A thought hits me,
i
s someone talking
, I wonder,
I can hear a deep voice, like someone is
…
talking
. Looking up I see Marc standing in front of me.
He smiles with
a mischievous look
on his face
.
“
Don
’
t stop, I
’
m kind of liking your impression of whoever
it is that
you
’
re
listening to.
”
I laugh
and feel myself turn three shades of red,
“
You don
’
t even know what I
’
m listening to, and
it
’
s
my racing remix, it
’
s my fix.
”
I grin without stopping the song and I keep moving to the beat.
He leans
casually
against my car.
“
First, I catch you in a hall talking to yourself. Then I find you singing and washing cars
.
”
He
rais
es
a concerned brow at me
then
continues;
“
N
ow I find you singing and dancing alone.
”
He gives an irresistible glare and smiles teasingly.
“
Hey,
”
I say defensively
,
“
As far as I
’
m aware of
,
singing to
yourself does
not classif
y you
as
having
a psychological disorder, but you do have me on the talking to myself, now that
’
s a real problem.
”
I look up at him and smirk tauntingly.
“
Now is the perfect ti
me to change your mind about me,
”
I say jokingly.
Putting my
iPod
up and turning to him.
“
My father has people from all over come down to race. Some of these guys shake hands a certain way and I
’
m going teach you how to do that right now.
”
I hold out my hand for him to take.
“
Whenever you meet anyone here and they want to shake hands
,
just do it this way.
”
I show Marc the
witches
’
handshake for the
Worthington
coven.
“
When you shake a woman
’
s hand you will then kiss them on the left cheek, nothing more and nothing less. Got it?
”
“
Got it.
”
T
he door to the office opens and
Dad
walks out to Marc and
me
.
I quickly introduce them to each other.
“
Marc this is my father, Daniel Worthington,
Dad,
this is Marc Dela Dante Colton
.
”
Marc doesn
’
t miss a beat, when my father goes to shake his hand like he would a non-
witch;
Marc gives him the witches shake, even though he has no idea that it
’
s a
witch
’
s
thing at all. My father looks surprised briefly and then instantly glances over at me and smiles.
Lisa and Megan stroll up t
o us.
“
Marc these two ladies are going to keep you company for a moment, I
’
ve got something I have to do, it won
’
t take
, but
a few seconds once I get started.
”
I say with a pure innocent expression.
Megan grabs Marc
’
s arm and says,
“
Marc,
it
’
s
been so long since we
’
ve talked
,
how have you been
,
handsome? Wow, hey... Lisa, muscles.
”
She squeezes Marc
’
s arm firmly as they walk towards the grand stands.
I turn and glance over my shoulder at Marc to find him looking back at me. I mouth the words
,
“
You
’
ll be fine
”
to him and he just rolls his eyes at me. I stand here and watch them walk away towards the other side of the track.
I get in my car and drive over to the staging area. I pull up to
Dawson
to see if he is going to race tonight.
He gives me his standard answer which is
,
“
I
’
m here aren
’
t I? Hey, another party tonight, it
’
s gonna
be
“
Kickin
”
and this one is just down the road. I
’
m feeling the need for some serious dancing. Hope they got a good DJ tonight.
”
I
’
m r
olling my eyes at
Dawson
breaking out some moves to music only he can hear.
“
I h
ope Lisa is up for it
,
”
h
e says and laughs as he swaggers off shaking his hips still to the unheard beat.
“
Oh no,
it
’
s
catching
,
”
I
say
to myself wondering about my own dancing alone just a bit ago. I plug in my headset and get my helmet on.
Dawson
is now over with David, who is getting ready for the first race of the night.
A two-tone silver and black Toyota Supra MK3 is in front of
me;
next to it
is a metallic blue
Chrysler Crossfire. I line my
Shelby
up, waiting my turn. The announcer calls out the names of the drivers and their cars. Booming music comes from the tower.
I watch t
he shimmer of colors from the setting sun which barely drifts below the tree line, leaving different hues of reds and yellows across the evening sky.
I can
’
t see anything after the
Toyota
and Crossfire burn out, tires hopping, engines revving. The unmistakable smell of burnt
rubber
is a definite adrenaline rush. David walks slowly by my car and asks if I need anything, I just shake my head and start checking my gauges. I haven
’
t been using my Nitrous, but I check the system anyway. This will be the last run for my car till I get my new headers and
upgraded
cold air intake and a special order chip, which I
’
m excited to try.
I
’
m hoping to pick up more speed in the
Shelby
than a 10.6. A girl can always use
a little
more speed. The cars in front creep up to the starting line.
Dawson
is
checking on the car on the left and then gives them the
okay
signal and moves back. They launch off at the same time and fly down the track.
I move forward and then back up a bit.
Dawson
gives me the signal and I start burning rubber, making my tires scream with smoke. It flows all around my
Shelby
surrounding it co
mpletely in white fumes. The C
orvette starts burning its tires swaying the back end side to side, and smoke fills the air even more.
Both of us move up to the line and this time David just waves at me telling me I
’
m on the mark. The lights flash yellow, yellow,
and then
brilliant green. Everything happens instantly. I immediately pop the clutch and hit the gas. I feel the G-forces push me deeply into the seat as I continue shifting through the gears.
I am
soaring;
the Corvette stays right beside me for a moment then finally hitting third gear I move forward faster at 118mph in third, shifting into fourth and launching even faster. We pass the finish line and as always the digital board displays our times and speed, again I can
’
t read it. Slowing down I turn my car around. I give a wave at the other driver, as I head back to the office.
Jumping out and running inside, I pile my things on the leather couch and turn to my father.
“
Well, what
’
s my time?
”
Dad sits at his desk
and calmly says
,
“
You ran 10.9 seconds at 129 miles per hour, but the Corvette ran 11.2 at 120 miles
per
hour.
”
“
Really,
”
I say not too pleased that I lost time compared to my last
race
. And I wonder if it is Marc
’
s presence here
that may be
distracting me somehow,
and
as if my dad knows my thoughts he says calmly.
“
Don
’
t worry, Alyssa
. G
o find Marc and enjoy your
night
, okay? He stands up, walking over and gives me one of his reassuring hugs.
“
I
’
ll come by and see you later.
”
I walk out of the office and shift over by the stands. Megan and Marc are sitting off
to themselves
.
“
Hey, where
’
s Lisa?
”
I ask curiously as I scan the
area
for her.
Megan nods
.
“
Over at the concession stand getting us some drinks or so she says
, but
hey
Dawson
is here. Can you see
Dawson
? I
f not I bet I
know.
”
Laughing at Megan I sit down next to
Marc
and all he
’
s
do
ing i
s star
ing
at me.
“
You certainly are full of surprises. I thought when you told me you were doing something that it was, you know, helping
your dad
out by taking the money or registration
s
, not actually drag racing.
”
I laugh at him.
“
Well, my father and I both race and that
’
s why he builds the drag strips.
”
“
You are amazing. Megan and Lisa have been kind enough to fill me in on what was happening before you raced.
”
I smile over at Megan
and say,
“
Well, what was I supposed to do, when he saw your car on the drag strip?
”
Lisa walks up with an arm load of drinks.
“
My
Shelby
is still too
slow;
I have some parts coming in soon though. She will be running faster than the 10
’
s
I
’
m pulling now
.
”
“
You ever rac
e that classic M
ustang of yours
or
is
it
just for the backseat?
”
Megan glances over at Marc intriguingly.
He hesitates briefly and stares back at Megan.
“
No,
it
’
s
definitely not built for
racing it
’
s
an original.
”