Adrenalin

Chapter 1 - Sydney

Just a quick note before we get started; the story will alternate between each character's point of view - Sydney or Hayden. And each chapter will be named accordingly so you'll know who's POV it's in. Anyway, hope you enjoy. Please message me any suggestions, I appreciate constructive critisism! xx
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I added a photo of Sydney for you so you can get an idea of what she looks like. Sorry the quality is pretty bad, I had to take a photo of it on my computer screen and ugh -.-
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The end of school bell rings and people race to get out of the door first. Thank God it’s Friday. I rise from my seat in the back corner and decide to wait until the crowd disperses. Mr Abate, my History teacher, lingers at his desk. He’s tall, round and balding with a bushy moustache and waxy skin, resembling an old grey walrus.
            I clutch my books and attempt to make a break for it.
          “Sydney, I would like a word with you.” He says before I can even reach the door. I cringe at the sound of my full name. Mr Abate sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his arms over his large beer-belly.
           “Have I done something wrong, sir?” I ask, chipping away at the black nail polish on my nails.
           “No! Gosh, no! Quite the opposite actually.” He says happily. “I’ve been keeping a close eye on your progress this year.”
            Usually it’s a bad thing if a teacher takes interest in you more than usual. It’s a clear sign you better pick up your game. But I know that’s not why. Damn, sometimes it really sucks to be smart.
            “You enjoy history, yes?” His eyes twinkle.
            I nod.
            “Yes, I can tell. Your knowledge is quite extensive. I’m very happy with how you are going this year. And just between you and me,” he gives me a creepily paedophilic wink, “you’re easily the best in the class. In fact, if you’re interested...”
            My brain drifts off as Mr Abate goes on about how much better I could be if I just turned up to school more often. I could even get a scholarship to a private school, he tells me. And perhaps I could enter an upcoming History competition against other schools in the state. One-thousand bucks prize money.
         I’ve heard this all before, and every time my mind wonders... What if? What if I got a scholarship to a great private school in a different state? What if I entered this contest? We could really use the money.
             I stare out the window onto the school grounds. It all comes back to the same thing every time: I can’t leave my brothers. I can’t leave mum. As much as I might feel worthless sometimes, the family would be fucked without me.
             “Look, Mr Abate, I really appreciate it, but I simply don’t have the time.” I say as politely as I can. As usual, I see the disappointment in his eyes. I’m used to it now. Most people look at me like that.

            I rush down the corridor to my locker and pull out my phone. 3:45pm. Shit. I promised Riley I would be no later than four o’clock. My locker looks like someone’s let off a firecracker inside. Organisation isn’t a strong suit of mine. Okay, what do I need? English folder for an upcoming essay due and Science textbook for the exercise questions I need to finish.
            I sling my tartan bag over my shoulder and jog down the front steps to the car park, fishing my keys out of my pocket. A couple of people still linger around their cars, chatting with friends and making out with boyfriends. No one looks in my direction. No one comes up and asks what my plans are for tonight. No one invites me to any Friday night parties. But that’s okay, that’s the way I like it.
            My baby sits where I left her last, looking all sleek and black and sexy. I jiggle the key in the door. Damn, I really gotta get that lock fixed. I yank the door open and chuck my bag behind me.
            Revving up the engine to get her started, I peel out of the car park and drive down Patterson road. The dash reads 3:51pm. Usually I’d take the back road to Riley’s school. No one drives that way anymore since the new highway was built, so it’s a perfect place to really let my baby loose.
            But seeing as I have nine minutes to get to Riley, I take the mainstream route.

            I shift down a gear and slow to 40 KPH in the school-zone. I park and jog into Lakes Elementary. There’s no way it could've been six years since I last attended this school. It’s a shit school, but mum can’t afford much more. The only way I got into Weightford High was on a General Excellence scholarship, which I worked my ass off for, and still, it’s a shit school.
            Riley waits for me outside the Hall where we always meet. His little face and bright blue eyes light up when he sees me. I meet him half way, sweeping him into my arms.
            “How was school, big boy?” I ask
           “Good! We had art today. I did a painting for you.” He says shyly, his tiny fingers opening his bag. He pulls out the painting and passes it to me.
            “No way! Look at this!” I say enthusiastically. There’s a black blob in the middle of the page and brown lines surrounding it with green leaves, which I’m guessing are trees. Otherwise, I have absolutely no idea what it is.
            “That’s you and me in your car driving really fast,” he says happily.
            My heart swells in my throat. I push his hair away from his face and kiss his chubby cheeks. “It’s amazing, Riley. How about we go for a ride and you can help me pay the rent at the bank? And then we can go and watch the boats race.”
            He nods excitedly and I grab his bag for him, leading him back to the car. Riley jumps in and I strap him into the booster seat, making sure everything is secure. I wouldn’t drive anything over 60 KPH with him in the car unless I wasn’t one-hundred percent confident in my driving skills.
            We take the back road this time. There’s no one but us. “Ready?” I ask Riley, looking over at him. He nods and I drop the clutch, shifting up a gear. My baby can make it to 100 KPH in 6.4 seconds flat if I let her loose completely, but I hold back, just pushing her hard enough for Riley to feel the rush.
            The urge to shift into First, slam the gas and push her all the way pulses through my veins. I force my stiff fingers to release the gear stick, reminding myself Riley is in the car. It’s an addiction and one day it’s going to get me into trouble.