Over the Wall (3 page)

JAMIE SAT IN A PLASTIC CHAIR,
a leg pulled to her chest, and watched people pace in the waiting room. Her dad had gone down the hall to make a call, and when he returned, he didn’t make eye contact, which was a sure sign that he was ticked. She wondered what he’d say when they got home, but at the moment it was just a waiting game to find out about Chad. The doctors hadn’t come out, and they shooed his mother out of the room soon after all the commotion.

Jamie’s mom sat with an arm around her, not saying much. She’d given her a look and a “You okay?” That was about it, and it was fine with Jamie. She really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

The sounds of cell phone rings (tweets and buzzes and “We Will Rock You”) broke the uncomfortable silence.
That and a TV mounted on the wall showing a game show. People stared at it, drawn like human moths to the glow of the screen.

Why do they even have a TV here?
Jamie thought.

One man had his hand wrapped, and blood oozed through the gauze. He pointed at the screen and talked to it, giving the contestant advice. A man in the corner leaned forward with his elbows on his knees while his two children fought over toys in a play area. His boy held a bloody bandage over a wound on his head while he tried to put a couple of LEGO blocks together, and his daughter had discovered a dirty-faced doll.

Butch Devalon wandered toward the front window and stared through long vertical blinds at the orange glow above the mountains.

Jamie went to get a drink from the water fountain, and when she passed by him, she paused. “You haven’t heard any more, have you?” She knew he hadn’t because she’d been watching him the whole time, but it was the only thing she could think of to say.

“I don’t know what all the fuss was about,” he growled. “I guess they’re giving him the once-over, or maybe it’s a twice-over now. When those doctors get ahold of you, they’re like snapping turtles.”

“How so?” Jamie said.

“You ever see one of those at Lake Norman?
A turtle will bite and hang on for dear life. Won’t let go for anything.”

Jamie didn’t like the comparison of doctors to turtles, especially since they were trying to help Chad, but she wasn’t about to say anything.

Mr. Devalon got a far-off look and spoke as if it didn’t matter whether anyone was around or not. “You kids think you’re invincible, that nothing can touch you. All it takes is one mistake. . . .”

“Chad didn’t do anything wrong,” Jamie said. “You said yourself it was the tire—”

“Mistake, accident, whatever you want to call it. It only takes one.”

“Then why do you let Chad race?” she said.

“Because it’s what he wants to do, just like you. It’s all he talks about or thinks about. If he’s not down at the garage, he’s at the track or working on some car. Or racing one of those video games.”

“Maybe we’re going too fast—trying to move up and all,” Jamie said.

The man frowned, and lines formed around his mustache and all over his face like an expressway around some big city. “Just remember this, standing here in a hospital waiting room. This is a dangerous sport, young lady.” He shook his head and stared out the window. “I shouldn’t have brought you in on this.”

“Why did you?”

“Thought it would light a fire under Chad.”

“As if he needs that,” Jamie said.

“He leaves a lot on the track. Gets tentative. Brakes when he ought to speed up. I wanted to push him, and I’ve never seen him race harder than when you’re on the track.”

“He doesn’t want to lose to a girl.”

“I guess. I can’t blame him. But look where it got him.” He sighed and rubbed his eyes with a thumb and index finger.

“So you were using me to get him to speed up?” Jamie said. “Looks like it worked. But that means you never intended to give me a shot in the first place.”

Butch Devalon shrugged, and a look of despair crept over him. Jamie had never seen that in all the years she’d watched him race. He always looked so confident and sure. It was almost enough to make her feel sorry for him.

“Maybe if Chad doesn’t make it back, I’ll have you—”

“Don’t talk that way,” Jamie interrupted. “I’m surprised he didn’t want the ambulance to take a spin around the track before they brought him here. He’ll probably want to do the same on the way home.”

Mr. Devalon smiled, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I hope so.”

Jamie turned and leaned against the glass, her arms folded. “Earlier you said you were going to nominate me for something. For what? What were you talking about?”

Before he could answer, a swinging door opened, and a man in a white coat walked out. “I’m looking for the Devalons.”

Mr. and Mrs. Devalon walked over and shook the man’s hand. It was clear the doctor didn’t watch NASCAR because he didn’t light up like most people did when they saw a driver. The doctor spoke in a hushed voice, but the waiting room was so quiet (other than the TV) that Jamie could hear. “Chad’s awake and talking now. If you want to see him, you can go on back.”

“What was the problem earlier?” Mrs. Devalon said.

“He passed out when he tried to get up too quickly. It may be that he was just light-headed.”

“Can he go home?” Mr. Devalon said.

“We want to run some more tests and keep him overnight. Only as a precaution. There may have been some internal injuries, and we want to make sure he’s 100 percent.”

Chad would not like staying in any hospital room, even if they had cable and he could watch SPEED.

No sooner had the Devalons left than the waiting
room door opened and Cassie and her mother hurried inside. Cassie rushed to Jamie and hugged her. They went to the corner, where they were semialone, and Jamie told her friend everything that had happened.

“You never told your parents about this, did you?” Cassie said.

Jamie rolled her eyes. “And I’m gonna be in big trouble. I should give up my racing dreams and settle for a life of pizza delivery.”

“It’s not that bad,” Cassie said. “Your parents will forgive you . . . after they lock you up for a year. Besides, you like pizza.”

Jamie smiled. Cassie was super spiritual, but she also had a good sense of humor. She wiped her eyes and looked at her friend. “What happens if Chad isn’t okay? He could have been killed out there today.”

Cassie nodded. “I’ve been scared for you ever since I saw you in those little cars at the summer shoot-out thing—”

“Bandoleros.”

“Yeah. I just don’t see how anybody can race and not think about God.”

There it was. The God factor Jamie had been waiting for. In almost every conversation with Cassie and every time they went to the mall or out for something to eat at the Pit Stop, God came up. Not in a pushy way
like someone trying to sell you soap or jewelry from a catalog but as a natural part of the conversation.

“Cassie, do you ever
not
think about God?” Jamie said with a hint of a smile.

Cassie remained serious. “I just think about guys like Chad and how far they are from God. I mean, I don’t care how many cars you have, how big your house is, or how famous your dad is—if your life ends, what good is all that?”

Jamie knew they were talking about Chad, but she couldn’t help thinking about herself. She was going after all those things with her life.

Butch Devalon returned to the waiting room as the youth pastor from church, Pastor Gordon, came in. Pastor Gordon walked up to him and shook hands.

“How did he know about this?” Jamie whispered to Cassie.

“I called him,” she said.

“Our entire church has been praying for you and your family,” Pastor Gordon said to Butch Devalon. “I’d be glad to pray with you right now if you’d like.”

Mr. Devalon’s gaze darted around the waiting room, and he let go of Pastor Gordon’s hand. “We don’t need that. Chad’s going to be okay.”

“I understand,” Pastor Gordon said. “I just wanted you to know we’re here and we care.”

“Yeah,” Butch Devalon said. And he walked away.

JAMIE OFFERED TO PICK UP
Kellen on her way home from the hospital, hoping she could get on her parents’ good side. They wanted to stay a little longer at the emergency room and talk with Pastor Gordon, so they took her up on the offer. Pastor Gordon was his usual cheery self. The snub from Butch Devalon didn’t seem to bother him.

Kellen was curious, wanting to hear every detail of the crash, but Jamie wasn’t in a talkative mood. She knew she treated him like a nuisance most of the time, but what were little brothers for?

“What did you do at Derek’s house?” she said, trying to change the subject.

“That’s not Derek’s house. Derek lives down the street. I was at Paul’s.”

“Then what did you do with Paul? Play basketball?”

Kellen rolled his eyes. “Don’t try to act interested, Jamie. I know you’re not.”

“I am interested. I ask you about school all the time.”

“Why did
you
pick me up?” Kellen said. “You in trouble with Mom and Dad?”

Jamie stared at the road.
How does he figure this stuff out?

“I’ll bet Devalon offered you a spot on his junior race team or something, and they’re mad you didn’t tell them about it. Right?”

“I’m not on any Devalon team. But thanks for not telling them about what he said down in Daytona.”

Kellen looked out the window. “If it gets you killed, Mom and Dad won’t thank me.”

“I’m not going to get killed.”

The message light flickered on the answering machine as they walked inside, and Jamie hit the button. Five people from church had called to find out about the accident, but the last message was an older man interested in Jamie’s Legend car. She wrote his number down and hurried to her room when she saw her parents pulling into the driveway.

“Why are you selling the car?” the man asked when she called.

“I’m moving up to a bigger car. I need the money to buy one.”

He said he would come by tomorrow to look at it, so she gave him her address. Then she heard footsteps on the stairs and a light knock on her bedroom door. It was her father.

Jamie had always idolized her dad. She shared his love of racing and the adventure of climbing into a car and going as fast as you possibly could. However, she did not like the look on his face.

“We need to talk,” her dad said.

“I’m sorry I went behind your back and raced Chad’s car,” Jamie said quickly, running her words together. “I won’t do it again.”

Her dad sat on her bed and ran a hand through his thick hair. Funny that her mom wasn’t here. Usually when they came down hard on her, they put up a unified front like some military maneuver. Operation Jamie.

“Any change in Chad?” Jamie said before her dad could speak.

“Looks like he’s going to be okay.”

“That’s good, because it was scary seeing that crash, Dad.” When she got nervous or was about to be nailed for something, she talked faster. “I’ve never seen anybody alone on the track get into that kind of accident. Really messed the car up. I don’t think they
can save it. Of course, with Mr. Devalon’s money it doesn’t matter. . . .”

Her dad just stared at her until her words slowed and sputtered to a stop like an engine running out of gas.

Then she revved again. “I thought you were going to leave for Florida tonight.”

“Got a little sidetracked by what happened. Had to cancel.”

“You’re not picking that guy up? What’s his name?”

“It’s Tim Carhardt, and we thought what happened tonight was pretty important. I wanted to drive down and spend some time talking to him on the way back. Guess we’ll need to make other arrangements.”

Jamie nodded. “Well, Texas is coming up this weekend. Maybe you could—”

Her dad gave her the look that said
Stop talking,
so she did.

“The thing that bothers me isn’t that you would drive a Devalon car,” her dad said. “And I’m not upset that you would think about joining his team.”

“Did Kellen mention it? That little rat. I even thanked him for not telling you about it.”

“It doesn’t matter where I heard it. The point is,
what really upsets me is that you would keep all this from us.”

“I was scared you wouldn’t let me, that you’d be mad. And I was right—you
are
mad.”

“I’m upset that you thought you had to keep this a secret. I’ve told you I want to help you be the very best driver you can be.”

“You keep secrets from us,” Jamie said and regretted it as soon as she said it.

“Like what?”

“Nothing.”

“Like what?” her dad said a little firmer this time.

“Like the guy in Florida. You knew way back in December that you wanted him to come live here.”

“That’s not fair. We didn’t even know if it was possible or if he’d agree to come here.”

Jamie turned her head, her face hot, pretending that she’d been hurt. Silence filled the room, and she focused on a stack of
NASCAR Illustrated
.

Her dad took a deep breath. “Devalon has suggested you for something.”

“He told me he was thinking of signing me to his team. That they might offer me a contract.”

“It’s not that. You’ve heard of the Skylar Jennings school, right?”

“They do those ride alongs with NASCAR wannabes. Old guys who can hardly get behind the wheel.”

He smiled for a second, which almost felt like a checkered flag waving. One small victory. “Yeah, they do that at tracks around the country. A pretty successful business. But Skylar also teaches rookies and kids whose parents have enough cash. It’s expensive, but they say it’s worth it.”

“What’s this got to do with me? I don’t even have enough money for a new car.”

“A few months ago some owners got together to identify the top prospects around the country, with an eye on diversity, bringing minorities and more female drivers into the program.”

Jamie’s heart raced, and she sat straight. “Sounds like a good idea.”

“The program will last four weeks. It starts in May. Intense classroom instruction. Lots of seat time. They have a few simulators, you’d learn from some of the best PR people, and there are races—”

“Dad, why are you telling me this?”

“Devalon picked you.”

She scooted forward, her eyes wide open. “Me?”

“There are already 42 from around the country who’ve been picked. Most of them are older than you and have more experience. They need one more.”

She tried to catch her breath. She had a million questions.

“Devalon and Shane made the decision when
they saw you run Chad’s car. They have the last spot. You know how NASCAR is all about leveling the playing field and making things more equal. This is one way they can instruct privately and let the cream rise to the top.”

“It sounds like a dream come true,” Jamie said.

“There’s more.” Her dad crossed his legs. “They’re keeping score throughout the process. Classroom. On the track. Simulator. The top three drivers at the end of the four weeks get an actual license by NASCAR.”

Jamie’s mouth dropped open. All she could say was, “Awesome!”

“Obviously those three would have to keep their qualifications up, and they’d still need to work their way through—”

Jamie jumped toward him and threw her arms around him. “Thank you! I can’t believe it!”

“Wait a minute. That’s the good news. The bad news is that there’s school to contend with—”

“I can do some kind of independent study. I’ll do homework every night and finish.”

“Well, hang on. The cost of the school is covered, but living expenses aren’t. Students pay for the hotel and food.”

“How much?” Jamie said.

He told her.

“That shouldn’t be a problem if I can sell the car.”

Her dad ran a hand through his hair. “I guess that’s your choice. It’s your car. But there’s one other problem. A big one.”

“What?”

“Your mother.”

Jamie’s heart fell. “She has to know this is a great opportunity. Once in a lifetime.”

“Yeah, she’s a smart woman. She knows this is about the best thing that could ever happen to a young driver who wants to move up.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“Letting go of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re growing up. It’s one thing to drive you to some track and sit on the infield and watch you run. But having you go away like this means you’re going to be out of here someday. Soon.”

Jamie laughed. “I have another year of high school. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her dad put a hand on her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you’re a rocket and your fuse is lit. It’s only a matter of time before you blast off.”

“What do I do?”

“Go talk to her.”