving presents outside birthdays and Christmas, and he wasn’t very keen on it then.

‘I been up the attic. They’re my old boots and gloves. I would have got you my helmet but there
was a pigeon nesting in it. Made a hell of a mess, he did.’

They were black and scuffed and undeniably cool.

Davidde thanked his father and put them on. He looked at himself in the mirror and seemed to grow two inches. He felt bullet proof.

‘Get out there and show that Lyndon what you can do. You show him. And his father. Especially his father. He’s the best mechanic I know, but my God, just try spending five minutes with him. He makes you evil, mun.’

At the Rec there seemed to be 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 could
say 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 about
stars, 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 clearly overawed and were driving like old men on a Sunday afternoon. He could keep in sight of Lyndon and take him on the last lap, when whatever Dwayne had done to Lyndon’s bike would start to take effect.

On lap two he decided to get closer to Lyndon, who was in the lead. He opened up the throttle to take the rider in second place. But whenever Davidde tried to pass him, he’d pull aggressively in front of him, causing him to brake and lose ground on Lyndon. It didn’t make any sense – why would someone try harder to stop Davidde than to win the race themselves, when the only prize was for the winner?

The rider turned his head round momentarily. Davidde glimpsed the smirking face of Craig Jib. Now it made sense! Craig was there to stop Davidde from beating Lyndon, and it was working – it was almost the end of the second lap!

Craig mouthed, ‘Like your mam!’ at Davidde and blew him a kiss.

If Craig Jib had concentrated on racing rather than gloating, maybe Davidde would never have got past him. But he couldn’t help it – that was the type of person he was. Davidde seized his chance and eased himself through the chink of light Craig had left clear by taking his eye off the road in front.

Now all that needed to happen was for Lyndon’s bike to start failing. Davidde wondered about what Dwayne had done. Would Lyndon go flying over the handlebars again? Would the handlebars come off in his hand? While he thought about this, he realised that he wasn’t gaining on Lyndon at all. He thought he should try and pass Lyndon rather than just wait for something to happen.

He was just behind him, but Lyndon hugged the inside line, and Davidde didn’t seem to have the power to go the long way round. There were
now only three corners to go and Davidde was still in second. When would Lyndon’s bike break down?

At the corner, Davidde thought he saw some room, but Lyndon closed the space down and Davidde was shut out again. Two corners to go!

On the straight he was exactly level with Lyndon. Davidde tried not to get distracted, but he couldn’t help turning to look at Lyndon just for a moment. It was a good job he did, because Lyndon was reaching out for Davidde’s handlebars. He got hold of them and started wobbling, trying to throw Davidde from his bike.

They went round the penultimate corner like that, with Lyndon shaking Davidde’s handlebars, and Davidde trying to keep himself steady and get Lyndon’s hand off his bike. Lyndon’s bike seemed to be losing power and Davidde realised that because Lyndon had grabbed hold of his bike, Davidde had the inside line for the final corner – all he had to do was stay on his bike and he would win!

But Lyndon still had hold of his bike. On the final straight, Davidde tried to pull clear, but he was still tussling with Lyndon. The pair veered off towards
the few trees on the course and Davidde ducked as he saw a low-hanging branch. Lyndon didn’t see it as he grappled with Davidde’s handlebars, but he felt it as he got it full in the helmet. His bike shot off without his weight and finished the race before Davidde, but it didn’t matter because Lyndon was lying under the trees, pounding the ground with his fists as Davidde finished the race and went on to do a lap of honour.

Davidde felt like a hero for the first time in his life. There was clapping and cheering, and he was presented with fizzy pop on a white podium. The man from TV said he’d be in touch and his father was sobbing with joy.

The Black Rider wheelied off up the mountain. It was all a bit of a blur.

Davidde thought he’d better get his father home before he embarrassed himself any further.

It was Monday morning assembly. The Head was on stage. The curtains were drawn behind him. There was a sense of anticipation in the audience.

‘Now then, boys and girls, we’ve got a very special assembly this morning. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking, how will he humiliate himself this time? After all the upsetting stories and after the tap dancing, how’s he going to embarrass himself now? Well, I’ll tell you. I’m not. I’m not because for once this assembly isn’t about me. It’s about a very special young man who is amongst us now. And I think you know who I’m talking about.

‘But let’s go back a few steps. Let’s go back to the beginning. The beginning, when I started here as headmaster. Now I know how you feel when you look up at me, you look up at me and you wonder
how I got to be such a figure of authority and yet such a “cool guy”, as you young people say. Well, it’s not easy, I can tell you that for nothing, but as I said, this isn’t about me so I’ll save that for a different assembly.

‘When I started here, I needed to get a feel for the place, so I spoke to people, and I watched, and on the whole I really liked what I saw. I saw vitality, I saw energy, I saw a lust for life – with most of you.

‘But there was one young man, and he was so different. Dull, lifeless eyes, walking round looking at the floor, not talking to anyone. I’m sure most of you felt the same as me when you saw him walking towards you on the corridor. You’d think, “Here he comes, Boring Nippers, I hope he doesn’t start banging on about stars again” or “Hell’s bells, it’s Boring Nippers, why doesn’t he just throw himself off a cliff or something?”

‘Now don’t get me wrong – I agree that all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, but I also believe that all play and no work makes him a complete liability. It’s all about finding a balance. It was great that Davidde was doing all his homework, but he needed something else.

‘Luckily for us all, he’s changed. He’s still doing
his homework – in fact, he’s doing so well in Art that he’s doing his GCSE a year early. Think about that, boys and girls!’

Some pupils clapped, and Davidde could feel Miss Pughes-Pervis’ eyes boring into his skull. He looked up at the ceiling to avoid her gaze.

‘Now, apart from his academic ability, he’s developed another string to his bow – dirt bike racing. On Friday he won a competition, and now he will represent us on Valley TV’s
Search for a Scramble Star
. Three big races over the next three Thursday nights that will give Davidde the chance to win this…’

The headmaster raised his arm and looked behind him as the curtains opened to reveal a brand new motocross bike, a shiny Pegasus DC-5000 L. It glistened under the lights, and there was even some dry ice rolling across the stage. Davidde knew this was the prize but he wasn’t expecting to see it this morning, and both Dwayne’s and Davidde’s eyes widened in astonishment.

Davidde had to have it.

After assembly, the man from the TV explained to Davidde how the competition worked. His company was launching a hyper-local channel for
the area, and one of the first shows would be with a dirt-bike knockout challenge. There would be three races – one in Abercwmffrwmpan, one in Glynwinci and the final in Maesunig. They were also borrowing an idea from wrestling, where the contestants would have characteristics and personalities, so that people who didn’t care that much about scrambling could get some sense of drama from the show.

‘You won’t be using your usual name, yeah, we’ll give you a new name,’ said the man from the TV.

‘What will my name be based on?’ asked Davidde.

‘My media team is very excited by your choice of helmet.’

‘Why?’

‘They think that when you race, yeah, it looks like you’ve got a bucket on your head?’

‘So what’s my racing name?’

‘Bucket Head. You’ll like the media crew. They’re funny, yeah?’

Assembly had ended with everyone clapping for Davidde. He was delighted. After he had spoken to the TV man, as he made his way around the school, he felt like a hero.

Then he got to Art.

Before they even got there, he’d suggested something to Dwayne that had never crossed his mind before.

‘Hey, Dwayne, shall we go on the mitch? I want to go up the mountain and do some practice.’

The idea of skipping lessons was new to him, because before, lessons had been where he felt safest. Now he had things to do and things to prepare for, school seemed to be getting in the way. Dwayne was happy to go bunking off with Davidde, but the years of sticking to the rules kicked in with Davidde and he went to first lesson after all.

Miss Purvis-Pughes was in her storeroom with her head on a desk weeping, and Ceri Fuss was buzzing around her with tissues and a bag of make-up.

‘I can’t believe you made Miss cry,’ she said to Davidde, as she threw a bunch of tissues into the bin, tissues stained with Miss’s tears, snot and cubic inches of white foundation.

‘Davidde, Davidde, is that you? Enter, enter, please come in,’ she said theatrically.

When Davidde saw her, he gasped. He’d never seen her without a full mask of make-up before.

He’d always assumed that the deathly pale pallor of her face was the colour of her skin, but it wasn’t. Her mascara and eyeliner had spread making her look like a panda, and Davidde half expected her to produce some bamboo shoots from under her desk, and start chewing on them as if she was in some educational zoo.

As she spoke, Ceri dabbed away at her face, assuring her that she was going to be fine, that they had the cosmetic technology to put her back together.

‘Where did I go so wrong? Where, Davidde? You were the best, and now we’ve got less than three weeks to finish your project, and what have you done?’

Davidde said nothing because he felt so ashamed. He knew he’d done nothing.

‘Do you want to be taken out of the exam? I can just concentrate on Kaitlinn then. She’s almost finished her work.’

‘No,’ he said, ‘I’ll sort something out. I will.’

But he didn’t sort anything out that week because he was too excited about the races.