Brenda wanted a normal school year. Instead her mom died.
Salma needed space from her sister and terrible ex. Or else she'd lose her mind.
Delilah didn't think she'd have any more problems after moving far from her hometown. That was until she becam...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
❝A ship is always safe at the shore, but that is NOT what it is built for.❞
-Albert Einstein
▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬
✋SALMA✋
If I could, I would high-five my sister's face right about now.
The location of the street race they had prepared was in a rough neighborhood. We drove past buildings with bars on windows and barbwire fences. It was a quarter after midnight when we got to the location. Wrapping my arms around my body against the cold gusts of wind, I questioned myself for the thousandth time. Why had I let her drag me here? This wasn't the kind of place I wanted to be on a Friday night.
There were shows to be watched.
Ice cream that needed to be consumed.
This was not the kind of people Salma Hasan usually associated herself with—
"Stop that," I whispered. Whenever I started thinking in third person, I knew it was a bad sign. Coming with Iman to this race suddenly seemed like a blessing. I needed to get out more and interact with people. Real people and not just fictional characters on my favorite TV Drama series.
"You're not going to believe this," Malik said, holding out a roll of bills in his hands.
Iman clapped her hands together. "You won all of that?"
"No, I'm using this to bet on a race."
"That's not happening." She grabbed the cash from him, stuffing it into her purse. "We have rent coming up soon. I'm not letting you use our rent money on a race."
He sighed and dug his hand into her purse, pulling out the cash. "We already have rent covered and you know that. I wouldn't use our rent money on something as silly as this. It's my car note money."
"Yeah, because that's a better alternative." I grumbled to myself. The entire process behind illegal street racing was childish to me. Like a man trapped in his childhood, trying to be the coolest kid on the playground.
The thick swarm of people that were circling around the cars began to part in half, letting a new car come in. A Ford Mustang roared into the crowd, driving at a slow speed to let other people quickly get out of the way. One particular guy wasn't moving fast enough, making the driver roar his engine even louder, waiting for them to pass.
The driver stuck his head out, scowling. "Unless you want to leave in a body bag, I'd suggest you move, dumbass."
Impatient prick.
Tilting my head to the side, I noticed that the car model was a Boss 302 Laguna Seca. It had to be the '13 edition. Gazing over the body of the car, it was obvious the owner had recently got a new paint job. I was quite impressed with the detailing he had done.
