The Racing Blood

Knocked Out

     "K.J." There was no response but a loud snore from the bed. "K.J!" Still no sound from the teenager's bed. He continued to snore. Amira Kahne, his mother, looked at the boy, sprawled out in the bed. His lower half was covered by a blanket. He was lying on his stomach, his face buried in a pillow. Amira grabbed the blanket and jerked it off of the sleeping fifteen-year-old. "KASEY KENNETH KAHNE, JUNIOR!" K.J. jumped and sat up, blinking rapidly as he stared at his mother. "Good morning, son."
     K.J. scowled and pressed his palms into his blue eyes, the spitting image of his father's. His short, brown hair spiked all over his head, making his mother smile at him. "I'm awake," he said, yawning.
     "Good. Get out of the bad, lazy ass. Uncle Kale is here, and they are ready to get to the track for testing." K.J. groaned and laid back down on the bed. "No. K.J., don't make me get Kasey."
     K.J. sat back up and took his folded fire suit from his mother. "Tell Dad and Uncle Kale that I'll be out in a minute."
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     K.J. stood beside his machine, a smile on his face. He listened to the rumble of engines and felt his heart rate increase. He loved the feel of his car beside him. He had loved it for as long as he could remember. He carefully took his sunglasses off and handed them to his Uncle Kale Kahne. Kasey stood beside his brother.
     "K.J., we just want to test the tires and the motor today. You know your way around Rockingham, so I won't hound you to death," said Kasey. He looked at the Farmer's Insurance fire suit on his son and his matching crew chief shirt. Kale, K.J.'s spotter, nodded slowly.
     "I understand, Dad," said K.J. as Kale headed to the spotter's stand. "Just testing." He walked around the car and climbed into the driver's seat. He smiled in contentment as he pulled his gloves on his hands. He felt at home in the seat of the car.
     He put his helmet on as Kasey fastened the window net into place. K.J. waited patiently for his father's voice on the radio in his hear. "K.J., got a copy?"
     "10-4," K.J. said, waiting on his command to fire.
     "Kale, you got us?"
     "Roger. Got you both loud and clear," said Kale.
    "Okay, fire it up, K.J." That was all the boy needed. He flipped the switches and listened as his engine roared to life. "Roll out. 4500 RPM on pit road."
     "10-4." K.J. shifted into first gear, then into second to reach his max RPM on pit road. He hit the track and began to get up to speed, his eyes scanning the track.
     "You're all clear, K.J. Jump in the bottom groove," said Kale. K.J. followed the instructions, smiling in his helmet. His car felt amazing, and it performed for him.
     After a few runs, some mock pit stops, and a few tweaking adjustments, K.J. was almost ready to pack up. He was making his final run of the day in a pack to test his passing and car draft. He listened as Kale called his line in his ear. "The ninety is outside, K.J. Still there. Nope. Still there. He lost a ti-" It was too late.
     The ninety car lost his tire and turned right into K.J.'s rear. K.J. lost all control of his machine, and he saw another car. "Shiiiit!" He yelled, trying to avoid hitting the car. He drilled the car in the driver side, and K.J. was knocked into a sea of darkness.