Rev Girl (15 page)

‘Me too,' Kerry said. ‘I'll look after ya. Got your bike scrutineered? What you riding?'

‘Got through okay. I'm on a WR250F.'

‘If it's not blue, it's pooh.'

Clover laughed.

‘I'm on a WER-two-fiddy, too.'

‘That's awesome!' Clover said, forgetting all about Lasha and her posse of Enduro ‘Mean Girls' sitting on the opposite side of the pool. ‘Go the four-stroke!'

‘You said it, sista.' Kerry slapped Clover on the knee and pushed her legs over to make room to sit down. ‘You seen the special tests yet?'

‘They're okay, I guess, if you like the sand.'

‘Just keep the throttle on, and watch out for the Palmettos and tree roots, they're real nasty. But, you'll be fine; the little two-fiddy will rip through it all, no problems. You met anybody yet?'

Clover dropped her chin. ‘Not really.'

‘Ya haven't met Lucifer, then?'

‘Who?'

‘Lucy Furlong.'

‘Do people really call her that?'

‘Don't let the number one plate fool you. She's pure evil. This girl I know, sweet little thing, got put in hospital by Lucifer. This is what happened, right, they both got stuck on this nasty hill, so they needed to help each other to get up. The girl helped Lucifer up the hill first, but instead of Lucifer returning the favour, she somehow managed to run the girl over, and took off!'

‘Whoa! That is bad.' Clover grimaced. She'd seen photos of America's number one female rider and watched her on several DVDs, and come to think of it, she did look a bit satanic; the short black hair, red Honda …

‘You've gotta watch out for Lucifer. She's an ex-motocrosser if she doesn't crash, she wins. Had a good run last year, I certainly couldn't catch her. She even stole the title off La Bimbo. You'd know her, Lasha Moore?'

Clover nodded, her eyes sneaking across the pool, to the loud, leggy blonde.

Man, how I'd love to beat her!

‘The great La-La Moore, in the flesh,' Kerry said with a groan.

Clover giggled, watching her new friend as she spoke. Kerry was one of those people she'd felt an instant connection to just like when she first met Sydney.

‘She's such a bitch,' Kerry said.

Clover nodded feverishly.
Finally, someone like me!

‘I hate it when girls like her get all God's gifts,' Kerry said. ‘The body, the dumb rich daddy and all the breaks. The most infuriating thing is she can actually ride a bike. But that's life, I suppose.'

I bet she doesn't have any of the important things, Clover wanted to say. Like your brains or humility or … a beauty that radiates from the inside …

‘Don't worry, though,' Kerry continued. ‘I got her measure this year I'm gonna take her down.' She slapped the chair.

‘I know you will!'

‘Anyways, gotta jet. Gettin' ready for dinner. Say, you wanna come with?'

Clover bounced with excitement. But then she remembered Ernie. ‘I'd love to,' she said. ‘But my dad's in the room. He'd planned to take me out. I'd better not ditch him.'

‘Bring him, too. My folks are comin'.'

‘Really?'

‘Of course. What room ya in?'

‘One-o-five.'

‘Sweet. I'll come get ya in, say, half an hour?' Kerry got up with a bounce. ‘See ya in a bit, Clover Canada.'

Clover sat, stunned for a moment. No one had ever called her such a name before. She'd spent the last three years trying to forget where she'd come from and blend in with the ‘Silver Stars' as Sera had called the coolest people at their school. It was incredible to be recognised for who she was, a Canadian and a racer, and not to feel ashamed by it.

Ernie hit it off with Kerry's parents just as well as she had with Kerry. There was no awkwardness about the fact the girls would be going bar-to-bar in the morning just animated conversation about dirt bikes, previous races, the WSEC which Kerry had already entered for. It was amazing to find people just like them. The only time Clover felt nervous, or even remembered the reality of the day about to dawn, was at the end of the meal.

After everyone had stuffed themselves senseless with creamy pasta, succulent roast beef, veggies and potatoes and cakes so sweet Clover thought she had died and gone to dessert heaven, the party got up to leave, filed out of the restaurant, and paused in the entryway. Kerry's big, jovial father, Earl, stopped Clover at the door, put a hand on her arm, and said, ‘Now, you remember, girlie, don't you go getting distracted by all the people and the cameras and the hype, all right? The main priority is to get through day one. It'll be hard you'll be tired and want to quit. The trick is going into the thing expecting it's gonna be hell, then anything better is a bonus.'

Kerry came up behind them and swiped her father's hand away. ‘Don't forget this one's competition, Dad!' She smiled and winked at Clover. ‘None of the Treasure family secrets to her.' She slung an arm around Clover's shoulders and led her out into the night.

‘Well, Clover Canada,' Kerry said, grinning her beautiful grin. She lifted her hand, made the shape of a gun and pointed it at Clover. ‘I'll see you on the start line.'

Clover's mind was a jumble of disjointed thoughts and despite her best efforts, none were very positive. Her hands were shaking so badly, she could hardly get her new gear on. Her pants and jersey clung to her skin in the humidity and her feet had swollen in her boots. She couldn't find her gloves, then forgot her goggles back at the truck, and only just made it to the start line as the other two girls on her minute were about to take off.

Thousands of people, revving bikes, golf buggies, scampering children, loud music, camera flashes, blurred around Clover as she roared away from under the start-line archway to start day one on the bike, feeling totally out of her depth as her small four-stroke swapped around under her in the shifting sand. She did her best to steer between two palm trees and follow the arrows of the course into the thick bush.
One thing's for sure,
Clover found herself thinking,
this is going to be one very long day
.

★

Clover and Kerry idled into the service area and parked their bikes under the shade. Clover hit her kill switch, reached for her goggles, grabbed the strap, and swung them off her helmet. She hung her sweat-soaked goggles over the end of her handlebars and wiped her brow.

She glanced down at the watch Ernie had given her 2.01pm they still had six minutes until they were due at the time control to leave for the final trail section, and final timed special test of Day 1.

Sweat ran down her forehead and every muscle in her body screamed. Her palms were raw inside her gloves. She knew she had open blisters at first the pain had been excruciating, but now she was numb to it. She left her gloves on, knowing from experience that if she took them off, her skin might well peel off with the fabric.

Clover couldn't remember having ever experienced a tougher first day to a race. She knew she'd never been more exhausted. The sand had zapped everything out of her; the trail was whooped out, tiring and monotonous. Nasty tree roots hid in the sand, lurched your bones and shook you senseless. Riders everywhere. Rushing parents, TV cameras, and the famous pro guys, too, who had finished for the day, hanging around the special tests. A few of them had even cheered her on.

It had taken a few sections to get the feel for riding in the sand, but now she was on a roll and feeling confident on the bike. Despite the pain and fatigue, Clover was having the time of her life.

She smiled at the thought, then felt concern as she watched Kerry swaying dangerously from side to side, unable to touch the ground on her bike. Clover would have grabbed Kerry's handlebar to help her get off, but no outside assistance is allowed in Enduro. Kerry managed to dismount on her own, then leant her bike on its stand, just opposite Clover's machine.

Ernie rushed up to the girls, a blue Gatorade in each hand. Over dinner, Ernie had organised with the Treasures to team-up for the race. Kerry's parents would look after the girls at the remote control, about a forty minutes' drive from the resort on dirt road, and Ernie at the home control. The parents had food, fuel, drinks and spare parts and tools for the girls at their six scheduled stops on each day of the event.

‘Thanks, Ernie.' Kerry accepted a drink, took a swig and slumped down on one of the chairs.

‘Seen any times yet, Dad?' Clover asked, resting her helmet in her lap as she sat down.

Ernie threw her the other Gatorade. She was surprised to catch it her arms were so weak and heavy it was as if they'd been pumped full of lead.

‘Yep. They've posted the first four tests. Kerry is in third, ahead of you by three seconds.'

‘What?' Clover said, falling forward in her chair. ‘You sure I'm that close?' They'd ridden together in the trail sections, but Clover had let Kerry start the special tests first.

‘See for yourself.' Ernie handed her a white sheet of paper. ‘Swiped it from a nice timing lady … Your first time was a bit slower,' he said, his finger running down the page. ‘But you made up for it in the next few.'

‘Good on ya, girl,' Kerry said, chucking the cap of her drink at Clover. Clover shook her head with disbelief. She'd felt fast, but it was so hard to tell she'd mostly been focusing on keeping the rubber side down, following the arrows and not hitting any palm trees. But to be within seconds of Kerry it meant she had a real chance of finishing on the podium. Of winning the right to go to the World's.

A jolt of competitiveness rocked her body.

‘How far ahead are Lasha and Lucy?' Kerry asked.

‘Here.' Clover handed her the time sheet. ‘Looks like Lasha's pulled a bit of a lead.'

‘Both of their times have been better than a lot of guys, actually,' Ernie said. ‘Lasha was about fifteen-seconds a test faster than you guys, Lucy around the same.'

‘They must have been training in the off-season,' Kerry said.

‘They are certainly on fire today.'

‘Well, I guess it's down to you and me, then, Clover Canada.' Kerry punched her in the shoulder.

‘Okay, girls, better get your helmets on. You're due out of the control in two minutes, down that way.' Ernie pointed down the long row of quick shades, which had been set up parallel to the spectator's bleachers. ‘Right next to the start archway.'

Clover hauled her aching body from her chair, brushed a few strands of sweat-drenched hair back from her face and pulled her helmet on. Before going to her bike, she held out a hand to Kerry, and they gave each other a high five.

Ernie was looking at Clover with concern as she mounted her bike. ‘Just take it easy, all right? You can't afford to crash, just keep doing what you've been doing and I'll see you in about an hour.'

‘How many tests are in this section, again?'

‘Just one more.' Ernie had to yell in the front of her helmet to be heard over the sound of her bike, which she'd fired to life. ‘Then you'll be back here for your final work period. Your tyres look okay, so luckily you won't have to change them for tomorrow. We'll just do oil and an air filter.' Then he had to jump back to avoid catching a handlebar to the ribs as Clover took off, snaking through the sand, past the quick shades and to the time control.

There was only a short line of riders waiting to start the special test. Clover took off just after Kerry.

She flew through the bushes on the narrow, sandy trail, blinking fast, trying to focus past the grit in her eyes. The pain from her muscles and blistered hands was no longer a worry massive amounts of adrenaline had lifted her high, masking all feelings and thoughts bar one finishing this final special test as quickly as possible. Beating Kerry, coming third, and going to the World's.

She was in the zone standing on the pegs, elbows up, throttle on. At one with the high-revving machine. A phenomenal feeling, like smashing the baseball with the sweet part of the bat, or catching the perfect wave.

She had pre-walked this special test twice. From memory, she was about halfway through. It was an easy one to remember only about seven minutes long, starting and finishing at the far end of the main control, among all the action. There were tons of people around the test. Clover was aware of cheers and people whizzing by, but did her best to only focus on the track.
Ra - ra - ra
went her bike as she hit each bump of the straightaway.

At the end of the straight, she soared through the sweeping right-hander, accelerated, hit the brakes, dropped into a deep rut and took a tight turn to the left. Another rut to the right. Wheelied over a root, another short straight, then out into the open.

Clover shifted her weight forward and turned her handlebars slightly as she hit the next tight corner, then twisted the throttle hard. Her bike jumped out of the deep sand smoothly, as if she'd just ridden from a cloud. But this feeling only lasted a second the roost from her rear wheel hit her back, most of it sliding down inside her jersey and filling her pants. She ignored the grains of sand grinding between her ass cheeks and accelerated out of the next corner, leaning forward, the bike singing up the short hill.