Fantasy

16-Marie

We finally arrive in Alabama. The Broncho is practically sighing with relief at being given time to rest. We haven't pushed it this hard for a long time. Anyway, we are in a motel room and getting ready for bed after spending the day in Alabama touring the University of... Alabama. It's the school Mom went to and that's the only reason we're down here. "Marie, could you go across the street and pick up some toothpaste? We used it all," Mom asks me. Directly opposite the motel on the other side of the road is a small convenience store.

"Sure," I reply as Mom hands me a twenty. I'm eager to go off on my own, if only for a few minutes. Don't get me wrong, I love my parents, but I've been trapped in a car with them for eighteen hours and now we're in a cramped motel room. I need space! With a spring in my step I walk out into the cool night. It's eerily quiet; the only sound comes from the flickering "vacancy" sign. I take a deep breath to clear my lungs of the stuffy air and enjoy the peace. I look both ways before crossing the street, but the only car in sight is an electric blue Ferrari parked on the shoulder a few yards to my left. I continue on and stroll into the well-lit store. After wandering the isles a bit I find the toothpaste and grab a tube of spearmint. I pay for it in cash and stuff the change and receipt in my pocket while pushing the door open with my back.

Outside, the blue Ferrari is still just sitting there with an older college kid in the driver's seat. He waves at me, so I wave back and that's when a bright red Mustang whips around the bend from the other direction. He's going way too fast, but I can still make it to the motel in time, well, before the silver Camaro slides around the corner and passes the Mustang. The problem is that he's driving on the left side of the road. I realize too late that I'm in the middle of a street race. Being a generator I can move pretty fast, but I don't even have time to clear the road. The Camaro driver slams on the breaks and jerks the wheel to the side, sliding sideways. The middle of the car knocks me off my feet and my legs slide under the body. The tire is mere inches from crushing my leg when the brakes stop the car completely. I quickly scamper out from underneath, screaming all the while at the top of my lungs. Meanwhile, the Mustang zooms past the blue Ferrari, makes a sharp U-turn, and then stops. The driver stumbles out and turns to face the guy getting out of the Camaro. My mouth drops open when I see who it is.

"Ha, I win! Hand over the pink slip!" yells the Mustang driver who is around the same age as the guy in the Ferrari.

"What? That's not fair; the road wasn't clear!" That's all I am, a roadblock?! He doesn't even care that he almost killed me!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Randy Hall!" I yell at him. He squints and looks around until he notices me. I climb to my feet. "You could've killed me!"

He stares at me for a moment, then says, "Do I know you?"

"Yes, you know me, Marie Worldd? We work in the same company!"

"Uhhhhhhh, doesn't ring a bell." I could strangle him.

"Randy, while you're flirting with your new girlfriend I'll collect my prize."

"Hey, no, I told you! It was an unfair race!"

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to take Randy's side on that one," the guy in the Ferrari pipes up. It's clear they're all intoxicated.

"Does no one care that I almost died? Randy?!"

"Don't look at me! You're the one who was in the middle of the road!"

"Oh, so I'm at fault because you were drinking and street racing!?"

"What's it to you?"

"Um, the fact that it's illegal..."

"It's my life; stay out of it!"

"I would, if you weren't endangering other lives!"

"No one's ever on this road, plus, you aren't hurt, so get over it!"

"That's it; I'm calling the cops. Or better yet, I'll call Riley!" I threaten, pulling out my phone.

"No, Marie!" he shouts, but then he appears beside me. Oh, yeah, forgot he could do that. He grabs my arm and wrestles my phone away from me. When I try and fight back he shoves me onto the hood of his car. I can smell the beer on his breath. He wraps his hand around my neck and squeezes.

"Randy," I say shakily, "let me up."

"Why?" he demands. "You'll just call the cops or get me fired." I shake my head, honestly afraid he might kill me. Randy's one of those people who act all tough, but you never feel actually threatened around him. Most of the time he just ends up making himself look stupid, but there's no doubt that he could and would hurt me now. I'm at his mercy. It doesn't help he's not thinking clearly anyway.

"Say you won't call anyone to get me in trouble," he growls.

"I won't; I promise. I won't call anyone."

"Just in case..." he drops my phone on the ground and smashes it underfoot before letting me up.

At that moment the guy in the Ferrari shouts, "Randy, go!" The Mustang driver is already taking off. Randy whips around to see a cop car coming their way. He runs to his car and pulls out right before the Ferrari. I run to the motel parking-lot and watch the cop car with sirens blaring and lights flashing whiz by, crushing my phone and the toothpaste: stupid college kids.