Canyon Chaos by Axel Lewis

Johnson, peering over Grandpa’s shoulder at Cabbie. “Oh,” he said. He checked his clipboard again and squinted at Cabbie like he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “Is he...? Is he...OK? I mean, has he had an accident? Will he be able to race?”
    Jimmy felt his face going red. “Cabbie’s fine,” he said quietly.
    “I’m more than fine,” Cabbie chipped in. “I’m great. Just wait until you see me race, Bushy-brows. I’ll show the rest of these robots a clean pair of tyres.”
    Joshua Johnson looked a little flustered and he combed his giant eyebrows nervously with his fingers. “Right,” he stuttered, trying to look as dignified as possible. “Come and meet the other racers.”
    He marched off towards a pit station where a group of ten or fifteen people stood, all dressed in black wearing black baseball hats, black trousers and black shirts. Each shirt had a streak of silver lightning zigzagging down the back.
    “Excuse me, excuse me,” said Joshua Johnson, edging his way through the mechanics. Jimmy and Grandpa followed him.
    The crowd suddenly parted, and there, at its centre, was a pale, skinny Japanese girl in silver motorcycle leathers. She stared at them with huge black eyes.
    “Your Highness, may I introduce Jimmy Roberts and his grandfather from the United Kingdom?” said Joshua Johnson, bowing his head politely.
    “Your Highness?” echoed Jimmy in surprise.
    “Yes,” said Joshua Johnson. “This is Her Imperial Highness, Princess Kako of Japan.”
    The girl bowed her head. Jimmy did the same.
    “And this is Lightning,” the robot co-ordinator said, waving a hand at a large, powerful motorbike with a silver lightning bolt painted on the fuel tank.
    Jimmy had never seen a motorbike like it. Lightning had spoilers and exhausts sprouting from every part of his body, and his huge, shiny engine looked like it could have been used to power a jumbo jet rather than a lightweight machine. Lightning flashed his headlight in acknowledgement, stretching the tip of one of his spoilers and flexing a pair of turbo jets positioned on each side of the back wheel. He reminded Jimmy of a panther, stretching after a short nap.
    Joshua hurried Jimmy and Grandpa along to the next station where there was even more noise and activity than at the last. This,” said the co-ordinator, bowing and backing away, “is Missy McGovern and her racer, Monster, from Australia.”
    Joshua Johnson led Jimmy and Grandpa to a huge monster truck where a short, stocky girl in oil-stained overalls was standing with her hands on her hips.
    “What’s the point of your having self-regulating tyre pressure if I have to check it all the time, you useless lump?” she was shouting in a broad accent.
    “Gives you something to do,” said a metallic female voice from the tiny cab perched on top of the enormous chassis. “Stops you getting bored,” it added.
    Jimmy had seen pictures of monster trucks before, but standing up close to one for the first time made him realize just how enormous they were. Monster was at least four times as high as Cabbie and three times as wide. It was impossible to see what kind of gadgetry Monster had from down here, but Jimmy knew that the mammoth wheels alone could crush most of the competition.
    “Maybe I’ll send you to the scrappy and get a decent racer,” continued Missy, kicking a huge tyre affectionately.
    “That hurt!” said the metallic voice.
    “Good,” said Missy, stomping off towards her engineers, who all wore matching oil-stained overalls.
    Joshua Johnson grinned with embarrassment. “I’m sure she’ll say hello later,” he said, “when she’s calmed down a little. And this,” he went on, hurrying away, “is our next competitor...”
    He led Jimmy and Grandpa over to a boy of average height with short black hair. His face looked like it had been carved in stone. “This is Samir Bahur and his racer, Maximus,” said Joshua Johnson. “Samir, this is Jimmy Roberts from the