him to stay silent, but a few minutes into the ride, Neal started talking.
âSome of the stuff is cool,â he said. âYou know, about being the presidentâs son and all that. Itâs like being on a cruise shipâall the food you can eat, whenever you want it. People dressing up and stuff all around you. Thereâs an indoor pool, a gym. They even let me build a kickinâ half-pipe on the East Lawn. That was sort of cool.â
âWhatâs not to like?â Frank asked.
Neal shrugged. âBeing on a cruise ship all the time gets to be a drag. You know, the ship is nice, but you canât leaveâyouâre in the middle of the stupid ocean.â
âI think I get it,â Frank said. âYou like being the son of the president, but it stinks that you can neverget away from it. You can never just go somewhere to be yourself.â
Neal glanced at Frank. âExactly, man. Thatâs it exactly.â He spoke in a low voice. âLast night wasnât the first time I got away from them.â
Agent DuBelle looked over her shoulder and frowned at Neal.
âOnce I climbed over the White House fence and went to see a late movie,â Neal continued. âThe only problem was, it was easier to break out than to break in. They caught me when I came home.â He giggled. âYou shouldâve seen them, acting like I was some kind of terrorist trying to sneak into the White House. They were pretty embarrassed when they figured out it was me.â
âYou could have been shot,â Agent DuBelle said angrily. âIt wasnât funny.â
Neal shrugged again and smiled. âI was laughing,â he said.
Agent Ardis swung the truck into a parking lot across the street from the stadium. The ice-climbing wall had been set up over there, with its own temporary bleachers rising up on both sides of it.
Frank noticed the Hardysâ van in the stadium lot. Joe was there, getting ready for the next round of snocross. Some spectators had already arrived and were waiting at the gate. Max Games employees hustled around getting things ready.
â¢Â â¢Â â¢
Back at the stadium, Joe threw his screwdriver across the pit area in frustration.
âHey! Watch it there. Youâll take someoneâs eye out!â
Joe looked up to see Amanda Mollica standing there, smiling.
âMorning, Amanda,â he grumbled.
Amanda knelt down beside him. âWhatâs the malfunction?â
âThe right ski is all twisted up. Iâll never get through the next round on this thing.â
âYou donât have a spare?â
Joe shook his head. âEdwards isnât the only one who doesnât have a sponsor,â he said glumly. âI donât carry around a bunch of extra parts.â
âStay here,â Amanda said, standing up. âIâll be right back.â
She jogged off, and Joe went over to look for the screwdriver heâd thrown. He asked another competitor if he had a ski he could use. The guy said he was sorry, but no.
A few minutes later Amanda came jogging back around the corner, carrying a brand-new ski. She handed it to Joe.
Joe ran his hand over the smooth edge. âWow. Thanks. Whereâd you get it?â
Amanda didnât answer right away. âHurry up,â she said. âI heard them announce the first semifinal heat. Youâve got to get out there.â
âWhere did you get it?â Joe asked firmly.
Amanda stared at the floor. âI asked Jim Edwards for it,â she admitted. âHe said he felt bad about what happened last night and he wants you to have it.â
Joe turned the part over in his hands. He didnât want to accept it, but the alternative was to drop out of the race. No way he was going to do that.
âOkay,â he said finally. âThanks. Tell Jim thanks.â
Amanda smiled with relief. âI will,â she said. âGood luck.â
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et al Phoenix Daniels Sara Allen