𝐆𝐎-𝐆𝐎 | 𝐬.𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐬

𝟎𝟎𝟔. 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

Chapter 6

Crooked Fence

"I like your version of fun!" Soda yelled over the blaring engine of her car.

"Then you're gonna like a whole lot more of me." She chuckled joyfully as the boy next to her beamed with a child-like wonder in his eyes.

The races were far away now. They two had left for the broken streets with run-down houses and people of humble beginnings. Once clean roads were now cracked and torn apart by tree roots. The edges of pavements taken by selfish weeds of untrimmed grass.

Her car drifted loudly on the tar of the road. Screeches and smoke rose in abundance from the rubber tires as she turned the sharp corner with a spin of her wheel.

Soda's hand clutched the safety handle as he cackled. He had never felt more alive, the thought of speeding past death's door was far beyond his comprehension. Because at that moment, he believed he could live forever.

The stress of his brother's fighting seemed to vanish as if it never existed in the first place.

His parents death felt like nothing more than a figment of his imagination.

Suddenly, his minimum wage paycheck didn't matter anymore.

He was the most carefree he had been in a long time.

"How long have you been doing this for?!" He gasps as she suddenly swerved around the red mailbox that stood upon a white wooden pole at the end of the street.

"I haven't kept count!" She exclaimed wildly, "but I would guess like three years!" She laughed loudly, once more, drifting a tight corner with the screech of her wheels.

"So what are you?" he questioned hastily, holding tightly onto the handle as if it were a lifeline, "nineteen?"

"Seventeen actually!" Mitsy scrunched her nose in offence, glancing subtly at his wide eyes.

"Seventeen?!" Soda burst out, lowering his head as his shoulders shook from shocked chuckles, the idea that she had been driving like this since fourteen hit him like a bullet, "I didn't take you for that kinda girl, Rhode."

"Nobody does," She leaned towards the brunette boy, "And that's the best part." She whispered with a sinister smirk edged at her bright red lips. She said it as if she was telling him a secret, something he wasn't supposed to learn. And if she spoke any louder, the whole world was to know.

The air between them was light. Something Mitsy thought was impossible with a Greaser. And something Soda thought was impossible with a Soc.

That was until the two teens tried to make their way to his overgrown home on the East Side late into the night, the lamps and televisions of others homes had long since gone out, leaving her headlights to shine brightly on the shadowy tar as the teens teared up and down the empty roads of Tulsa at defying speeds in her Mustang Shelby.

The keyword 'tried'.

Sodapop wasn't very good at giving directions, Mitsy could tell you that much. From taking four wrong turns to almost steering the vehicle into a tree because of the sudden shouts he spurted at her due to his own confusion.

"You told me to turn right!"

"Your other right!"

"There's only one right turn, Soda!"