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minutes later Joe pulled his snowmobile up to the starting line next to those of nine other drivers. He revved the engine, and it crackled with power.
    As the green flag fell, Joe cranked the throttle and surged forward. He cut in, trying for the hole shot, but Edwards flashed by to take the lead going into the first turn.
    Joe was in second gear as they roared up the big jump. He watched Edwards float up in front of him, then felt weightless for a second as he caught big air. He crashed to earth, using his legs to absorb the shock. Loose snow from Edwards’s track shot back into his face, blocking his vision for a second.
    The race continued like this—Edwards in front, cutting Joe off every time he tried to pass.
    Coming around the last turn, Joe saw his chance. He crouched low on his sled and went to the outside.
    Edwards swung out, bumping into Joe. Was Edwards trying to make him crash again? Joe gripped the handbars tight, but he could feel his snowmobile lose traction. He was out of control! He skidded violently right toward the stacked hay bales.

5 The End of the Rope
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    Joe leaned hard to the left. He was skimming along the hay bales at nearly thirty miles an hour. He hit a rise, and his snowmobile pitched savagely to the right. His repaired right ski had given out!
    He slammed into the hay bales just in front of the finish line. The front of the sled caught between two bales as Joe felt himself go airborne.
    He tried to hang on as the snowmobile turned two cartwheels, slamming end over end across the finish line.
    The final jolt tore his grip from the handlebars, and Joe flew clear. He hit the track on his left shoulder and tumbled to a stop.
    Instantly, he was up. He spun just in time to seeanother competitor zooming straight for him. He dove for the hay bales.
    The breeze of the speeding snowmobile washed over him as he safely cleared the bales. He hit the ground outside the snocross course and popped back to his feet.
    Race officials were at his side in seconds. “You okay?” one asked.
    Joe removed his helmet. “Fine,” he growled. “Did I finish?”
    An official laughed and slapped him on the back. “You came in second,” he said. “But that’s not the way I’d choose to cross the finish line.”
    Joe walked over to his snowmobile. It lay on its back like a giant dead bug. The replacement ski Edwards had given him was missing. Joe looked back down the course. There it was, lying in the snow right where Joe had lost control.
    â€œHe set me up!” Joe growled. He slammed his helmet into the ground and sprinted to the finish area.
    Justice Edwards stood next to his snowmobile, signing autographs for a few fans. A camera crew stood by waiting to interview him.
    Joe slowed to a stop a few yards from Jim. “Edwards!” he yelled. “You gave me a bad part!”
    Edwards turned, a look of surprise on his face. “Get lost, Hardy. I whipped you fair and square.”
    Joe felt his face burn with rage. He lowered hisshoulder and barreled into Edwards, sending them both to the ground.
    They rolled over a few times, each athlete struggling for an advantage.
    Edwards tried to get Joe in a headlock. Joe tucked his chin close to his chest and smashed an uppercut into Jim’s stomach.
    Edwards groaned.
    Joe stood up, grabbing Edwards by the collar of his riding suit. He lifted him up and slammed him into the ground again.
    He was about to do it again, when four or five pairs of hands pulled him away.
    â€œChill out!” another racer shouted. “Fight’s over, man.”
    Two snocross competitors helped Edwards to his feet. Joe twisted free of the guys holding him and pointed his finger at Jim. “That’s twice you’ve tried to knock me out of the race!” he shouted. “It won’t happen again.”
    â€œYou’re a loser!” Edwards shot back. “Deal with it.”
    Race officials jumped between the two.