Engines On, Rumble City!

Bounce had a secret, and it was trying very hard to get out.

It fizzed inside him all through the morning fuel-up, which is what monster trucks call breakfast. It made his four big springs go boing, boing, boing while he waited his turn at the pump. It made his green headlights sparkle. Twice it nearly popped right out of his grille.

Bounce was the smallest truck in the Mash Motors Crew. He was yellow as a sunny day, with green checks all over, and round as a ball. He was also the worst truck in Rumble City at keeping a secret.

Up on the wall of the Garage, the giant Command Screen glowed with two big words: Opening Night!

Most days, the Mash Motors Crew were Rumble City’s rescue team. When a road got blocked or a truck got stuck, they were the ones who went to help. But tonight the Rumble Bowl would start its new season. And for the very first time, the Mash Motors Crew would be in the show.

A blue blur zipped around the fuel pumps. That was Nitro, the fastest truck in the crew. He had already zoomed forty laps of the Garage, just for fun. Nobody had asked him to.

Big Stomp rolled into the middle of the floor. He was the biggest truck in the crew, and the reddest, with orange flames painted down his sides. When he talked, the tools on the walls rattled.

“It’s Opening Night, crew!” he said. “Sixty seconds each out there. Then the final jump, off the giant center ramp. One jump. One truck from our crew.” His grille split into a wide grin. “And that truck is me. One Thunder Stomp off the top of that ramp, and boom. Highest jump of the night.”

The big doors slid open, and Mudslide rolled in from the trails, humming a slow little tune. He was green. Probably. It was hard to tell under all that mud. A tiny fern had sprouted in his roof rack, and he didn’t seem to mind one bit.

“Morning, dudes,” he said.

Clank. Clank. Clank. Smash rolled out of her bay. She was purple, with silver armor and a cute little skull-and-crossbones on each door. Her armor clanked like a cupboard full of pots.

“Freestyle night,” she said. “My favorite. What am I demolishing first?”

“It’s not demolition, Smash,” said Big Stomp. “It’s freestyle.”

“Everything’s demolition if you try hard enough.”

Bounce could not hold it in one second longer.

“Everybody! Watch!” He bounced in a circle. “Watch, watch, watch—”

He squished down low on his springs. Then—

BOING!

Bounce shot up over the fuel pump. He flipped all the way around in the air and landed on the other side with a happy little bounce.

It was a completely unnecessary backflip. It was also a very good one.

“That was one flip,” said Bounce. “Tonight I’m going to do three. A triple backflip! Nobody has ever done a triple in the Rumble Bowl. Not even Diesel, the champion!”

Torque looked up from the Command Screen, where she was reading the rules for the fourth time. She was builder orange, with black-and-yellow stripes and a crane arm folded neatly behind her cab.

“A triple needs a lot of air,” she said. “Only one ramp in the Rumble Bowl is tall enough. The center ramp.”

“And we’re saving the center ramp for the final jump,” said Big Stomp.

“Then I’ll save my triple too!” said Bounce. “I’ll save it all day, and then in my run I’ll—”

“Bounce.” Smash rolled up beside him. “Save it. If you can really do it, do it when it counts.”

Bounce’s springs gave a little wobble. “When does it count?”

Big Stomp gave him a slow wink of one big headlight. “You’ll know.”

Bounce thought about that all through breakfast. He thought about it all through the long, slow, sunny afternoon. And he did not do one single flip. Well. Hardly any.

Saving a triple backflip, it turned out, was much harder than doing one.