Motocross Madness Read online

  The Hardys and Jamal joined the other contestants gathering near the grandstand. The armored riders and polished cycles almost made the racers look like knights at a medieval tournament.

  “Do people seem nervous to you?” Joe asked. He looked from the old hands, like Henderson and Hawk, to the up-comers like Hayday, Navarro, Kendallson, Short, and dozens of others. All were milling around apprehensively, except for Hawk and Henderson, who spent part of their time eyeing each other and the rest of their time signing autographs for fans and other racers.

  “Well, I’ll be . . .,” Jamal began.

  “What’s wrong?” Frank asked.

  “See that dim-looking guy over there?” Jamal asked. He pointed to a buff teen with a shaved head. “That’s Justin Davies.”

  “Didn’t he beat you out at last year’s midtown baseball tryouts?” Joe asked.

  “That’s the guy,” Jamal replied. “He’s always looking to one-up me. He must have heard I was racing and decided to get in on the action. He’ll do anything to get my goat. He nearly ran me over at a crosswalk last week. Then he tried to make it look like it was my fault.”

  “Let’s try to keep out of his way, then,” Frank said. “We’ve got enough to worry about in this race without old school rivalries flaring up.”

  Davies spotted them, though. He revved his engine and raced his bike around the intervening crowd, then skidded it to a stop right next to Jamal. He hit a nearby puddle with his back tire, splattering Jamal’s clean racing outfit with mud. “Hey, sorry, Hawkins,” Davies said. “I didn’t see you there.”

  “That is it, Davies!” Jamal said. He threw off his riding gloves and charged the bully.

  5 Down & Dirty

  * * *

  Jamal jumped toward Davies before the Hardys could intervene. The shaved-headed teen got off his bike and tackled Jamal first. Both riders crashed onto the soggy earth.

  The two of them rolled around on the ground like football players fighting for a fumble. Joe tried to pull Jamal up but got kicked on the chin for his trouble.

  Frank caught his younger brother as Joe fell back.

  “Looks like I owe Davies one as well,” Joe said angrily.

  “Take it easy,” Frank cautioned. “We don’t want to make things worse.” He tried to step in too, but the rolling, flailing bodies kept him at a distance.

  A crowd gathered around the brawling contest-

  ants. A few security guards standing by noticed the fight too. They made a beeline for Jamal and Davies.

  The two racers broke apart and rolled to their feet. Jamal stared at his rival, anger burning in his brown eyes. Davies smiled, ready to jump Jamal again. The crowd pressed in around the fighters, separating them from Frank and Joe, who were still looking to stop the fight.

  Suddenly, they heard the roar of a powerful motorcycle engine. All eyes turned as Ed Henderson’s blue custom bike soared through the air, right toward the group.

  The gawkers dove for cover. Jamal and Davies ducked out of the way as Henderson landed between them. The stunt rider spun his bike in a circle, kicking up the dirt with his rear wheel. Jamal, the Hardys, and the rest backed away.

  “Well, that’s one way to break up a fight,” Joe said to Frank.

  “Risky, but effective,” Frank agreed.

  Henderson skidded his motorcycle to a halt and took off his helmet. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, and his intense blue eyes peered at each of the combatants. “Are you two here to race or to fight?” he said angrily.

  “Who asked you to butt in?” Davies said.

  Joe and Frank made their way to Jamal’s side. “Take it easy, Jamal,” Frank whispered. “You don’t want to get kicked out of this race.”

  “I guess you’re right,” Jamal said through clenched teeth. “Getting thrown out wouldn’t do Corri any good.”

  As the shock of the impromptu stunt wore off, the crowd that had gathered around Henderson applauded. TV cameras converged rapidly on the spot, surrounding him. The stunt rider smiled.

  Davies glared at him, then picked up his bike out of the dirt and trotted away before security could catch up with him. Jamal righted his motorcycle as well. “Guess I’d better face the music,” he said. He took a deep breath, then walked over to meet the guards.

  “I hope they don’t disqualify him,” Frank said to Joe.

  “I doubt they will,” Joe replied. “Remember, they need every pledge rider that they can get.”

  Henderson’s fight-ending stunt had shifted the media’s attention from the brawlers to him. The pro rider looked happy to play to the crowd and grant interviews.

  Amber Hawk, standing near the Hardys, didn’t seem very pleased with Henderson’s grandstanding. She gritted her teeth and muttered, “Hotdog!” then returned to fiddling with her motorcycle.

  After speaking to the guards for few minutes, Jamal rejoined the brothers. “They just gave me a stern warning,” he said. “I got lucky.”

  Finally, the crowd settled down, and everyone seemed ready to start the day’s competition.

  Pops Fernandez and his family ascended to the announcing platform across from the grandstand. Paco, dressed in a racing outfit and armor, pushed Corri up a specially built ramp so she could take her place at the microphones alongside her father.

  Peter Fernandez stepped up to the mike and cleared his throat. “Welcome,” he said, his voice booming over the track’s PA system, “to the Corrine Fernandez Benefit Challenge—a unique motocross event!”

  The crowd roared their approval as the racers assembled next to the track.

  Mr. Fernandez continued. “I want to thank our friends at UAN—the United America Network—for making this fund-raiser a nationwide broadcast!”

  Again, the crowd exploded into applause and cheers.

  “I’d also like to thank our friends in the local media, especially WBPT and the Bayport Journal-Times for their ongoing support,” Mr. Fernandez said.

  “Also, I’d like to thank our sponsors,” Mr. Fernandez said, and indicated a group of distinguished-looking guests sitting to one side of the reviewing stand. Asa Goldberg, Trent Howard, and the other people assembled there smiled and nodded. “And a special thank-you to the professional motocross racers, Amber Hawk and Ed Henderson, who generously agreed to participate in this series without their usual appearance fees.

  “This racing benefit would not be possible without the tireless efforts on the part of many, many people. Foremost among them are the racers themselves, and the many sponsors who have pledged to support them. It is to all of you that we really owe our greatest gratitude,” Mr. Fernandez finished.

  The crowd roared especially loudly at this, and the racers down near the track stomped their feet and banged on their racing armor, making a real racket. Joe, Frank, and Jamal joined in.

  “Now,” Pops said, “I’d like to turn the microphone over to my daughter, Corrine, whom you are all so generously supporting. Corri will explain the rules of this unique race series.”

  As Corri rolled up to the mike, the crowd went wild, cheering, whistling, and shouting her name.

  Corri smiled and waved at them. “Thanks, Pops,” she said. “And thank you, all of you, for participating in this race. When I was injured last year, I thought the world had ended. Now, thanks to your kindness and support, I’m feeling better about things—like it’s not the end.”

  The crowd applauded. A few people shouted, “We love you, Corri!” Frank noticed several nearby racers wiping tears from the corners of their eyes.

  Corri took a deep breath. “And I will get out of this wheelchair. With your help, I will not only walk again, I will ride again!”

  All the people assembled went wild with applause and cheering. A chant of “Corri! Corri!” built up within the ranks of the racers.

  Now it was Corri’s turn to wipe a tear from her cheek. She composed herself, then began speaking again. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, I didn’t just come up here to give a pep talk.
I came to explain the rules of this series of challenge races.

  “As most of you know, there are three phases to this unique motocross event—the acrobatic/aerobatic mixed race, the traditional dirt track race, and the Enduro, a cross-country race. Racers will be using the same 125 cc motorcycles during each day of the event. Riders may make adjustments to suspension, tires, seats, and engine performance between each event—but the bike must remain the same. The use of standard-engine cycles will make the benefit exciting for all racers, from novice to experienced. During the first two phases of the competition, points will be awarded to each rider, depending on how she or he finishes in the races.

  “Those points will be used to determine the starting order of riders in the final phase of the race, as well as the time differential between riders. If you build up a lot of points today and tomorrow, you will have a good head start during the final day of the competition. Whoever crosses the finish line first on Sunday is the winner.” She smiled at the pack of assembled racers. They cheered enthusiastically.

  Joe noticed Amber Hawk and Ed Henderson eyeing each other. “Clearly those two think they’re going to be in the top spots on Sunday,” he whispered to Frank.

  “So that’s the overall picture,” Corri continued. “You can find the exact details in the information packets you received when registering for the race, in the program booklets on sale at the concession stands, or online at the Fernandez Cycle Track Web site.

  “Now that we’ve got those preliminaries over with, I can explain the rules for today’s race.” She took a deep breath. “This is not your usual motocross event. Today’s Mixed Freestyle race combines elements of traditional motocross racing with elements of motorcycling acrobatics. Heats in the event will be timed, but points will also be awarded for acrobatic stunts performed during the race. The more difficult the stunts, the more points awarded.”

  She pointed to the motocross track, with its unusually high whoopdedoos. The Hardys and Jamal took measure of the course. Elizabeth Navarro, standing nearby, fiddled nervously with the strap of her blue motorcycle helmet. Frank noticed that the helmet had a white skull painted on the side.

  “The point system makes it possible,” Corri said, “to win today’s event without actually crossing the finish line first. Of course, the best racers will combine both speed and acrobatics.”

  Ed Henderson and Amber Hawk smiled confidently.

  “Because of the dangerous nature of this event,” Corrine continued, “the number of racers in each heat will be smaller than usual. Each rider will compete only once. The racer with the highest total of points will be the leader going into tomorrow’s event. Any questions?”

  No one had any.

  “All right,” Corri said. “Get your bikes ready—because it’s time to ride!”

  The racers gave a huge cheer, and the crowd in the stands applauded. The cyclists started their engines and showed off a little for the spectators.

  Meanwhile, Marissa Hayday chatted animatedly with her sisters, Elena and Karina, who were serving as her pit crew for the competition. Richard Navarro was talking to his daughter.

  “Remember,” Frank and Joe overheard the magazine writer say, “you don’t have to win this phase of the race. Just give it a good run, and stay safe.” Elizabeth nodded and pulled on her helmet.

  “That skull on her helmet doesn’t seem like a very good symbol for her,” Joe remarked. “She seems skittish as a newborn kitten.”

  “I talked to her at the party last night,” Jamal said. “The emblem used to be her dad’s in his cycle club days. She’s wearing it for good luck.”

  “Let’s hope she doesn’t need it,” Joe said.

  “At least a couple of people don’t seem to have the prerace jitters,” Frank noted. He hooked a thumb to where Ed Henderson and Amber Hawk were standing in the middle of a huge crowd, still signing autographs for fans.

  “Hawk doesn’t usually sign autographs much,” Jamal said. “I guess she’s just trying to compete with Henderson.”

  “Whoever wins this event will be king of the hill for a while, that’s for sure,” Joe said.

  “The trouble with being king of the hill,” Frank noted, “is that someone is always trying to push you off the top.”

  The brothers and their friend headed for the pits to make final preparations for the race. All three of them knew that this phase of the race would be particularly tricky and dangerous, so they wanted to make sure they were ready.

  Being last-minute entrants, the brothers hadn’t been able to line anyone up for their pit crew. But Jamal pitched in, and in return, the Hardys helped him with his bike.

  After tuning up, the three friends took turns securing one another’s racing armor.

  Through luck of the draw, Joe came up in one of the earliest heats. He would be competing against Ed Henderson, Amber Hawk, Sylvia Short, and a racer named Taylor Fohr.

  “I doubt I’ll be the top finisher in this one,” Joe said ruefully.

  “Don’t give up,” Frank replied. “Maybe you’ll pull an upset.”

  “Or you could let Hawk and Henderson take the limelight and just put in your fastest speed,” Jamal suggested. “With them concentrating on each other, you may be able to slip in under the radar.”

  Frank and Jamal got Joe into his starting position on the course. Then Frank found a good spot to watch his brother, and Jamal went back to preparing for his heat.

  The day had grown warm and sticky. The smell of dirt and motorcycle exhaust hung in the air. Corrine Fernandez was going to be doing the play-byplay, announcing from her perch on the tower overlooking the track. Her pleasant voice boomed through the loudspeakers above the grandstand: “And . . . they’re off!”

  Almost immediately Hawk and Henderson zoomed out to a big lead. The two of them raced neck and neck as they hit the first jump. Joe, Fohr, and Short trailed behind.

  Henderson got huge air on the first tall whoopdedoo, catapulting his bike into the sky. He executed a “Superman” flyoff, hanging his whole body in the air over the saddle, then landed solidly on the downslope. Hawk had gotten ahead of him, but the stunt she performed hadn’t been nearly so spectacular.

  “A monstrous trick by Henderson!” Corri’s voice said.

  Joe gunned the throttle and zipped over the hill, catching a bit of air as he did so. He didn’t try anything fancy, wanting to get a feel for the course first. His steady progress put him in third place, behind the two leaders. He spotted Frank, watching from beyond the next rise, then lost sight of him as he hit the ground again.

  Hawk topped the next hill before Henderson. She did a barhop over her handlebars as she went, then disappeared behind the hill.

  Henderson topped the next rise, gunning his throttle all the way as he went up. He hit the top of the whoopdedoo in a nearly vertical climb and twisted his bike into the first somersault in a combination.

  Man and machine hung gracefully in the air for a moment—then Henderson’s black and gold motorcycle exploded.

  6 Flameout

  * * *

  A ball of orange fire burst around the cycle as it flew to pieces. Henderson soared head over heels into the air right in front of Joe’s onrushing bike.

  Joe ducked as a flaming gas tank flew by, barely missing the top of his helmet. He swerved to avoid a bouncing tire. Several small pieces of burning shrapnel bounced off the younger Hardy’s riding armor.

  Henderson’s limp body flashed by as Joe crested the hill. He braked into a jump, not caring about amplitude or difficulty, just fighting to maintain control.

  At the bottom of the hill, Frank stood wide-eyed with shock.

  “Look out!” he yelled.

  Somehow, Joe heard him above the roar of the engine and the bang of the explosion.

  Joe ducked again, and one of Henderson’s shock absorbers glanced off his helmet.

  The younger Hardy swerved and almost went into a skid. He put his left foot down, and felt a lance of pain shoot up hi
s leg. But his boot steadied the bike, and he kept on going.

  Frank ran forward, glancing at Joe to make sure his brother was all right. When Joe kept riding, the elder Hardy sprinted to the scene of the crash. Seeing his brother running to help Henderson, Joe decided to stay in the race.

  The roar of motorcycle engines and the whine of sirens filled the air. Frank ignored them and angled for Henderson’s body, lying prone amid the flaming wreckage of his black and gold cycle.

  Sylvia Short topped the rise and headed directly toward the crash, with Taylor Fohr right beside her. Both riders swerved and nearly went down. They kicked great clouds of dirt into the air; Frank shielded his eyes to keep from being blinded.

  As Frank reached the injured cyclist, Joe crested the next berm and disappeared from view, with Fohr and Short hot on his tail.

  Frank used his first aid skills to stabilize Henderson until the real paramedics showed up. Some of the cyclist’s limbs looked broken, and he probably had a concussion. Henderson’s riding armor had protected him from some of the damage, but cycle fuel had splashed onto it, setting it aflame in a few places. Frank smothered the small fires, then did what he could until the ambulances arrived.

  Race officials red-flagged the race, meaning the other contestants had to stop until the course was cleared. Frank helped the paramedics load Henderson into the ambulance. He watched with some annoyance as news crews followed the injured man out of the stadium.

  “They’re like vultures,” he heard someone beside him say.

  It was Marissa Hayday. She and her two sisters, Elena and Karina, had come to try to help. “Why can’t they just leave people alone?” Karina, the middle sister, said.

  “They’re just doing their job,” Elena noted. “Speaking of which, we’ve got to get Marissa ready for her race.”

  Marissa nodded grimly. “The show must go on,” she said.

  Frank went back to his bike as well.

  The race resumed just as soon as the ambulance left. Joe crossed the finish line second, but placed third when acrobatics were taken into account. Amber Hawk finished first. Taylor Fohr edged out Joe on points. He seemed surprised at his placement and grinned all the way off the course.