(A/N- HI :D So basically this is my newest story, started on 18/01/2011. I love starting new stories when Ideas pop into my head, so here is another one. it's quite similar to the original story, however this bella had more of a rebel side, and actually has a backbone, which I disagreed with in the original one. I hope you like it, please comment later.)
A couple things before reading;
Im English, so sometimes, i'll make mistakes by using English language instead of American, for that I am sorry, and I try to proof read a couple of times to make sure everything is in order, but I won't always( because al lyou writers will know; it's very dull) but hopefully you'll forgive me for errors.
Im not a pro at drifting, hell, I don't even have my drivers license yet, however it is something I am interested in, as is motocross, so the information im getting is off the internet and won't always be right. So basically I am just learning about these things, so... don't try anything out, because I hardly know what im doing.
While updates will be fast for now, once Septermber starts, I'll be at college 4 days a week at least, so I won't be undating as much.
Prologue
The air was filled with smoke from three cars lined up in a row on one of the large back streets in Phoenix. The roar of all three cars combined was enough to make the crowd of nearly one hundred people sound silent and the head lights made it hard not to notice the scantily clad young woman that stood in front of the three cars, which a brightly colour flag in one hand and a joint in the other. She was new here; probably one of the other drivers' whores, and that meant she had to at least look useful.
The roars of the two other cars got louder as the drivers pressed on the accelerator and thicker, gray smoke filled the air. I rolled my eyes but did the same, annoyed at the slow but necessary preliminary actions you had to perform before the race could actually start. The woman stood in front of us, threw her unfinished joint to the side of the road, and put the flag in the air.
I sat up straight in my seat in anticipation. She looked at the furthest car on the right, and the driver must have nodded because she turned to the driver in the middle, waiting for the nod, before turning to me, on the far left.
I nodded, the basic action stating you were ready for the race and knew the terms on losing and winning. The flag was raised higher, and the crowd seemed to still. I stilled also, focused on the accelerator and the direction I was going to take.
The route was quite simple. We were to turn left on Monroe street, and straight down first street, before and then right past the Police museum, which was heavily guarded, and turn left to go on 3rd street and the finish line was just before reaching the freeway. It was short, defiantly one of the shorter races I had ever done, but since we had to pass the Police museum, we had to be quick, drive fast and not get caught. I knew which way I was going to go already. I knew the backstreets of Phoenix like the back of my palm.
The flag was down and we were off, I shifted in second gear, the easiest to drift in, and pushed on the clutch. I flicked my eyes down to check at the speed gauge, reading 198 mph, as I pressed on the gas pedal and pushed the throttle down, to enable me to make the tight turn on Monroe street. Flicking the steering wheel to the left, I drifted fast around the corner, the speed gauge now reading 210, and straightened the car and pressed the accelerator down hard, driving at 220 down First Street.
One of the drivers, the first one, was slightly behind me, although it may seem like he was losing, I was sure he had tricks up his sleeve for when I wasn't ready. The other driver was nowhere to be seen. I drifted round slowly onto 3rd street, trying to make as little noise as possible while going past the Police museum.
However, it is extremely hard to be quiet in a drift car because the engine is so powerful. Not long after I drifted onto third, Cop sirens were heard.
I changed my direction, driving down Pima street, leaving the other driver on the right route, and me taking a longer one. I pushed the car to its full 240, and turned again on 5th avenue. If I was lucky I could still win.
I smiled when I saw the freeway with no obstacles, police or other drivers, and a huge crowd at the finish line. The smile turned into a successful grin until a police car, with no sirens on, turned on the street right ahead of me from Apache street. I was still going at 240, and pressed the brake pedal in panic when I saw the car stop right in my path. This through me into the windshield and I was passed out before the cops even got out of their car.
The last thing I remember was hearing the screams and yells of the dissolving crowd as cops tried to, sometimes failing, to catch them.