Matthew sat on the deck of the Harrower and stared at the seagull standing motionless on the railing. It was a beautiful morning. The early sun glistened off the water, the sky was filled with an array of colors and puffy white clouds glided slowly toward the north.

Looking out at the vast ocean, he thought about his family. He missed them dearly and wondered what they would think of him living on a half-sunken boat and becoming a chimney sweep. He then thought about his new family and how lucky he was to have them. He hoped Julia, Trevor and the other children from Bordash Manor would be a part of it some day, and sooner rather than later.

Thirsty, he went back inside the cabin. Everyone was still a sleep. He walked over to the wood stove, embers still glowing from the fire the night before. He threw a few logs inside and watched them catch alight. He then filled a pot with water, placed it on top of the stove, and went to the cupboard, getting out his ration of powdered strawberry milk. They had traded a pair of shoes for a bag of the stuff with BPPG. Back at the pot, he stirred a spoonful of the mix into the water and waited until he saw the first bit of steam to rise, taking the pot off immediately.

Matthew couldn't be bothered putting the warm milk into a mug and just brought the pot over to the table. He took a sip from it. Delicious.

'Chloe will have a fit if she sees you drinking from that,' said a whispering voice. It was Norman. He jumped out of bed. 'Let me guess, you didn't feel like pouring whatever you made into something more suitable.'

Matthew smiled. 'What's the point of putting it into something else? You'd just have to clean two things instead of one.'

'My thoughts exactly,' yawned Norman. He went over to the rain barrel, filled a cup with water and sat down with Matthew. 'I remember telling Chloe the exact same thing once. She replied by saying –' he then mimicked Chloe's voice to a tee '– We may be poor and orphaned and live on the streets but that doesn't mean we have to be slobs.'

The two of them tried really hard not to chuckle too loudly.

'What did you make anyway?'

'Strawberry milk . . . I warmed it up.'

'Lucky. I had the last of my ration yesterday.'

'You can have some of mine if you want.'

'Nah, it's all right, but thanks. So, are you nervous about the race?'

'A bit,' lied Matthew. He was a bit more nervous than a bit.

'Me too.'

'Really?'

'Oh, yeah. I always get nervous before a race. It's good to be nervous. It gets the blood going.'

'What are you two jabbering about?' John was awake.

'We're talking about you,' Norman said with a grin.

Walking over to the table, John replied, 'And how I'm so amazing?' He looked into Matthew's pot. 'Oooh. I think I may join you.' He went off to make his own strawberry milk.

'So what time do you guys usually start making your way over to Maple Hill Park?' asked Matthew.

'As soon as it gets dark,' replied John.

'I thought the races start at midnight,' said Matthew.

'They do,' said Norman.

'Why so early then?'

'That's so we can hopefully get the best starting positions. When it comes to starting position, it's first come first serve.'

All of a sudden there was a loud sneeze, followed by a booming fit of anger. John had sneezed his entire ration of powdered strawberry milk all over himself, it mostly going on his face. He was pink with rage.

Matthew and Norman burst out laughing as the rest of the Harrower woke up to the sound of John, including Smoky, who popped his head out of his box.

Smoky was feeling and looking much better than when he had first arrived and had started to move around. He was eating and drinking well and loved to gnaw on his cast constantly, Jennifer having to replace it every day. She was quite safe doing so as Smoky was very trusting. Matthew was sure that feeding him scrumptious meals had something to do with it. There was only one thing Smoky really hated, though, and that was having his baths, hissing at whomever was giving him one.

It took a long time for John to calm down after his little accident and even longer for everyone to stop laughing at him, but in the end, sanity, or as close to it as was possible, was restored. Matthew should have heeded Norman's warning about not letting Chloe see him drinking from the pot because the moment she saw him take a sip, she told him off. This amused John very much, who told Matthew, 'Ha, that's what you get for laughing at me.'

Being that the race was that night, Matthew thought the racers would, once again, spend all day preparing for it, but he was wrong. They, along with everyone else, were going to play baseball on the beach. It was to clear the racers' minds. No chores were to be done, no checking the vegetable garden, nothing, just playing.

And after everyone was ready, they went to the beach.

Matthew thought he would never hit the walnut with the shortened broom handle for a bat, but he did. He had five hits in total and brought in a couple of runs. The best part was when he caught the walnut John had hit, diving into the sea to catch it. John was slightly peeved, but congratulated him with the spectacular catch. Matthew enjoyed every second playing baseball and it did clear his mind, making him a lot less nervous.

Dinner was very early that night, and while everyone else was clearing up afterwards, Matthew was taken back to the beach for a little get-together the racers always had before a race.

'First,' Norman piped up, who was sitting right beside Matthew, 'before Jennifer gives her speech, I would like to officially welcome Matthew –' he turned to look at Matthew '– to our racing group as our sixth racer.'

Matthew went red in the face as the other racers clapped enthusiastically. 'Thank you,' he replied.

'Also,' said Norman, 'on behalf of everyone here, I would like to present you, Matthew, with the token of membership to this group. He pulled from his pocket what looked like a small round piece of metal and then handed it to Matthew.

Etched on one side was a picture of a fox riding a cart, a chimney brush sticking out the back. And on the other, a number six.

Matthew looked up from his token and saw everyone holding theirs.

'We used to have these as badges,' said Norman, 'and they would be pinned on our chests during races, but after Ramon stabbed himself with his during a crash, we stopped doing that. We just carry them in our pockets now.'

Matthew had winced. 'That must have hurt, Ramon.'

'It did,' said Ramon. 'There was blood everywhere. It did leave me a cool scar, though.'

To everyone's disgust, he showed it.

'Okay, you can put it away now' said Norman, 'Jennifer has to give her speech.' With a sinister grin, Ramon covered up his scar. 'Jennifer, it's all yours . . . take it away.'

Jennifer stood up and cleared her throat. 'Six months ago,' she said, 'the five of us–' she looked at Norman, Slink, Astrid and Ramon '– sat around as we are doing now, about to go off and race. I not only remember every second of it because we saw John hilariously fall off the side of the Harrower and into the water while he was spying on us with the binoculars –'

'He's doing it again, so that you know,' interrupted Astrid.

'Say what?' said Jennifer.

Matthew looked over toward the Harrower and saw that John was standing on the deck, the lenses from the binoculars glinting in their direction. 'He sure wants to be a racer, doesn't he?'

'Let's all wave,' said Norman, and they did.

John quickly redirected the binoculars somewhere else, as if he was just birdwatching.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. 'As I was saying . . . I not only remember sitting around because John got all wet but because after it, we won the race. And because we won that race, we found out where Matthew was.'

Eyes darted to Matthew, who gave them all a smile and a nod of appreciation.

Jennifer continued. 'We don't race for glory. We don't even race for the bounty that Long Street is sure to provide. We race to help children whose lives are beyond worse than ours, whose lives are filled with pain and sorrow, and who have no hope. Always remember that.' She glanced out to sea before carrying on with a more powerful tone in her voice, 'Tonight, I want all of us to go out there and try like you have never tried before. Go out there and give it your all.' She then shouted, raising a fist over her head, 'For the children!'

Norman, Slink, Astrid and Ramon leapt up and copied Jennifer, raising their fists and shouting, 'For the children!'

Matthew quickly got to his feet and joined in, emotionally and forcefully, with the next rounds of chanting. He soon heard the addition of other booming voices, their echoes rocketing around the cove. The rest of his family were jumping up and down on the Harrower and screaming at the top of their lungs, 'For the children!'

While they continued on, the racers stopped their shouting, came together in a tight circle, arms over shoulders. Nothing was said for an entire minute.

'All right. Everyone in,' said Jennifer. She put her hand into the center of the circle. 'For the children on three. One . . . two . . . three . . .'

'For the children.'

Once they separated, Matthew, his blood speeding through his body, looked back at the Harrower and saw everyone else had begun to make their way to the beach, the first rowboat of children splashing its way over. It was time. They were going to leave for the race. Matthew glanced down at his hand and at the token of White-spot sitting in the cart, and wished for success tonight.

It was completely dark when everyone eventually made it to the beach, and as soon as the rowboats had been pulled up, they set off for the garage. There, the racers did their final checks of their carts before leaving for Maple Hill Park.

When Matthew first saw the tent blocking the secret entrance, he thought that was it, the race was going to be suspended. The tent had a sign that read 'Spring Heights Utilities', there was a light on inside flickering through the fabric, and the sound of something hard hitting something else boomed all around. The city must be doing repairs.

'It's all right,' Chloe smiled at him, after looking at the disappointment on his face, 'it's not the city.' Then, as they came to a stop right outside the tent, she said, 'Down the hill we go.'

A split second later the banging stopped and the tent opened.

Inside, sitting behind a table, were five children Matthew recognized as members of the RCS. The four girls and one boy were all wearing straw hats with blue ribbons. Behind them was a sledgehammer Matthew was sure was the cause of the banging.

'Ah, the first ones as usual,' said one of the girls happily. She had a button nose. 'Welcome, guys.' She stood up and shook as many hands as possible. 'Are you ready to race? And for the ones who aren't racing . . . are you ready to watch a good one?'

'Yes,' everyone replied, including Matthew.

'Good. Now, let's get down to business . . . choosing your starting lanes. As you are the first ones, and as racers get to choose where they want to start on a first come first serve basis, the starting line is completely open for you. But let me guess, the first five starting positions on the right.'

Jennifer corrected her, 'We have six racers now, so we'll take the first six positions on the right.'

'Six? Who may this sixth racer be?'

Jennifer gestured to Matthew and the five members of the RCS shot him curious glances. They then set their eyes on Blue Blizzard that Matthew was carrying with Chloe and Xavier.

'Very nice cart,' the members of the RCS said together.

'Thanks,' replied Matthew.

'Six it is.' The girl nodded to the boy sitting beside her.

The boy, his big ears folded over by his straw hat, picked up what looked like a very battered baby monitor on the table and raised it to his mouth. 'Carlos,' he said into the monitor, 'Slink and his crew are coming up, and they've chosen the six starting positions on the right, over.'

'Six on the right,' a voice came back, 'got it, over and out.'

'I see that's doing all right,' said Slink, as the boy put the monitor back onto the table.

The boy nodded. 'Not one problem since you fixed it.'

'Yes, thanks for that,' said the girl with the button nose. She got up from her seat and walked over to the other side of the tent, opening it and revealing the secret entrance. 'I would like to wish all of the racers good luck in the race tonight and I hope that the rest of you enjoy watching it.'

Matthew couldn't believe what he was seeing, thinking he had just walked into another world. All the way up the race track, standing at its side, were children, members of the RCS, all lit up by the bright torches they were carrying. It looked as if a gigantic glowing snake had wrapped itself around the hill.

'Amazing, isn't it?' Chloe said to Matthew.

Everyone smiled at him as he replied, 'You can say that again. I'll remember this sight for as long as I live.'

'You truly will,' said John. 'The first time I saw the track all lit up, it wasn't as impressive as this. There were less children, who instead of holding torches tended fires, but I remember it as if it was yesterday.'

'Oh, yeah, I remember those small fires,' said Slink. 'The RCS did not use those for long.'

'Why's that?' asked Matthew.

'Children holding torches,' replied Slink, 'can jump out of the way if a cart so happens to be heading for them. A fire on the ground, however, is quite difficult to move.'

'Did something happen?' Matthew asked. 'Did a child get injured?'

'Thankfully no,' Slink said loudly as the banging noise from the tent had started up again. They began to make their way up. 'The cart she was driving, though, wasn't so lucky.'

'Also,' said John, 'if there were any puddles on the track, more often than not carts would splash water on the fires, dousing them and making it impossible for the racers to see where they were going.'

Up on the grassy clearing at the top of the hill, Matthew was once again amazed. Next to an exploding six-foot high bonfire, which was sending flames and pluming grey smoke into the night sky, was a giant figure of White-spot made from tree branches. The effigy wasn't on fire but Matthew was sure it would be. In front of the bonfire was a long straight line of sticks poking out of the ground, room between each one to fit a cart. It was the starting line.

'Hey, guys,' a boy said suddenly. He had just broken off from a group of RCS members standing next to the figure of White-spot. In his hand was the other baby monitor.

'Hey, Carlos,' said Slink, giving a wave.

Carlos came over and helped them with putting their carts into their starting lanes. Blue Thunder was placed in the lane furthest to the right, then Red Lightning, White Hail, Pink Tornado, Black Rain, and, lastly, Blue Blizzard. Lined up in a row, their colors shining brightly from the fire, the picture gave Matthew goose bumps.

'So how's corner five?' Norman asked Carlos. 'We practiced here last night and it was incredibly muddy.'

'Even with a windshield, I got a face full of mud,' said Matthew.

Chloe cackled with laughter. 'That was so funny.'

The others also cracked up at his expense, but he didn't mind.

'So,' Carlos said, nodding at Matthew, 'you must be the sixth racer?'

'I am.'

'Nice looking cart.'

'Thanks.'

'Corner five is a lot better than what it was yesterday. We spent nearly all day today drying the soil out, fanning it with whatever we could get our hands on. I used a fake palm frond.'

It was an hour before another racer decided to show up. The uncomprehending voice that crackled out of Carlos' baby monitor and drifted all around the grassy clearing, heralding their arrival down at the tent, made Matthew weak at the knees. Was it the Mongraw Gang? He knew they wouldn't touch him and the others inside Maple Hill Park tonight, but that didn't stop him from thinking the worst.

It wasn't anyone from the Mongraw Gang, nor was it anyone from the Westies. It was a child from the Free Territory called Charlotte, nicknamed Charlie, a girl Matthew had seen around but had never met.

'Hey, Charlie,' said Chloe, as Charlie, with the help of a friend, placed her cart next to Blue Blizzard. The three girls then began to talk.

Matthew was shocked by the size of her cart, which looked awfully a lot like a laundry basket. It was so small and looked incredibly light and delicate he was sure one slight bump from another cart would send it flying.

'Don't be fooled,' Slink whispered to him. 'Her cart is fast and tough . . . almost indestructible.'

'Really?

'Really. She's a good racer as well . . . almost won a few times.' A gentle wind came by, licking the flames of the wigwams. 'Ahhh, the weatherman did say the wind may pick up over night.'

The next racer to show up was another child from the Free Territory. It was Dirty Pete, a name given to him because he never washed. He was very filthy.

His cart was as dirty as he was, and it looked as if not a lot of thought went into building it. It was a mess. Tangled and gnarled pieces of rope were wrapped around the entire body, probably there to hold it all together, there were rusty garbage can lids for wheels, and actual fungus was growing on it.

But as the look of Charlie's cart gave Matthew the wrong assumption, maybe Dirty Pete's cart was somehow miraculously good. Slink, again, put him straight.

'Dirty Pete has never finished a race before,' said Slink. 'I don't think he's ever passed the halfway mark.'

After placing his cart beside Charlie's, Dirty Pete came over, a colander for a helmet perched on top of his head.

'I have a good feeling I'm going to do well this race,' he said.

John shook his head. 'You say that every time.'

'This time feels different,' replied Dirty Pete, staring at Blue Blizzard. Then gliding his hand over Blue Blizzard's body in admiration, leaving a long grease mark on the paint, he said, 'I wish I had one of your carts because I would just clean up every race.'

John burst out laughing before he said, dead panned, 'You're so funny.'

'It's true.'

'You wouldn't know what to do with it.'

'Well, at least I have a cart to race.'

To John's annoyance, which was very clear by the absolute distain on his face, Dirty Pete stayed to chat for a while.