Page 8 of Ice Princess

I observe the frantic activity happening around the monster truck. Everyone is scrambling to pull this one off. “We’re… getting there.”

“That sounds less than promising,” Rodney says nervously. “But I won’t distract you. Keep me updated.”

I promise him that I will. After hanging up with Rodney, I focus on directing the welders.

Machinery whirrs. Orange sparks fly. Iron rods get sliced and diced.

We’re moving as fast as we can, but each glance at the clock makes me wince.

I don’t think we can make it.

“It’s not fitting in the slot, boss,” one of Dalton’s workmen says.

Dalton rubs the back of his neck. His face is covered with black grease stains. “I think we should call it now, Rebel. You said we had an hour. It’s been twenty minutes past that time.”

“We can’t give up.”

Dalton gives me a pitiful look.

“The specifications are right. I double—no, I triple checked it,” I murmur, rubbing my chin as I stare at the roll cage.

Dalton grips the iron rods. “The cage isn’t secure. It’ll slide out under pressure. The judges won’t pass this at the preliminaries.”

I stare at the ground in thought and my gaze lands on my tennis shoes. I notice the little plastic edges on the ends of my shoe laces and an idea comes to me.

“Dalton, do you have anything rubbery?”

“Rubbery?” He blinks.

“No, you probably don’t.” My eyes roam the barn until I notice his portable table. “Wait, we can work with plastic too.” I point to the rubber ends secured to the legs of the table. “If we weld this material down to the rods,” I whip my hand in a back and forth motion, “it can act like a cap?—”

Dalton’s eyes widen. “That keeps the roll cage in place.”

“Yes!”

“I’m on it.” Dalton springs into action. With his quick work we set the roll cage in place. It fits perfectly in the monster truck’s cabin.

Scooby’s Nightmare is ready for the preliminaries just in the nick of time.

“Thank you.Thank you,”Mr. Rodney says earnestly as his crew wheels the monster truck out of the barn. He shakes my hand like his life depends on it. “This means so much to me.”

“I hope everything works out between you and your son.”

“You’ll stay for the competition, won’t you? I’d like to introduce you to my son if I can.”

“I wasn’t planning to. And I’m not really dressed for it.” I gesture to my dirty overalls and vest. Though I wore gloves when handling the equipment, there’s still dirt on my fingers too. I need a bath.

“If you can’t make the competition, at least swing by for the donors’ luncheon afterwards.”

“I, uh…” I reach into my overalls where I keep my pink, beaded bangles. “That’s not really for crew members. It’s only for the donors.”

“Nonsense. Come as my guest.”

I shake my head.

“Then at least let me treat you and the crew to lunch.”

“If you want to treat the crew, you can talk to Dalton. But it’s fine. Really.”

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