Drift Queens - Chapter 1
By Misty Steppes

I promise there’ll be more Warped Space soon - my muse just decided this would be an interesting story, so this first chapter popped into existence. Maybe I’m reading too much WolfJess :P. The title is subject to change, and this chapter definitely needs a rework at some point if I’m going to turn it into a story, but let me know what you think!

There were very few things that the perpetual dry heat of California was good for, and cruising down the PCH with the evening air whipping by happened to be one of them. My hair had long since been pulled back by the wind, streaking behind me even despite being tied back as best I could. Not that it was even that windy at the time - I just happened to be doing a hundred miles an hour in a convertible.

The windshield did its best to divert the oncoming wind, but as any convertible buff knows, it can only do so much. I cruised into a tight corner and feathered the brake, feeling the grip of the wheels just barely holding against the tarmac.

Looking out on the empty straightaway before me, I smirked to myself. It’s a quiet night… guess I can let loose.

With a tap on my phone, the speakers started blaring out my driving playlist, and my foot pressed down on the gas. My brights clicked on to illuminate the road ahead, and I sped off into the night.

Thirty minutes earlier

“Dinner’s up, get it hot!” My mother’s voice echoed through the house, the call of her Southern Belle accent and powerful belt brooking no argument - dinner was ready, and we’d all better get our asses to the table. I wasn’t about to argue. My laptop clicked shut, and I rolled out of bed.

“Coming!” I called out, lacking my mother’s distinctive accent but with plenty of volume to match.

With a sigh, I pulled a scrunchie off my wrist to tie my hair back and walked out of my room, leaving the door ajar. My socks were slightly slick against the dark hardwood of the floor and stairs, but with practiced ease I hopped down the steps a few at a time and quickly rounded the corner.

Mom’s “unique” style of decorating greeted me as I passed through our living room; if you just walked through our house without taking a look outside, you’d think you had been transported straight into the stereotypical American South as seen in the movies. From the furniture to the floors to the wallpaper, nothing in the room fit with our Southern Californian surroundings.

I leaned into the kitchen through the open doorway, and saw my mother busily laying out plates and plates of food on the table. It looked like today’s meal was steak, potatoes, and an assortment of other sides, a little something for each of our tastes. Despite appearances, and how long all this took to prepare, she had a full-time job as well - some consulting thing that I’d never understand.

“Hey hun. Could you grab the silverware?” She smiled at me widely. My mother fit the Southern stereotype in more than just tastes - her long, elbow-length blonde hair and still generous curves were all the evidence I needed. She easily looked ten years younger than she actually was; if I didn’t inherit anything else from her, I just hoped I’d get that.

I grabbed a handful of utensils out of a nearby drawer and started laying them out neatly. Mom ruffled my hair when I was just about done.

Her ever-present grin returned. “When are you gonna get this cut, kiddo? Soon enough the ladies at game night will be asking about my daughter instead of my son.”

“It’s not that bad,” I grumbled, tucking a stray lock behind my ear. “I’ll cut it when I feel like it.”

“Sage, it’s practically down to your ass untied,” she laughed. I just squinted and muttered to myself about her use of language that I definitely wouldn’t get away with. Whether she heard me or not, I’d never know thanks to that constant insufferable grin on her face.

Despite my protests, I didn’t really have any room to complain. In the last week alone I’d been called “Miss” like three times, even after seeing me from the front. My hair, jet black like my father’s with my mother’s gentle wave, certainly didn’t help - but neither did my decidedly androgynous face, long lashes from my mother and large blue eyes. I was pretty short too - but it wasn’t that bad… right?

I started to sit down in my usual seat, and right on time another trio of voices chimed in.

“Tadaima!” The chorus of my dad, brother, and sister called from the front door. I could hear them sliding off their shoes, and they quickly joined us at the table. My sister came first, practically my mother’s younger clone, from hair to face to curves, and height - much to my chagrin, she was taller than me.

My brother was similar, keeping the blonde hair of those two and the blue eyes we all shared, but his easily six foot frame towered over all of us, even my dad. Speaking of, the old man himself slid into his spot last, his mop of neatly trimmed black hair an exact match to mine, and his slim frame and face a callback to his home back in Osaka. My mother leaned over and gave him a quick kiss, sliding a heaping plate of steak and potatoes in front of him.

Jurou Sakamoto and Annabeth Sakamoto née Banks. An odd pairing - a stereotypical Southern Belle and a Japanese expat, each with strong roots in their old homes. I still wasn’t sure quite how they met, just that they were still happy twenty-odd years later. Makes no sense to me, but I won’t question it - I’m alive, aren’t I?

“Hey lovelies, hope your practices were good. I was just asking your brother when he’s going to get a haircut.” My cheerleader sister and football-playing brother both smirked, and I just rolled my eyes.

“Shut up, mom…” I groaned, only to receive a swift bonk on the head by my father.

“Be respectful to your mother, Seiji.” His expression didn’t even change as he returned his hand to his meal.

“Yes, otou-san…” Turning back to my plate, I stuffed a slab of steak into my mouth to muffle out my subsequent muttering.

We all dug in without any further preamble - my mom’s cooking was as formidable as ever. Despite that, I didn’t seem to be capable of gaining the dozens of pounds that should go hand in hand, but I kept stuffing my face nonetheless.

Dad looked over at me. “I need you to make a delivery run tonight, over to your Aunt and Uncle’s. The package is in the convertible already, figured you’d want it.”

He tossed me the keys, and I grinned, mopping up the rest of my plate in short order. I quickly excused myself.

“I’ll be back. Leave some dessert for me.”

I bumped my turn signal on out of habit, even though the road was just as empty as always. The car slowed drastically as I approached the exit - there’s not much thrill in speeding down local roads, and the cops actually patrol those.

At the time I’d been doing these runs weekly, if not more, so I had no need for a GPS. The boring stop and go of suburban residential roads wasn’t really worthy of description. I spent the time straightening out my hair with one hand, trying to tame the windswept locks as best I could before arriving.

And here we are… I pulled into a driveway at the corner of 5th and Lee, and I could already see my uncle waiting on the front porch. As I put the car in park, he came up to the passenger side.

“Hey squirt. You made good time today - that a new record?” He grinned, as did I - he, at least, was well aware of my driving behavior.

I shook my head, though. “Nah, last week’s was two minutes faster. I struggled in the corners today.”

“I’m telling you kid, if you learn to drift those sections will start saving you a shit ton - not that the convertible is built for what you’re doing anyway.” I knew Uncle Ray wasn’t actually related to me, but he definitely shared my love for fast driving. Unlike him, though, I wasn’t really up to speed on the details of cars - I just needed to drive fast, not get a degree in the subject.

I shrugged, and just grinned at him. Uncle Ray grabbed his package out of the passenger seat, visibly struggling. I started to unbuckle, but he shook his head with a grin. Eventually he got the big box inside, and came back to see me off.

“One of these days I’ll get you in a real speed demon, Sage. You’ve got some talent to get those times in a car like that.” I rolled my eyes, and gave him a wave as I started to back out. He returned it, and I pulled away with a slight smile on my face.