YeahWrite Super Challenge #24 Round 1 Prompts:
Object: a leaky pen | Motivation: A character who wants to perform well in a test of skill or knowledge
[Short-listed in Round 1; progressed to Final round]
With only more chance to carve out a career in the rally racing world, navigator Danny Sanchez discovers that sometimes taking an incalculable risk can be rewarded.
“I can’t do this!” Chewing on the end of his ballpoint pen, Danny peered down at his pace notes, brows furrowed.
Simon folded his arms over his chest. “Not with that attitude,” he snorted, glancing around the garage of the Rivermouth Rally Racing Club, filled with other hopefuls. All were vying for two positions in the small but respected club: one driver and one navigator.
“Why aren’t you more nervous?” Danny snapped. The pair had raced together since they were teenagers. Yet their successes on the Junior rally circuit were swiftly fading into past glories. Without the investment of an official club, it was unlikely that either of them could make rallying into a viable career. Hence their trying out for the RRRC.
Simon rolled his eyes. “I know I’m good.” He elbowed Danny. “And I know you’re good, too.” Snatching Danny’s notebook, he flicked through it. Each page was filled with his meticulous shorthand detailing the five mile course. “All this from one recce? You know this route. If anything, you could afford to take a risk.”
Danny snatched the notebook back, tucking it into the pocket of his racing suit. “Are you crazy?” Taking a risk meant jeopardising this entire trial. Maybe Simon could afford to do this as just a hobby, but Danny could not.
Before Simon could answer, the RRRC Chairman called all competitors to the front. Each hopeful would be assessed individually. That meant drivers were paired with RRRC navigators, while navigators were paired with RRRC drivers. Success required not only fast times but excellent communication.
Sets of names were called out. Simon’s assigned navigator was known to push his driver on. That would suit Simon; he should do well. Turning to leave, he flashed Danny an encouraging smile then was gone.
Waiting for his own pairing, Danny resumed chewing on his pen, struggling to keep his nerves in check.
“Danny Sanchez…” The pause while the Chairman glanced at his notes was an eternity. “… with Jurian Keelert.”
He bit down hard on the biro. Jurian Keelert: renowned rally champion. He was exceptionally skilled, having competed in World Championships, but had stepped back in recent years. He raced with Rivermouth almost as a semi-retirement, a way of keeping his hand in without the pressure of the top clubs.
An oily tang filled Danny’s mouth. A brief downward glance revealed he had cracked the top of his pen. But Jurian was already striding towards him and his tongue must be covered in ink and maybe even his teeth and what kind of first impression was that and… and… and…
Shoving the traitorous pen into his pocket, Danny hid his stained tongue behind a tight-lipped smile. Impassive, the older man shook his hand before leading Danny out to the car, keen to complete the necessary safety checks.
All too soon it was time for their turn around the five mile course.
Clipping into his safety harness, it was Jurian who spoke. “Ready?” He barely glanced towards Danny. This was a monotonous routine for him. But Danny knew drivers: even if this held no personal importance for Jurian, his competitive nature would soon come out. That was all the more intimidating. He couldn’t bear the thought of exasperating this legend.
“Ready.” As he spoke, he reached into his pocket for the pace notes but felt a strange slickness covering the pages. Horrified realisation crept over him. Sliding the notebook out confirmed his fear: smeared with black ink leaked from the chewed pen.
No, no, no!
But it was too late. The timekeeper was counting down. Jurian was revving the engine. The race was starting… and even if Danny had blurted out something, Jurian was now accelerating towards the first crest leading into a hairpin bend.
“Notes!” Jurian barked, eyes trained on the road.
In desperation, Danny rifled through the ruined pages. What was a navigator without his pace notes? Just a useless passenger.
Take a risk.
That was Simon’s advice. But there was taking a risk and then there was… this! Yet what choice did he have? Already Jurian was shifting up the gears.
“Notes! Now!”
“Fifty; caution over crest; turn hairpin right.” He garbled out the first instructions.
No sooner had he spoken than Jurian was adapting. Beneath his experienced hands, the car flew. But it wasn’t just Jurian’s experience, it was also Danny’s knowledge. He had pored over those pace notes again and again and again…
Take a risk.
He flicked the notebook shut. “Dip, four hundred; turn left late three!”
The world rushed by. Euphoria filled Danny. He rattled through each and every direction, working through the memorised pace notes in his mind. Faster and faster and faster. Jurian never let up, attacking every opportunity.
The car streaked through the finish checkpoint. Danny did not even glance at the official timer: no one could rival that run. No sooner had he clambered out the car than Simon grappled him into a hug. “Bloody hell, mate!” He whooped. “That was amazing!”
He lunged for the notebook which Danny still clutched in one hand. “These pace notes are going to be legendary! Let me see—” He broke off as he caught sight of the blotchy mess. His eyes widened. “Tell me that only happened just now.”
“Um…” Danny cringed.
Simon stared at him, ashen. “You did the route without pace notes?”
“What?” The deep voice stilled both their tongues.
Whirling around, Danny came face to face with Jurian. “I took a risk, sir.” He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth.
Without a word, Jurian held his hand out for the notes, examining the indecipherable pages for himself. His lips thinned for a moment before a wry smile tugged at the corners.
“Then you’re even better than I thought,” he remarked, returning the notes to Danny. “I suggest that you hide these.” Jurian studied him; interest finally kindling in his gaze. “But may I be the first to say: welcome to the team.”
C.A. Raine 