Drift Queens - Chapter 2
By Misty Steppes

A double today! Both chapters were almost done, so I figured I might as well push them both out while I have the motivation, short as it may be. This story's plot isn't quite as planned out as the other two, though. Enjoy!

My trip back was still well over the speed limit (what did you expect?), but my clock wasn’t running this time. The main reason was that the trip back was primarily left turns, so I couldn’t take the tight turns without crossing into the other lane - the road might seem empty, but I really didn’t need a head-on collision in my dad’s convertible.

This way is a lot less fun… I sighed. Ah, well.

~o~O~o~

Elsewhere

Ray Wolfe, known as Uncle Ray by his god-children, watched the silver convertible disappear off in the distance. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a stopwatch.

“Not even his fastest time, and it still shatters my records… J’s too… Damn.”
The stopwatch disappeared back to where it came from, and he started dialing a number on his phone.

“Hey J. Yeah. Have you thought about what we were talking about the other day?”

~o~O~o~

Music: Real Gone by Sheryl Crow

The darkness was finally setting in, the last rays of sunlight disappearing over the horizon, the reflections off the ocean’s waves quietly dissipating. My headlights illuminated the long straightaway in front of me, and I smirked to myself.

I can practice upshifting, at least.

I turned up the music - can’t go wrong with Real Gone, cliché as it was coming from the Cars soundtrack. The music echoed out across the empty landscape, and as the chorus came up, my foot went to the floor. My right hand was taking care of the gear changes, while my left was mostly just concerned with keeping the wheel in its current position - a perk of the almost perfectly flat road.

“Baby you’re a screamin’ it’s a blast, blast, blast...
Look out babe you got your blinders on,
Everybody’s looking for a way to get real gone, real gone…”
Yeah, I was singing along. I might not be the best singer out there, but it’s not like there was anyone around to hear me... speak of the devil.

I took the slight bend in the road at speed, but the turn revealed a car just ahead, their rear lights just barely visible. I started to go for the brake, but right as I started to ease up on the gas they pulled over, flickering their lights to signal me.

“Weird. I’ll take it though.” I pressed the pedal down and sped past them, not even bothering to get a look at the car. Probably just a casual driver who didn’t want to worry about me being on their ass the whole time.

~o~O~o~

Elsewhere

As the silver convertible streaked past, the car that had pulled over smoothly slid into a nearby rest area - more an impromptu parking lot than anything, strategically positioned to give a scenic view of the ocean. The driver hopped out, slamming the door of the nondescript black car behind him.

“God FUCKING dammit Townes, why didn’t you tell me there was someone doing a run tonight!?” The man stalked over to a group of guys pressed up against the road’s guard rail, a few laptops and some other strange gear set up as well. The target of his ire, presumably Townes, glanced up at him.

“Because there aren’t any groups doing runs tonight, other than us. We claimed this section, and all the others okayed it.” He pulled up a calendar, and noted the time slot on it. “See? SoCal Kings, PCH Straight, 8-12. Just us.”

The driver sighed, and leaned up against the rail. “...Then who the hell was that silver convertible? I was already most of the way through my drag run, and they passed me like it was nothing. That shouldn’t be possible.”

“I mean, they probably weren’t doing standing start, but even so, you’re right - the turn right before the straightaway should kill a car like that enough to give you the edge. It’s either tuned to literal perfection, or the driver’s a master on straightaways… hell, even both shouldn’t be enough.”

“Goddammit. If a random joyrider can beat me, how can I call myself a King?”

One of the other guys looked up from his laptop, and cleared his throat. Both Townes and the driver looked at him.
“I was recording for your approach, and I caught a couple stills of the car. No plates, but their top was down so I got a side view of the driver.”

He turned the laptop screen towards them, still hooked up to a camera on a tripod. The screen was frozen on a specific frame of video - a silver convertible, slightly blurred from the speed... and a lone driver, a mane of black hair streaking behind, caught in the wind. The face wasn’t visible.

“Well I’ll be... I don’t think any team has had a female driver in years, so no one’s muscling in on our claim... a lone she-wolf, then.” Townes pulled the laptop out of the cameraman’s hands, trying to get a better zoom on the girl’s face, but it blurred to nothing before he got anywhere close.

The driver just shook his head, staring out at the empty road.
“No, Townes. Not just a she-wolf.”

“A Wolf Queen.”

~o~O~o~

I pulled back into our driveway, leaving the convertible in its normal spot. Dad was waiting for me outside, like always - he liked to give the car a look over after my runs, for whatever reason.

“Hey, Dad.” I tossed the keys to him underhand, and headed over to the door. “Delivery’s done. Better give me five stars on Yelp.”

I got a rare chuckle out of him as he caught the keys, but I didn’t hear a reply before the screen door closed behind me. As the door latched, I thought I saw the glint of headlights in the class, but I decided it was just my imagination. Dad doesn’t go out this late. My next stop was the kitchen table, where a plate full of crumbs lay mostly ransacked - lucky for me, a pair of chocolate chip cookies stared back at me.

“Jackpot!” I exclaimed, swooping up my prize before sprinting up the stairs to my room. By the time my door was closed, both cookies had disappeared into my mouth, and I had fully embraced the chipmunk look. I glanced over at my desk.

Ugh, I have to finish that History project.

I finished chewing my mouthful of cookie, before reluctantly sliding into my desk chair. As loathe as I was to actually do the work, I knew there would be hell to pay from BOTH of my parents if I skipped it.

“Welp. Let’s see if there’s a car topic available.”