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Thanks again for reading! Enjoy!
Chapter 30 - "Murphy's Law"
"Okay," Jane exhaled a deep breath from her grille. The warm air brushed against her upper lip, "Alright...here we go. Focus. Speed. I am speed."
Sally drove by Jane's bedroom door with the vacuum cleaner. Its whirr blasted loudly, like the sound of a passing car's engine.
"One winner-," she paused, "-hopefully…and a whole list of losers...and I eat losers for breakfast."
"Alright, little star," Lightning pulled up to Jane's door, "You definitely have to eat breakfast today."
"Breakfast...I should have breakfast."
Lightning nodded, "Brekkie would be good for you."
Jane swatted the air with her tire, "Nonono, dad. I have to stay focused."
"I get it," he smiled, then drove away. The sound of the vacuum cleaner ceased and Sally wheeled it back past her room.
"I'm faster than fast. Quicker than quick. I am fearless."
Sally made a stop at her door too, "Hey, fearless. You ready?" she asked with a smirk.
"Oh yeah," Jane opened up her eyelids and looked herself right in the eye in her bedroom mirror, "I was built ready."
In another household one town away, the same morning sunlight filtered through the blinds in Murphy's bedroom. When the rays touched his eyelids, they cracked open for the first time. His jaw extended, letting out a well-deserved yawn. When he stretched his axles out one by one, he could feel his phone slip out of his wheel well. It bounced slightly when it hit his mattress. He glanced down to find the screen on and showing two new voicemail notifications.
He groaned.
Who listens to voicemails anymore when people text these days?
He held a button down and a microphone icon appeared, telling him to speak into the phone.
"Play voicemail," said his sleepy voice.
His phone began to play the messages for him; even calling Murphy by the name he once requested it to call him.
Good morning, Murphatron. You have two new voice messages.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Murphy stuffed his face back into his pillow and listened.
First voice message.
"Hey, it's me. It's Jane. I-uh-just want to wish you good luck in the qualifiers...although we both know you don't need it. Goodnight."
Murphy's eyes shot open. He leaned to the right, peeking over the puff of his pillow, as if looking at his phone would be the same as looking at the car whose voice was speaking next to him.
End of message. To erase this message-
"Save the message," he interrupted.
Message saved. Next message.
"This is ridiculous. You can't keep telling me this is because of Gianna because then that means you're lying to me. I don't deserve that. Just tell me what I did."
Murphy lifted his bumper off of his pillow, eyes softening at the sound of Jane's voice cracking, "What?"
"T-Tell me what I did."
"You didn't do anything."
There was a pause, then Jane spoke again, "I-I hope you make it on the team. I know you'll make it. I-If you don't want me to be around you, then I promise I'll hold my speed back. Come senior semester, you'll never have to speak to me again."
End of message. To erase-
"...save the message."
End of new messages.
Murphy's mirrors slumped down, thinking about the way she sounded. It wasn't anything he was used to. Her voice always seemed gentle, light, and truly made him feel great, but she was much different then. She seemed so defeated.
So lost. A victim. But of what? He couldn't say. He still thought Jane would sometimes act so strange. Then again, she came from a strange place. He didn't know of any other car raised by an entire town. After all, it's said that it takes a village to raise a child. Maybe even a little town on route 66.
He hugged part of his blanket in his axles, thinking about her in the silence of his room, but after a few moments he grabbed his phone and went into his voicemails again. He selected the second saved message and scrolled to the end.
"I'll hold my speed back."
He tapped it again.
"I'll hold my speed back."
Then he fast forwarded to the very end.
"...you'll never have to speak to me again."
Murphy closed his voicemail and let out a breath of regret. She was just a girl with a dream. Nothing less, but so much more. He'd never find out what that 'more' was if he kept ignoring her.
He went into his text messages and opened Jane's name, where there was an automatically saved draft of a text message written the night before. It answered all of the unanswered 'goodnights' she sent.
Night, little star.
But Murphy quickly erased that message and typed:
Miss you too.
He shook his hood - no - rather than sending that, he erased that one as well. He made up for it by going into Gianna's text thread and sending her a message instead:
Morning, cutie. See you later.
"MURPHY!" called a voice from the living room.
He exhaled a big sigh, "Yeah, dad?"
There was a silence. Murphy waited for an answer. When one never came, he rolled his eyes and repeated himself louder, "WHAT, DAD?"
"GET IN HERE! I MADE EGGS!"
"Oh, joy," Murphy put his phone away, drove off his bed, and packed his school supplies into his trunk. He made his way out of his room and rolled to the breakfast table.
His eyes widened at the sight in front of him. There were two eggs - sunny side up - on a big round plate with a pile of bacon off to the side.
"Dad, when did you learn how to cook?"
"Champ, today is gonna be a huge day for you," said Chick Hicks, as he rolled out of the kitchen with a glass of orange juice on a tray. It was attached to his side. There was a bendy straw hanging off of the rim. He leaned over and let the glass slide onto the table, then drove around to the other side.
"I'm gonna wipe the track with their faces," said a very confident Murphy. He brought his lips to his straw.
"You're darn right you are," Chick agreed. He put himself in park.
"I wish you could've still been a racer though."
Chick paused, "Why's that?"
"I-uh..," Murphy tried to find the right words, "It would have been cool to have my name next to yours in the news is all."
Chick shook his hood, "I don't want your name anywhere next to mine," he said, "I want your name to be far above mine."
Murphy grabbed a piece of bacon as his father continued to speak.
"I retired because it was time to make way for race cars like you."
Murphy blinked, "You could have made it a few more runs."
"I know what I'm doing," said Chick, "I've been in this world long enough. I know I couldn't make you do it before, but I need you to trust me now. Our lives are finished being Murphy's Law. The one that says anything that can go wrong, will go wrong. Not anymore."
"You say that like it's easy," Murphy looked down at his food, "You lied about a lot."
"Son, after today, I'm sure I'll make it up to you. I retired for more than one reason. It wasn't just because it was my time. When you feel that race track under your tires today and you beat those losers, you'll understand what it finally feels like to be a-"
Murphy's ringtone went off - She's a Rebel by Green Day - on full volume.
...She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's salt of the earth and she's dangerous...
He quickly looked at his phone and saw Gianna calling.
"Girlfriend," said Murphy.
"Out of all the Green Day songs you blast all day, that's the song you chose to be her ringtone when she calls?"
Murphy rolled his eyes and picked up the phone. He put it on speaker.
"Yeah, babe?"
"Sorry for not replying to your text! I was a little busy!"
"That's okay, Gigi. Hey, my dad's here, okay?"
"Hi, daddy Hicks!"
Chick cringed, "Hi...there?"
"Murph, I can't wait to see you race today!"
Murphy smiled, "You're the best, you know."
A male voice on the other end of the phone could be heard in the background after the sound of a door opening, "Gianna, we leavin' or what? You always take so long to get ready. We need to get to class."
She brought her voice to whisper, "In a minute."
Murphy and Chick glanced at each other. Chick's mouth hung open, but Murphy just raised an eyelid, "Baby, that your dad?"
"What? Murphy? What did you say?"
"I heard a guy. He said your name."
"Oh that's my dad! Duh!"
Chick bit the inside of his cheek and looked down at his plate.
"He sounds different," said Murphy, "Your dad's voice is usually deeper."
"He has a cold," she giggled.
"And he's going to class with you."
"Ughhh why are you being so obsessed?"
"I'm just asking. I thought it was weird."
Her entire tone changed for the worse, "See you later, 'kay? Bye."
She hung up the line before Murphy could answer her. When he went to close the phone app, the text thread between himself and Jane was behind it. He glanced down at it, still having not answered. He shut his screen off and tucked his phone away.
"Someone sounded like she was in a hurry," said Chick.
"I don't know what the hell that was," Murphy replied, "Really weird. She's been acting so short with me lately."
"Mhm," Chick brought his lips to his coffee mug and took a sip. He had a feeling, but didn't want to mention it to Murphy before his tryouts.
"You might think I'm crazy," Murphy continued, "But, dad...I kind of think she's the one. Regardless of her attitude."
"Mur-," some of Chick's coffee slipped out of his lips. He wiped his mouth with a tire before saying, "You can't say that yet. You're just a kid."
"No, really! I mean, she's incredibly supportive, as you can tell."
"Where?"
"And she's drop-dead gorgeous. She was my first-"
"Please don't finish that sentence."
"Well...you know, so you must understand. Kind of like how you felt with mom."
"Mom," Chick sighed, "Champ, your mother and I...sometimes relationships don't work out as much as you think you'll adore someone for the rest of their lives. We aren't together anymore because she wasn't the one for me."
"Still. You must have felt it at the time."
"You haven't even known Gianna for longer than some of your friends and you wouldn't marry them."
Murphy's mirrors lowered, "Why are you so against this?"
"Boy, I've been through miles of women before your mother came along."
"If I want to be with Gianna, then I'm gonna be with Gianna, got it?" Murphy's tone began to rise.
"Ohhh, I get it," Chick moved his coffee away, "If this about her going to college and you being afraid of her going after another guy, then asking her to marry you isn't going to change her actions. A diamond emblem isn't going to stop her from doing anything."
"You have no problem supporting racing and that's something I want to do with my life. You should have no problem with who I want to spend my life with."
"Your life hasn't even started!"
"But her life is starting and I'm not letting her get away from me."
"Murphy, if you have to worry about whether she's going to be driving to other men behind your trunk the she's not the woman you want to be with."
"That's it," Murphy pushed his plate away, "I'm out of here."
"Wait!" Chick put up a tire, "I'm only telling you this because I don't want you to get hurt!"
"You said the same thing to me about your Piston Cups," the young stock car turned around and drove to the front door. He pulled it open.
Chick drove around the table and followed after him, "You deserve to win Murphy. Don't you see? There are so many opportunities in life to win. Maybe I didn't make you see there was more to life than racing, but soon you're gonna have to think about what else your life is going to be about before you end up like me. My life was about racing and cheating...and...you, son. Now that I have you, I only want your life to be more than what I could do with mine."
"I want my life to be about racing," Murphy looked at his father in his mirrors, "I want the entire lifestyle that comes with it. I want the fame. I want the girls. I want the trophies."
"Then if you're so focused on racing and women, you should find a one that can appreciate both you and racing."
"Gianna does. Didn't you hear her? She can't wait to see me race."
"Because she can't wait to see you get all hot and sweaty in front of her. Not because she appreciates all of the work you're putting into your craft."
"Then let me go work on my 'craft'. I'm out of here," Murphy revved up his engine and stormed away.
Chick frowned, talking to himself, "Huge mistake."
At Carburetor County High School, the Dinoco Blue Firebird was in his classroom. Class was officially over and he was gathering all of his paperwork to store away before going to the racetrack behind the school to watch the tryouts. Just as he finished, there were two knocks on his classroom door.
"Murphy, I'm not changing your grade," said Mister Springwheel, "You've earned what you've earned. I suggest you come see me during my office hours or find a friend to tutor you. Right before your racing trials is not a good time to-"
"It's Coach Crankshaft," said a grumbling voice outside of the door.
"Ah," Mister Springwheel rolled his eyes, "Alright, then. Come in."
He pushed the door open, revealing a big fat 1974 Chevrolet Van. He had red stripes down his sides while the rest of him was painted white. His hood bubbled with rust just at the outer edge by his grille - oh- and there was no way he had a car wash that morning.
As the coach drove forward, Mister Springwheel leaned away, knowing he was about to smell something fierce.
"I took the liberty of speaking to the Racing Sports Network," he said.
The racing history teacher's eyes widened up so much that his eyelids were almost non-existent, "Crankshaft we both agreed that we were going to be in that meeting together."
Crankshaft laughed, "C'mon, Adam."
"With all due respect, I refer to you by your surname. I expect you to do the same. I'm not a race car anymore."
"Fine, Springwheel," Coach Crankshaft pulled in front of Mister Springwheel's desk, "I didn't need to wait for you for this meeting. We pulled it all together much quicker without you, actually."
Mister Springwheel furrowed his eyelids, "Pulled what all together?"
"Turns out the Racing Sports Network team are going to be here to watch our racers."
"That's not news. We already knew that. If you paid any attention to those meetings in the first place, you would have understood-"
"Today."
"TODAY?" Mister Springwheel clenched his teeth and spoke right through them, "Crankshaft, you said that they wouldn't be here for another-"
"I know what I said. I'm telling you that everyone makes mistakes."
"A MISTAKE," the teacher exhaled heavily and held back the words he really wanted to say. Instead, he relaxed just enough to speak again, but was still visibly outraged, "A mistake is a fender bender. Lying to students who have had no practice - who are now in the face of racing network professionals - is not a mistake."
"You're looking at this all wrong. It's simple, really," Crankshaft shrugged, "I put the date down on the wrong calendar month. It's not like I can do anything about it now."
Mister Springwheel leaned against his desk. He could barely stand on his axles in front of this gentlecar, "You're supposed to be teaching those students how to race. At the bare minimum you're supposed to be someone those kids can look up to. A mentor. Our school teachers our students about mentors."
"I was just about to do some training when the conference call came in this morning."
"So you've known since this morning and NOW you're telling me? We are minutes away from those kids doing their laps."
"We can just tell them that-"
Mister Springwheel slammed his stack of papers down on his classroom desk, "No. We can't just tell them anything. Those kids have been looking forward to this for months."
"They still have a chance."
"You took away their chances. You stole their chances."
"I did no such thing. All they have to do is one lap around the track. They're still going to pick one of the kids."
"And you're going to idle there and tell me that you honestly believe that's going to impress anyone? They'll move right onto the next school and pick another kid from a different county."
"It's not about impressing the Racing Sports Network. It's about accepting students onto our racing team. They just, you know, happen to be here to watch."
"You should have been practicing with them since September. The track wasn't frozen then. You had months and you've failed these kids by waiting this long. They needed one month to prepare for this at the very least. Now you've given them minutes."
"I sincerely believe you're overreacting."
"I sincerely can't believe you can sleep at night. You've been making me late for my classes almost every day just to talk about creating lesson plans for your team and you haven't taught them anything!"
"They're teenagers. They're not really capable of racing for the piston cup."
The racing history teacher's jaw fell open. He couldn't believe what he just heard out of the coach's mouth, "You know what, Coach, you need to leave this room. Let me get my thoughts together again. I'll meet you on the track."
"I'll go rally up the students."
"Yeah, you do that. You go do your job."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Crankshaft narrowed his eyes.
"Get out of my sight," Mister Springwheel bucked up his chassis, "And go look those kids in their eyes."
The coach stared Springwheel down for another moment before turning his body and leaving the classroom.
Meanwhile, Springwheel's mind was spinning. All he could think about was how unprepared the students were and how it would make the entire school look in front of the country.
His eyes couldn't help but float up to the ticking clock mocking his every second, "I've got to do something."
Later that day, as the sun moved across the wide open sky, it shined down upon the young aspiring racers all in line to enter the school's junior racetrack. On the opposite end of the track, other students and staff were lined up as well, excited to watch a race event that could make history not only for their school, but for the racing world.
For a school in such a quiet county, it wasn't something a car - young or old - would usually have a chance to see in their four semesters of high school.
After the audience drove through their track's side archway, they all parked in their respective areas. The students all packed themselves together while any of the staff members who wanted to watch the quickest students in the school huddled together toward another area.
It was time for the racers to make their humble debut.
"Alright, kids," said Coach Crankshaft, "I don't wanna make any of you nervous, so you go out there and you drive that lap like you'll never drive again. I mean like you've never driven before...wait…"
The racers, a mix of young coupes and sedans, all looked at each other with confusion. The coach's words of encouragement didn't really make much sense. Even still, they somewhat understood what he meant.
One of the sedans in front of Murphy, who was at the back of the line where he usually likes to be, eyed Jane up and down. She was idling beside the sedan, focusing her attention ahead on the arch that would lead her to her first time on a real track. She couldn't wait to see what it looked like.
"Welp," said the snickering sedan, "Here's one car we don't have to worry about."
Murphy overheard the car, but kept his mouth shut.
Jane looked over, "Hm?" she asked with a smile. She was too far into a daze to realize the sedan was insulting her.
"There ain't no chance you'll make it out here."
Jane raised an eyelid, "Oh yeah?"
"Yep," he grinned, "Out of the six of us, you think you have a chance?" the car slowed down since he was focusing too much of his attention on Jane instead of driving, "Shouldn't you be in the kitchen baking cookies for the audience , girl?"
"Psh, no," a coupe behind Jane added. He glared at her, "She should be cleaning my garage."
"Or shining my tires!"
Murphy pulled forward and bumped the sedan lightly, "Shut up and move it, clunker."
Jane's mirrors perked up at the sound of Murphy's voice. She looked behind her, right at him, hoping they would make some kind of eye contact. Unfortunately, Murphy still refused to look back. He kept his roof in the game.
"My name is Coach Crankshaft," said the large van, leading the students right under the archway, "And welcome to Carburetor County High's very own speedway. Your new home away from home."
When Jane pulled through the shadowy archway, the sun exposed her and the rich blackness of the asphalt which glistened against its radiance. Her pupils widened, lips parting as if she wanted to speak involuntarily, but no words could escape. Her surroundings smelled of heated tar and racing exhaust, but as the line of racers pulled further onto the tracks, the audience finally caught their glimpse of the drivers.
Sounds of cheering vehicles screamed and called below to the young racers. Miss Relay and Miss Fritter were parked beside each other, waving to Jane. Austin and Alyssa were pressed up against the guard fence.
"Jane! Over here!" Austin yelled, "Hey!"
Even though Jane could hear the yelling, she couldn't make any of it out. It was all muffled, like she was underwater. She couldn't rip her eyes away from the track, especially the way it slanted upward. She could remember Doc mentioning it was for the speed - or - what was it that he said again?
She already fell in love with the warmth under her tires and the smooth feel of the drive while they coasted.
Red and white candy stripe lines warned the racers and their peripheral visions of the off-limits just along the edge of the track.
"I don't think she heard you," said Alyssa.
Austin gasped, "Oh no! She's lost her hearing! She's a goner!"
"Babe," Alyssa giggled, then placed her tire against his, "Relax. She'll be fine."
"We'll have to learn sign language to communicate !" he looked down at his tires, "How am I supposed to do that?"
Alyssa tugged the tire she was holding, "Earth to Austin. Jane can handle this."
"Whew…," Austin sighed and leaned against Alyssa, "Yeah...yeah, you're right. If anyone can do it, it's her."
All alone and parked far away from any of the other students or staff was Caleb. The Kia should have been watching Murphy, but instead, his eyes were glued on Jane. He turned his front wheels inward.
"Come on, Jane," he said to the air in front of him, "Come on…"
His lips were stiff. If Jane didn't win, he knew a furious Mustang would be on his family's taillights in mere moments. He knew, at that point, that Vermella would make him watch her bloody revenge, then take it all out on him. His upper teeth began to pick at his lips, trying to loosen them up.
Down on the racetrack, Mister Springwheel just arrived at the event. He should have been smiling, but he wore a blank expression.
Coach Crankshaft waved him over.
He saw this and drove reluctantly, "What do you want, Crankshaft?"
"You're part of this, so you should be helping out," Coach lowered his voice down to a whisper, so the kids wouldn't hear, "Where should I bring them?"
"No, I was part of organizing the event. Your racers are your racers. You have to deal with this," Springwheel paused, then shut his eyes, "But…," with a monotone, he said, "To answer your question, the starting line, of course."
"Right!" Crankshaft grinned, "That makes sense! Don't look so frustrated, Springwheel. This is a lot easier than it looks! Tell me again how you spent your entire life working to do this."
On the racers' line, Jane kept her eyes forward and her mouth shut. As much as she wanted to defend herself, she wasn't there to make friends. She was there to win. She was there to carry on the McQueen name and make her entire town proud.
Coach led the racers over to the starting line and made them all park.
"Okay here's the deal, kids!" said the coach, "We're gonna start!"
Mister Springwheel looked around the audience. He looked at every single car, searching for anyone that resembled a Piston Cup racing official.
Because maybe it was all a cruel joke.
There was no way a staff member could be as irresponsible as Crankshaft. Maybe he was getting back at Springwheel for something he must have forgotten about years ago. Maybe, but maybe it really was all happening. Maybe he really was about to watch the downfall of six students' dreams crumbling in front of him and raining the pure essence of shame onto his metal.
All this, yet it wasn't his fault at all.
All those thoughts of it being the punchline to a joke that just wouldn't end seemed so comforting and nice, until Mister Springwheel noted two cars parked next to each other. They were looking at the racers, pointing, and having a conversation.
One of the cars was chrome, minus his front end, which was painted in yellow and red flames. Where his headlights were supposed to be were two yellow plates screwed on to cover any kind form of light escaping. His sides read the number 17.
"D-...Darrell Cartrip…," Springwheel said to himself. The car parked next to Darrell was a metallic gray coupe with brown eyes and a contagious smile.
"And Bob Cutlass, h-huh?" his bottom lip trembled with his next inhale, "I-It's over."
What did Crankshaft do? And did he even realize it?
"You guys are gonna wait here for my horn and then you're just gonna go," said Crankshaft.
"Wait…," Murphy raised an eyelid, "Go...what?"
"Go race! And then whoever makes it here the fastest is gonna get on the team."
"I have a question!" Jane raised her tire, "Coach, how many cars are on the team?"
Coach Crankshaft scrunched up his front end, "...what are you doing here?"
Jane jerked back, "..huh?"
"Go back with the cheerleaders. We have a race to get started."
"I'm sorry," Jane shook her hood, "I think you're misunderstood. I'm-"
"I said go."
"But Coach!"
Crankshaft raised his axle and pointed to the air next to him, "Get out of their way."
Jane looked around. She had no idea what to do. Her name was on that list. She belonged there just as much as any of the other cars.
"I'm on the-...my name is on the-"
"He said go away," said the sedan from earlier, "You're wasting everyone's time."
Murphy's eyes immediately locked onto Jane, but this time, she wasn't looking back. Jane ran ahead and off of the racing line.
Miss Fritter's eyes softened, "Oh boy."
"Did something happen?" Miss Relay squinted and saw Jane leaving, "Oh my...where is she going?"
"Something must have happened down there."
"Alyssa, look!" Austin gasped loudly again, "She forgot which way the track is!"
"Wait...wait…," Alyssa pulled forward, "No...no, Austin, I think she's running away."
"She can't do that," Austin's eyelids furrowed in concern, "She's...Jane."
Debating whether or not he should give Coach any last minute advice to save the school, Mister Springwheel went to drive back to him and make one last effort, but then he saw Jane. He didn't hear a word of what was said to her since he was so caught up with Darrell and Bob.
He revved his engine and zoomed after her. When he caught up in the dark archway, he drifted to a stop in front of her so that she couldn't pass him.
"Jane, Jane, Jane, what's wrong? What are you doing? Where are you going?"
The Porsche looked up at Mister Springwheel with big eyes and a curved frown, "I-.."
"It's okay. You can talk to me."
Jane immediately shook her hood 'no'.
"You're not giving up on this, Jane. I won't let you."
She could barely speak, "H-He said that-"
"Who's he? Did Murphy say something?"
His name alone made Jane's gas tank turn, in the midst of all of the emotions she was feeling. The nerves. The excitement. The shame.
And now defeat.
"Co-Coach.."
Mister Springwheel groaned, "I should have known Crankshaft said something to you."
"He told me to go b-back with the other cheerleaders...and leave."
Mister Springwheel's oil practically boiled inside of him, "He said what?"
"That's what he said, Mister Springwheel," Jane nodded, "H-He said that to me."
"That's it," Mister Springwheel motioned to her with his wheel, "Follow me right now."
"He said-"
"Now, Jane," he grabbed her tire in his, "You're getting a shot at this. I don't care what he thinks."
Jane stood a bit taller on her axles again, though she hesitated to follow him. She followed him back onto the track and drove right up to the coach.
"Jane, you get yourself behind that starting line," he said. As Jane parked herself back in her spot, Mister Springwheel got in Crankshaft's grille.
"What kind of example are you setting for my students?"
"Don't get in my face," Coach Crankshaft snarled, "Back up, Adam."
"You're picking students off of the team without even watching them race first."
"Correction! One!" Crankshaft motioned the number with his tire, "One student. And that student? She was in the way of my racers."
"You're wrong," replied Springwheel, "Her name is on that list."
"That girl-"
Mister Springwheel jerked forward, "You mean that racer."
"Don't start with this sexist nonsense, Springwheel. Just idle behind me and enjoy your retirement like the rest of the washout race cars from your era. I'm the coach. You're the history teacher. Now go back to where you came from," Crankshaft snarled his teeth, "History."
Realizing he was dealing with an idiot, Mister Springwheel decided to take matters into his own axles and deal with much smarter vehicles. He turned to the students and pulled ahead of them in front of the starting line.
"Alright, class-erm…," he cleared his throat, "I mean racers. I know a couple of you already know my name, but for those who don't, I will introduce myself."
Coach Crankshaft raised on his axles, "What do you think you're doing?"
"Drivers, after today, you guys don't have to call me Mister Springwheel anymore."
"Adam, stop it."
The history teacher stood proudly, "My name is Phoenix Springwheel," his old racing nickname alluding to his Firebird model, "Four time Piston Cup champion."
The racers' eyes widened. Coach Crankshaft went to drive over to him. Phoenix put a wheel up and shook his hood, "No, allow me," the retired racer looked back at the kids, "First things first, you guys - and gal - are not racing each other today."
The young racers all looked at each other in confusion. Even still, Murphy didn't look at Jane. He was so intrigued by Springwheel's introduction that he couldn't pull his eyes away from him.
"Look at that flamed black car down there," said Darrell from up in the audience, "Look at the way he's lookin' at ol' Phoenix."
"Not only him," said Bob Cutlass. He motioned his wheel to Jane, "That Porsche's gaze is glowing at him too."
"Looks like we've found the most passionate ones," Darrell chuckled, "Ya know, they say you can sense it."
"Right you are," Bob winked.
"Welcome to the double-C high's racing team. You have all taken the initiative to put your name on that list, so you all deserve to compete on our team."
Jane gasped and she bounced on her axles, "We-...we ALL made it onto the team?"
"Yeah, girl," Phoenix smirked, "All of you. We're in this to race. We're in this for the love of the sport. Hell, we're in this win, aren't we?!"
The young cars collectively cheered ecstatically.
"But we're gonna have fun," he reminded them, "We're not calling each other names. We're working together to show everyone that Carburetor County High the best high school in the country."
"WE'RE THE BEST!" called out the sedan.
"Shh, settle down. Don't you get cocky yet," Phoenix glanced over all of the kids as he spoke to them, "Back to what I was saying before. You're not racing each other. You're racing time."
"Tell them why," said Coach Crankshaft, "Tell them what they'll get if they beat a certain time."
Phoenix glared at Crankshaft, though he was still speaking to the kids, "You guys are gonna get
...better."
Crankshaft shook his hood. This did not deter Phoenix at all, who knew Crankshaft was only trying to make the students nervous so that his inspiration would fail. Crankshaft backed away from the group and drove off.
The students all pulled closer to Springwheel with large grins. Even Murphy wore a smile, impressed by the difference in his teacher. He only wished he'd seen this side of him sooner.
"I'm giving you guys a test," said Phoenix, "This racetrack is one mile long. Hear that? What did I just say? Everybody."
The racers spoke together, "One mile long."
"That's right, which means I'm giving you one chance to make it around this track in forty seconds."
Murphy spoke without raising his wheel, "That kind of sounds like the rules for the RSN program. One mile in under forty seconds."
Springwheel covered himself, "Call it a practice run, then," he continued, "Some of the fastest cars in the world make a quarter of a mile in under ten seconds. That might sound impossible, but don't you worry. There are four quarters in one mile, so think of it as ten multiplied by four and you get?"
"Forty seconds," the racers said together.
"Bingo. Perfect. Coach might not have taught you guys anything, but my racers know speed and math. Though...I want to know if you guys - and gal - know anything about physics. We have left turns here, so answer this. What's faster? A straightaway or a turn?"
The racers spoke again, "Straightaway."
"Beautiful! You're all getting it! Great! So how are you gonna do all of those turns and make it across this finish line in under forty seconds? How is that even possible?"
"Go...faster?" asked the sedan.
"Nope! Don't you dare. You'll spin out and hurt yourself."
"Turn as fast as you can then!" said the coupe.
"You'll flip over! You'll be racing on your roof if you do that!"
None of the other cars answered. They all gazed with curious eyes, awaiting to hear the solution.
"The answer is you almost don't turn at all. You want to make those turns as straight as possible. You can't make a turn a straightaway, but you can fight it," Springwheel spoke with his tires, gesturing to the actions he was professing, "You have a left turn, so you approach it as close to the inside of the track as possible, ease off your acceleration, drive straight until you almost meet the outside of the track on the other side of the turn, then bring your acceleration back to full speed and nail that straightaway. What you just did was take a turn as straight as you could've possibly made it, reducing all of the friction on your tires, reducing speed, but not reducing too much speed."
The racers all nodded, thinking about what he said. Some of them were even instinctively turning their wheels as they imagined the scenario in their minds.
"Lesson number one," Springwheel finished off, "I know it was quick."
"We don't have to rush," said Jane.
"You're right, we don't, but I want to get you all more confident as quickly as possible, so that means I want you all to get on this starting line and show me what the manufacturer gave you."
He stepped aside and reversed to the edge of the track. He stepped on a button, which made a forty second timer appear on a large screen overlooking the middle of the racetrack. There were four screens, one on each side, showing a blinking '40'.
"The next time I hit this button, the clock will start, and you all need to make your way down this track using that turning skill."
The racers all rearranged themselves so that they all began right on the line, instead of scattered in the separate places Crankshaft put them in. Murphy gave himself the advantage of putting himself on the inside position, while Jane was on the opposite end of the line on the outside position. While it wasn't a great place to start during a real race, during a time trial it didn't matter.
In the meantime, Springwheel was getting a microphone to speak to the audience over the loudspeaker.
"You guys ready?" asked Springwheel. His voice bellowed in the walls of the bowl shaped track. The racers were all so focused, not one of them answered Phoenix.
He smirked, "I'll take that as a yes."
The cars in the audience saw the clock on the screen and became excited again. All of their eyes moved to the cars on the course.
"This is it!" Miss Relay said happily, "Look at her! She came right back!"
"You can do it, Jane!" called out Miss Fritter.
Austin and Alyssa couldn't speak. They just held onto each other's tires tightly, watching their best friend.
Caleb moved away from his original spot and drove down a ramp closer to the edge of the racetrack. He pressed himself up to the fence, but still distanced himself from the rest of the crowd.
"Don't mess this up, Jane," he said.
Jane pressed her tires against the warmth of the track, exhaling.
"You tell me," whispered Doc's voice in her mind. She nodded, loosening her teeth from clenching against each other, or else they would have cracked under the pressure.
Murphy shook his front tires, loosening up any of the stress he was holding inside of them. His rear axles stretched out, making sure he had no room for any error in his body. He knew he was all set in his focus, but the nerves of the moment - though he didn't show it - definitely pulsed through his body.
"Lady and gentlecars!" Phoenix Springwheel called out, "Start your engines!"
The cars all revved themselves up. The sounds of their engines together, in unison, roared and echoed up into the clouds.
When Murphy revved, the rest of the racers all glanced over in fear. That is, until Jane revved her engine. She thought of everything Doc told her and everyone in Radiator Springs. She revved, as if she was trying to make them hear her, just as Springwheel taught her.
The ground underneath the sedan parked next to her rumbled. His eyelids furrowed in fear.
Murphy heard Jane and he snarled, revving his engine even harder, but still…not looking at her.
"Listen to that!" Darrell called out, though none of the racers could hear him.
"Most passionate and they're the loudest ones out there," Bob replied.
"Let's see how they drive!"
"On your mark...get set…," Phoenix stepped on the timer switch, "Go! Go! Go!"
The cars slammed on their gas pedals. Their tires squealed a scream louder than the worries and doubt in their minds. There was no time for fear anymore. The racers vanished in a puff of smoke.
They were off.
Jane and Murphy immediately pulled ahead of the other four, bringing themselves next to each other. They were coming up to the first turn, both staring right at the inside edge of the track. As the slant pushed them down, they rode the inside and fought the turn all the way to the outside, making the turn as straight as possible just like Springwheel promised it would.
They pulled out of the first turn and Jane glanced at the timer.
Ten seconds down. Thirty to go.
While she wasn't looking, Murphy pulled ahead and blocked her.
She stared between his taillights as if she could see right through him to the finish line. He kept ahead of her, locking his eyes on the next turn coming up.
"Look at 'em go!" Darrell laughed in astonishment.
"That boy is a rocket!" said Bob, "And she's a comet!"
The next turn came up to the two leads.
Suddenly, being so close behind Murphy, the air around Jane seemed to grab her by her entire body in what was called a drafting force. It locked her against it and threw her off to the side, but it also pushed her forward.
"Sorry, Murphy," Jane said, faking out, switching gears, and pulling around him.
"She's ahead of him!" Alyssa let go of Austin, "YEAH, BABY!"
Austin hopped on his axles, "KICK HIS TRUCK!"
Caleb exhaled a sigh of relief. As long as she beats him, he thought.
Murphy's front axles trembled, pressing into the track as he pushed himself harder. His eyes kept shifting between Jane's bumper and the incoming turn.
Jane took the next turn, inside, then out, and then really pushed it for the next straightaway.
As soon as they both made it out of the turn, Murphy switched gears and zoomed ahead of her again. Jane narrowed her eyes. They may not have been racing each other, but she could read him like a book, and she knew it was all or nothing.
She accelerated some more, pulling next to him.
In came the next turn. The third turn.
Inside, then out, and the timer blinked '13'.
Phoenix pulled forward and put his tire out next to the finish line, "C'mon, Jane," he whispered away from the microphone, "Show them."
Murphy shifted again, shooting forward, and heading toward turn four. The last turn.
Caleb punched the fence, his rpms rising in suspense. His rear axles locked up, "Dammit, Murphy."
Jane's eyes followed the curve of the last turn, inside, then out, and then shifted for the last time. She slammed on her gas pedal, as did Murphy, in an all out grudge match to the finish.
Bob and Darrell rose on their axles with big smiles on their faces. Certainly one of them was going to see that Piston Cup after all.
"Hello again," said a voice from behind the two Piston Cup announcers. Bob and Darrell looked over and saw Coach Crankshaft. He parked next to them, "I wanted to add in one more detail regarding what we spoke about during our meeting."
"Can it wait?" asked Darrell, "They're in their last-"
"It's important," Coach insisted.
Only ten seconds remained on the clock and the crowd of cars counted them down together.
"10!"
"It's gonna be close," Phoenix said into the microphone.
"9!"
Jane inched forward, matching Murphy's body one for one.
"8!"
Murphy shot to the right, moving so close to her that she might jump back if she thought he'd hit her.
"7!"
Jane didn't flinch. She kept her eyes straight forward and didn't even notice Murphy's move.
"6!"
Murphy pressed himself as hard as he could go and pulled ahead of Jane just past her fender.
"5!"
Jane definitely noticed that and her eyes showed worry, then she remembered the slipping feeling from before.
That force...what was it again?
"4!"
She let off her acceleration to pull behind Murphy.
"3!"
She waited until she felt the physical grab of his speed's force to throw her ahead of him.
"2!"
Murphy saw that Jane was no longer next to him, so he exhaled a big sigh.
He got it. It was in his tires. There was no need to worry about her anymore. She was history.
"1!"
Just as Murphy let his guard down, Jane swung around him as the force of drafting revolved her body around his.
Murphy gasped heavily and Jane slid right into first place by a centimeter of her metal as their front bumpers crossed the finish line. A loud flash lit up their eyes - the photo finish - and the cars all broke off to the grass in the center of the track.
"Too close to call!" yelled Springwheel, "What competition! What a time trial!"
Murphy and Jane gasped for their next breath, collapsing onto the dirt. The cool blades of grass underneath Jane's body helped her calm down, especially since friction underneath her tires caused them to heat up so much.
Murphy huffed as well, bringing his eyes up to Phoenix, "Th-The time."
The other racers flew by, slowing to a stop when they failed to make the forty second limit.
The racing professional drove over to Jane and Murphy, smiling wildly. He kept talking into the microphone, "You guys did so well! You don't even know what this means yet! We have a huge surprise for you!"
"For who?" said Murphy and Jane at the same time.
Finally, their eyes snapped onto each other.
"One of you, when that photo is developed," replied Springwheel, "But in the meantime, I am so impressed with your racing today."
"We weren't racing," said Jane.
"Yes, we were," Murphy begged to differ. They were the first words he said to her in days.
She didn't expect it, so Jane immediately looked back at Phoenix to avoid her timidness, "S-So what was my time?"
Springwheel just chuckled and pointed up at the big screen, "You tell me."
Jane's eyes rolled from Springwheel's up to the center screen. Her pupils widened at the sight of her accomplishment.
39.778 seconds
She grinned between her breaths, "I-I did that?"
"You both did that."
The whirring sound of a camera spitting out a photo came from behind them.
"Ah! The photo has been developed. Just for good measure, let's see which one of you won the - I mean - beat the clock!" Phoenix drove off of the grass and over to the camera locked into the cement wall. A small square photo printed in black and white hung out of it. He brought his wheel underneath it and examined it. His eyes widened as much as the grin on his bumper.
Meanwhile, Murphy kept his eyes locked onto Jane like he was making up for the times he wouldn't.
Both of them couldn't hear the sound of anyone watching them anymore. Jane was just catching her breath, when something inside of Murphy told him to turn around. He didn't know what it was, but he followed it.
His body turned and he took a glance at the audience. Up on the ramps, he could see a Hyundai Genesis driving down toward the fence as if she was only just arriving to the race.
Murphy grit his teeth. What was Gianna doing? Did she just show up?
She drove down to Caleb and parked next to him. He could see that the two of them started talking. He only wished he was able to hear what they were saying to each other. Every so often, Caleb pointed down at Murphy, then Gianna followed by looking at him too. He knew for a fact those two cars were definitely talking about him.
When Gianna caught his eyes on her, she smiled and waved her tire around. She was holding one of her invisible pom poms in her wheel, then kissed it and blew a kiss to her boyfriend.
Murphy's eyes narrowed and he shook his hood. She wasn't fooling him. She wasn't watching him that entire time. She absolutely just showed up. She was late.
Gianna raised an eyelid and shrugged her axles, asking him what was wrong from across the racetrack. Murphy didn't reply. He just turned back to Jane, "You were racing me."
"Even if I was, it was about the time on that screen," said Jane. She drove closer to him, "Nothing more."
Murphy didn't change his expression for at least thirty seconds. Finally, he exhaled, "You didn't hold your speed back after all, little star."
Jane perked up off the grass. He did get those voicemails!
"Kids! Kids, I got the photo!" Springwheel cruised over with the rest of the racers. In his wheel was practically a winning lottery ticket, "You two were so close!"
Both Jane and Murphy's eyes shot over to the older racer. He held the photo up backward, then went to turn it around. Just before the photo could turn, a loud, but very excited voice came from the side of them.
"What a race!" said Darrell Cartrip, who was driving over with Bob Cutlass, followed by Coach Crankshaft, "I have never seen two rookies drive so well beside each other in all my years!"
Both Bob and Darrell were holding their own microphones.
"You two were sure going at it!" Bob added, "You've shown an incredible display of what Piston Cup racing is all about. You made it fun. No. You made it exhilarating!"
"That's not to say racin' ain't fun," Darrell winked, "But my goodness, it's almost as if you two aren't even high school students!"
Springwheel's eyes narrowed on Crankshaft's. Coach smirked right back at him. He had yet another meeting with the racing sports network officials without him.
Jane and Murphy immediately jumped up on their axles and drove over to them.
"Darrell Cartrip!" Jane called out, "I can't believe it's really you!"
"That's right, young lady!" he replied, "I'm right here! Bolts and all! I must say you were incredible."
"R-REally?" Jane's voice cracked, "I-I-"
"You don't have to tell me your strategy yet. I only expect the seasoned ones to do that," he chuckled.
"N-No, no, I'm just so stoked that you're even here!"
Murphy wasn't shy about showing his appreciation either, "Bob Cutlass, I love your post-race talk shows!"
"All in a day's work," Bob said, with a warm smile, "You must be Murphy Hicks Junior."
"Y-Yes! Yes I am!"
Phoenix Springwheel pulled up to the conversing cars, "I don't mean to interrupt everyone here, but I do have the photo finish results if you two want to take a look at it."
"Oh no need for any of that," Bob said. He pointed up to the screen, "Clearly, they both made it past that finish line in under forty seconds."
"They pulled it off faster than some of the Piston Cup racers we got out there today!" Darrell mentioned. He corrected himself, "Maybe not as fast as one of our newest men, Jackson Storm, but I'm sure you two have heard of him."
"B-..Both?" asked Springwheel. He didn't want to sound like he was worried in front of the young racers, but he was genuinely confused.
"Both of them," said Bob.
"But only one of them can make it into our Racing Sports Network Program," said Darrell.
Murphy leaned up, as did Jane.
"You're gonna pick one of us!?" Jane asked excitedly.
"Already? I didn't know that was today!" said Murphy.
"Hold your horsepowers kids," Darrell pulled closer to them, "You two are great racers, so I'm sure that means you both understand how important sportsmanship is."
Jane and Murphy nodded.
"No matter who we give this chance to," Bob continued, "That doesn't mean the other one doesn't have a chance."
"So that means you both need to be respectful of each other, alright?"
Murphy looked over at Jane, who took in a deep breath, and looked over at him as well.
"You two were competitive," said Bob, "Competitive cars tend to mean rivalry, but you two can grow from each other's skill."
"You can learn from each other and achieve anything you want," Darrell assured them, "So, we're not gonna stall it anymore. We're just gonna say your name. Deal?"
"Deal," Murphy and Jane said.
Phoenix waved the photo in his tire. It made a floppy sound, "But the photo! It-"
"Just to be sure, you two should shake tires, and mean it," said Bob.
"One moment, Phoenix," said Darrell, "We can talk about the race and logistics right after we let 'em know who's coming along."
"We don't need the picture," Crankshaft went to take the photo from Springwheel.
He immediately pulled his tire away and guarded it from him, "No, you can't destroy this too."
Jane and Murphy both turned their bodies to each other. They shared a short silence, then Jane put out her tire. It took Murphy a little longer, but he bought his tire up and held hers in his. They shook tires twice, then both pulled their axles away.
"Good," said Bob, "Very good. It's important, as you head into your racing careers, to show appreciation for your fellow drivers."
Darrell moved closer to Bob, "So with nothing further-"
The Racing Sports Network officials glanced at each other, then over to the young racers with two smiles of great promise for their futures.
"-welcome to Piston Cup Racing-"
Jane and Murphy furrowed their eyelids.
"Murphy Junior."
Murphy's rpms burst through his hood, "I-I- won?" his bottom eyelids seemed to smile with his lips, "Me?"
Caleb sunk on his axles, "NO."
"Murphy won!?" Gianna bounced, "My baby won!"
All Caleb could think about was his family burning in a fire together. His family being ripped apart, part by part. His family being tortured, one by one, in front of his eyes.
He failed.
"Indeed!" Bob replied to Murphy. He moved over with Darrell so Murphy could face the audience.
"YEeeAaaH!" Murphy slammed on his gas pedal and accelerated into an empty spot on the grass. He started spinning in donuts, ripping the earth underneath his treads.
Jane's jaw hung loosely. Her front wheels squeezed the dirt between her treads and her gas tank flipped.
Most of the neutral crowd cheered for their school's winner, but others who were hoping to see a change in the racing world weren't as giddy. Miss Relay and Miss Fritter stared down at Jane with frowns.
Jane looked up at the faculty and students, wide eyed in shock. Austin and Alyssa looked back at her, sadly.
"It's okay," Alyssa mouthed.
Jane ripped her eyes away and stared down at her hood in shame.
With saddened eyes, Phoenix Springwheel paused on the defeated Porsche, then drove up to Murphy.
"Congratulations," he said, "You worked hard for it and you certainly earned a spot in Piston Cup racing."
Murphy halted to a stop and looked up at Springwheel, "I told you I should have passed your class."
Springwheel shook his hood, "Murphy, you may be fast, but you definitely don't know your racing history."
Murphy rolled his eyes, "Whatever," he looked at Darrell and Bob, "So when do I go to California?"
"Well, like I said to Phoenix here, within the month we're going to be settling all of the logistics," Darrell replied, "While you're finishing your junior year year."
"Yes!" Murphy yelled with a grin.
"With Chick Hicks retired, we have an opening in the Piston Cup series. Being that you're his son, you fall under the legacy law."
Murphy raised an eyelid at Darrell, "What's that?"
"As your Coach pointed out," Darrell motioned to Crankshaft, "The Piston Cup legacy law states that if the retired racer's child is also a racer, he has an advantage, and is usually chosen to stand in and carry on the legacy of the retired racer's name."
"So I was chosen...because my father retired?"
Bob replied, "You were chosen because of your skill, but you also have the legacy law on your side."
While everyone's eyes were focused on Murphy, Jane made herself fade away. She made a turn and headed for the archway exit. Springwheel wanted to overhear the conversation Crankshaft was guiding with the the RSN officials and Murphy, but he saw Jane running again.
Holding the photo in his wheel well, he sped after her.
"What an honor," said Murphy. He remembered his father telling him that after today, he'd understand why he retired, "Thank you!"
Afterward, Murphy looked around for Jane so he could show some sportsmanship again in the face of the officials. All he caught were her taillights disappearing with Springwheel's.
His eyes softened into concern and his smile faded, "Jane…"
...She's a rebel, she's a saint, she's salt of the earth and she's dangerous…
Murphy flinched at his ringtone going off. It was Gianna. He could tell, because of her customized ring. He sighed and answered his phone.
"Baby! You did it! I'm so proud of you!"
Murphy turned his body and faced Gianna in the audience, who was idling in the stands, staring at him with Caleb. She was holding her phone too.
"Gianna," Murphy said into his phone.
"You were so fast! The way you took those turns! Wow!"
Caleb must have given her some details of the race.
"You must have x-ray vision if you could see that race without being here," Murphy's eyelids furrowed and he locked his eyes on hers.
Gianna frowned, "What are you talking about? I saw your metal trembling in the speed with my own eyes. Kind of like...how you tremble...when I-"
"Stop it," Murphy snarled his upper lip, "We need to talk."