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race.”
    Jamie had always been known as aggressive and fast on the track. Now she was even more committed to beating the competition.
    The Chicago race was half completed when Jamie switched to race mode in the simulator. The machine required her to come out of the pits and merge into race traffic. It was easier, of course, when a yellow flag was out, but even more of a challenge during the green flag.
    She watched the leaders approach and pass her, picking up speed and getting into fourth gear. When the #13 car of Butch Devalon screamed past, she got in behind him and hit the third turn and tried to keep up. Since it was a virtual machine, anyone following could drive right through her (a weird feeling to watch another car pass through hers), but as long as she kept pace, she was fine.
    Butch was her father’s nemesis. He was mean, had a reputation as a dirty driver, and always accused Christians of being Bible-thumpers with no place in the sport. Actually, he was an equal opportunitybasher who didn’t like anyone winning but himself. He had lots of trophies and money to prove it.
    Jamie closed on him down the straightaway, and she looked at her RPM gauge. Unlike real cars, the simulator showed how fast she was going in miles per hour. The speedometer read 193. A blistering pace that she couldn’t hold in the turn, so she backed off the accelerator slightly and drove to the right of Devalon.
    Remembering Bud’s words, she punched the accelerator about halfway through the turn and shot out the other side, hanging on to the steering wheel for all she was worth, then pulled up beside Devalon, who was right up on the steering wheel. Suddenly she caught sight of another car behind them, stealing some air from Devalon. The #13 car slid to the right slightly, and she saw Butch struggle to keep it under control. She mashed the accelerator down just as Devalon lost control. A plume of smoke rose behind her, and a yellow flag flashed at the top of her screen.
    “He crashed,” Jamie said, mouth open. “Devalon’s out of the race!”

Chapter 10
The Package
    TIM WATCHED THE CLEANUP of the Devalon car and shook his head. “Live by the bump draft—die by the bump draft,” he muttered.
    The door swung open and Kellen ran into the room, full of vinegar (as Tim’s dad used to say), which meant he had enough energy for about 50 grown-ups. He was carrying something under his arm and watching the coverage on the screen. “Can you believe Devalon bit it?” he said.
    “Bunch of the leaders are gone,” Tim said. “If your dad can stay away from the wrecks, he’ll move up this week. Whatcha got there?”
    “Oh, this was leaning at the front of the building.”
    Tim took the package, which looked like a shoe box wrapped in brown paper. Tim Carheart was written in Magic Marker on the front.
    “Who’s it from?” Kellen said.
    “Nobody who knows how to spell my name.” He set the package down on a shelf.
    “Aren’t you gonna open it?”
    “Later,” Tim said. “Look, they’re coming in to the pits.”
    “Dad’s staying out,” Kellen said. “He’s gonna take the lead.”
    “How many points will he get if he wins this?” Tim said.
    Kellen told him.
    “Do you think he has a shot at the Chase?” Tim said.
    “He doesn’t talk about it, but I can tell he wants it bad. What with all the trouble his primary sponsor’s given him.”
    “I haven’t heard,” Tim said. “At least, not the particulars.”
    Kellen scooted onto a workbench and put his back against the wall. “I don’t know everything, but the main sponsor talked about changing the hood to a beer company and dad just about busted a major artery.”
    “He doesn’t like beer?”
    “No, he thinks it causes a lot of problems. Doesn’t want any little kids seeing him driving around with it on his car and have them think he’s okay with it.”
    “But everybody else does.”
    Kellen shrugged. “My dad doesn’t care what everybody else does.”
    Tim