Rev Girl (14 page)

The woman spoke. ‘This is nothin', hun, it's only eighty-three today.' She rested a floppy handbag across her lap.

‘Okay for you,' Clover mumbled. ‘You haven't come from five degrees!'

The woman laughed. ‘You'll be fine, hun. Ya get used to it.'

‘I hope so.'

Clover ripped at her cardigan, but the wool clung to her moist arms, trapping her inside its intense heat.
This is crazy,
she thought, finally freeing herself. She chucked the sweater at her bag.
How am I gonna ride in this?

Ernie drove the rental truck that they'd use to pick up her crated bike from the local transport company and took the exit onto Highway 528. The road stretched out in front of them as straight and flat as what she remembered of the Albertan prairies, lined either side by scruffy bushes.

Clover flinched from surprise as a dark figure appeared beside them. She forgot not to stare as the low-riding Harley-Davidson rumbled along beside their truck. They were completely surrounded by bikers now. As far as she could see, rows of bikes occupied all three lanes, cruising along the sweltering interstate.

Clover turned back to the biker beside her. She blinked a few times with disbelief.

He was smiling at her. His face had gone soft, from the dimples of his handsome smile. Then he lifted his bare hand, the sun glistening on his rings and a thick silver bracelet around his wrist, and gave her a thumbs-up.

She smiled back, as he accelerated in front and swung into their lane.

Clover grinned and brought her knees up to her chest, letting her head rest between them. It felt good to be amongst all these riders. She knew she belonged here among the revheads.
If only Dallas were a racer like me
but she cursed herself, again, for thinking such a thought.

The sun caught her eye, reflecting brilliantly off the sea of chrome bling stretching out in front of her. A beautiful sight. She belonged among bikes. And even Florida, with its stifling heat and snaky sand awaiting her, was starting to look all right.

From the second Clover and Ernie drove through the massive, wooden front gates, past the life-sized bronze horse statues and rock pillars, Clover couldn't believe they were actually allowed to race bikes here. It was clear why the Polk County River Ranch was the best venue on the American Enduro Championship circuit. It was like she was Alice, peering into this awesome new world. Excited, unsure of what to expect, and scared to death, all at the same time.

If Clover had been feeling out of her depth at the airport being among American racing royalty then as they pulled up the paved driveway and the huge red and white, ranch-style front entrance of the resort came into view, any confidence she'd gained from ice racing seemed to seep away, leaving her with the same old fear of failure. Little Clover was in the big-time now. And she'd have a lot more than Lasha to contend with down here many more girls to beat her and push her off that all-important podium. A voice inside her chanted ‘
You're not in Kansas anymore'
until she told it to shut up. She knew she had to get it together if she was going to race and have a hope in hell of finishing on the podium. She had to, if she wanted to make it to the World's, and start her life as a racer.

Ernie pulled their modest truck to a stop behind a long row of semi trailers, all decaled up with famous race team logos and sponsors. The rigs were lined up for what seemed like kilometres, all the way to the front entrance and main office. Two-storey hotel accommodation extended out to the left of the entrance. Off to the right, a huge field stretched out to the tree line and sloped gently down to the river. The field was already full with rows of massive motorhomes with bike trailers and trucks pulling ridiculously long travel trailers. It seemed each camp was in competition to outshine the next. Racing decals wrapped the trailers; quick shades and awnings with bright banners displayed names and rider numbers and advertised various bike shops and products.

Kids, with dirty faces beaming, whipped around the camps, roosting sand from the back wheels of their BMX bikes. Several dolled-up moms chatted among themselves and watched the sun drop down behind the resort. Then there were the dads, middle-aged men lingering around in groups, cracking beers, congregated around the bikes displayed in front of their camps. The sons and daughters cruised around in lifted, off-road golf buggies and pit bikes, driving from camp to camp, laughing loudly. They were so tanned, it made Clover feel sick. She spotted more people her own age down at the riverbank.

‘Guess we're not the only ones getting here early.' Ernie pushed his glasses up on his nose.

‘Mmm,' Clover said. She flipped her sun visor down to check that her hair hadn't gone too frizzy in the humidity. It had. She hoped she'd remembered her trusty Yamaha hat, great to hide the hair, and also good to hide in. Between it and her sunglasses she could virtually disappear. She was scared enough to want to.

‘You've been pretty quiet,' Ernie said. ‘Excited to be here?'

‘Oh, yeah. For sure.'

Ernie smiled. ‘This is all pretty daunting.'

‘Totally.' She gazed back out her window at the white fibreglass city, which rose as high as houses out in the field.

‘Don't take any notice of all the hoo-hah, Clover. You know the old saying, “When the gate drops, the bullshit stops.” Out there, it's about your riding ability, not the truck you showed up in.'

‘Yeah, I know. It's just, pretty big time down here, eh?'

‘It's okay. You'll only be racing a dozen or so I don't imagine the Pro Ladies Class will have many more.'

She knew Ernie was right it didn't matter if she was a poor-looking loner. But she couldn't help it; she was as scared of having to hang by herself as she was of tackling the track against fast competition, and coming out the loser.

When she finally found her hat at the bottom of her backpack, Clover pulled the brim down low, and slipped her sunglasses on. She felt much safer behind her disguise, hidden well enough, she hoped, to even evade Lasha Moore.

Clover and Ernie's hotel room was at the far end of the hotel block. Clover stood staring out over the perfect lawn in front of the resort, and glanced to her right when she heard the neighing of horses. It was seriously surreal that they got to race somewhere so beautiful. Through the dim light, Clover could just make out a barn, so long she couldn't see where it ended, even after she'd hopped up on to the rail and leant out over the edge. Well-fed horses grazed happily, their tails flicking from side to side to repel the flies.

‘Hey, slip your shoes off,' Ernie said, taking her hands. ‘You used to love doing this when you were little.' He pulled her up onto the nearest of the two, queen-sized beds, and they both started to jump. Clover knew if Leslie had been there she would have scolded them which probably added to the fun. A squeal escaped her lips as she jumped harder and harder, swinging around in circles, reaching out, pushing Ernie at every rotation.

‘There … you … go,' he said between bounces. ‘Fun!'

Clover let every one of her muscles melt into the plastic deckchair by the resort's pool. She sighed, enjoying the late afternoon sun drenching her skin. She clenched her fists, to test her arm muscles, which had been on fire for two days after her first ride on the practice track.

No pain. She smiled with relief. Every part of her body was going to have to be on its ‘A-Game' when the flag dropped tomorrow morning.

Her mobile revved from beneath her beach towel … she got to it too late. One missed call from Dallas. She jabbed at his number, and listened to it ring, but a group of screaming kids splashing each other in the pool caught her attention. The pool was nearly full, with dozens of bodies bobbing up and down in the water mostly riders, keen to unwind and rest their muscles before the big race tomorrow.

Ring.

Ring.

What's he doing?

A group of girls in skimpy bikinis and oversized sunglasses breezed in from the Cabana bar, carrying fruity cocktails. The tallest of the group, a fit girl with wavy blonde hair and perfect high cheekbones, was unmistakable. Clover sunk into her chair.

Lasha Moore.

Clover pushed her sunnies up her nose and watched Lasha as she ushered the others towards chairs on the opposite side of the pool. Clover ducked behind her knees, pressing her phone against her ear, hoping like hell Lasha wouldn't recognise her. She couldn't get even up and rush away, as moving would only alert Lasha to her presence.

Clover started at the sound of Dallas on the other end of the line. His voice chimed of salvation; if she was going to be the loser sitting by the pool by herself, hiding from her arch-rival who was living it up with all her besties just a pool-width away at least she could be the loser on the phone to her boyfriend.

‘Hey birthday girl.'

Today, indeed, was her seventeenth birthday.

‘Dallas! Hey! Thank you.' But she kept her voice down. She'd been waiting for his call was keen to hear news of the deciding game of his season. ‘How'd it go?'

‘It would have been better if you were here. But, we're going to the Western finals.'

‘Congratulations!' Clover dropped her voice to a whisper, as Lasha looked her way. ‘I'm so happy for you. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, but I knew you were gonna win.'

‘Took 'em down three two. I scored the first goal.'

‘Great work the other states better watch out!'

‘It's been over ten years since a team from Denver went, but I feel like this is gonna be the year. You'll come, right?'

‘Um, yeah!'

‘Good,' he cleared his throat. ‘It doesn't feel right, you being all the way down there.'

‘Ahh … I'm sorry,' she said. ‘But you are excited for me, right?'

‘I just missed having you at my games.'

‘I know. Sorry.'

Should
I be there
, Clover thought,
supporting him?
She always did her best to make it to his games, but if she'd stayed, what would've happened to her dreams? Surely, Dallas wouldn't want her to choose. Dallas yelled, ‘Yeah, dude,' to a guy in the background, probably a fellow player. ‘Gotta go, babe. Miss you.'

‘I miss you, too.'

‘Don't let any of those Enduro guys hit on you,' Dallas said. ‘And call me soon.' The line went dead.

It felt like she'd been booted in the chest.
Doesn't Dallas like
my racing?
She'd been dying to tell him about the Supercross she and Ernie went to last night, and would have loved to talk more about his games and her race in the morning.
I'm sure he was just
busy
, she told herself, but before she'd processed her conversation with Dallas, a hand rested on her leg. She jumped, and her phone slid off her chest and hit the tiles
.
She sat bolt upright and raised her sunnies off her face.

‘Didn't mean to startle you.'

Clover raised a hand above her brow and squinted against the sun to identify the owner of the husky voice …

‘You are Clover Kassedy, right?'

She did her best to focus on the girl in front of her. Judging by her profile, it definitely wasn't Lasha. This girl was sturdy, with a thick core and big thighs hidden under baggy denim shorts. Her dark hair was pulled into braided pigtails she reminded Clover of the ‘Banger Sisters', two women from Nebraska, who were ranked one-two in Pro Ladies in the Rocky Mountain Enduro Series, one of whom Clover had beaten in ice racing. Only this girl seemed a lot nicer. Her face was softer and her eyes less competitive.

The girl stood at the end of her chair, smiling, spinning silver aviator sunglasses in one hand.

‘Yeah, I'm Clover.'

‘Could tell by your accent. Boyfriend?'

She blushed.

‘Mine's at home. Tried to get him to come, be my pit bitch, but he's still hunting for a job. He's a truck driver, got cut from his last job, but, ya know. Times are tough.'

Clover got the feeling that this girl hadn't turned up in a massive motorhome or semi-truck and was a bit ashamed at herself for feeling more relaxed with her. And then it struck her, the significance of what Ernie had once said, ‘There's always someone with more than you, and someone with less.' Clover felt guilty for jumping to conclusions about the people in the motorhomes, and about this girl. ‘Where you from?' she asked.

‘Indiana. I'm Kerry Treasure.'

Clover nodded with recognition. She'd read the name many times in race reports online and even in the odd magazine. Kerry Treasure: America's number three female Enduro rider.

‘They put you on my minute,' Kerry said. ‘We start at 9.35am.'

Clover nodded. She'd already reviewed the start order. ‘I'm so glad we'll be riding together.' She was surprised at how relieved she felt to finally be making a racing friend.