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“So let me get this straight,” Principal Rodgers cleared his throat, looked to me slouched in my chair, then to Amele who
aggressively popped her gum. “You skipped school 3 days in a row, because your cars were what?”
Amele rolled her eyes and laughed with her head back, “Ahh, I think we could all agree that these questions have become
dumber and dumber by the second,” She gives Principal Rodgers her under eyes “How many more of these questions before you
waste anymore of our time?”
I shamefully yet amused to no end slap my hand to my forehead. I honestly couldn’t agree more.
Mr. Rogers raised an eyebrow and leaned closer to us, his chair creaking under his weight. “Do you prefer a truancy officer,
Ms. Amele?”
“And another dumb question.” Amele sighed and slumped into her chair, I struggled to keep a straight face.
“One more strike out of you two and 10 days of detention has your names on it or we could switch to plan B and assign
truancy officers.” Principal Rogers proposed
Amele smacked her lips with a smirk, “See thats that bull sh..” I covered her mouth with my hand as she ranted inaudibly.
I turned to Mr. Rogers, “We should be going.” Amele removed her face from my palms and stood up.
“I expect to see you girls soon?” Principal Rodgers opened the door for us.
“Yeah don’t count on it, creep.” Amele eyed him up and down. I quickly shoved her out the door hoping things wouldn’t
escalate from there.

. . .

Chapter 1.

We walk out of the office, Amele endlessly going off on an imaginary Principal Rodgers.
“You’re crazy ‘Mele!.” I say pushing her playfully
“That fat bastard, out of all 1500 high schoolers he picks us out of the bunch.” She pops her gum. “I mean, c’mon example
numero uno.” She motions towards this couple I’ve infact never seen together swallowing each other at the end of the steps. “Look
at Romeo and Fool-iet down there making kids.”
I laugh as we walk towards them. “That’s sick.”
“No forget how disgusting it is,” She, oh shit. She storms over to the couple. “They’re skipping!” She taunts in their ear
causing the 2 to jump as if they didn't even know we were coming. The girl gives her her best look of disgust as I once again detain
Amele from a situation that could eventually turn ugly. Amele laughs and flips them off with both hands extended. Of course, not to
long after the couple get back to business.
“So what’s better I wonder, to skip in school or out of school.” Amele fake ponders with her index finger below her chin.
I laugh working my combination to my locker, “I definitely need to go on Tinder for a new best friend.”
“Go then, see if you can find someone as bat shit crazy as me, I’ll wait.” Amele says leaning against the locker beside me.
“You going back to class?”
She sighs, “Whatever, I may as well since we only have ten minutes left.” She pops her gum examining her black painted fingernails
“Then were out of this hell hole for the weekend.”
I open the door slightly to my class, “We racing this weekend?”
Amele flashes me an expression of stupidity, “What kind of question is that?”

. . .

Amele and I met when I first moved here about 3 years ago, She was, and is, a crazy goth who was so into cars that she got
caught up with this group of racers who made their own motors and placed them into new, vintage, and even electric cars. Her home
is basically in her garage where she lays under a hood as soon as she goes home preparing her baby for upcoming races. Each race
obviously brings new bets. It could range from a brand new car to a girl/guy, whatever offer is on the table really. One thing we don’t
do are places.
I learned that the hard way.
Places are just beginners bragging rights but in you are still a loser. You get nothing for coming in second let alone third.
Anyway, Amele is one of the best racers around Miami. She takes what she does very seriously and is very respected in her
neighborhood...our neighborhood. School is another story. I have never wanted to beat Amele for the simple fact that she is my best
friend, secondly I am not trying to fill my injection system up with Nitrous to cause an unnecessary car crash. I love my race car. It
was the first present Amele had ever bought me and it serves huge value. Impressively, She won it in a cliff race in L.A against some
of the best street racers in California.
So do I really need a new best friend….Nah, not really.
“Ana?” My teacher calls to me, it seems from her tone she has done this a good 3 times.
“The answer…” She waves her hand
I roll my eyes, “ ….To what?” I ask sarcastically, the class chuckles as Ms. Riviera places her veiny hands on her hip.
“This here class is a prime example of poor listening skills…” Ms. Riviera has never liked me. The first day I got here she looked at
me and asked what my name was and I answered in the most respectful manner. In return I got a snort and an “interesting. Weirdo.
Yet, every morning she never ceases to put her pink pencil thin frail lips right up Ashley Benson's ass: Senior Cheerleader,
gymnast, class president, party hard-rich girl. All those worthless labels in her name. The students know better. The only label she’s
worth having is a slut and a drug addict. She’s pretty alright, a pretty ass birthday cake. Not jealous just disgusted at the artificiality of
it all. Unlike her, I’d rather not surround myself with a slew of fake cowardice and only like my fake personality because the front I put
up looks appealing enough.
“For the last 5 minutes of class, I want each of you to draw out the electronic configuration of Manganese and Sulfur.” The
class groans and pencils get to work. Including mine.
Chemistry is easy. Whoever says it isn’t basically doesn’t know how to follow directions. All there is to it is to find the formula
to the situation and follow it. I guess, that is the solution to everything.
“That’s wrong.” I look up to se Ryan, Mr. Class president. Him and Ashley have this facade power couple image they like to
put on for the whole school is supposedly under their rule. I adore how cliche it all is.
“Can you do me a huge favor, Ryan.” I ask in the sweetest tone and nicest smile with hands rested under my chin.
“What's that.” His figure shifts oddly in front of my desk
“Fuck off.” I get back to doing my work as usual leaving Ryan in his own bubble of stupidity. Eventually he walks towards Ms.
Rivieras desk handing her his half sheet. Get this, she smiled. I am so over this school I could ram my car into the gas and and let a
slow spark hit with everyone in the school and let it blow up. I finish just before the bell rings and hand in my sheet to Ms. Riviera.
Finally, the weekend and freedom is literally at my fingertips.
“Ana Luiza?”
I just can’t dodge, “Yes, Ms. Riviera.” At this point my anticipation has raised my heart rate to a million beats per second and my feet
are itching to walk out the door.
“Can you approach my desk, please.” Woah, what’s with all this polite talk? Everything about this conversation gets has me
skeptical. As awkward and wrong as I felt I stood in front of her with a large please let me go smile.
She removes her glasses, crosses her hands under her chin.
“You are a promising student, I’ve looked at your roster and you are a the valedictorian for this senior class.” She says, I gulp
of course. I know I’m good at studying and acting a fool. I prioritize I don’t just blow off my duties to go race like these freaks think I
“I know.” I answer,
“You could jeopardize that majorly hanging with the crowd you do, besides skipping isn’t a really good look for a pretty girl like
you .”
More preaching about skipping, I sigh, “Are we done here?”
Ms. Riviera scans me with her eyes and then sighs, “Go ahead, Ana,” I walk towards the door, “Take what I said to mind, please.”
“Yep!” I close the door behind me quietly but quickly. Weird. This whole day, just weird, I know what I can do to fix this easily.
“Jesus, Lui? We’re gonna be late because of you.” She swings my locker open.
“Late for what, exactly?” I ask hysterically, a little to excited to be out of school. I swing my bag over my shoulders and slam
my locker shut.
“Devin booked us for a 9 o'clock race and we haven’t finished fixing our motors.” Amele says, I try keeping up with this new
ridiculously fast paced walk.
“Wait, Devin never books us friday night and I finished my motor,” I nudge her as we shuffle down the steps, “You’re the one
that hasn’t because you feel like it’s always necessary to overflow…”
“Overflow all of my ass! My car thrives on nitrous.” She opens her car door, “It gets my baby to the finish line first.”
I laugh and swing my own car door open, “Don’t cry to me when you crash it.” I say leaning into my car, I shut the door and open the
passenger door window.
“I haven't crashed in years, so not happening let’s meet at my garage!” Amele says yelling over my quiet motor.
“As always.” I lower my shades and leave her in the parking lot.

Chapter 2

In the distance: ​“Your training is finished, if you do not find her you will be too.”
. . . .

“Tell me when to stop!” I yell to Amele under, her car.
“Have you even started pouring yet?” She very well knows I did!
“I poured like half of the tank in already!” I yell
She slides her head from under the car. “Then keep going, dammit.” She rolls her eyes and disappears again,
She is really going to regret all of this stuff sitting in her system. If anything goes left during this race, like say a car side swiping hers,
she has a 100% chance of crashing her “baby”.
“That’s perfect!” She shouts sliding herself from under the car. She rubs her oily hands on her towel then tosses it over her shoulder.
“You used the whole tank, I bet it is perfect.” I scold while tossing the tank next to the ever growing pile of the other empty nitrous
She quickly picks it up admiring it. “I bet this shit gives you superpowers.” She tips the opening near her mouth
“Oh for Christs sake Amele!” I snatch the tank away quickly pitching into the garbage can acrossed the garage.
“What you think I won’t dive in there and grab it?” She laughs
I cross my arms, “Over my dead body.” I check my phone, “I still have to get my car ready, did you even call Devin about where were
She sucks at her teeth, “Darling, I have my pieces in place, you still haven’t talked to your mamá.” Amele flashes me her famous
mischievous smile.
I swear under my breath and wipe my hands off with Amele’s rag. I can’t believe I forgot to ask mom and I haven’t even gone home
yet. My moms probably worried sick about me. But why hasn’t she texted me? I suddenly begin to worry about her.
“Amele, I’ll be right back, stall Devin for me!” I yell starting my car up with anxiose fingers.
“Better hurry!” She calls out to me. “He’s pulling up in about an hour!”
I count my seconds and leave in haste.
. . .
I rush into the house instantly calling out to mom. She could be anywhere in this big house. When we first bought this house mom
worked from home. She has about 5 unoccupied offices that are now just rooms with bookshelves and desks collecting dusts. I could
maybe knock a few chores out before I leave for the night.
“Mom!” I call her name another time to hear my own echo in return, The kitchen is clean and mom is nowhere to be found. I
look in the sink and slide my finger across the metal. I examine my finger to feel it cold and completely dry. The faucet isn’t even
“Mo..” I look at the previously empty refrigerator door to see an index card.
I mumble it to myself, “I’m out for today on a business trip. Tv dinner is in the refrigerator if you’re too lazy to cook. Xoxo”
Mom does this often and I should’ve seen it coming a mile away. I know her job requires it, but with the tragedy we had just suffered
4 years ago, I expected her to quit by now. I didn’t know that it would make it start working more often, At that time, on a nice
summer day, my dad was shot 6 times in the chest. I was right there as it all unfolded.
“...And when I come back you and I can go racing with Uncle Sammi.”
“No way, you mean that, dad?!” I screamed jumping up and down.
“I mean that from the bottom of my heart, because you my friend are easy to beat.” Dad playfully nicked my head.
I crossed my arms and gave him my best bad girl smirk. “Talk is cheap.”
“Honey!” Mom yelled from the house I turned as dad lifted his head quickly to admire her. “You better get out of here, you are ten
minutes late.” I moved out of her way as she approached him with a large smile adjusting his tie for him. “And I love you.”
He smiled and kissed her softly. “I love you more.” Mom stepped aside leaning against the car with me at her side.
“Ana.” Dad said to me
“Yes.” I smiled as dad stepped in front of me
He looked down at me curling my hair in his forefinger. “You want to know the secret to winning, m’hija?”
“Don’t lie to me now.” I crossed my arms with a horrible pitiless smile.
He leaned over and whispered, “All it takes is a little….” An ear piercing sound of burning rubber became painfully audible.
And close...
“Woah he’s got a gun!” A voice yelled behind us. Dad turned and a gun was raised from the hands of whoever was in the
reckless car.
“No!” I screamed, dad pushed me far away to the point where I was rolling on the ground several feet from him.
“Alexander!” Mom was screaming and panicking as dad’s body flailed and spilled with blood until his body fell with a hard, wet
splat to the ground. Air rang in my ears from the explosion of the many bullets. Time started slowing and my chest started to rip
apart. I couldn’t move, for the life of me I couldn’t even move. Mom huddled her body over me after one last shot. I still felt a ringing
in my ear. Mom’s arms were covered in copper fuming blood that soon covered me.
“Dad!” I screamed running towards his dead body. The car drifted and sped off before I could catch the plate or the figure that
was driving.
I hiccuped with my knees and legs in my father's blood, “Daddy..” I wept as my split heart started to convulse again.
“DADDY!” It was a blood curdling cry and the earth felt like it was shaking beneath me. Or was that also me. His eyes were
wide open staring at the sky I heard sirens and mom screaming and crying right beside me trying to comfort me, but she didn’t try
pulling me off of dad. I layed on him running my hands through his blood drenched hair until the stretcher came to get him. Even then
I wouldn’t let them take me away from him.
“Give her some time.” An officers and taking mom to the side for questioning. Which those questions turned into fits of horror
and sorrow escaping from the deepest part of her soul. The officer held her limp body up as she passed out multiple times right
before him.
I ran my fingers roughly through my dad’s head holding it in my arms. It was a sickening sight yet he was still the most beautiful thing
to me. I felt at his hand and the ring on his finger. The ring he had always told me was off limits when I was growing up. I slid it from
him slowly hoping no one around me noticed such contraband. I kissed it despite the metallic taste the blood gave to my mouth.
“I will never forget you, papà.” I could hardly speak in any way. My throat was sore and clotted with the aftermath of my
screams and my hiccups just wouldn’t faltar. I kissed his head soon after and removed myself slowly from the scene. And like
vultures the investigation team flooded it snapping shots and dusting and sampling for clues. They taped the scene quickly with bright
“CAUTION DO NOT CROSS” tape. We had the attention of the whole neighborhood in no time. People were staring, crying, and the
numb ones were taping.
I could not feel or hear anything but about a hum of 56 htz in the air.
I had never thought that would be the way that I would lose my dad. I wanted to kill the man that did it. Slowly, and sparingly, taking
advantage of the sight of him crying in pain just as I did, begging and pleading me to take him out of his misery. But that would take a
strong sedation of madness that I surely couldn’t handle.
But I would do this to avenge my father.
He would do the same thing for me.
“Young lady! Ma’am!” A reporter grabbed my arm despite of the damp feeling of the blood. She was a pointy nose creature
with a bob that flowed like water whenever she moved. “Can you tell us what you saw here this awful day?”
She forced the microphone under my chin with shaking hands and stared at her for a long second wondering if this question were
really serious. It was.
So I took the mic. Breathed. And I crushed the microphone in my hands causing a ringing disturbance in the cameraman's
ear which ultimately ruined almost all of the live footage. The microphone fell to the ground into two small pieces. A sharp metal piece
stayed in my hand.
“I saw nothing.” I dropped the leftover piece at her feet and the people surrounding her. Somehow the camera man grounded
himself again without me noticing. I turned and walked slowly, drunkenly, and miserably into my house.
. . .

That memory haunts me everyday. I put my trust in no one, given the fact that I can barely trust myself at times. My father was a
businessman; a communications manager for NASCAR and an amazing street racer. His passion was people and cars, anyone that
once knew him wouldn’t say otherwise. He was sweet and caring and of my knowledge didn’t have many enemies. The Homicidal
unit never found the killer. Months and even a year passed since the crime, and nothing breached the surface.
Not a bullet or fragment or piece of hair…
The whole investigation soon became an abandoned file and everyone but the public forgot about it.
I was attacked everywhere I went for the “Mysterious occurrence” that happened that day. At school, I always got an “are you
ok” or, “Can I do anything to help you and your mom”, or the infamous “I’m so sorry for your loss.” All of that cliche bull shit was
thrown at me from every direction every day. The microphone incident really got a lot of attention. Not only did I turn to a security
case but also a disease. One comment from my old best friend and I quote, “How the hell did you break that mic like that?”. I blew it
off just like I did all the others. In all honesty I always saw my dad do weird stuff that made me question humanity but I never knew I
had those abilities. At least until then.
Mom noticed that my grades were beginning to fail and everyone that once called me a friend treated me as a stranger. So
she decided it was time for a transition, a new start. One that forever changed my life. We moved from Daytona to Miami that fall. My
father was killed July 18, 2014. That day for some reason my world doesn’t just stop, everything just slows down. To a cold shivering
heart breaking pace. Miami is a beautiful city and very hot, especially during the summer months. But as soon as that day comes it
The temperature becomes rigid and the busy beautiful Miami city goes strangely dim and clouds roll in like shadows ver the city.
I actually like how the day laments my father's death, sharing the same sorrow as I do. Once midnight hits though, the city
continues as usual.
Ever since that day I took his ring I can not get rid of the memory. The harder I try to chase the memory away the worse it
So instead I embrace it.
I bought an expensive but small golden chain KAY and placed the ring on the chain since it was way too large to fit on any of my
fingers. I stare at it’s emerald gem as it shines against the light. At night when I awake, sometimes, I swear it glows on my nightstand.
Once I touch to get a better look it fades away.
Leaving the room dark.
I shrug it off but for some reason, each night it seems to grow stronger. I blame it on my mind tricking me, as usual.
My phone vibrates against my hip.
A-MILLI - Devin is here.
I call mom hoping to god she is ok. I clench dads ring against my chest as the phone rings.
“Mom, oh my god, are you alright, where are you?” I begin pacing.
She laughs, “ Honey, I am fine I’m on break so good timing.”
“What part of town are you on?” I ask
She chuckles again, “Orlando, why?”
I stop pacing, “Orlando, why!?”
“Ana, I told you I was on a business trip, I just got back from Hollywood. They’re thinking about staging a movie there.” Mom
has a Bachelor's degree in Filming and with that created her own business. She started off so small ack home but she began to get
calls from companies like Warner Bro to make movies with them. From then her ‘Different Angles’ company ranked among the other
major motion franchises.This of course came with a high price of stress, a table full of paperwork and hate mail, and a limited amount
of quality family time.
I gulp, “Do we have to move again?”
“Of course not, but I have to do a lot of driving and I have plenty of flights to take, which won't be such a big problem since our
friend Laura does in fact live right across the street.”
“Wait, so what about this weekend?” I bite my finger nails, sure Laura is our friend but her level of annoying exceeds all
measurements. She’s a 30 year old widow who has this odd baking fetish and 2 large doberman pinscher as her only companions. I
would have to say I do enjoy that part about her.
“I’ll be home, but this coming week I may have to stay a few nights.” she quickly adds, “Don’t worry m’hija,you’ll be just fine,
don’t forget about the counter.”
I laugh, “I won’t forget, mama, Is it alright if Amele and I go racing tonight?”
Mama sighs, “Fine, but I want you home before midnight.”
I beam, “Okay.” That won't be an issue, I think.
“I mean it, and I love you,” Mom says sternly. “Bye, hon’.”
“Bye, and come home.” I say before hanging up.
She’d ​better be home before midnight.

Chapter 3

In the distance: ​I found her.

. , , .
“What’s the bet?” I say walking, well stumbling, into Amele’s house.
“Devin, go ahead tell her.” Amele says which catches me off guard, she’s obviously frustrated.
What’s wrong?”I ask looking her way, she doesnt turn to me though,
Devin sighs, seeming completely over her attitude already. Devin is this 5’11 sweetheart who has been friends with Amele since they
were kids. A redhead with olive skin and races like a monster listening to Speed Demon. That's why we decided to just make him the
manager. The amount of accidents he’s been in is enough to make the most dangerous NASCAR racer retire, and he’s only 18. “This
guy had called me earlier today and, well, he’s seen Amele win millions of times. In fact every time he’s seen her race..”
“Damn right he has!” Amele interrupts, coldly.
Devin, once again, sighs impatiently, “And this time he needs you, Ana, to win in order for us to win the bet. We’re not supposed to
know this but he has insiders. “Because if you win his team gets more attention and more people will come out to watch because the
underdog who always seem to come in second will finally beat a well known champion.”
“How much money are we talking about.” I ask
“You’re considering this , Lui.” Amele turns to me astonished.
“$5,000 and as you win more the amount goes up.” Devin replies. I replay the whole conversation back in my head.
“Who is this man?” To me, he seems conspicuous, since of course, he is routing for my win.
Devin does a light shrug of his shoulders, “ He wants to remain unidentified until he’s seen you, Ana.”
“What the hell does he even want from her?” I can feel Ameles temper almost reaching its peak.
I look cross at her as she does to Devin, “ Devin, can you give us a second?”
Devin stands up and walks towards the kitchen, “Take your time.”
I thank him and shift next to Amele, watching he fiddle with the many rings on her fingers. “What’s the problem?”
She looks to the ceiling, “Why should I let you beat me?”
“It’s simple, the more cash the better. We need more materials for the garage, to get better cars and more space to race so
that we have more to offer in bets so we can get that much in return.” I say watching Amele’s leg bounce recklessly.
Amele faces me, finally. “Whoever this guy is, I don’t trust him, getting first place for $5,000 sounds dangerous, it isn’t me you're just
I smile at her sweetly and rest a hand on her leg, “I’ll be alright Amele, you just stay behind me and I promise we’ll both be laughing
this off when it’s all over.”
“If I go through with this,” A pitiful smile coats her face, “You promise not to get us killed out there.”
I laugh, “Oh, Amele,” I hug her and she hugs me tightly and chuckle, “I won’t get us killed, I swear.” I release her and she smiles at
me, closed mouth. Her famous, ‘okay I’m counting on you,’ smile.
“Devin!” I yell, Amele twitches clearly startled.
“Jeezus, girl.” She laughs holding her ear.
“Is it a closed deal?” Devin asks with his phone up to his ear.
“It’s a done deal.” I say a little smile raising uncontrollably on my lips
“Perfect!” Devin finally smiles and says into the phone, “The race is on, sir.”

. . . .
I totally understand Amele’s hesitation in this whole situation. It isn’t just her and I racing tonight. We’re headed to the cliffs
and if I’m in the lead the whole time it’ll definitely piss some drivers off to the point where they try to push me off the rode. When it
comes to cliff $5,000 cash on the line, no one cares what happens to the next driver. I know if I was as selfish as half of the people I
have raced against in the past, I wouldn’t either.
“You know I have to be home by midnight.” I tell Amele from under the hood.
Amele groans, “Who does she think you are, Cinderella?” I chuckle checking the oil of my car with a towel. “She’s really on you these
days, what’d you do?”
“Nothing, she works pretty late now so she needs someone watch over the house while she’s gone.” I reply”
“The house can take care of its bloody self.” She mumbles
I roll my eyes with a smile and throw the towel over my shoulder slamming the hood shut. “Start ‘er up!”
Amele prances herself into the car bobbing her head to the music blaring in her headphones. I wipe my hands on the oil rag as she
adjusts the mirrors to her comfort. Just so I can get back in the car and change it all over again. The sound of the key turning into the
ignition gave my ears a weird delight I have every time I drive the car. Amele pressed on the gas beckoning it to life, and with a
thunderous vibration it did. It sounds even more beautiful than when I first got it.
“Now this right here,” She laughs swinging her head out of the window, “Is a winning car!”

Chapter 4

Devin texts Amele and I the address before he left. I would have to say that was an hour ago. I’ve never seen him so frantic.
In fact, racin days are the days he usually is calm, cool and collected. Today, he is neither of those. Which I don’t see why because
the race is in the perfect spot! Instead of it being all cliff, there are bridge railings surrounding it . I’m littelry getting a strike with
bumpers. This $5.000 couldn't come any closer.
“I look so terrible, it such an exciting night and all I ever wear and have to wear is black!” Amele groans. She may be a hard
goth but make no mistake she does dress to impress. Even if the outfit is all black she makes sure everything is designer, and that
there isn’t a wrinkle in sight. It has to match her tattoos as well. So far she has five of them. One located on her lower back which is
the “Egyptian third eye”. That is what she says, which is really the Eye of Horus. Everything, to her, has this reversible meaning that I
always try to understand but I never seem to get. Then there is this other one on her arm written in calligraphy that says, “Kindness
kills like cars burn wheels.” I’m not sure why she did that one but she says it’s her favorite one. She also has a red henna tattoo and
3 tear drops coming from her right collarbone.
My personal favorite is the Henna.
“Oh, come on you look stunning.” I compliment staring at our figures in her very large mirror. The whole wall is a mirror.
“Yeah but I look so….me.” She says in disgust, “Today I lose, so I won’t feel like me at all.”
I glance at slyly in her direction, “You thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Time for a dress swap.”
Amele and I undress and throw our close at each other giggling as we try to make them fit. We even do one anothers
make-up. In fits of giggles, nonetheless.
Amele looks so …. Seductive.
She usually gives off this bubble gum-popping-goth-with-metallic gloves vibe. With this look she’s so different, red lipstick
neatly glowing own her lips and black eyeliner to bring out her eyes with mascara brushed onto her thick eyelashes.
She looks real simple and sweet.
She is totally killing my red spaghetti string romper. I’m sort of jealous of the way it compliments her shape. Trust me, more people
than I notice how great her body is. Her hourglass shape flows through the outfit like wading water.
“I hope you know I’m stealing this from you.” She smiles in the mirror pulling at her naturally bouncy hair.
I flip some over her shoulders for her, “You can keep it.” I give in, her eyes glimmer and she smiles in my direction.
“Alright, we have to get you a new outfit this looks to heavy on you.” We laugh and get to searching.

. . . .

It’s funny how we color coordinated. Amele is wearing red and her Ford Mustang is coincidentally the same exact red.
She loves her baby.
He name is Spirit, named after Amele’s obsession with Disney movies. She’s gotten her car to 1,000 hp which is pretty
awesome granted the size of her motor and the age of the car. I was a little lucky with my racecar. For my birthday, Amele won me
an Audi TT 2016 car. It has the potential of a Bugatti Veyron and is surprisingly pretty light weight. And with the amount of nitrous in
my induction system, there’s literally nothing that can stop me. Except for my possible loss of control which has honestly been my
biggest fear ever since I started racing.
When it comes to anything.
Thanks to Amele who is always either in front or tailing behind me. So if I were to lose control and crash, she’d ultimately be coming
with me. The very last thing I need is to be the cause of another loved ones death.
“You look hot!” Amele announces leaning against her car. She was so set on matching that she gave me a sleeveless romper
black matte lipstick and really just a whole new face. I can’t say makeup is the most comfortable thing in the world but It is and
adventurous art.
“Thank you.” I blush which is so weird because Amele always compliments me like that when I dress this way. I must be really
“Stay on my tail, alright, and don’t shift back to far or else you’ll activate the nitrous.” She advises, and before I can say yeah,
yeah you tell me this everytime I drive, She gets in her car and starts it revving the 4 cylinder engine.
Beautiful, it is.
Her car gives me goosebumps whenever I see it, but when it speaks, that is gratifying on a different level. My engine is smoother and
much quieter than hers.
I know what you’re thinking.
And to confirm such thoughts, yes, we do realize that our cars say a lot about our friendship and personalities but that’s the case for
about everyone that owns one.
I follow close behind Amele who is no cautious driver herself. The practice what you preach slogan is irrelevant to her life. In
every situation. Like right now. We stop at a stop light and puts her car in neutral just to show everyone how amazing her engine. I
laugh with every finger that I have aching to shift and do the same. But I know I can’t afford to accidentally, ahem, ‘activate the
nitrous’ blah blah blah. Amele is more like a mother to me than a best friend. Except for when it comes to my interesting judgement in
men as she calls it. She eases all the way back and lets me mess up then return and says, “I already knew he was another fly on the
wall, next time kill it.”
I’ve only been in one committed relationship in all my years of highschool and I still didn’t hear the end of it from her. A few
kisses from maybe a random school mate at a party or something but nothing more. Relationships are complicated anyway and I’ve
noticed that I don’t really have a lot of time for anything but racing, homework, workouts and watching over the house. And I don’t
want to make any.
“Come in, Roger.” My GPS says. Amele may be a goth-skipping-bubble gum-popping-high school- girl but she is also a
genius technician and automotive. Last year, she came up with this handy way to speak to me in my racing car without texting or
calling. She installed a voice system into the GPS programs she bought for our car and connected them to each other wirelessly. She
likes to keep this earpiece connected to hers but I don’t find those comfortable at all. I don’t know how she did it but anytime I ask her
about any of her sweet inventions she says, “It’s a work in progress, takes brains”. All I have to do is press the stereo button on the
wheel to speak to her.
“How’s it going?” My GPS channels to her.
“We should be there in about 5 minutes.” Amele responds
“20 minutes early, that’s nice, maybe we can spy on our so called anonymous new promotor.” I suggest
“Mmm, maybe we should focus on the more important thing, like who were against.” Amele as always raises a very valid
“Affirmative.” I respond in my best spy persona. Amele slows down. I look ahead of her to see darkness, Yellow LED lights
forming a path and two guys at her car door. All normal and familiar. Security tells me one thing at races, it’s pretty legit.
The men step away from her vehicle and she trudges forward stopping just ahead of me so that the guards can take my
information. I stop and reach for my purse.
“Are we racing tonight or just here to watch?” One of the men asks
I grip my ID in my hand. “Racing.”
“ID and promotor you’re racing for.” The same guy asks, his tag says Iven in all caps. I hand him my ID as his partner points
a flashlight through my car.
“I’m racing for Devin Lambert.” I say since my other quote on quote promotor is yet to be known. They both scan my ID and
nod their heads.
“You’re good, have a safe race, Ana Luiza.” The one smiles that took my ID originally, and hands it back.
“Thank you.” I flash Amele and she continues.

. . . .

As we enter slowly we find that there are cars being displayed and raced but all are lined up on the side to make a bright path
of LED lights shining from their custom work of their cars. I love cruising down the aisle looking at the extraordinary art of the cars up
for bets. It gives a sort of red carpet vibe, if I were Kendall Jenner, ofcourse. Like any other street race there is very loud music, a lot
of half naked girls dancing to it, and men partying along with them. The age bracket usually rages around 18 to about 25. If it is
anything that I have noticed it’s that older people are not into street racing. I drive slowly letting people cross the aisle to get to the
other side. A lot of people yell good luck or just praise our cars as we move through. I like to think that this is kind of what it feels like
to be famous.
Amele and I fill in the blank places at the starting line which always gets my heart beating and butterflies fluttering in my
stomach. I grip the steering wheel.
“Calm down Lui, I can feel your tension all the way from lane 9.” Ameles voice comes through my radio, “don’t let this bogus
promotor get under your skin.”
I breathe deeply, “Okay,” I smile nervously. I got stuck in lane 3 next to this guy with a nascar helmet on and gloves regripping his
steering wheel. He turns to me slowly and I quickly look to my left to see a navy blue Chevy Camaro that has a large ‘33’ on its side
with flashing LED lights flashing along the bumper. His rims are black and also light with lights. If he doesn’t win this race he’s sure to
get a reward for having the brightest car in the race. Beyond him to a more interesting car in row 6, from what I can see, is a lime
green plastered with sponsor stickers at the roof so there must be some on the sides. This isn’t a street race at all.
It’s a NASCAR race.
“You must be Ana Luiza.” I jump turning towards my lowered window, fixating.
On this man with bright hazel eyes staring into my car. His eyes almost look as if they’re made of fire. He looks like n one I’ve
ever seen before. I have never seen anyone in my life with dark skin and hazel eyes. He has to be around the age of 20 with the
shoulders of a cross between a football player and a bodybuilder. His large hands seem to have a death grip on my car door. It’s a
real badass look that’s for sure. Especially given the fact that he has dreads that are half pulled back as some fall neatly over his
black collar shirt. A shirt made of silk.
This has to be the promoter.
“That’s me.” I respond, surprisingly because I swear my throat is closing up.
“I thought you would be intimidated taking this challenge against NASCAR racers.” He says with this bright smile across his
“No one told me anything about a NASCAR race, how hard can it be anyway?” I say confidently trying to put the fact that I’m
sweating my ass off and the AC is on full blast behind me.
“Well I am putting my money on you just as confidently, so good luck.” He says with a raised eyebrow, pats my car and heads
down the aisle.
“WAIT!” I yell out my passenger window, he turns back around and walks toward me. “What’s your name,”
He gives me this sly smile, “If you win, I’ll give it to you.”
I gulp as he winks and saunters off. Boy, am I glad that is over. I haven’t felt that kind of energy ever since last year. Back when I had
a huge crush last year on this guy named Carter...Oh God no.
“Roger, this guy in a black suit just came up to my window and wished me luck….”Amele pauses in mid sentence, “That is the
“I know he just left my car.” I say with a clammy mouth. I’m trying to focus on the race, about winning.. But he looked very
“Well was I just seeing things or did I see God?” Amele whispers through my stereo. My heart begins to beat more and more
then into my ears as the girl with a fluorescent yellow bikini top, impossibly short jean shorts and fishnet stockings approaches the
front with her two checkered waving flags.
I roll my windows up, “You were seeing things.” I furrow my eyebrows revving my engine starting a tsunami of other engines doing
the same. I adjust my wrist and hands. No time for games, I have a race to win.
“Your kick-ass voice always gets me going.” Amele laughs evilly, I smile facing the track behind the shouting girl in the front
hyping the crowd up for the race.
Down the cliff in 3 turns and back to the finish line. This shouldn’t be too hard, given the fact that this is the shortest race I
have ever been in.
She raises her flags and I put my car in neutral, revving my engine. I roll up my windows and her flags go sideways signalling
the ‘Get Set’ mark. I take it out of neutral holding the brake with a slightly shaking foot.
My car shoots forward almost taking the lead until Green Car cuts me off. The trail has narrowed and until the cliffs I cannot
pass him without crashing.
Flash your brights at him​, A
​ voice says in my head. What the..
A voice….not my conscious, but it seems like it entered into my head uninvited.
“Who’s there?!” I scream swerving past a car.
“Lui are you alright?” I jump at the voice, almost crashing onto the side of the cliff. Just Amele, I must have accidently pushed
the intercom. My heart races as I try to listen for the next voice to pop up.
“Sorry ‘Mele!” I yell through the speaker.
He’s helping her race….
I flash my lights as we make a tight turn and the Green Car begins swerving and as he swerves a little to the left I speed up to
him. Not quite passed but next to him. He looks at me and fury quickly takes over his demeanor, but as it does everything begins
slowing down.
“What the hell is going on with me, this has never happened to me before.” I ask myself trying to focus back to the task at hand. The
man in the green cars’ arms adjacently grip the side of his wheel in preparation to ram into my vehicle. So I do what Amele warned
me not to do. I shift back, activating my induction system.
“Amele move to your left now!” I say speeding past the Green Car who goes right recklessly only to do a spin out into a ditch.
“Good looks, love!” Amele yells through my stereo. I shift back my hand still trembling against the stick with a smile and continue onto
the cliff.
“Lui , there’s a blue car coming on my tail I’m going to let him pass, can you handle him?” Amele asks with her engine blaring through
the microphone.
I grip the steering wheel tightly, with a stiff jolt of fear. “I got him.” I say confidently waiting for my dad's voice again. Which is the
funniest thing because, this has never happened before in all the times I have raced since he passed. The car passes Amele
effortlessly gaining on me quickly.
Bluff. ​The voice says with a flattering laugh in between the word. Oddly, I know exactly what to do and exactly how it has to be done.
The Blue cars Nitrous is fuming out the sides of his car. As the space between us grows thin, I fake steer tightly in his direction and
the emergency brakes falling 2 places behind Amele.
“Damn, girl that was good!” Amele congratulates me, I turn slowing down letting the round curves of the cliff take me.
“It was wasn't it?” I ask finally registering what she said. We both laugh with chest and bellies filled with ego. It was an ecstatic,
adrenaline rush kind of laugh. The trail narrows and we all form a straight line. Ameles car is close behind me and a Black car trailing
very closely behind her. I turn until the LED lights begin to widen the trail.
Five Miles until the finish.
Ameles lights in my rearview disappear as the Black car passes her.
Speed up! ​ The voice speaks again. Which is risky because there is a sharp turn I have to take in about 100 feet. I could potentially
lose control and crash my car.
But instinctively, or maybe under this strange power of submission, I shift back and do as the voice says. My nitrous pushes me so
far forward my neck and arms stiffen.
“Slow down, Ana!” Amele yells with a slight quiver, but I don’t, I can’t. I take the turn drifting the car, with an ear steering screech, to
the side. I usually listen to Amele but I can’t this time. My hands begin to sweat. The voice has gotten me this far and I can’t afford to
lose. Literally.
“WOAH!” I yell as a large rock comes into my clear vision. I shift up and swerve beyond it with only luck keeping me from taking my
hands from the wheel.
Amele, watch the rock in the middle of the road!” I yell with a soaring pulse throughout my entire body. My hands are shaking and my
legs are shaking beneath me.
“Okay.” She responds calmly. I slow down about 5mph waiting to see her lights to come into view.
“What rock?”
I squint my eyes to my rearview mirror. “What do you mean what rock, It was right there in the middle of the track!”
“Dude, There is completely no rock at all.”
My heart begins beating quickly again with nervous heat eating away at my courage.
“Ana,are you ok?”

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