"This is his car!!! Brit!!" I think my heart just stopped. Boat Shoes owns a Lamborghini, a really nice one. It's red too and if we do this I'm pretty sure I'll end up in prison. "He owns a fucking Lamborghini!"
"I know, it's a Miura, pretty sick right? It was his dad's. He's a race car driver." She pauses and turns away from it to look at me. "Now imagine it with its new paint color." Brit is holding up the mustard bottle in her hands and I feel faint.
"God we are so screwed. Britney there is no way we can do this to this car. Oh god, oh god, you took his keys." I run my hands frantically through my hair, starting to pace back and forth. "I think I'm going to be sick."
"Max, calm down. We are in Beverley Hills, what type of car were you expecting, a Subaru?"
"Brit we could do serious time for this! This is a fucking nice car!"
"I know it's a nice car Max," she sighs pinching the bridge of her nose. "It's fine, really, his parents have plenty of money. Besides, they'll be pissed he took it to a party again and that he cheated on me. The only one who's going to get in any trouble for this is him. I even puked in it once so no big deal."
"That is seriously not reassuring. I don't think I can do this." This whole thing had been sitting worse and worse in my stomach since we left the party. At first, I was riding the high of what I'd just done and what we were about to do, but then it all hit and came crashing down. That sick feeling was back in my stomach like when you're a child and you know you've done something wrong. I'd changed, and I was proud of that change.
Yet all night I could feel it rushing back at me. I'd been reaching for that familiar high again. That rush when you know you are on the edge of something risky and can't wait for it any longer so you push yourself into it just so you can feel its impact. I wanted to feel that in my bones once more. Just one more time. The pure feeling of freedom without thought. I knew it was wrong though, and the adrenaline from stealing his keys had worn off. It wasn't there anymore and the darkness and shame were crawling back into the place they usually sat. This had been so stupid.
"Fine, keep watch then, but you'll have a lot less fun." Brit says turning her back to me again.
"B-" and then she does it, the first egg hits his car. "Oh. My. God." Brit lets out a loud airy laugh and there must be something in the air because I can't help it either. There's that stir in me again.
"You go next, this is great!!!"
"I'm not-" I barely get out between breaths of air. "I'm not,"
"K no worries, my turn again then!"
"B-" she throws another. "Your-" and another. "Brit can you please stop, for two seconds a-" and another.
"Come on Max, there's only like eight eggs left in this carton. You know you want to join me. I can see it on your face." She's right, part of me is dying to throw one on this guy's car and completely wreck the thing. But I promised my mom and Oliver that I'd stopped causing trouble and wouldn't do anything reckless tonight. I'd changed right?
"I don't think I can. I promised Oliver I'd-" Still there's something glorious about watching her now, laughing, hair wild, spraying mustard on the hood of his car. She's come to life again, taking all of her anger out on it. Her energy is so bright and contagious that it pushes off of her and onto my own face lighting it as I smile. I wanted that feeling. Fuck, I'd already gone this far. "Ok, one egg." I was already an accomplice to the crime, I might as well enjoy the actual act, right? I knew she'd be trouble from the moment I met her but who didn't need a little trouble in their life? Trouble was fun, and also very beautiful. Damn, snap out of it Max.

YOU ARE READING
It Doesn't Even Matter
Teen FictionMax is struggling, plain and simple. After dropping out of school two years ago to help his mom with the bills and losing his best friend, he's just kind of shut things out. His life has been in pure survival mode. Work, pay bills, survive. But thin...